Fang, fang. I love you. I looooove you. I love you thiiiiiiiiiis much!

Total?" I called. He looked up alertly, then ran over to me, small pink tongue hanging out. Total?" I said when he was close. "Can you talk?" He flopped down on the grass, panting slightly. "Yeah. So?" Jeezum. I mean, mutant weirdos are nothing new to me, you know? But a talking dog?

Maybe he was a good a good whitecoat—like Jeb. And maybe the moon was made of cream cheese.

Have you been playing in toxic waste lately?

I hoped I wasn't actually dead. That would make finding our parents and saving the world really hard.

Now, Max, I think we both know your parents aren't missionaries." I opened my eyes wide. "No? Well, for God's sake, don't tell them. They'd be crushed. Thinking they're doing the Lord's work and all.

You have a memory chip that small implanted in you,” he verified. I nodded, guessing this was somewhat worse than having cooties.