“This isn’t good-bye, Max.” The doctor’s voice followed me as I exited the tent. “And that isn’t your final answer.”

DID I EVER TELL you how much I hate needles? Bad childhood memories. It’s a lab-escapee thing. The meat cleaver was a mere annoyance in comparison.

My mind was still reeling as I slogged through the sand back to our camp. I kept a death grip on Angel’s hand as she trotted beside me to keep up. The African sun beat down on us, and for the first time, the heat felt crushing to me.

I really wanted to help the CSM and the refugees here, but my Mother Teresa aspirations were crumbling fast. This place was suddenly way too dangerous for us. Angel’s dire prediction, what the Voice had said about Dylan, Chu and the disappearing refugees in the middle of the night, and now Dr. Hans’s obsessive fondness for wielding knives and needles full of pathogens had all combined to turn this trip into a nightmare.

We had to get out of there and far away from Dr. Cleaver. ASAP.

“What did you think about Dylan?” Angel asked.

“Poor sap,” I said briefly, and tried not to think about him too much in case she was in mind-reading mode.

“Don’t you think we should stay and help him?” “Help him do what?”

“Help him learn,” she said. “He’s brand-new. He doesn’t have anyone else. I don’t think he can learn what he needs to know from Dr. Hans. At least we all have each other.” She smiled up at me somewhat tentatively.

Stopping, I looked into her blue eyes. “Do we, Angel?” I asked softly, as her smile faltered. “Do we all have each other? Have each other’s backs?”

She didn’t say anything, and then we were in sight of our tent. Gazzy called over to us. I strode forward and motioned everyone inside. In the heat of the day, it was stifling, but I would make this fast.

“Okay,” I said. “First, here.” I handed out squashed bacon, muffins, fruit, everything I’d been able to stuff into the cargo pockets of my pants and my jacket. In retrospect, the handful of scrambled eggs had not been a good idea, but still, my poor hungry flock fell on everything like hygiene-challenged hyenas. Gazzy actually moaned as he downed a piece of bacon in two bites.

“Listen up,” I said urgently. “It’s time to round up your gear. I’m gonna check in with Patrick, and then we’re getting the flock out of here.” Ha-ha. “If we head northnortheast, we’ll hit Italy. From Italy to Ireland. Ireland to New York. Sound good?”

They all looked at me.

“I’ll explain on the road, but we have to get out of here, fast.” I even looked over my shoulder, as if Dr. HackerHagen was about to pop through our tent flap.

“Aren’t we supposed to stay and help?” Nudge asked, brushing off crumbs.

“We’ve helped. We’ve posed for pictures,” I said, shoving my stuff into my backpack. “us staying a bit longer won’t do that much more.”

“Are we going on another CSM mission?” Nudge asked.

“Nah. At least not for a while,” I said. “We’re headed someplace new and different -”

Fang looked at me and smiled. It was time to spill our little secret.

“Home.”

LESS THAN A WEEK LATER, Iggy was working his magic in the kitchen, with real groceries that we’d bought from a real grocery store. He came out, a chef’s hat on his head, big oven mitts on his hands. “Come sit down,” he ordered. “Dinner’s ready.”

Gazzy raced to the table. “Lasagna! Excellent!”

I stood at an open window, looking out over the bloodred canyon, turned to flame by a glorious sunset. We were home. Colorado, that is, where we had lived, post-dog-crate but pre-world-saving-mission. We had a new house there, near where we had lived before. The CSM had built it as a big thank-you for our help in Antarctica and Hawaii.

I had missed these mountains, these gorges. Jeb had brought us here, about five years ago, after he’d kidnapped us to protect us from the mad scientists at the School. Now I was hoping Dr. Gunther-Hagen never found us here. That would have been a little too familiar.

A small black head nudged my leg, and I looked down to see Total smiling up at me. I dropped down to my knees and hugged the furry, Scottie-like body close. “You had a good visit with my mom?”

“Super,” he said. Yes, Total can talk – another advantage to being genetically engineered, if you’re a dog. “I helped out in her office. And Akila loved it.”

My mom is a veterinarian, when she’s not trying to solve global problems through the CSM. And Akila is Total’s… girlfriend. She’s a (non-English-speaking) malamute that we met on our first mission. They’re a match made in a carnival sideshow, but they seem happy. “Yeah? What’d you do?”

Total puffed himself up. “Counseled patients,” he said importantly. “It helps that I speak their language.”

“I bet. Let’s go – before Gazzy eats that whole lasagna. I’m starving.” Total’s small black nose twitched, and we both trotted to the kitchen, where yummy smells wafted toward us.

Fang sat down next to me at the table and quietly linked his ankle around mine. Total hopped up onto a chair between Fang and Nudge.

I dug in to the lasagna, which smelled like heaven, if heaven were hot and cheesy and layered with noodles and red sauce. And maybe it is.

I looked around at my family, the six of us, Total, and now Akila, all sharing a meal together. We were here, far from everyone else. Far from anyone who could hurt Fang. Far from Dylan and Dr. Gummy-Häagen-Dazs. I felt almost like weeping with joy.

I knew it wouldn’t last. It never does.

THE NIGHT WIND CAME in my open window. I lay in my bed, staring at the ceiling. Somehow, being back in this just-like-the-old-days setting was giving me nasty flashbacks.

I thought about how Jeb had taught us everything he’d known and then suddenly disappeared. We’d been sure he was dead. After a couple years living on our own, the first nightmare in recent history: Erasers – a human-wolf hybrid – had come. They’d attacked us, destroyed our house, and kidnapped Angel. Now that we were back in Colorado, a sense of unease rattled me. I felt as if someone were watching me. Someone with a night telescope?

I shook my head. Must tamp down the paranoia.

As if on cue, I heard a sound from outside. Like a slight scratching. In seconds, I had rolled out of bed, crouched by the window, and quickly peered over the sill.

Nothing. The sky was clear. No one was scaling the wall; no one was rappelling down from the roof.

But there was that sound again. It was closer. My breathing sped up, and my hands curled automatically into fists. Then I saw the doorknob of my room turn very, very slowly. Crap!

My muscles coiled, tightened… A hand crept around the edge of the door, easing it open. I almost gasped. It was an Eraser’s paw. I was sure of it. Huge, hairy, tipped with long ragged claws. I still had scars on one of my legs from claws like that. I slithered toward the door, kneeling behind my desk.

A dark shaggy head poked around the edge of the door. I leaped up – then froze.

“Fang?” I whispered.

My eyes whipped down to his hand on the door. It was just a hand. No claws. I blinked several times.

“Sorry,” Fang whispered. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Trying to be quiet.”

I sat down abruptly on my bed, my heart pounding. “You okay?” Fang soundlessly shut the door and came to sit next to me. “You look like you saw a ghost.” I shook my head, speechless for a second.

“How come you’re awake?” Fang whispered, taking my hand in his own non-paw.

I shrugged. “Couldn’t sleep. I feel like something’s sneaking up on us. Watching us.”