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Gonzalo crept in a crouch, just on the
edge of darkness, trying to make sense of what he was seeing,
when he saw something he couldn’t believe. A shotgun lying
in one of the seats, one row in front of him. Firelight from a
distant flame gleamed off its cold metal barrel. He blinked
once in disbelief, then reached over the seat and took it up
in one hand. He gripped the chestnut stock and cracked
open the single-fire chamber. One unfired shell gleamed. He
clicked the barrel back into place. The sound was sweet. For-
tune favored him.
Gonzalo scanned the stadium. There were hundreds upon
hundreds of Thunder kids. He hated the idea that he might be
looking right at Sasha and have no idea.
He had to get out of the dark section of the bleachers and
head toward the light. That was the only way he’d be able
to see. They might be able to see him too, but he was out of
