“why　is　everyone　calling　me　greenbean?”　he　asked,　shaking　chuck’s　hand　quickly,　then　letting　go.

        “cuz　you’re　the　newest　newbie.”　chuck　pointed　at　thomas　and　laughed.　another　scream　came　from　the　house,　a　sound　like　a　starving　animal　being　tortured.

        “how　can　you　be　laughing?”　thomas　asked,　horrified　by　the　noise.　“it　sounds　like　someone’s　dying　in　there.”

        “he’ll　be　okay.　no　one　dies　if　they　make　it　back　in　time　to　get　the　serum.　it’s　all　or　nothing.　dead　or　not　dead.　just　hurts　a　lot.”

        this　gave　thomas　pause.　“what　hurts　a　lot?”

        chuck’s　eyes　wandered　as　if　he　wasn’t　sure　what　to　say.　“um,　gettin’　stung　by　the　grievers.”

        “grievers?”　thomas　was　only　getting　more　and　more　confused.　stung.　grievers.　the　words　had　a　heavy　weight　of　dread　to　them,　and　he　suddenly　wasn’t　so　sure　he　wanted　to　know　what　chuck　was　talking　about.

        chuck　shrugged,　then　looked　away,　eyes　rolling.

        thomas　sighed　in　frustration　and　leaned　back　against　the　tree.　“looks　like　you　barely　know　more　than　i　do,”　he　said,　but　he　knew　it　wasn’t　true.　his　memory　loss　was　strange.　he　mostly　remembered　the　workings　of　the　world—but　emptied　of　specifics,　faces,　names.　like　a　book　pletely　intact　but　missing　one　word　in　every　dozen,　making　it　a　miserable　and　confusing　read.　he　didn’t　even　know　his　age.

        “chuck,　how　…　old　do　you　think　i　am?”

        the　boy　scanned　him　up　and　down.　“i’d　say　you’re　sixteen.　and　in　case　you　were　wondering,　five　foot　nine　…　brown　hair.　oh,　and　ugly　as　fried　liver　on　a　stick.”　he　snorted　a　laugh.

        thomas　was　so　stunned　he’d　barely　heard　the　last　part.　sixteen?　he　was　sixteen?　he　felt　much　older　than　that.

        “are　you　serious?”　he　paused,　searching　for　words.　“how　…”　he　didn’t　even　know　what　to　ask.

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