Slug doesn’t know what Fred made him drink, but it’s working. He feels utterly relaxed. He feels excellent. The pain in his leg is gone, and any trace of panic, stress, or fear has vanished. He finally feels on the inside as he always appears on the outside—calm—and that’s a problem. It seems they’ve realized that his time-manipulating talent only activates when he’s afraid. But he isn’t afraid now. On the contrary, he feels incredible. Even being propped up, wrapped in meters of duct tape, in the back of a van hurtling recklessly through the night doesn’t change that. It only makes him smile more.
Through the small window in the bulkhead separating the cargo bay from the driver’s seat, he spots Fred, driving like he walks: crude, angular, and destructive, tossing the car around like a toy and sending Gnat bouncing around like a sack of potatoes. It only makes him laugh harder. He feels excited, like a kid on a theme park ride.
He knows it's unnatural. He knows it's not okay, but he doesn’t care. Numbed by the potion, his worry doesn't have enough fuel to gather any strength. His mind wanders. When will the sun come up? Maybe Fred is in such a hurry because he has to be back before dawn, or else he’ll be reduced to dust like a vampire. Hahahahaha. Yes! It’s even funnier because he looks like Frankenstein’s monster. He doubles over laughing. He feels fantastic, on top of the world—and that’s a disaster. He knows it is, but he just can’t feel it.
Fred opens the small window just wide enough to speak through. “So, blubberfish.” (Haha, good one, Slug thinks.) “In a few minutes, I’ll drop you off at school. I hope they let me watch while they dissect you, inch by inch. Even that potion won’t save you then.” Slug only laughs uncontrollably. “Laugh all you want—it won’t help. You’re dead meat.” With a loud snap, he shuts the window again.
Turning his gaze to the rear window, Slug starts recognizing the streets they’re racing through. They pass three army trucks, which Fred salutes with a loud honk. Closer to school, the streets become unexpectedly busy for an early Saturday morning, forcing them to slow to a crawl. Eventually, they pass through a fence Slug doesn’t remember seeing before, and then they stop. The doors fly open; Fred picks him up, slings him over his shoulder as if he weighs nothing, and starts walking.
The gates leading to the black square swing open as Fred hurries toward the school door, keeping close to the fence. Ignoring the broken window, he yanks the door open with such force it nearly tears from its hinges. With heavy steps, he enters the abandoned, pitch-dark corridor, Slug bouncing on his shoulder as if he weighs nothing, having the time of his life.
After just a few turns, they reach the history classroom. With unnecessary force, Fred pushes him into a chair and secures him with an excessive number of zip ties. When he’s finished, he turns around and leaves the room with an ominous glint in his eyes. Slug realizes he should feel frightened, but it only makes him laugh harder.
Slug isn’t sure how much time has passed when he finally hears footsteps approaching from behind. Although he can’t turn his head far enough to see, he’s certain it must be Scroptz. But when the person finally speaks, the voice sounds nothing like Scroptz’s.
“Well, well, my young friend, this is quite the unexpected encounter at such an unusual hour. The stranger the company, the merrier the gathering—as young Shakespeare himself might have said.” The man's laugh that follows is loud and boisterous, as though he believes he’s just shared a hilarious joke. Perkins! Slug thinks, surprised, suddenly realizing he’s in far deeper trouble than he’d anticipated. And then… he begins to laugh uncontrollably.