Astrid felt a towering wave of disgust. She was furious with Sam. Furious with Little Pete. Mad at the whole world around her. Sickened by everyone and everything. And mostly, she admitted, sick of herself. So desperately sick of being Astrid the Genius.“Some genius,” she muttered. The town council, headed by that blond girl, what was her name? Oh, right: Astrid. Astrid the Genius. Head of the town council that had let half the town burn to the ground. Down in the basement of town hall Data Naidoo handed out scarce ibuprofen and expired Tylenol to kids with burns, like that would pretty much fix anything, as they waited for Lana to go one by one, healing with her touch. Astrid could hear the cries of pain. There were several floors between her and the makeshift hospital. Not enough floors. Edilio staggered in. He was barely recognizable. He was black with soot, dirty, dusty, with ragged scratches and scrapes and clothing hanging in shreds.“I think we got it,” he said, and lay straight down on the floor. Astrid knelt by his head. “You have it contained?” But Emilio was beyond answering. He was unconscious. Done in. Howard appeared next, in only slightly better shape. Some time during the night and morning he’d lost his smirk. He glanced at Emilio, nodded like it made perfect sense, and sank heavily into a chair.“I don’t know what you pay that boy, but it’s not enough,” Howard said, jerking his chin at Emilio.”He doesn’t do it for pay,” Astrid said.”Yeah, well, he’s the reason the whole town didn’t burn. He and Deck and Orc and Jack. And Ellen, it was her idea.

— Michael Grant

Astrid had gone to look at the burn zone. Doing the right thing. Kids had yelled at her. Demanded to know why she had let it happen. Demanded to know where Sam was. Deluged her with complaints and worries and crazy theories until she had retreated. She’d hidden out after that. She’d refused to answer the door when kids knocked. Furthermore, she had not gone to her office. It would be the same there. But through the day it had eaten at her. This feeling of uselessness. A feeling of uselessness made so much worse by the growing realization that she needed Sam. Not because they were up against some threat. The threat was mostly past now. She needed Sam because no one had any respect for her. There was only one person right now who could get a crowd of anxious kids to settle down and do what needed to be done. She had wanted to believe that she could do that. But she had tried. And they hadn’t listened. But Sam was still nowhere to be seen. So despite everything it was still on her shoulders. The thought of it made her sick. It made her want to scream.

— Michael Grant

At night, we sometimes cry, and if you think that just applies to the females then you have never been in combat, because everyone cries sooner or later. Everyone cries.

— Michael Grant

At the moment that target was eating tacos his mother had brought in despite hospital orders against outside food.“Oh, God, this is good,” Sam said as juicy beef and crisp lettuce dribbled out onto the tray on his lap.”Still not tired of eating?” Connie asked him.“I will never be tired of eating. I’m going to eat until I’m huge. Food, hot water, clean sheets. At least I’ll get those three in prison.

— Michael Grant

Beautiful songs could sometimes take a person out of themselves and carry them away to a place of magic. But when Jill sang, it was not about the song, really. She could sing the phone book. She could sing a shopping list. Whatever she sang, whatever the words or the tune, it was so beautiful, so achingly lovely, that no one could listen and be untouched.

— Michael Grant

Brianna dropped the skateboard in front of Sam. "Don't worry: I won't let you fall off." "Yeah? Then why did you bring the helmet?" Brianna tossed it to him. "In case you fall off.

— Michael Grant

Brianna! Is Sam okay?” Astrid cried.“No. Drake tore him up.” She wanted to sound tough, but the sobs came bubbling up and overtook her. “Oh, God, Astrid, he’s hurt so bad.” Astrid gasped and covered her hand with her mouth. Brianna put her arms around Astrid and sobbed into her hair.“Is he going to die?” Astrid asked, voice wobbly.“No, I don’t think so,” Brianna said. She stood back and wiped her tears. “I gave him something for the pain. But he’s messed up, Astrid.

— Michael Grant

Brianna’s looking for Drake,” Emilio said, thinking out loud.“You sent her out against Drake?” Albert demanded.“Sent her? Who sends Brianna out to get into a fight? She goes on her own. Anyway, it’s not like you’ve left us with anyone else.” Albert had the decency not to say anything to that.“You know, you guys put me in charge. I didn’t ask to be in charge. I didn’t want to be in charge. Sam was in charge and all you guys ever did was give him grief,” Emilio said. “You two, especially.” He pointed at Albert and Astrid. “So, okay, Astrid takes over. And then Astrid finds out it’s not so much fun being in charge. So it’s like, okay, let’s get the dumb wetback to do the job.”“No one ever—,” Astrid protested.“And me, like a fool, I’m thinking, okay, that must mean people trust me. They asked me to be in charge, be the mayor. Come to find out, I’m not making decisions; Albert’s making decisions. Albert’s deciding we need to find more water and sending our two best fighters off into the countryside. Now I’m supposed to fix everything? It’s like you go, ‘Fight a war,’ but you sent my army off on a wild goose chase.

— Michael Grant

But first things first. First, to escape this shell, this egg in which I have gestated, all eyes will be on the fire, all eyes blinded by the smoke, and when I walk out of here, out into your large world with its billions, no one will even see. It's the beauty of light, don't you see, Sam? It reveals, but it also distracts and blinds. Furthermore, it's even better than darkness.

— Michael Grant

But first things first. First, to escape this shell, this egg in which I have gestated, all eyes will be on the fire, all eyes blinded by the smoke, and when I walk out of here, out into your large world with its billions, no one will even see. It's the beauty of light, don't you see, Sam? It reveals, but it also distracts and blinds. Furthermore, it's even better than darkness. (Chapter Twenty-Seven | 1 Hour, 29 Minutes)

— Michael Grant