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was starting to wonder if it might get a lot worse.
    Up to that point I thought this would be my last experience hunting Haunts. I was certain I was not cut out for this line of work, and hoped I would be able to go back to the garage and not think about this night ever again.
    But when Bobby shook his head at me, and said, “It’s easier if you don’t care.” I changed my mind. I wanted to care.
    I decided I was going to keep this job. I was going to find a way to do it better. I was going to do it so the Bobbys of this world wouldn’t have it all their way.
    â€œThat is why I still do this.”
    â€œWow. Can I just say I am so glad you’re the one who found me? I never thought I would ever feel lucky again, but, dude. ” He shook his head.
    I hadn’t told him that story so he would think I was a great person. I wasn’t. Sometimes I drank too much and had, on occasion, slept with women I had no intention of ever speaking to again. I was no saint.
    What I was trying to convey to Corey was that some people still cared about how he was treated. I was one of those people.
    He let it go thankfully.
    He started singing along with an old song on the radio. It was cutting out. That happened a lot since the invasion. Cell phones and other electronics were affected by some kind of interference. They would cut out for no reason. It always seemed worse around the times the Haunts woke up.
    The song was one I barely knew, I was impressed that someone his age knew it.
    â€œYou like classic rock?” I chuckled.
    â€œI like all music. My parents used to fight constantly so I spent most of my time with my ear buds on to block them out.”
    â€œDid it work?”
    â€œNo. The volume didn’t go up that high.”
    We started playing Name That Tune with the radio for a few hours. He was very good.
    Come daybreak he requested to stay in the van again. I kept driving for a while until the sun in my eyes got on my nerves and I found a place to crash around ten.
    That evening after dinner, I let Corey out and gave him two more juice boxes.
    He was quiet. We didn’t play games or talk like we had before.
    â€œHow long until we get there?” he asked.
    â€œAbout four hours.”
    â€œI heard about the latest trial going wrong when you stopped for gas last night.”
    â€œYeah. I heard about that too.” I let out a slow breath.
    â€œAt least this time it wasn’t fatal,” he added.
    â€œThey’re volunteers, you know.” I felt I had to say that much, and it was mostly true. There usually wasn’t a shortage of those willing to risk everything for a cure. But at the end of the day, this wasn’t something you could test on lab rats first.
    â€œDo you think if I died and then they figured out the cure because of me, I would be remembered as a hero, or would I just be another person who died as a result of the invasion?” he asked in all seriousness.
    â€œCorey, I think you’ve gone through a hell of a lot. You’re already a hero in my book.”
    â€œAnd who’s reading your book?”
    â€œNo one.” I chuckled. “Well, me.”
    â€œThat’s enough then.”
    While he seemed content with my answer, I was suddenly uneasy. Usually there wasn’t a shortage of volunteers, but sometimes there was. He wasn’t a coward. But he also wasn’t a lab rat. He was a child.
    I had an idea, and pulled over to the shoulder rather abruptly.
    â€œWhat are you doing?” he asked. I didn’t answer. Instead I jumped out of the van and went to the back.
    I searched through the box of first aid supplies—there was stuff in there I wouldn’t know how to use if my life depended on it, let alone anyone else’s—and found what I was looking for.
    Coming around to his door I yanked it open, making him flinch. I quickly pulled the sleeve of his tattered T-shirt up a little and swallowed.
    â€œHold