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palatable, at least. A part of me expects her to pop up into my head atany moment and decry the polluted taste of caribou. But she doesn’t. Randon and Baby have gone to sleep, safe in the mountains, and I tell myself Grackel’s sleeping, too.
    â€œWhat about that research base of yours they found in Antarctica?” Driver says.
    â€œTwisted, bro. Straight twisted what they did.”
    Driver snorts. “You gonna believe some YouTube fool who calls himself RedJediGrunt? It’s all CGI.”
    â€œBro, that stuff is real.”
    â€œI’ve got a holy glove I want to sell you.” Driver wiggles his gloved fingers at us. “Worn by Jesus himself.”
    â€œIt’s real, bro. It was on the news.”
    â€œYou believe in dragon exposure, too?” Driver scoffs, rolls his eyes. “Get too close to a dragon, you’ll go crazy?”
    â€œIt’s happened. Just watch The Other Side and you’ll know it’s true.”
    Driver hooks a thumb over his shoulder at EMT. “Dragon boy’s got a real thing for those dragon shows, don’t you know? Spinoff after spinoff. Infects the neurons.”
    EMT’s face lights up. “That’s it. I couldn’t figure out who you looked like. That Melissa Callahan girl. Shame about what happened.”
    â€œI don’t know what you’re talking about.”
    â€œ Kissing Dragons ?”
    I shut my eyes, give a slight shake of my head.
    â€œDon’t mind him,” Driver says. “He had a poster of that girl in his bedroom.” They made posters? Of course they did. I was world famous three months ago. “Don’t worry, Sarah, you’re much prettier than she is.”
    I can’t help but laugh at that. “How’s he doing?”
    â€œBro’s a fighter. Something about him, too. I’d swear I’ve seen him before. The front lines, maybe.”
    â€œHim?” I say, opening my eyes to find EMT squinting at Colin. Is this guy an ex-A-B who platooned with Colin? A Bureau of Dragon Affairs agent? Sam once told me they have sleepers everywhere.
    Driver chuckles. “He thinks everybody looks like somebody, don’t you know? Add some sideburns, and he says I could be Elvis’s son.” He puffs out his chest and glides a hand down his profile. “What say you, Melissa Callahan? Am I a Presley?”
    â€œSure.” If Elvis had adopted. Deep breaths, Melissa. These are just people. Not BoDA agents in disguise. Not ex-military. Just ordinary people. I have to tell myself that a few more times before I release my hold on the gun.
    When we arrive at Kanakanak Hospital, a single-story strip of a building that seems more like an extended barn than a medical facility, a team of scrub-dressed men and women unload Colin and roll him away. I grab our bags, loop them in triplicate over my shoulders, and carry Allieinto the lobby. A lanky man bundled in a fur-lined sheriff’s coat strides toward me.
    â€œYou Sarah Cosgrove?” he asks.
    I set Allie on a chair, put the bags beside her. “Yes, sir.”
    â€œYou injured?”
    I exaggerate a wince. “Ribs.”
    The faintest smile touches his lips as he powers up his tablet. “From the car accident?”
    I nod, unable to meet his gaze. It was a ridiculous story, but I panicked when EMT asked me why we were on the side of the road in the middle of the night, me with fractured ribs, Colin with an hours-old gunshot wound, and Allie without a bruise.
    â€œYou got ID, Ms. Cosgrove?”
    I retrieve my wallet from my go bag and show him my Washington State driver’s license.
    He types info into his tablet. “What you doing up here in Dillingham?”
    â€œHeard it’s dragon free. Good boarding,” I say.
    His smile broadens into a full smirk, and I consider going for my gun. One of the first things Colin taught me was how to quick draw and fire. Not as accurate, but the sheriff’s at