Rant

but the boysin the meat wagon are still waiting for their cargo.
    According to the early rumors, the burned Daimler-Benz appears to be empty. Bringing you the gory details, this is DRVR Graphic Traffic…
    39–Werewolves V
    Hudson Baker ( Student): This is hard to explain, but in every toilet stall in every bathroom at the high school we go to, somebody wrote in every stall: “Amber Nye Is Dripping with Rabies!”
    Only, really, Amber wrote that herself. It’s really hard to explain.
    Toni Wiedlin ( Party Crasher): High-school kids would do a dance they called “The Drooler,” meaning they’d mimic the partial leg paralysis of an end-stage rabies victim. Kids would stagger around the dance floor, foaming from Alka-Seltzer on their tongue, crashing into each other, and snarling. The word is, doing that dance is a good way to get shot by the police.
    Shot Dunyun ( Party Crasher): People who want to catch the bug, we call them “spittoons.” People willing to pass along the rabies virus are “hawkers.”
    From the Field Notes of Green Taylor Simms ( Historian): As Charles Dickens once described the French Reign of Terror: During times of plague there will always be those who can’t rest until they’ve become infected.
    Hudson Baker: Amber and me would cover our whole, entire bodies in sunblock, SPF 200 or something. We so wanted people to whisper we were Nighttimers, and for the curfew police to try and bust us. Looking back, we wanted people to be scared of us. Like we could run totally wild at any moment and bite everybody’s throat at the Christian Pathways Academy.
    Toni Wiedlin: I remember hearing some silly Nighttimers teens bragging about what they called their “lineage,” meaning the original source of their rabies strain. Without exception, every kid swears she or he was infected by Rant Casey or Echo Lawrence. Everyone wants to feel special—attain a special status among their peers—but not too special. Most kids only want to be special the same way their friends are special.
    Hudson Baker: Amber’s mom and dad had no idea how we were sneaking out every night. We’d wear these dark-black wigs and white makeup. Looking back, we had to look, like, ruthlessly lame and dumb to real Nighttimers. We wore black tights under black dresses we found at thrift stores, and that Mr. and Mrs. Nye didn’t even know we had. We’d stand on a corner and wait for a car full of Party Crashers to stop.
    It’s really hard to talk about this now.
    Toni Wiedlin: I remember everybody saying Rant Casey was the father of Party Crashing and he wasn’t dead. These same kids will tell you Elvis and Jim Morrison and James Dean just got sick of the spotlight and faked their deaths so they could write poetry in the south of France. When everyone lies about seeing Rant and kissing him, all their lies prop up a win-win reality. The government says Rant’s alive because they need a villain. The kids say he’s alive because they need a hero.
    Hudson Baker: Amber was so in love with Rant, she’d go into the post office and steal his “Most Wanted” posting off the clipboard they keep for the FBI’s top-ten fugitives. Every time the FBI replaced it, Amber would steal another. It had his photo from when he immigrated to the nighttime. Amber wanted to wallpaper her room with those FBI posters, but Mr. Nye would’ve totally, no-kidding freaked.
    Toni Wiedlin: To young kids, Rant and Echo became the Adam and Eve of their era—the F. Scott and Zelda, the John and Yoko, Sid and Nancy, Kurt and Courtney. I remember that everyone who traced their rabies lineage back to Rant or Echo’s mouth, they called themselves a “Child of Rant” or “Spawn of Echo.”
    Every high school has its Romeo and Juliet, one tragic couple. So does every generation.
    Hudson Baker: Our high school, a separate student body used our same desks and classrooms at night. Nighttimer kids. They had their own different nighttime teachers and janitors and everything. Their own nurse, even. Nighttimer kids sat in our desks while we slept at home, and we sat there while they slept. Some days, you’d find a note chewing-gummed to the bottom side of a desk—a night kid trying to make contact so you’d leave a note in the same place. That’s how Amber and me met that guy Gregg Denney.
    Gregg Denney ( Student): These day bitches come around, not wanting to be virgins no more. I provided myself a bottomless supply of clean pussy. Day bitches only had to