You can hardly believe it. Damien Harris just asked you out! From the moment you first set eyes on him, this is all you've ever wanted. But now it's too late. Ugh, stupid Chase. Why does teen romance have to be so complicated?
"I would love to," you say, "but Chase just asked me. There's nothing going on between us—we're just friends. But he didn't want to go with Tatum, so I said l'd go instead."
"Oh," Damien says. His adorable face is crestfallen, and it nearly breaks your heart.
"Maybe I can tell him I changed my mind," you say. "He probably wouldn't care."
"No, that's cool," he says. "It's my loss. I should have asked you sooner."
"I hope l'll still see you there."
"Oh, probably," He glances around him at the few remaining students left in the cafeteria. "I'm sure I can find someone to go with. Or else l'll just go stag. I can't miss seeing the awesome Toxifarian now, can I?"
You say goodbye to Damien and make your way to History class. When you enter the classroom, Dillon gives you a pudgy-handed wave.
"Hey," you say as you take the seat next to him. "What's new?"
"Not much," he says. "Just tryin' to stay alive."
Behind you, Tiff and Kristin are discussing their own plans for the dance. You don't really care to listen, but since they're nearly shouting in your ear, it's hard not to. You open your textbook and try to focus on a bit of last minute cramming for today's quiz.
"Shut up," Kristin is saying. "I'm not going to ask him!"
"Just do it," Tiff urges.
"No!"
"But now that Dana's out of the picture, why wouldn't Damien go with you to the dance? You guys are the new perfect couple."
Your ears suddenly perk up at this.
"I know," Kristin whines. "But I'm royalty, not some desperate uggo. He should be asking me. Begging me, even."
Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder. "Jen, what do you think? Should Kristin ask Damien to the dance?"
Even though you just rejected Damien yourself, you still want him to go and have a good time with someone he likes. But does someone as bratty as Kristin really deserve Damien?
You turn around and give Kristin your friendliest smile.
"You should totally go for it," you say. "Tiff's right—you two would be perfect together."
Kristin considers this a moment and nods. "You're right. I'll do it. I mean, Damien deserves the best date, right? And there's no one at this school hotter than me."
"Good luck," you say, even though you're secretly hoping he turns her down.
"Alright, class," Mr. Nelson says as the tardy bell rings.
"Today we're going to start work on a new project: Infamous Leaders in World History." He flips on the front screen to reveal two columns of names. "You've all been randomly assigned one leader, on whom you'll write a four to five page paper." There are a few groans from the class followed by murmurs as everyone finds their names on the list.
"Cool," Dillon says, "I got Genghis Khan!"
"Ooh, Vladimir Lenin!" Tiff squeals.
"Who's that?" Kristin asks.
"Duh," Tiff says. "He was the leader of the Beatles. And people think I'm stupid."
You've been assigned Marie Antoinette, which makes you happy because you've seen the movie about her starring Kirsten Dunst only about nine hundred times. Though you're a big fan of Ms. Dunst's old film work, you like her even more now that she has gotten into politics. She's proven herself to be an extremely effective Vice President of the United Sectors ever since she achieved bipartisan unity in 8 A.Z. She's one of your biggest role models, really. Rumor has it she's a shoo-in for President in the next election.
Mr. Nelson leads everyone down to the library to do research. Since you already know tons about your leader, you instead use the time to send out requests to the bands to perform at the dance. You use Dr. Franklin's card to contact Toxifarian's manager, even though something in your gut doesn't feel right. And even though you know it's a long shot, you send one to the other bands, too, just in case. Then you spend the rest of the class period looking at dresses for the dance. Even though you're just going with Chase, you still want to look super hot.
You check your email after dinner that evening and discover the following reply from Toxifarian's manager:
Dear Jen:
Thank you for your interest in having Toxifarian play at the Zeta High school dance. The band is currently on a multi-sector tour, and it just so happens that we'll be in your area on that date. Therefore, it is with great pleasure that we accept. Attached you will find the band's performance rider, which outines all of the band's equipment needs and backstage food preferences. (I urge you to look it overcarefully—particularly the guidelines banning all banana flavored candy. Just last week, the guys walked out on a performance in Lambda Sector when a bowl of Runts wasn't up to their strict standards. I repeat: THIS IS VERY IMPORTANT) Please contact me with any questions. Were looking forward to entertaining the students of Zeta High.
Sincerely, Bob Holbrook,
The night of the dance, your parents can hardly contain their excitement that their little girl is going to her first dance. They both have cameras ready to take video and about a million pictures. When Chase arrives, he's got his Own parents in tow.
"Sorry to barge in," his mom says. "But were just so tickled that Chase and Jen are going together to their first dance. We had to get some shots of them in their fancy little outfits."
"It's so adorable, isn't it?" your mom giggles. "These will go great next to the photos of them in the bathtub together when they were babies."
"God, Mom," you both groan.
After your parents get their fill of embarrassing you, you and Chase stumble out into the hallway, exhausted and nearly blind from the camera flashes. "Thanks for going in early with me," you say. "I just want to make sure everything is perfect for Toxifarian."
"No problem," he says. "I'm just happy to get away from them."
When you get to the school gymnasium, you're surprised to find some of the other baggers are already there with their dates. Jamie and Angelina are standing together with Biff and a first year royalty girl you've never met before. Grace and Cheetah have doubled with Val and Kit, who are both wearing camouflage dresses with black combat boots. Damien's there too, but he appears to be alone.
"What's up?" you ask him.
"Oh, hey," He nods hello at Chase and gives you an approving once-over. "You look great, Jen."
"Thanks, you too. Why is everyone here now? The band hasn't even shown up yet."
"Oh, you know, we just want to be prepared just in case anything happens." He looks around quickly before leaning closer. "Are you packing anything stronger than a crowbar?" he whispers.
"I've got both." You lift up the hem of your skirt to reveal Opal tucked securely into your thigh holster right next to the slab of green metal.
"Nice," he says. "But Val and Kit are assigned to monitoring duties tonight. If anything needs shooting at, they're the only ones who won't get suspended for it."
"Okay," you say. "So are you stag tonight?"
"Yeah." He shrugs, and you notice a flush of red in his cheeks. "There wasn't really anyone else that I wanted to come with."
"I'm sorry"
"No, it's okay," he says. "But would it be okay if l asked you to dance later?"
"Of course," you say. "I'm pretty sure Chase won't care. He's not really all that into dancing."
"Cool," Damien says. "I'm looking forward to it."
The band shows up a little while later, and you show them to their dressing room. Nick was right—it's impossible to tell what any of them really look like, and when you introduce yourself, their voices are so muffled from the gas masks that it's impossible to even tell what gender any of them are. Their manager inspects the candy in a nearby bowl.
"Yeah," he says, with a nod. "This'll do just fine, kid."
You return to the gymnasium to find that more students are beginning to arrive.
At seven o'clock sharp, Mr. Nelson takes the stage and taps the microphone. "Attention students," he says, frowning in the direction of a random fart noise coming from the crowd. "Welcome to this year's Fall Dance Extravaganza. I just want to remind everyone that you must stay in the gym at all times, and I will personally be monitoring the punchbowl, so don't even think about spiking it. Now, please welcome your entertainment for tonight..." He quickly pulls a slip of paper out of his jacket pocket and glances at it. "Um, Toxifarian."
The four band members rush onstage as the gymnasium echoes with cheers from the student body. "Hey, Zeta High," the lead singer says into the microphone. "Are you ready to rock?" His voice isn't muffled at all ike it was when you met them earlier, and you wonder why. You also notice that each of them has an instrument that doubles as some sort of weapon. The lead singer's guitar has a giant drill bit on the end of it, which he spins for effect as the drummer whips around his nunchuck drumsticks. A third band member straps on a keytar (one of those weird guitar/keyboard hybrid things from the 1980s) and pushes the middle C key, which sends a white strobe of electricity out the top of the instrument's neck. The last member to take the stage hoists onto his shoulder what looks to be a bazooka gun modified with a bass guitar body underneath the grip.
The lead singer strikes a chord on his guitar, and the gym erupts in cheers. "This one," he says, "is called 'I Wish I Owned a Monkey."
"Whoo!" You look behind you and see Nick jumping up and down next to a slightly annoyed Caroline. "I love this one!" he shouts, pumping his fist.
The music kicks in and students begin to dance violently to the fast-paced rhythm. It's not really your favorite kind of music, but you're happy that everyone else seems to be enjoying it so much. Suddenly, you feel a tap on your shoulder.
"Wanna dance?" Damien asks.
"Sure," you reply, and you follow him to a relatively empty area of the dance floor. "How exactly do you dance to this kind of music, anyway?"
Damien shrugs and looks around. Then he starts jumping up and down, doing a little wiggle at the peak of it like he's a fish caught on a line.
It's rather amusing, and you're tempted to follow his lead, but you wonder if you might look ridiculous. You just became Kid A and you'd hate to lose the respect of your classmates over something like this. But the dance is adorable!
The only thing more hilarious than watching Damien do this dance alone is doing it together. We're two fish caught in a net, unable to breathe and fighting for our lives, you think.
At one point you even pucker your lips and make a fish face at him. Good times! Soon you are both hard that you can barely keep on your feet. At one point, you look Over and see another couple mimicking your moves. The girl doubles over at one point laughing and then holding her groin, presumably to avoid peeing. Someone else is videoing you and Damien with his phone. That's fine with you. Fun, youth, and love-capture the moment!
As much as you're enjoying this, you can't help keeping one eye peeled for anything that looks suspicious. Val and Kit are standing on either side of the stage, holding their rifles across their camouflage chests and solemnly surveying the crowd.
You dance another song with Damien, then you manage to get Chase out on the floor for a few minutes. You even dance a song with Dillon, who has come with a quiet but sweet-faced ehrlich you recognize from gym class. After a while, you're having so much fun that you almost forget that the threat of VMs even exists. After an hour of playing, the band takes a break, and you make your way over to the refreshment table for a drink. Cheetah gives you a low whistle as you approach.
"Hey, hot mama," he says. "Somebody better call the fire departmernt, 'cuz you be smokin'."
"Shut up," you say, grabbing the ladle from him and filling up a glass with whatever pink stuff is in the punchbowl. "Notice anything weird yet?"
"Just that you haven't asked me to dance."
Val steps up next to you and rolls her eyes. "Oh, that's a good one, Chee. Does it ever work?"
"l was about to find out before we were rudely interrupted," he sneers.
"No, really," you say. "Is it just me, or does everything seem way too calm?"
Behind Val, Kit shifts her grip on her rifle so she can adjust the strap of her dress. "No, you're right, Jen. I figured at least one meatbag would have wandered in here by now. Especially with the way things have been lately."
Mr. Nelson has been standing silently at the edge of the table next to the punch bowl during all of this. "Has someone been smoking cigarettes?" he asks now, turning his nose up like a suspicious bloodhound. "I smell smoke."
Everyone standing at the table shrugs.
"I smell it too," Val says, wrinkling her nose in disgust. "I think it's coming from the vents."
Mr. Nelson sighs impatiently. "It must be somebody hanging out in front of the fresh air intake, then. Jen, can you go check it out? We're short on chaperones, and I can't leave the gymnasium."
On your way to the vents, you pass Chase and Tatum, who appear to be having an in-depth conversation. "Where you going?" he asks when he sees you.
"Just to check on some stuff," you say.
"Cool. I'll come with."
Once you're outside the gym, you give Chase a curious look. "So how is that going?" you ask.
"I don't want to talk about it," he says. "Why do girls have to be so difficult? I mean—"
You interrupt him with a quick shhh. As you turn the corner and enter into the corridor where the fresh air intake vents are located, you smell the strong odor of burning tobacco. When you get to the fan system, you peek around it and see the Toxifarian band members. They've all removed their masks to smoke their cigarettes and are talking and laughing with one other, unaware of your presence. You quickly realize that something is not right with them.
Without all the headgear, their voices seem normal enough. Their faces, however, definitely do not. Their skin is the unmistakable gray of VM infection, and their eyes have the dull emptiness of the undead. It could just be extremely well-done makeup and contacts, but something in your gut tells you it's not.
"Go get Val," you whisper to Chase. "Tell her to bring her eye scanner."
Chase takes off without asking any questions. As you wait, you watch the band carefully. If they were really that far gone, there's no way they would have the fine motor skills required to play musical instruments, not to mention the fact that the gym is filled to capacity with a buffet of human flesh. You've never heard of a case of infectiorn that didn't come with an uncontrollable instinct to feed, even before the victim looked this far gone. But why would they bother with makeup under their costumes when no one is going to see it? You think back to the VM ambush on your way back to Zeta Sector—the footfalls and murmuring on top of the car. That would be impossible for a regular VM, too. Whatever is going on here, a quick eye scan should clear things up once and for all, you think. You just wish Chase would hurry up.
He returns a few minutes later with Val and Damien.
"What's up?" Damien whispers, looking concerned. "Chase said you were in trouble."
You point to the band members, and your friends stare in disbelief. "What do you think it is?" you ask.
"I have no idea," Val says, reaching for her eye scanner. "But we'll know soon enough." She holds it up and engages the scan. Within seconds, it starts blinking the number 20.
"Holy cow," Damien mutters under his breath.
"What should we do?" Val asks in a whisper.
"Shoot the bastards," Chase whispers back. "lsn't that what you baggers live for?"
"But there's something strange about these guys," you say. "I mean, they were just performing less than ten minutes ago... And need I remind everyone that they talk!"
"They were lip-synching to a pre-recorded track," Damien
says. "I thought that was pretty obvious to anyone watching them. They weren't even trying that hard to play their instruments properly."
"Yeah," you say. "but why didn't they attack anyone when they had the chance? Val, could we be out of range for your eye scanner to work correctly?"
"No, this is military-grade," Val says as she inspects the scanner. "I have it set for long range and took my time getting the reading. It's right."
"Hear that?" Chase says. "Intelligent meatbags has got to be the most dangerous thing I can imagine. Kill them now while we have the element of surprise!"
Val gives him a strange grin. "You have a pretty strong bagger instinct, for a rat."
"So we either kill them or confront them," Damien says.
"Which is it?"
"I really don't want to shoot anyone I don't have to," you say. "Let's confront them, and then maybe we can get some answers."
"We'll need to look threatening, though," Val says. "Or else we're not going to get anywhere with them."
You grab Opal while Damien and Chase pull their crowbars from their ankle holsters. Val lifts her rifle to her shoulder and checks the sight. "Alright," she calls out to the band. "Everybody's hands up where I can see them!"
The guys all drop their cigarettes and obey as soon as they see your weapons. Val stomps one of the butts out with the heel of her boot. "Didn't anyone ever tell you smoking is bad for your health?" she sneers.
"Where's Bob?" one of them asks. You notice he's got a British accent.
"I don't know anyone named Bob," Val says. "But I've got a question for you. Why does my eye scanner read you as a Level 20?"
"It's okay," another member says. He sounds British, too. "It's safe. We promise you're not in any danger."
Val cocks her rifle. "That's not the right answer. My question is what's up with your infection status? Are you meatbags or not?"
"We don't know," the first Toxifarian says. "I mean, we sort of are, but sort of not."
"It's complicated," the third Toxifarian says.
"Well then," Val says. "Maybe you all need a little time to sort it out." She smacks the nearest guy in the arm with the barrel of her rifle. "March straight ahead. Move!"
You have only gone a few paces when one of the Toxifarians twists around and knocks Chase's crowbar aside and grabs him. Now, the Toxifarian is behind Chase with his hands around Chase's throat. "I'll break his neck!" he shouts.
He seems to be mostly concerned with Val's rifle and so he is using Chase to shield him from Val, but not so much from your angle. You're pretty sure you can get a shot. You notice the other Toxifarians are now looking around, perhaps getting ready to make moves of their own.
BOOM!
With a hole through the side of his head, the Toxifarian drops to the floor.
"Okay, anyone else have something to say?!" Val asks as she sweeps over the remaining Toxifarians with her rifle.
They shake their heads and put their hands up.
"Nice shot, Jen," Damien says.
You, Chase, and Damien follow Val as she escorts the remaining bandmembers to the cages behind the arena, which are empty now that Homecoming is over. She pulls a keyring out of her bag and slides a card through the reader on the cell door. "Your new digs, gentlemen. But before you get in, I'll need you to strip."
"Uh, Val?" Chase says. "Is that really necessary?"
A devious smile lights up Val's face. "Yes it is, because Toxifarian just got a brand new lineup." When Chase still looks confused, she rolls her eyes. "Us, dummy," she says. "At least until we figure out what the heck is going on here."
"Oh," Chase says. "Cool."
"Help!" the first Toxifarian shouts. "Somebody! We're being kidnapped!"
"Shout all you want," Val says. "This place is soundproofed. But don't worry, someone will find you eventually. That is, unless you want to save yourselves the trouble and just tell us what the heck is going on."
The band members exchange a look before silently unzipping their jumpsuits and handing them over, along with the Bob Marley wigs and gas masks.
"Okay then," Val says, slamming the door of the cell and swiping the key card once more. "I guess we'd better suit up."
You slip the jumpsuit on over your dress. Then you put on the Bob Marley wig and gas mask. Your friends do the same. "Wow," Tommy says, right before pulling his mask down. "We look really stupid."
The four of you head back to the Toxifarian dressing room and find the band's manager inside. "Where have you guys been?" he says, running a hand through his thinning hair. "You're contracted to play for another half hour for these silly little brats. Now grab your instruments and get out on that stage!"
Damien grabs the nunchuck drumsticks. That leaves the lead singer's drill guitar, the bazooka bass (more like a big rifle, than an actual bazooka), and the electroshock keytar (one of those weird guitar/keyboard hybrid things from the 1980s). Even though you don't really have to play the instruments, there might be some benefit from selecting carefully.
You select the bazooka bass. It's not really a bazooka, it's actually just a long-barreled rifle with a lot of extra metal wielded to it. It already has a few bullets in it, which adds to your bullet stash. Just be sure you don't accidentaly discharge it while you pretend to play. Chase grabs the keytar, which means Val is now the new lead singer of Toxifarian. It seems appropriate, since she's the one who came up with this whole idea in the first place. You just hope she's got enough cool to pull it off.
As you get out onto the stage, a hush falls over the crowd. Val steps up to the microphone just as a voice comes over the loudspeakers. "This next song is called Fecto Island."
The music begins and you pretend to play some chords on your bass, hoping that you're at least holding it correctly. You look out into the crowd and see that everyone is too busy dancing to notice, anyway, so you relax a little and try to have fun. After a while, Val seems to be really getting into her performance. She swaggers back and forth at the edge of the stage and spins her drill guitar, which makes the crowd go wild. By the time the pre-recorded voice announces the last song of the night, you're relieved it's finally over. When the lights come on and the horde of roadies descends on the stage to pack up the gear, a pair of third year royalty girls approaches Val.
"Oh my god," one of them gushes. "You guys are so awesome, but you're definitely our favorite. Can we get your autograph?"
Val says something that is distorted by the mask into a grunt. The girls don't seem to care, and they stare in awe as she scrawls something on their dance tickets.
They then run over to you. "Can we get your autograph?"
You recognize the girl holding out her dance ticket with a pen. She enjoys mercilessly taunting rats and even some
"Sure." You try your best to attempt a male British accent, not that it really matters. The mask distorts everything, anyway. The girls don't seem to care, and they stare in awe as you scrawl "Don't be a skank. B nice 2 people. Signed, Toxifarian."
You then sign the tickets of the other girls (although with more conventional messages). The first girl stares down at her message as though trying to decipher the words.
You chuckle to yourself as you wave goodbye.
"Alright guys," Bob calls from the wings. "Let's get a move on. We've got one more appearance to make, then it's back to Alpha Sector."
When the royalty girls have gone, you motion for your bandmates to join you in a huddle. "Should we go?" you ask, lifting up the corner of your mask so you can speak clearly.
"I want to," Damien says. "These costumes are a perfect cover to get out of the sector, and then we can get to the bottom of this weird VM thing once and for all."
"I agree," Val says. "Plus I'm dying to see what Alpha Sector is like."
You look at your best friend. "What do you think, Chase? No pressure—we can still get out of this if you don't want to go."
"Are you kidding me?" he says. "I'm totally down for this."
You follow Bob Holbrook out of the school to the subway platform where your tour car (designed to look just like a 1978 Volkswagon Bus) awaits. Between you and it, however, stands a mob of students that start screaming and cheering when they see you. You make your way through the crowd, shielding your head from the dozens of outstretched hands waiting to snatch your wig or mask as a souvenir, making it safely inside the vehicle before your identity is revealed.
"Great set, guys," Bob says, slamming the door shut. "We'll be at the next gig in just a bit, so sit back and relax. You earned it." He heads to the front compartment, leaving the four of you alone. You notice a small latch on the door and lock it for some much needed privacy before removing your mask and wig.