As Duet reaches the driver's door, I catch another glint of movement beside me and dodge in time to catch the arm of my watcher. A boy's voice squeals, his body flailing and kicking as I jerk him forward and into the light streaming from the inside the SUV.
He's scrawny, filthy, stinks of old earth and decay. But he's normal, at least in appearance, just a boy trying to survive. I wonder how he's escaped the Sick for so long as I shake him gently.
"Don't be afraid," I say. "We won't hurt you."
He stares at Duet as if she's preparing to devour him, mouth gaping open, a soft hu-hu-hu sound emerging from his thin chest. Duet approaches, head tilted to one side.
"Child," she says. "Why are you afraid?"