26
One Hell of a Fight
Zeb had never felt so miserable in all his life. Just minutes ago it had seemed as though the whole world was about to change for the better, and now all their hopes had been obliterated by a gaggle of grey-suited brutes. He and Flip ran with the Alephs into the woods for cover and sat on the cool green grass. It was a delightfully warm summer’s day, which seemed terribly inconsiderate of the weather in light of all the awful things that were happening. Surely it would have been polite to at least produce a grim cloud or two.
“Zeb, what are we going to do?”
“We have to carry on with the transmission. We still have the Alephs and the clay and we know the Ruckus music, the songspell. We’ll have to sing it ourselves.”
“But that song is for your dad and Smokey to si
