“Look, we're trying to explore other options to your retirement," the whitecoat said. "You might be useful to us in other ways."Because we're not that useful dead,"Nudge said thoughtfully.No," I agreed. "Well, maybe as doorstops."The whitecat made an "eew" expression.Or those things in a parking lot that show where the cars should stop," suggested Iggy. He closed his eyes and went stiff, to demonstrate what it would look like. Also an option.”

“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.”

“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.”“Bomb?” I asked incredulously.”

“The guys were totally skuzzy, grinning horribly, showing holes where teeth should be. “Boys, God doesn’t like you,” Fang intoned behind them. Whaaat? I thought, dumbfounded. “Wha!” they said, whirling. At that moment, Fang snapped out his huge wings and shone the penlight under his chin so it raked his cheekbones and eyes. My mouth dropped open. He looked like the angel of death. His dark wings filled the hallway almost to the ceiling, and he moved them up and down. “God doesn’t like bad people,” he said, using a really weird, deep voice. “What the heck?” one of the squatters murmured shallowly, his mouth slack, his eyes bugging out of his head. I whipped my own wings open. Fun, anyway. “This was a test,” I said, using my best spooky voice. “And guess what? You both failed.” The bums stopped dead, looks of horror and amazement on their faces. Then Fang growled, “Rowr!” He stepped forward, sweeping his wings up and down: the avenging demon. I almost cracked up. “Rowr!” I said myself, shaking my wings out. “Ahhhhh!” the guys yelled, backpedaling fast. Unfortunately, they were standing at the top of the staircase. They fell awkwardly, trying to grab each other, and rolled down two flights like lumpy bags of potatoes, shrieking the whole way. Fang and I slapped each other a quick high five—and we were out of there, jack.”

“Maybe it's information the whitecoats never wanted anyone to figure out.' Fang said in the hollow Twilight Zone-y voice he used sometimes when things got unusually weird- as opposed to regular weird.”

“Walking over to Iggy, he poked him with his shoe. "Does anysing on you vork properly?"Iggy rubbed his forehead with one hand. "Well, I have a highly developed sense of irony."Ter Borcht tsked. "You are a liability to your group. I assume you alvays hold onto someone's shirt, yes? Following dem closely?""Only when I'm trying to steal their dessert," Iggy said truthfully.”

“And you're blind?"Uh-huh," Iggy said, trying to sound bored.Were you born that way?"No."How did you become blind, uh, Jeff, is it?"Yeah, Jeff. Well, I looked directly at the sun, you know, the way they always tell you not to. If only I had listened.”