“Flying monkeys?" the Gasman called out a guess. "Like in the Wizard of Oz?"It dawned on me then. "No," I said tersely "Worse. Flying Erasers.”

“I led the way toward the crowd, trying to look casual, like, Fly? Me? Nah.”

“You have terminated me,” one of them said in a strange, flat voice. “But Iam one of many.”“Robots!” Iggy breathed, taking Total from Angel.“One of many, one of many, one of many,” the robot Eraser was saying. NowNudge saw the red light in its eyes, saw how they were fading and winking out.“Good!” spat the Gasman, kicking it hard. “Because we like to blow stuff up,blow stuff up, blow stuff up!”

“Max?” said the Gasman. “Are those, um, rats?”Lovely. “Yes, those do appear to be either rats or mice on steroids,” I said briskly, trying not to shriek and climb the walls like a girly-girl.”

“I need wings," said Total, still sniffling. "I need my own wings. Then things like that wouldn't happen."Yeah, that was all I needed. A flying talking mutant dog.”

“Yeah,” said Iggy. “But what now?Let’s do something fun.”I guess being on the run frombloodthirsty Erasers and insanescientists wasn’t enough fun for him.Kids today are so spoiled.”

“What?" I said, suspicion starting to rise in me. "When did they start coming after you?""Was it— was it after the oil-slick Hummer crash?" the Gasman asked Iggy tentatively. My eyes widened. Oil-slick Hummer crash?Iggy rubbed his chin, thinking. "Or maybe it was more— after the bomb," the Gasman said in a low voice, looking down. "I think it was the bomb," Iggy agreed. "That definitely seemed to tick them off.”