Harrington 3

Overdose

Soon enough, we're inside the elevator, though I barely remember how we got there, and are hurtling up towards the surface. Somewhere along the ride, it hits me that we've escaped the Russians, and I frown.

"We have to go back," I say to Dustin as Steve rides a dolley behind me with Robin cackling next to him.

"What? Why?" Dustin asks me sharply, and I stagger sideways as the lift shakes.

"I never said goodbye to Stalin!" I exclaim desperately, but the boy just rolls his eyes, as if this isn't important. I get offended that he doesn't believe in the special connection that I had with Stalin, and am about to say something accusatory when I'm taken out by the knees as Steve goes flying off the dolley and rolls across the floor.

"Wipeout!" Shouts Robin as I fall hard on my back and Steve hits a bunch of boxes next to him, and any thoughts of anger towards Dustin are replaced with giddy glee as I watch him approach my brother and feel his forehead.

"He's burning up."

"You're burning up," Steve retorts, trying to push Dustin away as the boy gropes at his face and checks his eyes.

"His pupils are super dilated," Dustin says to Erica, and I grab Steve's face, looking into his eyes but not seeing anything surprising.

"I declare him perfectly fine," I say, shoving his face away, "Not guilty. Cleared of all charges!"

"The jury declares him not guilty!" Robin exclaims, and Steve cheers with glee.

"Maybe he's drugged," suggests Erica, watching us with apparent disgust.

"Steve," Dustin says, slapping my brother's face lightly, "Are you drugged?"

"How many times, dad? I don't do drugs," Steve scoffs, "It's only marijuana."

"When I was your age I had a stable job!" I snap at Steve in a deep voice that imitates my father, "I had a wife and four children and an ass for a head."

Steve laughs, "An ass for a head! He's still got that!"

"Old habits die hard," I point out, and we both cackle profusely as Dustin rolls his eyes.

"This isn't funny, okay?" He says seriously, "I need to know what they did to you. Are you gonna die on us?"

Steve reaches up and taps Dustin's nose, "Boop."

I roll over with laughter, and Robin crouches down with an ominous stare.

"We all die, my strange little child friend," she deadpans, fiddling with her hair, "It's just a matter of how . . . and when."

Dustin stares at her for a moment before shaking his head in apparent exasperation and turning back to Steve.

"They're gonna be looking for us up there so I need you to tell me where you parked your car," he speaks slowly, as if talking to a small child.

"Oh, can we make a pit stop at the food court?" My brother asks, suddenly looking starving. I nod vigorously as Robin leans forward.

"I would kill for a hot dog on a stick," she says, and I groan at the thought, practically drooling.

"I would do more than kill." I shake my head gravely, and Steve looks at me.

"You can't do more than kill, idiot," he retorts, and I straighten up.

"You can torture," I say darkly, "I'd rather be killed dead than skinned alive."

"Fair enough," he agrees, nodding wisely before turning to Dustin, "I'd skin someone alive for a hot dog on a stick."