The Girl Who Punched Back

The Death Fields

Book 2

By

Angel Lawson

Chapter 1

The blade, slick with blood, is the only thing separating me from the drooling, oozing, smelly human trying to spread the infection that ravaged his brain to me.

God, I hate Eaters.

I hate their black, veiny eyes. I hate their rabid aggression. I hate their addiction-like need to sink their teeth into my skin. I hate what they’ve done to my family, our society, and I hate the fact I can’t just go on a simple mission to help other people without getting covered in their foul blood.

I hate that they took my life and future away.

“Get. Off.” I mutter more to myself than him. The Eater certainly doesn’t care about my wants and chomps his rotten teeth in reply. My arms shake from the weight and I know he’s going to drop. I really, really don’t want that to happen.

A second howling Eater stumbles near me, followed by the sickening thwack of metal slicing through tendons and flesh. Turning to the side, I see the body on the ground. The head rolls lazily in my direction until I’ve got one disgusting Eater face hovering over me and one inches to my left. The decapitated head is so close I can see the stupid hoop ring she thought was a good idea to insert in her nose back in her former life.

“A little help? Wyatt? Walker?” My elbows wobble. A stream of sticky spit lands on my cheek. A little louder I shout, “Wyatt!”

A streak of black flashes behind the Eater and I close my eyes as my arms collapse. I flinch, expecting the weight of the body to fall on mine. It never comes. Grunts and howling cries fill the air and I blink, seeing the fight above me. Well, not a fight. Wyatt is merely showing off.

From the ground, I watch as he punches the Eater in the jaw twice before grabbing his head and snapping it with a powerful twist.  Standing over the dead body, Wyatt adjusts his black gloves and glances down at me.

I glare at him and say, “Took you long enough.”

“I thought you had him.” He walks over and offers me a hand. I take it, feeling the ache in my muscles with every move. Back on my feet, I look down at my uniform. Even though it’s black you can see the blood and guts seeping into the fabric.

“Is that what winning looks like to you?” It’s an honest question. I never have any idea what he’s thinking, not since the night we met, back on a farm in North Carolina. Not even when he saves my life—repeatedly.

He narrows his eyes, like he’s truly assessing me, and I wait for the reply. For some reason I always want to know how his brain works, why he does the things he does. Instead of an answer, he clenches his jaw and looks toward our vehicle. Walker, the leader of our mission, reloads her gun.

“We should go, Alex,” he says. “We’re losing daylight.”

He walks off, leaving me in the street, surrounded by bodies.

I exhale and follow him, thinking how lucky we are to live another day in the apocalypse.

*

“Dead.”

“Hiding.”

“Negative. Dead.”

“They’re educated. They’re smart enough to have gotten away.” I have my own logic. It’s the only thing that keeps me going right now.

Wyatt glares at me. “Then infected.”

I glance out the window at the house. Two stories, but modest. Built in the ‘70s or ‘80s. The three Volvos with bumper stickers that proclaim the colleges where they or their children all went. Yes, ‘went’. They certainly no longer go.

I sigh. “Fine. Infected.”

He doesn’t smile, more like a smug smirk. It takes everything not to smack it off his face, but that seems like an extreme emotion for losing a game. The expression slips and he nods at the next house we pass.

“Hiding,” he states.

“Shut up, both of you,” Walker says from the driver’s seat. “I can’t believe you made a game out of this God-forsaken situation.”

Wyatt and I both shrug. Dead, Hiding, or Infected is how we pass the time on patrol. We have to do something while we sweep the streets for survivors and wait for my megalomaniac sister, Jane, to unveil the entirety of whatever delusional plan she’s cooked up.

The truck bounces in a large pot hole and I brace myself against the seat against the impact. There’s certainly no government left to repair the roads now, and it’s increasingly obvious how fast everything has eroded. I don’t just mean the road conditions.

It’s been three months since Wyatt, Cole, Chloe, and I arrived at my sister’s lair, the southern headquarters for PharmaCorp. We came in a blaze of gunfire, after unknowingly traveling with a mercenary for five hundred miles, fighting off the remaining vestiges of the US government, and hand-delivering information my father needed to create a vaccine for the E-TR virus. Unfortunately, I still haven’t decided if my father, the renowned Dr. Ramsey, and sister, Jane Ramsey (or as she likes to be called, “The Director”) have clear motives. I know my sister doesn’t. The problem is I’m not sure how nefarious her plans actually are.

Sure, that may sound overly-dramatic, but in a post-apocalyptic world who’s going to stop me?

“Walker,” Wyatt says, nodding to a house at the end of the street. The windows are boarded over, the garage marked with a huge black X. Everything about the home screams abandoned. But not to Wyatt. He’s got some sort of spidey-sense.

“What?” I ask.

“Let’s check it out.” She stops the Humvee with a lurch and we exit the vehicle. I try not to stare at the blood stains in the driveway next door.

“Alex, stay with me,” he instructs, giving me an annoyed-but-knowing look. He feels like he’s babysitting me, I know. I heard him shout those very words, “I’m not The Director’s freaking babysitter!” back at the fort. Except he didn’t say “freaking.” I was assigned to go with him anyway, and when he’s not off on super-top-secret Freedom Fighter missions we do this, patrol the suburbs of Augusta, Georgia for signs of life and death.

The weird thing is that it’s mostly a dead-zone. Little life and not even that much “death.” Either everyone scattered months ago, or this segment of the city has already been cleaned up by an earlier team, or the people here are really good at hiding.

“Exactly what are we stopping for?” I’m not arguing. I just want to understand.

He puts his finger to his lips and he and Walker exchange complicated hand gestures. They split up and I stick to his side like a shadow. After the fight earlier today I have little desire to be on my own again.

I notice the difference in this house from the others as soon as I get closer. The plywood tacked over the windows has holes drilled through it like Swiss cheese. My first thought is that they’re to allow in light, but then I notice the short spikes poking through each one.

“What good is that?” I ask, because the spikes are too short to do any real damage. I reach my glove-covered finger up and touch the tip. A coil winds and I cock my head just before I hear a loud click.

“Oh shit!” I cry, flying through the air, landing hard on my back. I stare up at the sky, my lungs gasping for air, after mentally assessing that I was not injured. Wyatt saved my butt with his quick reflexes. “Jesus, dude.”

He stands over me, weapon drawn, the spike elongated and inches from his face.

“Clever,” he says, touching the tip of one of the spikes with his own gloved hand.

I scramble to my feet, hatchet secure in my hand. I haven’t quite caught my breath. “Who the heck are these people?”

“I don’t know, Alex” he says with a flash in his eyes. “But I plan on finding out.”

*

There are eleven of them, the youngest only seven years old. The oldest is their leader—a woman named Caroline—who explains they are a group of neighbors from the subdivision that banded together several months ago to ride out the E-TR virus and its aftermath.  They’ve been waiting for help.

“You’ve found it,” Walker says. Her firearm is in the holster strapped to her hip, but that doesn’t keep Caroline and a guy introduced as Jude from staring at her nervously. I’m sure the fact we’re covered in fresh Eater guts isn’t helping.

Nothing about the world today is the same as it was before the virus spread. Even eleven people holed up should know that.

“We’ve got food, medicine, and shelter,” Walker explains. “It’s a secure fort in Augusta, and we’re looking for strong men and women to help us get back on track.”

Jude looks over at the boy playing on the ground with a small train. “And the kids? We won’t leave them.” When he speaks, it’s clear he’s not much older than Wyatt—so I’m guessing early twenties. His accent is southern—thick like honey. He’s got on camo pants, a matching shirt, and a trucker-style baseball cap with the image of a deer leaping stitched on the bill.

“Kids are an automatic in,” Wyatt says. All eyes shift to him. It’s the first time he’s spoken since Walker convinced them to open the door. That move alone proves their naiveté. Walker may technically be in charge, but Wyatt is the Alpha here. “It’s the adults that have to qualify.”

He says this in an aloof voice, like he doesn’t care if they come or not. Wyatt probably doesn’t give a crap. That’s one thing I learned about him on our journey from Durham. He cares about two things: 1. Himself, and 2. His job. Unfortunately for him, my sister has given him the task of bringing back able-bodied survivors, so he needs to sound a little more convincing.

I sigh, getting Caroline’s attention. She’s in her forties and if I had to guess, one of the Volvo drivers. She also looks tired and thin. “Look, there’s a stronghold at the PharmaCorp facility downtown. The president was something of a doomsday prepper—to the extreme—with millions of dollars to support her paranoia. The building is secure, fully functional, and has an entire lab working on a vaccine. As you’ve probably seen, not everyone is handling the current world situation well, and PharmaCorp needs people to maintain and defend the facility.”

Walker, who barely ever acknowledges me, seems impressed by my speech.

“You have running water?” Caroline asks, her voice a mixture of curious and incredulous.

I nod. “Yes and solar powered electricity.”

Wyatt from behind me. “It’s your choice. We’re not in the business of making anyone go anywhere they don’t want to.”

Two younger women behind Jude perk up when Wyatt speaks. He’s probably smiling. Yeah, they’ll come, just to try to unravel that mystery. Good luck, ladies.

“What do you mean by ‘qualify’?” Caroline asks.

Walker reaches into the pocket of her tactical vest and pulls out the color brochure my sister had printed. Jane isn’t going to let something like the end of civilized society ruin her marketing abilities. Caroline takes the brochure and skims the information. Everything is laid out in clean bullet points.

For shelter, food, and medical at PharmaCorp residents must:

•        Pass a Health Exam

•        Pass a Mental Evaluation

•        Participate in Medical Trials

•        Follow Rules and Regulations of the Fort (*described on the following page)

•        Volunteer for Appropriate Work Detail (*described on the following page)

The rules aren’t complicated. Mostly behaving like a civilized person while walking around fully armed. The worst part is attending Jane’s meetings, where she attempts to motivate everyone to her vague and undefined cause. Jane doesn’t have the self-actualization to realize that she is, in fact, bat-shit crazy. But she’s a genius, and if anyone can stabilize and mass produce a vaccine my father created right before shit hit the fan, it’s her.

The group takes a minute to talk it over but we already know they’ll come. Who wouldn’t? They can’t have much food left, and blood stains on the street outside tell the other side of the story. It’s only a matter of time before someone gets infected. Or worse, other survivors show up.

Plus, I think, as Caroline comes back and nods at Walker, if they don’t come with us Erwin will find them. Even though I’m not on Jane’s side, I’m definitely not on his.

Chapter 2

If and when the history books tell the story about the E-TR virus the scholars will surely only tell one version—the not-exactly-true-version.

The historians will tell future generations that people started behaving oddly. Ground-zero picked Florida, which is one reason no one paid much attention at first—people were always doing bizarre, crazy things in Florida. The talking heads on the news speculated that it looked like some kind of tainted drug or possibly an environmental effect that caused the user to turn erratic and violent. People were violent every day in America. People inhaled, snorted, and injected all kinds of garbage in their systems. That alone wasn’t a big deal—the big deal was when people started eating other people.

Right. Cannibalism. The real sign of the apocalypse.

A top epidemiologist, my father, Dr. Arthur Ramsey, was called in to stop the crisis. The CDC and every specialist in the country worked overtime to figure out what this was and why it was spreading. What they realized is that a parasite, identified as the E-TR Parasite, was being passed from person to person, burrowing into their skulls, igniting a virus that inflamed the brain. The infection triggered extreme rage and the urge to kill. The onset was slow, but eventually the infected lost control of their bodies and minds, using their hands and teeth to kill anyone that crossed their paths.

They aren’t zombies—not in that Walking Dead, World War Z kind of way. The people are still alive, although their brains are basically on fire. Their bodies deteriorate, just slower than normal. The Eaters are consumed with the need to spread the infection and act out with extreme aggression, but they don’t take care of themselves and have lost all ability to communicate. Oh, and they smell. Awful. Like rotten, spoiled flesh. Thank God, it takes little more than a solid blow to the head, heart, or decapitation to kill them. Unfortunately they’re also strong as hell with amped-up strength which makes it hard to land a shot.

At the beginning, before anyone knew what was really going on, we all went under quarantine. The military took control. My father went into final stages testing a vaccine on me, hoping to save humanity. I am not a cure. I am not immune, but my blood and his science started the process for the only known vaccine. Unfortunately, he disappeared before he finished, leaving me and my mother a pouch of information and directions to find my sister, three states away. We traveled on foot. She died.

No.

I killed her.

I shot her in the heart before the parasite could get in her brain and change her from the mother I loved into a human I couldn’t recognize.  It was a promise we made. It was one I kept, and it was the worst thing I’ve ever had to do.

I also promised I would keep going and find my dad and sister. Along the way I met Wyatt, Cole, and his twin sister, Chloe, on the road.

And that was when I got to the real truth behind the E-TR virus.

My sister was involved. Of course she was. Someone with her drive and ego wouldn’t be on the sidelines of humanity falling. Her name is Jane Ramsey, and at the time, a brilliant student with a bright future in our father’s footsteps, epidemiology. She wanted a career in academia—researching for the University, esteem from writing papers, and testing on lab rats and monkeys. That was her plan until right before her graduation, when she was approached by PharamCorp and asked to work for them in their research department. They had the funding, the equipment and the desire to change the world—in ways no one realized. The other thing no one realized was that the founders of PharmaCorp had some radical views on humanity and the state of society.

See, the summer before the E-TR virus popped up in Florida, two major events happened on the other side of the world. First, ISIS was formed. Our first view of them was a caravan of trucks and Jeeps blazing through the desert. The talking heads showed footage of dust trailing their vehicles—discussing how this couldn’t be good, that they were headed straight toward civilians.

Second, was Boko Haram kidnapping and enslaving three hundred school girls in Liberia.

These two events, along with dozens of other human rights atrocities, spurred Jane to develop a super bug to use as biological warfare on the enemies of mankind. Using their unlimited cash, PC hired mercenaries to track down terrorist groups and infect them with the virus with the intent of having them eliminate themselves. Ultimately, PharmaCorp planned to do what official, bureaucratic organizations couldn’t.

The targets were to take place in isolated locations. AKA: the middle of nowhere. They were to infect the leaders and bring down the followers. But like all warfare, there were civilian casualties. Long story short; an infected person reentered society and the virus spread.

So the part of history you won’t read one day (if there is a one day) is that my sister, Jane Ramsey, helped created the E-TR virus and PharmaCorp let it loose on the world.

It should come as no surprise that they are the only ones that can save humanity by creating a vaccine. They, along with my father, and their state-of-the-art facility we now use as a bunker to protect us from the Eaters outside.

The big question is; can we trust them?

Chapter 3

The ride back to the Fort is uneventful, passing only a handful of wandering Eaters. Once we enter the fortified gates, the people we brought with us head to quarantine while we enter decontamination. I’ve never been in the quarantine unit due to the fact we basically ambushed the place, but typically, most new people head there for a day or so and eventually end up in the general population of the fort.

I follow Wyatt to the showers, which is a large stall with a partition down the middle, our shadows mirroring one another from opposite sides. Before we enter the washing station, we strip down to our underwear, discarding our uniforms into bins. A nurse checks me first, assessing my body for possible wounds or signs of infection. Her hands are methodical, taking my temperature, my heart rate. We do this quietly, with no conversation other than the occasional “thanks” or “turn your head.” When she finishes and I pass the exam, she moves over to Wyatt’s side and I hear their chatter through the thick, canvas curtain.

“What’s it like out there?” the nurse asks. She’s one of the regulars down here.

“Quiet,” he says. It may sound like a typical, Wyatt-like blow-off answer, but he’s right. It’s still the first thing you notice, even after all this time.

“Find any survivors?”

Her words are benign. Post-Apocalyptic small talk (is it ‘post’? Or are we still mid-apocalyptic?) but I hear the lilt in her voice, the smile. She’s flirting with him. A flash of shirtless Wyatt pops in my head and I can’t blame her for trying.

“Yikes, where did you get this one?” she asks.

He hesitates for a beat. “On a boat filled with Eaters. One nearly got me.”

“You stitch it yourself?”

I lean my hand against the cool tile wall. “No. A friend.”

“Looks a little wobbly.”

“Well, yeah, I said we were on a boat.”

I step under the water, wondering how I feel about the description of “friend.” We certainly weren’t friends when I stitched up that wound, shaky-handed, hiding in a boat cabin surrounded by Eaters. I’d been terrified. He seemed completely unfazed. Back then I barely knew him. In some ways that hasn’t changed.

I hear the nurse laugh and I dunk my head under the showerhead.

It’s not that I’m interested. Because I’m not. He’s more like an older-brother-friend-of-my-crazy-sister’s, I guess. Plus I have Cole, even though I’m not sure what that’s all about either, although I can admit my heart races just a little thinking about him.

And before you get the wrong idea, this isn’t some teen-love-triangle situation either. It’s just life. And it’s increasingly complicated.

I scrub myself with the liquid antiseptic soap hanging from a container on the wall. By the time I step out of the shower area, dressed in a new, clean uniform, Wyatt’s standing at the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. His back is ripped with muscles. Tattoos are branded into his skin.

I walk over to him and he looks at me through the mirror, razor paused in his hand. His face is covered in foam. I glance down at the jagged mark on his stomach.

“Sorry I did a shitty job on that,” I say poking him in the side. He flinches, just a little, and it amuses me to know he has a weak spot.

“Never said you did.”

“Nurse Opinionated back there seems to think so.”

“Nurse…she wasn’t there.”

True.

I leave him to this grooming. He’d shaved his dark hair when we got to PharmaCorp, although he left a longer, rebellious strip across the crown. He keeps his jaw shaved and clean when we’re near facilities. I can only guess this is habit from his past military life, or maybe he just prefers it. That’s the kind of information I’d think an actual friend would know.

*

I head back to the dormitory. Even though the elevators are operational something about them freaks me out a little so I take the stairs, two at a time, and enter my residence hall through the heavy, metal door, breathing hard.

Offices have been turned into living quarters—the reception area a lounge. I share my room with a girl named Diane, who at a quick glance is still at her job down in the childcare center. I cross the hall, searching for Cole, and find him sitting on his cot. He leans against the wall, pillow propped behind his neck, knees bent.

“Hey.” I lean against the doorframe.

“You’re back,” he says, laying a notebook and pen to the side. “How was patrol?”

“Okay. We brought in eleven new people.”

“Great.” He brushes his too long, curly blond hair out of his eyes. “We’re going to run out of room soon.”

It’s a concern we all have; space, food, supplies. The population growth is something that’s been bothering me for a while, and I step into the room and shut the door behind me.

“I’ve been thinking about that. Have you noticed that even though we keep bringing in people, we aren’t reducing rations or having to add beds?” I ask.

“It’s a big building and the salvage team seems to do well.” He sighs. “The virus hit so quickly, leaving a lot of supplies on the shelves. I heard them say the other day they hit a canned goods factory down the river.”

He was right about the speed in which the virus brought humanity to a screeching halt. Plus, once someone is infected with the virus—even before they succumb to the infection and die—they have no appetite for food any longer. Well, not the kind you find in a store.

“Still, sometimes the people we bring back in are never seen again. Where do they go?”

Cole’s jaw tenses. “They must not make it through quarantine.”

His explanation makes sense, but I have a feeling something else is going on. It’s probably just my distrust of my sister and her motives. Between the way the virus was created in the first place and the way she acted when we got here, I’ve become a very jaded person.

I sit on the edge of the bed and he shifts over, taking my hand. His thumb runs against mine.

“How’s Chloe?” I ask.

“Better. The bullet wound is completely healed and she’s working through her physical therapy.”

“Good. The sooner she’s back on her feet, the sooner we can leave.”

That’s my plan. That has been my plan since before we got here. Deliver the information to my dad and sister, then leave and wait out this nightmare on my own. The feelings I have for Cole are confusing—everything now is confusing—but it’s real enough that I want him to come with me.

Unfortunately we don’t have exactly the same plans. I can tell by the way he grips my hand that he’s about to argue his plan again.

“I know you hate being here, but it’s the safest place we can be right now. I have a strong feeling the lab is on the cusp of a vaccine and I plan to have some say in how it’s used. Things are…I don’t know. Jane has some weird shit going on down there. I don’t feel right walking away yet.” he says. “Also, your sister saved Chloe’s life. I don’t feel right bailing.”

I stare at my knees, because this is the tension between us. Cole feels an obligation to PharmaCorp and my sister. She didn’t save his twin sister directly, her medics did, but she could have refused to waste the resources. Because of this Cole works in the lab, near but not exactly with my father, and won’t leave. I get it, I do. I don’t want to leave my family either, but I also don’t want to be here.

“Are you getting any more access down there?” I ask.

He shakes his head. “No. I mean, I’m doing my share of blind tests, but I don’t have much solid information. There are just rumors about the vaccine going around.”

I roll my eyes. “Rumors in this place cannot be considered reliable. It’s like a high school cafeteria. You know that.”

He tilts his head, forcing me to look in his brilliant blue eyes. Cole has had my back from the start—longer than I even realized. He’s not dumb. I don’t think he’s even that sentimental. I’m the one that operates on emotion. He moves his hand behind my neck and pulls me close, kissing me on the lips gently.

“Think about it. We don’t have to decide today,” he says. “Chloe isn’t quite there yet.”

I nod.

“I need to head back down,” he says.

“I’ve got a class to train.”

“See you at dinner—or at least at the meeting tonight?”

Ah, the meeting my sister called. I give him the best smile I can. “Yeah. I’ll save you a seat.”

Chapter 4

Pre-ETR, I worked my ass off in high school to earn valedictorian. I had early acceptance to pre-med at Duke.  Post-ETR, my sister--or one of her minions--has assigned me to the training room. Essentially, I’m a fitness instructor. With the help of one of the FF (Freedom Fighters) our job is to train the able-bodied how to survive outside these walls. Well, maybe not survive, but at least be able to run away.

I have zero experience in fighting, but I guess I did survive the journey from Raleigh to Augusta, which makes me some kind of expert. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I stand in front of a group of twelve men and women. Not for the first time, I notice most are in their later teens and early twenties, even though people of all ages live here.

We’re in the gym located one floor below ground. PharmaCorp provided a gym for its employees which, like everything else here, has made life post-ETR really convenient. The Fort has locker rooms, a cafeteria, a child care facility, huge underground storage facilities, and the hundreds of offices now used as dormitories.

The gym encompasses most of this level, with a wide track surrounding the fitness area in the middle. I was a runner in high school—the only sport I participated in (at my mother’s insistence)--and I lead the group around the track at a slow jog.

“What’s the point of all this?” I ask, falling in pace with Davis. He instructs most of the fighting technique as well as a weight-lifting regimen. It’s clear by looking at his physique that working out has been a priority for him for a long time. He has muscles on top of other muscles. I’ve had a lot of time to admire them since I got here, at least when we’re working together. When I’m not patrolling and he’s not off on some top-secret mission, we have three classes scheduled each day. “I mean, I know we need to be in shape but it seems a little much.”

“It’s best to be prepared for any situation, Ramsey. Stamina can save your ass.”

My eyes narrow. “What kind of situation?”

“Keep moving!” he shouts, and pulls me off the track. “Look, you didn’t hear it from me, but things are about to change around here.”

“What kind of change?”

He shakes his head and rubs the shorn hair on top. “Your sister is making the announcement tonight. I don’t know the details, but the Fighters have been told to expect our assignments to change.”

Wyatt, Davis, Walker, and the other Freedom Fighters are a group of mercenaries Jane has paid to be her military presence. She recruited them right before all hell broke loose, giving her an edge against any outside military interference. From what I gather, they’re former military (or just really awesome at this end-of-the-world thing), and are willing to do whatever my sister wants as long as they’re paid. Right now, payment comes in the form of shelter and food. God knows if and when money will matter again.

I can’t tell if their views align with Jane’s. The concept of her God-like role in the apocalypse is downplayed around here. People think PharmaCorp is working for the greater good—which in their mind they probably are—but even so, I’m not sure to what end. I have some suspicions I’ve kept to myself.

“Line up!” Davis shouts and everyone falls in to the middle. Newbies look around alarmed but follow the others. Within a minute, Davis is giving out orders for a series of calisthenics.

“Watch Ramsey,” he says. I get into position at the front of the room, on a small platform so everyone can see. Davis directs. I’m the example. “Follow her lead. Do what she does and you’ll be fine.”

That is a terrifying statement.

Chapter 5

The auditorium slopes downward with a large stage at the front. A podium stands in the middle with a microphone jutting toward the ceiling. For a brief moment, I have the surreal memory of sitting in a similar room at the summer TIP program at Duke, listening to lectures with all the other nerds hovered over our desks and laptops.

I wonder how many of those students survived?

The room fits three hundred and it seems to be about half full. Children under the age of fifteen have been asked not to attend and wait in the child care wing. The older kids are watching the younger and several of the medical personnel are down in the clinic.

Cole waves at me from his seat near the front. I squeeze through the others, stepping over feet to the empty spot he saved for me.

“You made it.” Cole says, holding down the flip-up seat.

“Long line at the showers.” I grimace as he tugs at one of my still-damp pigtails. “It’s so weird being here sometimes, how it’s so perfect and ’normal’ while knowing what’s on the outside.”

Although if my last trip off-site was any indication, things seem to be calming down out there. The few Eaters we encountered perked up a little when our vehicle passed, spider-veined eyes tracking the noise, but since we weren’t looking for the infected—just survivors—we moved along before anything triggered their rage.

Cole rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been trapped in the lab for weeks.”

“Remember how it was when we got here? Few people, too many infected?” He nods. “It’s sort of quiet out there. I’m not sure what it means.”

“I doubt it’s anything good.”

I smile. “I thought you were the optimistic one.”

“Compared to you, maybe.” He gives me a quick kiss on the lips.

“Davis says to expect assignment changes,” I say quietly, hoping not to be heard under the chatter around me. “Have you heard anything?”

“No.” He looks up and nods at the front of the room. “It’s about to start.”

Eyes shift to the stage and voices lower to a murmur as my sister crosses the stage toward the podium, followed by my father. She’s traded her lab coat for a toned-down version of the FF uniform—boots, cargo pants, black button-up blouse. Her glasses are propped on the end of her nose. A flash of movement catches my eye and I spot Wyatt on one side of the stage, hovering in the wings. A quick look confirms that Walker is on the other. Why does Jane need protection? Or is it just for her ego?

Jane stands at the podium, laying a single sheet of paper on the flat surface. My father stands behind her. He catches my eye and gives me a small nod.  Things have been tense with us since I got to the Fort, and I’ve made little effort to see him. I feel a mixed sense of betrayal and guilt. Betrayal toward him for leaving me and my mother in Raleigh alone. The guilt is for having to kill his wife and leaving her body in a barn somewhere in North Carolina.

I look away without acknowledging him.

“Good evening,” Jane says, voice booming over the crowd. “Thank you for assembling so quickly tonight. I have some important and exciting news to share with everyone.”

“Our little group has grown over the last couple of months, bringing us to nearly 500 residents. This includes not only the able-bodied here but the wings designated for children and the elderly.”

“Five hundred?” I whisper to Cole. “Where is she hiding everyone?”

He shakes his head.

“The facilities are running smoothly, the teams continue to bring in the supplies we need, but at some point we must begin to look outside these walls, toward the future.”

Some heads nod in agreement but the majority look stricken with fear. They’re safe here. Why screw up a good thing?

Jane ignores any dissent and continues. “The research and testing labs have been relentlessly working round-the-clock shifts to eradicate the E-TR virus. Our hard work has seen ups and downs but I’m here to announce that we have a viable vaccine!” Loud cheers erupt in the auditorium and Jane breaks into a wide smile, reveling in the applause. She holds up her hands and the commotion slows and she says, “Even better, we will begin inoculating residents immediately.”

As jaded as I am to my sister’s actions, I can’t help but feel the tug of hope at her announcement. The same goes for those around me who bubble with excitement and relief. Her words sound fantastic and she seems sincere, but after all this time do I trust her motivations?

The answer is no.

“Is this true?” I ask Cole.

“I can’t see why not. Your father was close when we got here and the labs are literally working around the clock,” he whispers.

“A vaccine changes everything about the future of mankind,” Jane says. “People will no longer be under the threat of the virus. We will still have to eliminate those already infected and God knows how long that will take, but it’s a start. Our teams have been securing a foothold in the surrounding areas, with plans to create viable living conditions outside of The Fort walls. Now that the vaccine is here, we will immediately begin resident vaccinations and assembling teams for offsite units that will locate and inoculate survivors.”

I raise my hand from my position near the front. Jane and my father’s eyes shift toward me. She hesitates but finally says, “Alexandra. You have a question?”

I stand. “Do you plan on working with the military to pass out the vaccine?”

My sister doesn’t blink, but she does get a small line at the corner of her mouth—the same one she used to get when we’d fight at the dinner table, or that time I borrowed her shirt without asking while my grandmother was visiting and she had to be on good behavior.

“That’s classified information.” My father stands frozen beside her.

“Why is that classified? It’s just a question. Will we use the military resources to help vaccinate survivors? I mean, unless things have changed drastically they have equipment and soldiers. It seems like a viable option rather than sending out a bunch of civilians to round-up and vaccinate survivors in the Death Fields filled with Eaters.”

“Any communication between The Fort and the military is classified. Their rules—not mine. As you and many others that have taken refuge here are aware, the military has proven hostile and unwilling to work with a civilian group. Why? Well, you are welcome to ask General Erwin when you see him next time.”

The last time I saw Erwin, he tried to kill me. His soldiers were the ones that shot Chloe. I am well aware that they are hostile, but I want to know why my sister can’t cooperate with them. Well, I know why. Their ideas about the future of society are vastly different. I want her to admit it.

I sit and tune out the rest of her speech. It’s mostly tag lines about sticking together and following orders so we can build a better, safer society. When she’s finished, Wyatt escorts her off the stage, my father following behind like a puppy. Walker steps to the podium and directs people to leave in an orderly fashion.

“I don’t trust her,” I say to Cole as everyone files out.

“I know. I hear what you’re saying about Erwin. As much as I hate that guy, we need his help if we’re going to vaccinate as many people as possible.”

“It’s only logical.”

“You would think,” he agrees.

“Then why isn’t it? Why can’t they work together? PharmaCorp provides the vaccine—Erwin distributes it. Why have they been fighting each other?” Erwin captured us on the way from Raleigh and had an active lab seeking to make their own vaccine. They wanted the information left with me by my father. In theory, PharmaCorp should create the vaccine and the military distribute it.

“Maybe you should go talk to her in private. Or your dad. I’m sure if you approach them, calmly,” he gives me a look; “they’ll be willing to talk.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “I doubt it.”

Cole shifts so that he’s facing me in our uncomfortable auditorium seats. His knees touch mine. “Look, I know things are bad between you and your sister but you have some legitimate concerns. Everyone else here is just happy to have food, shelter, and a big fat wall between them and the bad stuff out there. I’ll try to do a little digging on the actual vaccine now that they’ve announced it. If they’ve been doing trials it’s all been very quiet. I know we’re running out of time on this, but I’m worried about side effects; does it need a booster at some point, and how much vaccine do we actually have?”

I reach for his chin and cup it with my hand. “Smart guys are hot, did you know that?”

He tips his forehead to mine. “So are brave, stubborn girls.”

“Hey!” I pull back, but he’s already standing and his laughter echoes off the high ceiling. “I’m not stubborn.”

“Sure.” He leans forward and warmth spreads through my chest. He steals a kiss, although I wouldn’t exactly call it stealing. I pretty much handed it over.

The metal door swings open and a figure moves into the doorway. We freeze, both unsure about making our feelings public, but relax when Wyatt’s face comes into view, an eyebrow lifted.

Cole sighs. “Duty calls, I guess.”

I nod and squeeze his hand. “You do your job and I’ll do mine.”

Chapter 6

I’m not afraid of my sister but I decide to take back-up anyway. Or at least I’m trying to. From the expression on Wyatt’s face, it’s clear he doesn’t want to get involved.

“You know I’m right.”

“No,” he says. “I don’t.”

I corner him in the stairwell. I don’t think he likes the elevator, either. “We’ll get slaughtered out there without military backup. Or even worse, Erwin will find us and take us down.”

“It’s not my call, Alex. Or yours.”

“Look, I just want to talk to her, but she won’t be such a raging bitch if you’re in the room.”

He snorts. “Why’s that?”

Because he’s hot. And dangerous, and clearly my sister likes having him around. “Just do me a favor. For old time’s sake?”

He rubs the strip of hair on his head and glances up the stairwell. Finally he says, “I’ll escort you to her office but don’t get your hopes up. She’s got her plans ready. They don’t involve Erwin. At all.”

I narrow my eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“Look, I get what you’re hinting at with Erwin. He would be a good ally but you and I both know he’s not to be trusted. He tried to kill me. He shot Chloe.” Wyatt shakes his head. “I don’t even know why you’re suggesting this.”

Why? Because something has bothered me since I got here. Yeah, Erwin is a little intense. Definitely focused. I’m just not sure he’s any different than my sister, but I have a feeling he may keep her in check. He may keep the rest of us alive. I open my mouth to say all of this but I stop myself. It’s not worth fighting with Wyatt right now.

He sighs and turns to the door leading toward the elevator. Jane’s office is on the top floor. Too far for us to voluntarily walk. His hand is on the doorknob when he turns and says, “My advice? Go in with an open mind. Get on her good side. Pretend—” I groan and he continues, “I said, pretend you’re part of the team. Maybe you’ll get somewhere.”

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then prepare to be shut out completely. She doesn’t need you anymore, not since you got here.”

I move my hand to cover my heart and add as much sarcasm to my voice as possible. “Ouch.”

He shrugs and holds the door open and I pass through, leading the way upstairs.

*

Carol’s face lights up when I walk out of the elevator. “Alexandra! It’s so good to see a familiar face! How are you? I hear you’re doing well with the training program.”

“I’m great,” I tell her, because what do you say? I survived the zombie apocalypse and all I got was a bitchy sister? No. I don’t think that’d go over well. Plus, she’s right.  I actually knew her from my father’s research lab from before all this. Yep, he managed to get her down here safely whereas I was on my own. “How are you?”

She shrugs. “Best as I can be, I suppose.”

I eye the magazine on her desk, an old People with Brad Pitt on the cover. Carol is probably bored out of her mind. But at least she still has her mind, I guess.

“I’m here to see Jane.” I walk toward the door.

“Oh, um, let’s see.” She pushes the magazine aside and flips through the spiral-bound desk calendar. I glance at Wyatt and roll my eyes. “You don’t have an appointment.”

“No. I’m sorry. Do I need one to see my sister?”

Carol bites down on her bottom lip, unsure how to proceed. Wyatt sighs behind me and marches across the room to the imposing wood door, opening it with an impatient swing. Before Carol can stop me, or even really react, I follow him in.

The office is large and filled with sleek, contemporary furniture, the kind you imagine a CEO conducting business in. I suppose Jane is the CEO of PharmaCorp now, although I’m still not sure how she gained the position. I’m not sure I want to know, honestly.

She’s bent over her desk studying a stack of papers, but her head snaps up when we enter. Her eyes soften at the sight of Wyatt, a small smile on her lips. It fades when she spots me trailing behind him.

“What’s this?”

“Alex would like to talk to you about the mission to dispense the vaccine.”

I offer her a friendly wave, because I’m trying.

“I don’t think now is a good time. I’m under an intense deadline.”

“Jane,” I say, using a hand to move Wyatt out of my way. For some reason, he has positioned himself between the two of us. “I really just need a minute to talk about all of this and understand everything a little better.”

“Really Alexandra, it’s not something with which you need to concern yourself.”

See that? It stung. I do take a steadying breath before I open my mouth. I do. I promised Cole, and assured Wyatt I would behave. But Jane and I are family and family has its own language, and it’s time for Jane to really talk to me. “I carried the vaccine information on my personal body for five hundred craptastic miles. I fought off Eaters, met and lost friends, escaped an air force base and,” I close my eyes and swallow, “I killed our mother and left her in a barn to rot in North Carolina. I didn’t even have time to bury her. I’ve done everything you and dad asked me to do. Everything—even letting this guy,” I jerk my thumb at Wyatt, “follow me around like I’m a five-year-old. I feel like I’ve proved myself worthy of the cause.”

She stares at me, unflinching, until Wyatt pushes past me and approaches her desk. He leans over and whispers quietly in her ear. I study every movement, every breath, trying to figure out their level of comfort. Her palms lay flat on the desk as she leans over but there’s no tension. No arrogance.

He steps away, and with a prolonged glance in his direction she says to me, “Fine. You have ten minutes.”

“Oh.” I’m shocked she relented so easily, although I know from experience Wyatt can be persuasive. “Okay.”

She gestures for me to sit on the surprisingly comfortable couch. She takes the chair next to mine and Wyatt remains standing by the desk.

“Look, I’m not the one that has you sidelined. Dad didn’t want to put you in harm’s way. He even fought me on the patrol duties.”

“Funny, I didn’t know he cared.”

“Of course he cares. He’s just incredibly busy right now and focused on saving society. Don’t be selfish. Plus, you know how he gets.”

I throw her a look. The look that says, “Did you really just throw dad under the bus and call me selfish?” but she looks sincere enough in her own twisted way. I sigh. I do know how Dad gets.

“If you’d like more active assignments, talk to him. I’ll do what I can.”

“So you don’t have a trust problem with me, then,” I ask.

She laughs. “If anyone has a trust problem it’s you, Alex.”

“That’s not true!” I shout, but spot the arch of Wyatt’s eyebrow and clamp my mouth shut. “You can’t blame me for having opinions or wanting to know more. We were raised to ask questions.”

“True,” she admits. “But, you’re pretty judgmental about what we’re trying to accomplish here. I know you blame me for the spread of the virus in the first place.” She looks at her hands. “And for what happened to Mom.”

I should cave here. I should, and tell her yes, I do blame her for those things, at least one of them, but I also know she’s the best way to repair the world. I stare at Jane’s chest—at the spot where the bullet tore through my mother’s heart.

“I’m trying to fix what happened while being smart about it,” she says. “We have the opportunity to reshape the world.  We can salvage society by making better decisions from here on out—and that begins with the vaccine.”

“What do you mean?”

“You want to know the plan? Why we don’t want Erwin and the military involved?” It’s not a question—it’s a challenge.

“Yes. I want to know.” At least I think I do, something about the tone of her voice makes me nervous.

“We’re an independent group. We have no ties to the government. The bureaucracy is gone and frankly I have no desire to have it back. There is no FDA, no regulation boards or ethics committees mucking up progress. There are no forms for the approvals for grant money and drug trials.”

“Uh, aren’t those things sort of important?”

“In theory, they have their place, but what you don’t know and what I didn’t understand until I climbed the ladder is how corrupt the system is. The push is to give the elite the best medications while the poor and uneducated get nothing. Skyrocketing prices just to line pockets. Lobbyist money filtering through Washington. It’s disgusting, and if I have my way, those days are gone. The old systems are crushed and it is my genuine hope they will never return. We have the vaccine. We will control who receives it.”

“What do you mean? Who do you plan on giving it to, then?” Or, the better question may be, who will she withhold it from?

She glances at her watch, I’m clearly running out of time and she’s tired of giving me answers. “We have a very strategic plan set up. It’s going to be a good thing. We’ll save the world with hard workers, intellectuals, and good people. The best and the brightest will usher us into our new society.” She smiles at me. “People like you, Alex. You can be an important part of the plan, if you’re ready to be a team player.”

“And you have a way to determine who deserves saving?”

She simply smiles.

I glance at Wyatt, who has gone stone-faced. I’m sure none of this is a surprise to him. My sister has delusions of grandeur, but I have little choice but to join her fight—if not god knows what she’ll decide to do with me if I don’t.

My voice sounds unfamiliar when I say, “Your ideas are certainly innovative. I won’t deny that I have some questions but I do think that I’d like to work with you. To be a part of your vision of the future.”

“Our future.” She stands with a smile. “Before we go any further you’ll have to talk to Dad—make sure he approves.”

“Yeah, I’ll talk to Dad.” Definitely. I can tell she’s ready for me to leave but I have one more thing to ask. “Can I ask you something else?”

“You can ask.”

“What’s it like in the rest of the world? I haven’t seen anything beyond my own experience and before that what they showed on TV. Has the virus spread?”

For the first time my sister looks shaken—even if she recovers quickly. “The crisis is worldwide. We have no idea what the population devastation looks like but it’s international. Domestically, I think most areas are like our own. Many infected—small pockets of holdouts. We’re not the only ones trying to rebuild society or even the only ones working on the vaccine. I suspect we are the only ones with a viable antidote at this point. We have no choice but to make this vaccine work.”

“Thanks for telling me.”

To my surprise, she steps forward and pulls me into a hug. “It’s good to have you here. Believe it or not, I was so worried about you.”

“I was worried, too.” About me. About Cole and Chloe. About Wyatt. About surviving.

She releases me and heads back to her desk, already refocused on her paperwork. Wyatt gestures to the door and I follow him, wondering what I’ve gotten myself into. Wondering about the fate of society under my sister’s control.

Chapter 7

I’m walking down the long, cool hallway toward my father’s private lab when Cole emerges from one of the doors.

“How did it go?” he asks, stepping in pace with me.

I shrug. “Jane’s hard to read and it took a bit of guilt-tripping, but I think I’ve got a spot on the team. How about you? Any progress finding out details about the vaccine?”

“Nope. Not a thing. The scientists working with your dad on the project aren’t discussing it.”

“Great,” I mutter. I’m tired of all the secrets and secrets inside secrets.

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure something out.”

We stop outside the lab door and I take his hand. “Come in here with me. Let’s see if he’ll answer your questions, too.”

Cole scrunches his nose. “I don’t know if I want to get in the middle of family stuff.”

Cole, unlike my father or my sister, sacrificed everything to get the information, and me, from Raleigh to Augusta safely. He nearly lost his sister—his twin. So yeah, Cole has earned the right to be involved in my family affairs. Unfortunately, my actual family are the ones that left me on my own to do their dirty work without even giving me a reason.

I reach for his hand, linking my fingers with his and squeeze. “We may not be family, but we’ve supported each other during all of this. More than Jane or my dad. Let’s do this together. You’re the only one I can really trust.”

He looks down at our linked hands and nods. “You sure?”

“Yeah.” I knock on the door marked with a huge ‘Do Not Enter’ sign and other warnings of danger. I push up on my tip-toes to look through the small window. My dad is at a shiny, steel worktable in the middle of the room clad in goggles and gloves. He’s surrounded by an array of microscopes and two other scientists dressed similarly work nearby. He looks up at my knock and his eyes reflect surprise in seeing me there. Rightfully so, it’s the first time I’ve been down here—at least to see him.

He stops what he’s doing and points down the hall.

“What does he want?” I ask.

“I think for us to meet in his office next door.”

I wave in understanding, and by the time we get there he has the door open and his goggles and gloves have been removed.

“Alexandra,” he says, pulling me into a tight hug.

The familiarity of his scent—his voice—overwhelms me, and I find myself embracing him even though my heart and mind are still hurt.

“Hi, Dad.”

“I’ve been hoping you’d come visit.”

“Well, that goes both ways. You know how to find my room.”

He nods, guilt flashing in his eyes. I’m not here to fight.  “I thought maybe you needed some space, or, that maybe you hated me.”

This is crazy. This tension and conversation. We’re survivors of a world-wide, society-ending crisis and we’re behaving petty. I glance at Cole and say, “You remember Cole.”

“Of course.” He gives him a genuine smile and shakes his hand. Something passes through their expressions—more familiarity than I expect from Cole being a lowly lab assistant for him in Raleigh. But then again, he’d asked him to make sure I got down here with the information. He trusted him. “I’m glad to see you safe, son.”

My father gestures us to seats in his office. I notice the couch pushed against the wall and the pillow and blanket on the couch crumpled at one end. Piles of paper work tower on every available surface, his familiar handwriting visible on each sheet. He’s been working hard on the vaccine—no surprise—but it makes more sense now why he hasn’t been up to visit. From the pale pallor of his skin to the stack of dinner plates next to his computer, it’s obvious he hasn’t been anywhere other than in this room or the lab next door.

Cole and I take chairs across from my father’s desk. A framed photograph faces away and I wonder whose photo he’s placed inside. My mother? Jane?

“I assume you’re here for a reason,” he says from his side of the desk.

“Yes, actually. Cole and I would like a more active role with the vaccine, preferably with distribution. Jane told me I needed your approval.”

His forehead creases and I’ve seen that expression before. He wore it when I asked to go to Myrtle Beach for spring break. Concern. Disapproval.

FTR: I wasn’t allowed to go to Myrtle Beach.

“To be honest, there’s little for you to do. Jane has a professional team set up to handle the matter. I think you’d be better off here.”

I glance at Cole, who has gone quiet next to me. Inside, I’m boiling with anger. “So I’m good enough to be a mule for your super important, top-secret information, but I’m not good enough for anything else?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“I’m eighteen. You can’t keep me from helping.” It’s a juvenile retort but whatever.

He takes off his glasses and rubs his eyes. “I appreciate what you did for me and your sister. For the world, really. Your actions gave us a shot at saving society. I shouldn’t have asked you to do it but I couldn’t trust anyone else and I didn’t have the time to recreate my trails.” He sighs. “That being said, I’m not eager to send you back out there. Can you imagine what your mother would say?”

“Don’t,” I say, fighting the tears welling in my eyes, though what he says is rational and based on truth. My mother would never want me in danger, but she and I lived through something he’ll never understand. We changed. Neither of us were the people that my father left in that house in Raleigh. She was and I am stronger than either of us expected.

“I’m sorry, Alexandra. Nothing I say here will be the right thing. Like I’ve said, I’ve already burdened you with too much.”

Cole clears his voice and lays his hand over mine. He says to my father, “When you asked me to make sure Alex got here safely I was ready for the assignment. It became quickly apparent that your daughter was more than capable of handling herself out there. We all pushed through a lot of fear, anxiety and insurmountable challenges to get here. We did it, but it’s clear our mission isn’t over yet. You’ve kept me sidelined from the vaccination details since I got here, which is unfortunate since I have the experience and skill you need.” He looks at me. “Your daughter has a point. If we were able to succeed before, we should be a part of the future decisions and actions of PharmaCorp.”

“Otherwise we’re leaving,” I blurt, playing the card I’ve held close to my chest. I ignore Cole’s protesting hand tightening around mine. “We’re not sheep.”

My father leans back in his seat, looking more exhausted than ever. His eyes move to the glass window between his office and the lab—a signal he’s already taken too much time away from his work. He tosses his hands in the air and says, “Fine. Do what you want. You’re an adult and things are changing rapidly in our world. I won’t stop you from going.”

“I promise I’ll be careful.”

He gives me a slight smile and looks at Cole. “Follow me. I’ll brief you on the vaccine’s status and set you up in the lab.”

I nod, urging him to follow. We need to know as much about this vaccine as possible. My sister’s confidence in her grand scheme gives me the feeling that there’s more going on than we know. Today will be the day we figure out what her plan is really all about.

Chapter 8

The change is immediate, from the knock on my door at 6 AM to the larger serving of food I get in the dining hall. The biggest difference is the way the other Freedom Fighters treat me.  I’m officially part of the team.

My father must have spoken to Jane, and then Jane must have notified Walker and the rest of the Fighters. I didn’t realize how exclusive the club was until I’d been made a member.

“Ramsey,” a soldier says, approaching me as I shovel a spoonful of my dinner, a brown, mystery-meaty stew into my mouth. “You’re to report to the atrium in ten minutes.”

“For what?”

His face remains blank but I spot the twitch of annoyance in his jaw. The FF aren’t big into questions. I already know that from dealing with Wyatt and the others on the road.

“Okay, fine. I’ll be there.” I cram the last piece of bread in my mouth.

A small group has met at the desk in the front lobby and I join them just as Wyatt starts talking.  He glances at his wide, fancy watch but says nothing if I actually am late. I guess if I thought Wyatt would treat me differently I was fooling myself. If anything he’s been a little more aloof than usual since he got me in to see my sister.

“Each of you is a new recruit into the FF. We don’t have a lot of time as we should receive orders to set up the first vaccination clinic within a week but there are some things you need to know before going into the field. I’m going to take you down to the R&D department to get a fast training in some of our newer weapons.”

“R&D?” someone asks.

“Research and development,” he replies, already leading us to the stairwell.

Another voice ahead adds, “We have an R&D department? Besides the lab?”

We travel through a maze of hallways, including three security posts where Wyatt uses a magnetic key card to gain access. I study the others around me. Four women, six men. All appear sturdy and fit, varying in age from early twenties to maybe about fifty. I’m probably the youngest one but that isn’t a surprise.  I’d forced myself onto this team.

After a certain point I no longer have my bearings in the building. Is this on purpose? Did PharmaCorp hide the R&D area away from prying eyes? Knowing they’d created the E-TR virus in the first place doesn’t encourage confidence in what we’ll find. My sister did create and release the virus as a weapon, after all.

“I know you,” a voice says besides me. “From the recovery team?”

I glance over and recognize Jude, from the house we’d cleared last week. He’s a bit cleaner and filled out in the cheeks after a couple good meals. Plus he’s now in Fighter black and not redneck camouflage.

“Jude, right?”

“Yes.” He smiles. “It’s nice to see a familiar face. I mean, not that we know one another or anything, but…”

“But perspectives change on that a little bit now so, yeah, I get it. How’d you end up on this team?” I ask, lagging back a little from the rest of the group.

“To be honest, I don’t know. A dude in black fatigues showed up, handed me a uniform and told me to be in the atrium after dinner.” He rubs his chin. “I do have some experience hunting and using guns. I filled that out on my form when we got here and I’m pretty sure I passed whatever physical test they put me through.”

I shake my head. “Sounds about right. They’re really into the super-top-secret here.”

“It’s pretty impressive though—like right out of a sci-fi story. You know how in the movies they always are totally taken by surprise and the government fails left and right, unable to handle anything? Like we’re one step away from stumbling back to the middle ages? This place is the total opposite. It’s like they knew it was coming or something.”

“Or something. Guess it pays to be paranoid,” I mutter, slowing my pace even more because Wyatt has stopped before a large, metal, sliding door. He slides his keycard through one more security box and the doors part in the middle, like rows of sideways teeth.

We follow him inside and realize others are already here. The room is large and square. The floor is cement but there’s a padded, elevated ring in the middle, currently surrounded by cheering and shouting fighters.  Two figures move around in the middle. The walls surrounding the ring are glass or Plexi-glass and I get an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I march up to Wyatt. “Is that what I think it is?”

Wyatt nods. “A sparring ring.”

Someone in the ring crashes into the glass with a loud thud, the crowd roars and I look over, seeing nothing but shadowy movements.

“You’ve got to be kidding.” I say. “This is what you do for fun?”

“It’s training, Alex. For outside.”

Jude appears at my side. “This looks pretty awesome. What do I have to do to get a turn?”

“The ring isn’t for us to practice fighting each other,” I tell Jude. “But if you want to get in with an Eater go for it.”

His jaw, along with every other new recruit, drops when Wyatt doesn’t argue.

“For real?” Jude asks.

“They bring in the Eaters and test their weapons. Is that where Erwin got the idea? Or did you get it from him?” I blink back hot tears. I’d nearly seen Wyatt and Chloe get mauled to death in a similar cage at Fort Shaw. “God, you’re all the same. You’re all disgusting.”

“Everyone that steps into that ring goes willingly. It’s not for punishment or manipulation. Erwin was on to something. It’s a good way to judge what works in a controlled environment.  You know that.” He looks at Jude. “And no, you don’t have to fight an Eater, but it is an option. You can spar with anyone you want.”

A bell sounds and the crowd erupts in cheers again. I look over despite myself. Two men leave the ring at the same time, tugging black gloves off their hands. They look bruised and battered but still alive.

Everyone moves toward the ring and I’m left fuming on the side with Wyatt giving me a hard stare, jaw tense.

“This is bullshit, Wyatt.”

“You’re being irrational.”

“Am I? Is this who we’ve become?

“Yeah, it is.” He steps closer. “It’s the freaking apocalypse out there, Alex. It’s gotten worse since we got here. Way worse.”

“I’ve been out there, remember? It’s not that bad.”

“You’ve been in cleared and swept areas. Controlled missions.” He’s not shouting but from the way the vein on his forehead pulses I can tell he wants to. “You wanted to be on this team and to help, but it may be the last thing you’ll do. Those Eaters…they’re changing. Mutating or something. They’re faster and meaner. The transition from human to monster happens nearly instantly—there’s no time for hesitation.” I hear the sliding of a heavy door across the room and the rumble of the fighters talking to one another. “We have to do this to stay alive and even then we’ll lose some people. Guaranteed.”

“Then why? There has to be another way.”

He shakes his head. “Saving humankind isn’t easy. The hard way is the only way the vaccination will ever get to the survivors out there.”

I glance at the ring and see how the spectators are getting a little edgy. A shadowy movement catches my eye on the far side of the glass. Even from here I can tell he’s less than human. “So we practice killing Eaters.”

“Yep.”

I sigh and run my hand through my hair. “Just so you know, I still think this is an abomination.”

He laughs low and dark. “I’m glad someone does.”

*

Wyatt’s right about one thing. I haven’t truly seen an Eater up close in a while. That much is obvious when I finally get an eyeful of the one barred to one side of the ring. It’s a woman, or was one…heavy now and then. Thick drapes of skin hang from her arms and belly. I know Eaters aren’t really dead, not exactly, but they certainly aren’t what they once were either. Not human for sure. Her eyes are black with spiderwebbing veins, her skin pale and deteriorating more than I’ve ever seen before. Her clothes, cotton pants and a T-shirt with a faded, dirty kitten on the front, are ratty and torn. One foot still has a tennis shoe. The other bare and dark with soil. Everything about her gives the impression she’s been out there for some time.

She could be any of us.

“God, she’s gross.” Jude says from his spot next to me. “Have you ever killed one?”

“Yes.”

“Really?” He seems impressed. I just feel sick.

“Yeah. What about you?”

“Two.” He doesn’t look at me but there’s a familiar guilt—maybe shame—in his eyes.  “I lived two blocks from Caroline’s house, the one you found us in. I haven’t spent much time out there at all.”

“Lucky,” I say and give him a light punch on the arm. “It’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

“I’ve hunted since I was six. I’m a good shot. Not people, of course, but it does put a different perspective on things when you can compartmentalize.”

There’s movement in the ring and I act aloof when the door slides shut behind the Fighter. I don’t know him personally—although I heard Davis call his name one time. Hayes. He’s dark-skinned. Either bald or his head is shaved so closely you can see the light reflect back. He’s lanky and lean, but the muscles under his shirt are taut and hard. The twist in my stomach tells me this is a terrible idea.

“Ready?” a voice asks. The crowd is quiet. Jude bounces on his toes next to me.

“Ready,” Hayes says, giving a quick nod. The metal gate dividing the ring in two lifts into the air and the Eater doesn’t hesitate, charging full speed at him.

He moves fast, dodging her incoming speed, and I spot the weapon in his hand. He flips the spiked pipe like a baseball player in the dugout—a faint grin on his face.

Her arms flail, and her teeth snap. In contrast to her wild behavior, her senses are honed. Her nostrils flare, her eyes narrow with the intensity of predator looking for prey.

“Holy shit,” Jude declares under his breath.

Hayes goes on the offense, kicking the Eater with his foot. She totters but doesn’t fall, lunging forward with a loud screech that echoes off the walls. He doesn’t dodge this this time, instead swiping her with his pipe. The spikes land in her shoulder but she doesn’t stop.

“They don’t feel pain,” Wyatt says suddenly. I glance up, unaware he’d moved next to me. “They’ve been testing them. Thousands of tests. The screams are from hunger or some sort of reflex. Their nerve endings are fried from the infection. It’s one of the reasons they don’t stop.”

“But they’re still alive.” The Eater slams into the wall, inches from where we’re standing. She hits the floor with a thud, a trail of slime down the glass.

“I guess. Not dead. Not really alive.”

“Can the vaccine help them?” I ask. Haynes stands over her body, one foot on her leg. He lifts the pipe and even though I turn my head I hear the blow hit her head. I hear the splatter of flesh against the glass. I grimace, holding back nausea while the rest of the fighters around me, including Jude, cheer.

“No. It can’t help them.”

A buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the fight. I peek at Hayes, dripping of sweat with arms raised in victory as he stands over the dead woman.

Welcome to the apocalypse.

Chapter 9

On an impulse, I stop by Chloe’s room down in the medical floor on the way back from the fights. I pause in the doorway, taking a minute to gain composure. The scene I witnessed upstairs was disturbing. I get what Wyatt said, that it’s necessary, but it’s a level of violence I didn’t ever expect to be exposed to.

On the other hand, I didn’t expect to see a friend like this. Chloe sits up in bed reading and for the first time she’s not wearing a bandage on her head from the bullet wound. It’s also the first time I’ve seen the scar, red and rippled against her temple. It’s healing though, which is good. So very good. Her curly blonde hair is still shorn from the surgery—shorter even than it was when they cut it.

“New ‘do?” I ask, leaning against the door.

She looks up and I spot the bright blue eyes identical to Cole’s. She runs a hand over the stubble on her head. “Yep. Decided to go for the Mad Max look, you know? Kick ass warrior.”

“I like it.” If anything it makes her more beautiful.

“Thanks.” She looks at the clock. “Seems a little late to be down here?”

I shake my head, thinking of the fights I just watched. Wyatt had us sit through three, each one more nerve-wracking than the last. I can’t decide how I feel about using the Eaters for target practice. In one way it makes sense. It’s hard to understand the reality of actually fighting these monsters without firsthand experience. On the other hand, it’s just horrible. Awful.

It’s reality.

I keep this to myself, because the last thing Chloe needs to know while she’s trying to get healthy is that there’s an apocalypse-style WWE Smackdown in the basement.

“On my way back from some training. Jane is letting me join the FF.”

A line creases between her eyes. “The Fighters? You’re kidding.”

“Nope. The vaccine is ready. I’m going to be on the inoculation team.”

Her jaw drops. “Wow. Okay, I know you’ve wanted to do more, but are you sure? Sounds dangerous.”

Chloe and I met when she and her brother saved me and Wyatt from a pack of Eaters trying to take us down on a boat in North Carolina. We were lucky they showed up with their compound bows and survival skills, because we were one second from being an apocalypse casualty. “Danger is my middle name.” I laugh. “You know that.”

“When do you leave?”

“Soon, I think. It’s all very hush-hush but I’m getting the feeling we may roll out at any minute.”

“So you came to say goodbye?”

I give her a sad smile. “I wish you could come with me.”

“Me, too. I hate being cooped up in here.” She touches her head and the red, jagged scar. “I’m doing good, for being shot in the head, but sometimes it takes a minute for everything to…” She trails off searching for the word.

“Process?”

“Process. Right. It’s obnoxious. Like, the word is right there but I can’t…” she moves her fingers like she’s trying to catch something. I smile, hoping it’s not too sympathetic. Chloe is tough as nails, even with a bullet in her brain.

Cole says the lingering effects of the bullet wound are mental not physical. Like the synapses in her brain stopped connecting or skip a link here and there. She’s working with a physical therapist (yes, Jane has those in The Fort) but progress is slow.

“How does my brother feel about you leaving?”

I sit on the edge of her bed. “I’m hoping he’ll come with me but he’s busy doing Lab Guy stuff. Saving the day, one microscope slide at a time.” I leave it at that. She doesn’t need to know she’s one of the reasons he’s sticking around.

“So he’s not happy then. Because…” she pauses, racking her brain. “Because…he wouldn’t let you go without him.”

“We’ve got different battles to fight. We’re all good.”

“And Wyatt?”

“What about him?”

“Is he going?”

“Probably. I’m not exactly in on all the plans.”

Chloe thinks I have a thing for Wyatt. I don’t. Really, I don’t. But we both know he’s handsome. Sexy, even. Like, really sexy in that post-apocalyptic-last-man-on-earth kind of way. He’s fit, confident, and possibly a ninja. He makes me feel safe. He’s also a smart-ass, secretive, and dangerous. I only trust him with my life because to him I’m a job. There’s no way I’d trust him with my heart.

“I guess it makes me feel better that he’ll be out there with you.”

“Yeah. I know what you mean.”

There’s a knock on the door and we both look over. Cole stands in the doorway looking red-eyed and tired. He’s got a full day of stubble on his chin, the hair darker and a little redder than the blonde on his head. He looks at me with interest and a hint of intensity that causes heat to spread down my limbs. He may not be a ninja but he’s pretty freaking cute, and I know from experience he can start a fire without a match and kill an Eater one-handed.

Not that I’m looking for a life partner or anything, but it’s a little easier surviving the end-of-days with someone to be close to.

“Hey,” I say, sliding off the bed. He walks in and slips a hand around my waist.

“I was taking a break and thought I’d check in.” He gives me a small grin. “Didn’t know you’d be down here.”

“Yeah, had a late training with the Fighters.”

He quirks his eyebrow. “So it’s official?”

I shrug. “Official enough.”

We stay and talk with Chloe until her brain seems to get foggier. Cole says it happens when she’s tired, but I see the concern in his eyes. I give Chloe a hug and wait outside the door as he tells her goodnight.

“I guess you’re heading back to the lab?” I ask when he exits the room. He doesn’t reply but takes my hand and quickly walks me down the hall. “Uh, Cole?”

He opens a door and pulls me inside. It’s warm—some sort of storage/utility closet and in the dim light I barely make out the lines of his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Just wanted a minute with you—alone.” His hands are on my hips and I move closer. “Is that okay?”

I nod, touching my forehead to his chin. “Yeah. It’s been a long week.”

“Too long.”

His lips press against my forehead and the hairs on my neck stand on end.

“So is this some sort of Jordan Catalano fantasy thing?” I ask.

“Uh, who?”

“My So-Called Life? You know, the infamous boiler room scene?” He looks at me, blank-eyed, and I sigh. “All of that will be lost one day, you know? Pop-culture and movie references. ‘Nobody puts baby in a corner’ and all of that. Totally lost.”

“I’m already lost.”

He runs his lips down my neck and my breath catches. I press against him, kissing his collarbone, inhaling his warm scent, until the want is too great and our mouths meet.

Our time alone is limited, each minute of our day micro-managed with assignments. Feeling good isn’t part of the day. Stress, exhaustion, hunger—even in this safe place—dominates my emotions. But this? I sink into the kiss deeper, feeling nothing but Cole’s mouth and his fingers gripping my waist and the hard press of the door behind me.

“I think we could leave at any moment,” I say, catching my breath.

“Did they say something? Wyatt?”

“No, not really, but it feels like we’re getting ready.”

Cole frowns. “Okay, then. I’ll be ready.”

“Ready?”

“To come with you guys. I got clearance from the lab to work on the vaccination team—including off-site.”

“What about Chloe?”

“Working on the vaccine is more important. She and I both agree with this.” He squeezes my hand. “We also think it’s important to stick together outside of the fort.”

I can’t help but wonder if, like Chloe, he’s worried about me and Wyatt being in the field together, but he tugs me so my body is pressed tight against his and I realize I don’t care. I’m happy he’s coming with me, and smile gratefully at him being so close and his news. He graces me with one, too.

Chapter 10

Two days later I’m leading the training group around the track when an imposing Fighter appears in the doorway. Seeing a quick jerk of his head, I peel to the side and jog over.

“What’s up?”

“You’ve been requested in room 213 at three pm. Make sure you’re on time.”

“For what?”

He stares at me but doesn’t reply. I fight an annoyed sigh.

I leave Davis with the class and take a quick shower before changing into my assigned black cargo pants, T-shirt, and boots.  I glance at the backpack I’d carried from Raleigh hanging over the sole chair in the room. A nagging feeling tugs at my gut and I grab it, checking quickly for my few personal belongings I’d never unpacked. It’s sentimental stuff; photos of my best friend Eliza and another of the family. The map I carried from our home in Raleigh all the way down here. I swallow the lump in my throat at the last item, the wedding ring my mother gave me. I should probably give it to my father but I can’t bring myself to do it.

With a quick look around the room, I zip up my bag. I hate being paranoid but ever since I got here I’ve the distinct feeling I wouldn’t stay long.

I pause outside Cole’s room and try the handle. A quick glance inside proves he’s not here and the clean lines of his bed linens suggest he hasn’t been up recently. I’d only seen him once, two days ago, since we parted from our little make-out session in the storage closet. He’d stumbled bleary-eyed into his room across the hall, mumbling that we’d talk in the morning. When I’d checked, he’d already left.

Not that I’d had a lot of free time either. Wyatt has us in intense weapon training. The walls surrounding the sparring ring revealed hidden caches of PharmaCorp-developed weapons. Pipes like the one Hayes used in his fight. There were others—scary-looking guns and bayonets. Grenades and other hand-held explosives. We were ready for war.

I’d wanted to share all of this with Cole, to let him know that Walker and Wyatt were leading us on a serious mission, but our schedules didn’t fit. I had to hope they’d prepared him and the other scientists coming with us.

The hallways are quiet and empty as I walk down to the meeting room, although Wyatt waits in the doorway, clipboard in hand. He scribbles something and gives me a once over when I approach him.  “Who tipped you off?” he asks.

“About what? The meeting? Someone invited me.”

“No,” his eyes dart to my pack, but he clamps his mouth shut. I roll my eyes. I’m tired of all the super-secret stuff going on. I’m either in or out. Right now it’s clear that even though they’re letting me in the room, I’m still on the outs as far as hierarchy goes.

The recruits are all here, as well as a small group of Fighters. The only difference is the patches on our arms. The veterans have the standard FF patch on the arm, but others have the “doctor” symbol of two twisted snakes with wings. My arm, along with the other new recruits, is noticeably patchless and bare.

I push past Wyatt, spotting Davis, and move to the empty seat next to his. Glancing around I recognize the nurse from the intake room, the one that flirts with Wyatt. Perfect.

I assess the rest of the room; two other people looking slightly uncomfortable in their fatigues are familiar from down in my father’s lab. The quick surge of hope I feel is squelched when I look around for Cole but don’t see him.

Walker steps to the front of the room followed by what has to be a scientist. He’s thin with thick-framed glasses and has the tell-tale pale skin of someone who has spent too much time underground.  Everyone quiets and Walker speaks. “Each of you have been selected into the leadership command for vaccine distribution. As you know, our goal will be to set up clinics, locate survivors, and establish a protocol for inoculation.”

I’ve promised myself I won’t say anything, not today. My whole mission has been to get on the team and see where this is headed. Luckily Walker is a stickler for details and begins outlining our mission.

“We’ve heavily patrolled and scouted the greater bi-state area for the last several months. During this time, we have locked down several specific facilities to use as a temporary clinics. They are outside of metropolitan areas but can easily be accessed by vehicle or by foot. Our plan is to bring survivors to the clinics in manageable numbers and begin vaccinations.”

“What happens to the survivors once they’re processed? Do they just go back out?” someone in the back asks.

“There will be additional, follow-up procedures that will be administered by members of our team.”

A tough-looking, dark-skinned girl next to me shifts in her seat and asks, “And we’ll be implementing all of this? Do we actually have enough vaccine for that many people? It could be thousands. Tens of thousands.”

Or it could be way, way less.

“As with all jobs within the elite Freedom Fighters squad you will be given orders and you will follow them,” Walker says, her tone sharp. “When we get to the clinics you will be assigned a job. None of this will be pretty.  It will most likely be dangerous and we will certainly have a period of trial and error.” She crosses her arms. “Director Ramsey and PharmaCorp scientists have spent countless hours on the vaccine. She has big plans for the survivors of this widespread epidemic. We need to have faith in her ideas and you need to have faith in our mission. Understood?”

The room nods, including the girl that asked the question. I’m reminded of Walker explaining to me that I needed to hand my blood over to Erwin at Fort Shaw because it was my duty to society. She’d been bluffing then, truly on the side of the FF and eventually helped us escape, but I’m well aware of how she can spin any story to fit her narrative at the moment.

Wyatt walks up to the front and looks at his watch before announcing, “I know this is short notice but we’re leaving in thirty-minutes from the first floor garage. You’re uniformed already and if you don’t have a pack, you’ll be given one before we leave. Do not go back to the dormitory.”

“Wait? What?” I jump to my feet. I need to get back to the dorm and talk to Cole. He should be with me—us. That was the plan. “We’re leaving now?”

“Twenty-nine minutes,” he says. “I’d start down now so we don’t leave without you.”

I fumble for my bag wondering if I can dash down to the lab or not, but I know it’s impossible. This building is a maze and the labs are at the furthest point from the garage.  I push through those around me to get to Wyatt or even Walker but they both slip out the door before I can get there.

“What the hell, Davis?” I ask bumping into him on the way out.

“You wanted to be in the FF, Alex. This is how we roll.”

“Are you telling me you had no advance warning?” I can’t help but notice his backpack, loaded, on his shoulder. He knew.

He shrugs. “That notice you got today was your advance warning. You’ll be okay. They’ll pack everything we need.”

“So this is how you operate? On blind faith?”

He smiles, a little sad, like it hurts to see how slow I am. “Welcome to the Fighters, where we take orders and get shit done.”

“Are you serious?”

His face turns grave and he gestures to the door. “As serious as an Eater bite.”

I follow the others but keep my eyes peeled for Cole as we file down the hallway. Panic rises in my chest and I think for a moment I should run, but then it’s too late and we’re corralled down to the garage.

I quickly learn that everything said by Walker or Wyatt is only a partial truth. Yes, we go to the garage, no we don’t leave right away. When I get downstairs I’m instantly queued up. “What’s this for?” I ask the girl from the meeting. She turns and I see her nametag. Parker.

“You don’t think they’d send us out without our own inoculation do you?”

The vaccine. We’re getting the vaccine.

Why does that idea scare me so much?

“No, I guess not.” My hand clenches around the strap of my bag.

“What?” Parker asks.

“I’m just…I guess I never really thought this would happen, you know? Being able to go out there safely.”

She laughs, her teeth white and perfect. “All the vaccine does is keep the virus from taking hold and spreading into your neurological system. If one of those things tries to bite your head off and you bleed out? You’re still dead. You won’t turn though—that’s definitely a bonus.”

“Oh, right.”

Again, I search the room for Cole, wondering if I’m the only one in the dark.

“Next,” a voice calls from the front of the line. We shift forward.

“So you think this vaccine will work?” I ask. Parker gives me a weird look. “What?”

“Aren’t you Dr. Ramsey’s daughter? You don’t trust his work?”

“I trust him. He’s brilliant.” But my sister? She’s a genius but unstable. “You’re right. I’m just nervous.”

We shuffle forward and soon Parker is sitting in the chair next to one of the scientists from the meeting upstairs. The patch on his uniform says Adams, and unlike in the briefing room, he looks much more comfortable now. “Roll up your sleeve,” he directs.

Parker complies, exposing the inside of her forearm and elbow. I have a flash reminder back to when Cole and I met. His blue eyes intense over the white lab mask. I had no idea then we’d be together, all these months later. I didn’t even know his name back then. The memory hits me like a ton of bricks.

I step out of line and search the room. Wyatt and Walker stand next to the door deep in discussion.

“I need to talk to you,” I say, rushing up to Wyatt. His eyebrow lifts. He knows. Of course he knows.

“What’s this about?” Walker asks.

I keep my eyes on Wyatt’s. “In private.”

“I’ve got this,” he says. Walker rolls her eyes but leaves us alone.

“You promised me,” I say. “We have one rule. You know that.”

“What? You’re here. I’m here. No one is getting left behind.”

I cross my arms. “Where’s Cole.”

“That rule is between us.” He sighs. “Cole is not my problem.”

“He should be here, with the other scientists.”

“He’s not on the list, Alex.”

“Then get him on the list. Tell Jane. Or my dad.”

He shakes his head. “Again, not my problem. But if you want to stick around you can. No one is making you go. This was your idea, remember.”

Realization dawns and my hands clench into tight fists. “So that’s what this is about. She thinks I’ll choose between him and the mission.” I pace back and forth, ignoring the way his eyebrow shoots up again, implying that he thinks I’m delusional.

Maybe I am.

“If you’re coming you need to get your shot.”

“Did you get it?” I look over at the dwindling line.

“Yes, the veterans got them yesterday.”

“Nothing weird happened?” He shakes his head.  I sigh and step back into line.

“If it’s worth anything, I think Cole’s actually helping down in the lab. They should have called him in months ago.”

His comment hits me hard. He’s right. Cole shouldn’t be with me and the Fighters. His brain is too important to risk out there with cannibalistic savages. He should be with my dad. More importantly, he should be here for Chloe.

“Next.”

I step forward and settle into the hard plastic seat, rolling up my sleeve. I keep my eyes down as he wipes and my arm tingles cool from the alcohol and I tense, waiting for the prick. The pain is sharp but quick and I blink back tears as the medic slaps a bandage over the small wound. More than ever, I miss my Lab Guy.

“Thanks.”

“Drink water,” he says. “And let someone know if you feel woozy or something.”

“Is that common?” I ask.

“No. Hydration is important, though. One of the doctors will find you within twenty-four hours to check.”

I nod and walk off, following the waving hand of the Fighter corralling us into the back of a military vehicle. The soldier glances at me and his list. “Ramsey, right?”

“Yes.”

“Keep your pack with you and your weapon ready.” He notices my hatchet sticking out of the side of my bag. There’s skepticism in his voice when he asks, “Is that your personal weapon?”

“One of them.” I have a gun in my boot and knife strapped to my leg.

“Good luck, Ramsey.” He pushes me inside and I stumble into the group of recruits. The door slams behind me. I’m hunched over, looking around, when someone slides over giving me space. Jude pats the seat.

“Thanks,” I say, squeezing in and dropping my bag between my feet.

“No turning back now,” he says as much to himself as anyone listening.

“Nope,” I agree, feeling the bandage on my arm, now aching from the prick. “There’s no turning back.”

Chapter 11

I learn in the first hour that the Fighters have done an even better job clearing the surrounding area of the infected that I realized.  I already knew the hoard that attacked the fort when we first arrived had been removed, but even the stragglers from a couple weeks ago are gone, leaving nothing but quiet, empty streets and the hum of our vehicle.

Parker, the African-American woman I stood next to in line, peeks out the window and asks, “This area was slammed when we got here. Where did they go?”

Hayes, the Fighter from the ring, sits watch at the back of the vehicle, weapon ready. Without looking over he says, “A rotating crew comes out every day and eliminates the threat. We’re pushing the perimeter of the fort back--reclaiming ground.” He points up ahead. “That gate just went up last week.”

I crane my neck to get a view out the side flap. We’re queuing up to cross through a second guarded fence line and gate about three miles past the original one.

Jane has a lot more going on than I’ve realized. More capable bodies and grander ideas. It’s all logical. All of it makes so much sense. Cleaning out the infected, making larger and larger swaths clear. Expanding her territory. I guess the uneasiness I feel in my gut is that I’m always one step behind with the enormity of her plans.

“Do all these workers and fighters live at the Fort?” I ask as we pass a group erecting part of a fence.

Hayes glances over at me as though he’s just seeing me for the first time. “No. We’ve been renovating inhabitable space between here and there. We’ve got barracks off-site now for some workers and Fighters and soon we’ll be moving more into outer housing.”

So that’s where everyone has been. I knew the numbers seemed off inside the actual fort. Honestly, I feel a lot better knowing people are being productive and not just lab rats for Jane and my dad.

The vehicles roll to a brief stop as we pass through the gates. We have three trucks packed with people and supplies.  As the gate rattles and slides shut behind us I nudge Hayes and ask, “What’s it like where we’re going?”

“The team has gone down to the clinic to secure and prep the area. They’ve cleared out as many Eaters as possible, but there’s no guarantee.” he replies.

“How long will it take to get there?”

“It’s about thirty miles away. So anywhere from an hour to three days.”

“You’re joking, right?” Jude says with a bright smile.

Hayes shakes his head and tenses both hands on his gun. “We’ve cleared the roads out to the clinic but that doesn’t mean we won’t hit a snag.”

The ride is quiet and our view mostly obstructed. If you’ve survived this long, you know keeping a low profile is important, but that doesn’t settle the anxiety building in my chest. Maybe I should have stayed back at the fort. What was I thinking, begging to go on this mission?

“You okay?” Jude whispers in my ear. His eyes are on my hands, which have turned white from gripping my hatchet. I exhale and loosen my fingers.

I nod. “I think reality is sinking in.”

“You’ve been out recently, though.”

“Yeah, but I’m learning that my patrols were in a pretty controlled setting. They’d cleared most everything out of there before letting me go.” He gives me a confused look. “You know the director is my sister, right? She approves everything I do. Those patrols were just a way of keeping me busy.” And from asking too many questions, I don’t add.

His eyes widen and I see they’re a nice shade of green. “Oh, you’re related to The Director?”

“Yep.” I fake smile and cross my fingers over each other. “We’re super close.”

The truck comes to an abrupt stop, causing all of us to crash forward, sliding hard into one another. Bags and weapons clatter to the ground and everyone scrambles to hold on. Before we’re upright, Hayes is ready in an instant, only saying, “Be prepared,” before disappearing out the back opening.

The truck’s motor rumbles loudly, but over the noise I hear the tell-tale screech of an Eater and the pop-pop of gunfire.  My gut sinks and Jude’s hands turn white, gripping the base of this weapon.

“Hold on,” I say before popping open the flap and sucking in a breath of not-so-fresh air. Exhaust and smoke coat my lungs, not to mention the rotting scent of flesh.

Crap.

I scan the scene and ascertain that we’re on the access ramp to the highway and cars line the sides of the road, pushed there intentionally, probably by the Fighters themselves. Eaters have blocked the road and spill from the smoking woods beyond the barrier of cars.

Perfect. We’ve hit a snag.

“Shit,” someone curses a few feet away in the truck.

“What should we do?” Jude asks me. Why me? God, I have no idea, other than I don’t want to die.

“You have your weapon?” I ask. He nods, and I glance at Parker and the others. They each hold up a variety of weapons, from guns to pipes to the craftily designed pieces we picked up in the R&D lab. “Get ready to use them.”

An explosion rocks the truck before anyone can respond and someone yelps in surprise.

“Open the roof,” I shout, and two recruits jump to their feet, unzipping the canvas top with nervous, shaking hands. I stand to get a better view and break into a cough. The smoke is thick but I can spot dozens of Eaters as they scream and stumble toward us. The front truck is completely blocked. A flank of Fighters including Wyatt, Davis, and Hayes stands between us and the infected, the front vehicle under Walker’s command. She holds a massive gun, picking off the infected before they make it to the car. A lump forms in my throat watching Wyatt on the ground, but he’s a force of nature, quick and fierce. His job is to take out the ones that get through the barricade, to my dismay, with only a knife.

“Stay in the truck,” I command, although I doubt that will be a problem. “But if any of them get past the line don’t be afraid to take them out.”

They come in waves—screaming, hungry, waves. Well-placed bullets stop many, but there seem to be an equal number that miss, and the Eaters stumble forward. Wyatt and other skilled fighters handle the assault from the ground and from my spot in the truck I watch as he stabs and slashes the incoming infected with a sharp blade. He has to get them in the brain, neck or heart to finish them off and he accomplishes this over and over again until dark, foul-looking blood coat his hands and face. Two mid-sized Eaters pass him by and ear-splitting shots fire from our truck as he gouges the eyes out of child-sized Eater. The bullets miss the infected, who lumber in our direction, but Wyatt reaches for his face and I realize he’d nearly been shot.

I turn to the recruit, wide-eyed with fingers on the trigger and knock his gun to the side. “Watch your fire! If you can’t hit the right target, find another weapon.”

He lowers the gun and grips the handle of a spiked bat instead.

“Wyatt,” I scream, pointing to the next horde coming over the barricade. He and the others are dead if they don’t get off the ground. My voice must have gotten through because he pauses and shouts a command.  The others on the ground fall back and I spot Hayes leaping into the truck in front of us.

Wyatt moves like a cat, movements quick and fluid. Two Eaters are fast on his trail, grasping at the air behind him. I swing the hatchet and crack open the skull of a gray-faced, filthy man. He falls to the ground in a heap, only to be replaced by another. Her rotten breath rolls across my face and I fight off a gag. I hit her on the side of the face and a tooth flies out of her mouth. She howls in response, rattling my brain—it’s been so long since I’ve been out here, since I’ve killed, but my body reacts on impulse, like smashing skulls is second nature.

She lands face down and I catch sight of a shiny purple band around her wrist, like the kind you get from a bar or a concert. This life is surreal and crazy.

Nails scratch on the canvas top, pulling me from my thoughts, and the stench of rot mingled with our sweat grows overwhelming. My ears ring from the discharging guns and as I heave the blade from the side of a decaying neck I say a quick prayer of thanks for the cardio my sister forced me into or I would have given out within minutes.

“Walker!” Wyatt shouts. Her head snaps in our direction a second after she decapitates the Eater closest to her. He does some motion over his head, a circle or something. She glances around the area and sees the bigger picture. We’ve got to get out of here, before the next wave makes it worse. Right now at least we’re surrounded by more dead bodies than live, and the fallen make enough of an obstacle for us to get away.

“Let’s roll!” she screams, disappearing under the canvas top into her seat and the engines rev back up.

Wyatt settles in next to me, covered in sweat and grime. My hands shake as we bump into and grind over the fallen and still-attacking Eaters. When the trucks get to a steady pace, I ask, “What the hell was that? I thought you guys had been out here!”

“It’s a big world, Alex, that is what everyday life is like out here. There’s no guarantee of safety.”

“But that…that was crazy. Where did the smoke come from? Was something on fire?”

“I don’t know.” Blood trickles down his jaw toward his neck and he claws at it.  It’s impossible to tell what blood belongs to him or to the Eaters he killed.

“Let me look at that,” I tell him, digging a cloth out of my bag. The truck lurches and I slide into Jude He pushes me upright.

“I’m fine,” Wyatt says, looking out the back window, back tense and on alert.

I glare at him and he sighs, turning to face me. I wipe the blood off his cheek and push his head back to get the goo pooling in his neck. There’s a fiery red line on the skin but it doesn’t look broken. I brush my finger over it and he flinches.

“Someone nearly took my head off with a bullet.” He eyes the recruits suspiciously. Everyone glances down or away.

“Well, I think you’ll be okay.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

“You’re welcome.”  I sit back in my seat as the trucks roll along more smoothly. Through the back window I can see the occasional car or truck pushed to the side of the road, but the remaining Eaters are far behind. I brush my hair out of my face.  “When was the last time Jane sent out a crew to clear the area?”

“Just yesterday. None of those Eaters were out here. The fire either. We’re going to have to come back to check it out.” His jaw tenses and I can spot the wheels turning in his head.

“Any idea where they came from?”

“A couple.” I wait for more but he clams up.

The rest of the trip is uneventful, but we’re shaken silent from the harsh reality of what we’re stepping into. When the trucks finally slow to a stop I can’t help but stick my whole head out the window to see our destination. No one gave us any details or description of the clinic and I’m surprised when I spot the building.

“A highway rest area?” I say, grabbing Wyatt by the arm, stopping him from walking off.

The building is in the middle of nowhere, brick with minimal windows. The few at the front of the facility are already secure with metal sheets. Jane has sent a crew out to fortify the perimeter with paneled fencing that surrounds the expansive parking lot and green space.  Mobile housing units and tractor trailers sit in the oversized parking spots. It’s such a familiar place—something we’ve all passed by or used a million times. It’s kind of perfect.

“Whose idea was this?”

“Walker. She was actually stationed at one of these as an emergency center at the beginning of the crisis.”

“I’m impressed. It’s far enough away from heavy populations but it has the functionality we need.”

He nods and we both watch the large gate slide shut with the help of three fighters. “It could work.”

“You have doubts?” If Wyatt is worried, we should all be worried.

“I think it’s as good as it can get. We don’t want something bigger to defend. At least not yet. The plan is to bring in small groups at first, assess them and give them the vaccine.” He scratches the scruff of beard on his chin. “Fixing this disaster is going to be a slow process.”

“Not your style?”

“Slow?” He gives me a sly grin, revealing the softer side of Wyatt I got to know on our journey, when it was just the two of us. I miss him. “Not typically.”

“Listen up!” A voice calls from near the front of the building. “Everyone needs to check in at the front desk. You’ll receive housing and work assignments and an overall briefing on how this facility will work.”

Wyatt lifts his pack and slings it over his shoulder. He accidentally brushes against the wound on his cheek and grimaces.

“Get that checked out.” I remind him.

He grabs the strap of my backpack and tugs me toward him. “Thanks for looking out for me.”

“That’s what we do, right?”

He nods and slips into the crowd, apparently not required to get in line for instructions. A pang of sadness hits me when I’m alone and I wish Cole could be here with me. I’m hoping he’s not too angry we left him behind.

Chapter 12

At the Clinic, we fall into a quick routine encouraged by a meticulous schedule posted in the entrance of the Welcome Center’s lobby. Everything from sleep to meals to bathroom breaks are hyper-organized around our daily work rotations.

We’re put straight to work. There’s no time to ease into this job. Walker puts me, Jude, and Parker on nightly patrol walking the perimeter of the fence line. The three of us move quietly through the dark, fifteen steps apart, while a pair of veteran Fighters sit up high in a crow’s nest scanning the distance for the infected, survivors, or anything else that moves.

The Fighters have different protocol for each situation. The survivors come into a secure quarantine area before they can mingle in the group. Individuals infected are picked off by sharpshooters. Swarms or hordes require a more tactical approach to take them out. We haven’t crossed paths with any hostiles, military or otherwise, but the tension in Wyatt’s jaw tells me he’s on the alert. Something is bothering him.

At first, I’m excited about the patrol, but then I realize the more experienced Fighters are keeping us busy and out of the way. I’ve had nothing more than a glimpse of the few survivors that have come into the camp, and have not been allowed anywhere near the mobile unit designated for the actual clinic and vaccinations.

“Ramsey,” I hear, whispered in a smooth, southern accent. I glance back in the faint moonlight and see Jude nod in the fresh Fall air. The nights are kind of peaceful, and I’m surprised at how quickly the edge wears off.  I lag a little and he speeds up until we’re closer together. We walk quietly together for a little while until he starts talking.

“Did you see that the first group of inoculated left today?”

“I saw the truck leave. I knew there were some people on it.”

“Yeah, I was on trash detail when it happened. It looks like most of the survivors that came in this week were loaded up.”

“Where did they go? Did you hear?”

“Back to the Fort, maybe?”

The pieces of Jane’s plan are slow to appear. So far, nothing seems amiss. We really are helping survivors that are in desperate need of food, shelter, and the vaccine.

Maybe, I consider (not for the first time), that Jane is right. I have trust issues.

We walk a little farther and Jude speaks again. “Back in the day, my mom used to drive me to school and every morning we’d listen to NPR—you know, the news station?”

“Yeah, I know. My mom did the same thing.” I quietly hum the tune to the morning show and he smiles.

“One day, we heard this thing about a storage facility in Norway. It was filled with seeds. Hundreds of thousands of seeds.”

“Seeds?” I ask, trying to listen to him and also keep watch for sounds outside the fence.

“Yeah, all these varieties. Some were no longer in use, others were pretty common. Fruit, vegetables, trees, plants…everything.”

“What were they storing them for?”

“Now. The end of the world. War. Famine. Drought. In reality, I think they expected that it would be for something a little more like climate change, you know, when the common varieties no longer produced because of weather changes or some other extreme events. Something they’d have more notice about.”

“And it’s in Norway?” Norway is a long way from here. I’ve started to understand I’ll probably never even go back home to North Carolina, much less travel overseas.

“Frozen under the ground. After some failed attempts, they found that environment the safest way to make sure they weren’t contaminated or ruined.”

I slow even more, so we’re walking at the same pace—totally against protocol. “Are you telling me you want to go to Norway, Jude?”

He snorts and covers his laughter with his hand. “God, no. I’m just thinking that whomever had the bright idea to store the seeds in Norway probably never really thought about the world being taken over by rabid monsters, making it totally impossible for anyone to get to or use those seeds ever again.”

“I suspect the guy who had that bright idea is probably now a rabid monster himself.”

“Or he’s living in that underground facility, totally unaware of anything happening on the other side of the world.”

We walk a little further and I spot Parker’s shadow across the small, grassy area. She bends down on her knee. “It does make you wonder how many other people are in underground bunkers or storage facilities or make-shift forts like PharmaCorp.” he says. “My best friend’s dad drove a truck for PharmaCorp.”

I glance over. “Oh yeah?”

“He was on the road when shit hit the fan. Unless PC has another Fort out there…I don’t know if I’ll ever find out what happened to him.” He sighs. “Not that he has anything to come back to.”

“Your friend is--uh, did they make it?”

“Nah. Or his mom.”

“Same happened to my best friend.” I push the memory of Liza out of my head. It hurts too much to think about it; besides, my nightmares like to keep those memories fresh when I’m alone at night.

“So how’d you get so good at this?” he asks, holding his weapon with ease. I’ve noticed this about him. He’s familiar with guns—from hunting—and handling them doesn’t make him nervous, but the Eaters freak him out. They’re unpredictable and certainly not afraid of us the way a deer or other wild animal would be. We’re lower on the food chain now, and it’s definitely unnerving.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. One minute I was a super nerd about to graduate high school, thinking about my roommates and what comforter to buy at Bed, Bath, and Beyond and if I had enough AP credit to skip Intro Biology, and the next my mom and I were alone, setting off on a three-state journey to find my dad and sister. On foot.”

“You made it—which makes you pretty bad-ass.”

“I made it,” I say. “But my mom didn’t.”

“Oh,” he says, and I can nearly sense how bad he feels for not realizing.

“It’s okay—“

I don’t answer fully because I see Parker abruptly stop just ahead of us. Jude and I both watch as she intently stares into space and listens.

“What is it?” I whisper as we get close to her.

She lifts a finger to her lips and shakes her head. A soft breeze passes and I’m slapped with the worst odor.

“God, do you smell that?” I ask, instinctively gripping my weapon. Jude nods with his hand already over his nose. There’s an Eater nearby. The stench gets worse. Make that Eaters.

I look up at the tower and spot the guard lifting up a pair of binoculars to his eyes.

“Night vision,” Jude says. “I had the same ones.”

A thud sounds against the fence next to us and the three of us jump, weapons ready.

“They’re out there,” Parker says.

I frown. “How many? Why are they so quiet?”

“I don’t know,” she replies.

I move away from the fence. One of us needs to alert the other fighters something is out there, but before I get far, I hear it. Them. The low chorus of sound bouncing off the metal fence.

The sound is coordinated, a deep, building roar signaling the full size of the swarm outside the barricade. I’m frozen.

Thankfully, not everyone has the same reaction. A cry from above sends out an alert and emergency lights I didn’t know still worked cut through the

pitch-black night. I’m instantly blinded and shut my eyes in protection.

“Sweet mother of…,” Jude shouts, followed by a curse. Anything else he says is drowned out by the sound of Fighters running out of the barracks, weapons drawn.

“What do we do?” Parker asks.

I’m clueless and scan the area for a veteran. Now that my eyes have adjusted, I spot them climbing up the makeshift ladders attached to the interior of the fence. I run to the one closest to me and start to go up.

What I see and smell up top takes my breath away. The back side of the compound is ten deep with Eaters, probably a couple hundred in all. They managed to sneak through the woods and get close to us without alerting any of the watchers or guards.  Their quiet is gone now that they’ve found us. The growling and screams grow, only now shattered by a loud command, “Incoming!”

I can’t see anything but I grab onto the fence top, nearly shaken off the ladder by an earth-shattering explosion under my feet. The Fighters have moved into action, tossing grenades and explosives below. A shrill ring rattles my ears and pieces of flesh fly through the air. There’s a full assault going on below and it’s clear that I’m useless up here, so I turn to descend the ladder.

“Alex!” Jude waves at me from the ground.

Halfway down, I see the front gate opening and watch a group of black-clad Fighters leave the entrance. I’m certain one of those soldiers is Wyatt. From my vantage point they split into two groups, each going in an opposing direction to confront the infected from the sides.

At the bottom I follow Jude, who’d received instruction from a ranking Fighter for us to head toward the buildings used for medical. Hayes stands in the open doorway and gestures for us to move quickly inside. Once we’re both clear, the door closes quickly behind us. Even behind these walls, we can hear the sound of fighting in the distance.

I realize Parker is here as well and we huddle in a small reception area. I was processed through one of these buildings when I arrived, receiving a vaccine check-up, but it only took a few minutes.

“We have three survivors that came in earlier today with one of the scouting groups. They’ve all been processed and under orders by the physicians. I need you three to keep them safe while the fighting is going on outside.”

“Safe?” Parker asks.

“Do not let anyone in or out until the all-clear has been sounded. These are not healthy people. They were out in the elements for a long time. They need rest and continued care before they can get the vaccine.” We all glance up at movement at the end of the hall. Jude lifts his weapon, but Hayes pushes it back down when it’s clear it’s a member of the medical team.

“No one comes in or out. Do you understand?”

We all agree and he steps outside, fading into the dark. The door locks with a loud click behind him. Jude reaches past me and slides the additional bolts. I move further into the room, looking for some air to process everything.  Jude stops in front of a chair and sits down, still but alert. Parker…well, Parker stands unmoving with a blank, distant look on her face.

“Hey,” I say, trying to get her attention. “You okay?”

She blinks but doesn’t say anything. Her hands clench around the black, taped handle of a spiked bat. “Parker?” I try again. “Come away from the door. We’re good for now. They’ll keep them on the other side of the fence.”

That statement seems to snap her out of it, but the look on her face makes me step back. Her eyes have a crazy glint when she asks, “How do you know?”

“Because I trust them. We’re a team.”

“Why? Because they dropped us off in the middle of nowhere with little training and all the sudden we’re supposed to fight those things?” She finally moves, but it’s just to pace the small space. Her hands shake. “I don’t think I can do this.”

I don’t tell her that I’m terrified. Truly panicked. I’m worried sick about Wyatt and the others out there. I can’t even think about what happens if they breach the fence. I simply say, in a fake, hard voice, “We can do this.”

Jude jumps out of his seat and stands in front of her. I don’t know what I expect him to say, but it’s not, “Tell me how you got to the Fort?”

“What?”

He shrugs. “How did you get to the Fort? Alex and the patrol team picked me up at a house with a bunch of other survivors. We’d been in there for months. From what she told me, she traveled from Raleigh. On foot.” He glances at me, eyebrow raised, impressed.

“I fought with Wyatt and Walker to get out of a tight spot.” I add. “They’re good soldiers.”

“They may be, but I’m not.” She exhales. “You know what I did before this? I was a first-year kindergarten teacher. I worked with five-year-olds on how to share and stand in a line.”

“So you have some experience with chaos, then,” Jude deadpans.

She turns to yell at him, but he winks, and despite her rolling eyes I can see her features soften.

“So you taught five-year-olds. How did you end up at the Fort?”

“When everyone first got sick, the school where I taught turned into an evacuation center in Augusta. It was during the first wave—back when it was an option—not a requirement.” She pauses, taking a second to steady herself. Her dark eyes fill with a familiar sadness and I feel my own chest seize. “My family is from Virginia, and after college I decided to stay down here by myself. With the travel ban I couldn’t get back home, so when they made the announcement that people could go the school, I decided to go and volunteer.”

“Smart.”

“I was there for a couple of weeks. We set out cots and had the cafeteria running. It wasn’t so bad. No one was sick, and the perimeter was protected by the National Guard. One night there was a scuffle outside—an Eater got through the gate and attacked some of the workers behind the cafeteria. We stayed inside, separated from the violence, but for most of us it was the first real attack we’d been exposed to other than what we’d seen on TV. The next day, some people from PharmaCorp showed up with a medical team and brought supplies. I started talking to the liaison and he asked me if I wanted a job. Obviously, I said yes. It was the most normal offer I’d had in weeks. I’ve lived behind the walls ever since.”

“So this is your first time really out here,” I say, understanding her panic a little better.

“Yep. I was assigned to work with the kids at the Fort, but I also started the cardio and training classes. I played basketball in high school. I think they liked my speed and accuracy. I wanted something more, and Jane felt like I could be useful out here—especially if any of the survivors were kids.”

Parker has settled down substantially while speaking. Her hands no longer shake and her voice sounds even. I glance at Jude and he gives me a quick nod. Needing a break from the drama, I excuse myself. “I’m going to go check the back just to make sure everyone is okay.”

Past the reception area, I travel down a non-descript hallway with several open doors.  The walls are thin and pre-fabricated and the first rooms I pass are empty. I come to one and spot the nurse from intake back at the Fort. Blonde. Pretty. Interested in Wyatt.

“Are you hurt?” she asks, pointing to my face. I reach up and feel the sticky pieces of flesh from the explosion earlier.

“No. Just dirty.” She reaches for a cloth and dips it in a small bowl. Meeting me in the hallway, she hands it to me. “Thanks.”

“What’s happening out there?” she asks as I wipe the goo off my cheek. She has on a similar uniform as mine, but with the medical symbol on the arm and an apron covering her waist. The name patch on her chest says Baxter, but I know her first name is Amanda.  I’m about to answer when a loud explosion rocks the whole building, and we both reach for the walls to steady ourselves.

“Eaters surrounded the backside of the compound. The Fighters are taking care of it. You guys are safe.” We’re safe, I promise myself. Wyatt and the others, too.

She doesn’t look sure, either, and worriedly glances at the occupant of the room. I see in the shadowy, lantern-lit room that a woman covered by a thin, blue blanket is asleep on the cot. Her hair is thin but clean. She looks frail and incredibly underweight.  “We’ve got three others in here, in the back with Dr. Green. They’re all exhausted.”

“I can imagine.” The road is a hard place to be. Unimaginable before you have to do it on your own. That may be part of what’s freaking Parker out. Harsh reality. “Will they be okay?”

“They’re mostly dehydrated and sleep-deprived.”

I step closer and notice a blistered area on the woman’s neck. “What’s that?”

“A burn, actually. She’s lucky. It will most likely scar but it could have been a lot worse.”

“And they’ll get the vaccine once they get the doctor’s approval?”

“Yes. Probably tomorrow.  Jane, the Director, asked us not to hesitate.”

I lean against the wall, ignoring the ridiculous title given my sister. “What then?”

“I think they all get shipped back to the Fort for training and job placement. Or I guess they can leave if they want, although I have no idea why anyone would want to live out there.”

The fighting outside quiets and I exhale, hoping maybe this is the end of it. “Let me know if you need anything,” I tell Amanda. She nods and moves back to her patient.

Parker and Jude are talking quietly in the front room when I walk in. The front door rattles and we all stop, looking uneasily at one another, wondering which direction this will go in. I take point, weapon ready, and the others stand behind me. Parker looks steady and my confidence in Jude has grown solid.

The rattle changes to banging. Loud banging. Then shouts. “Open up! We need all medical outside!”

It sounds like Davis, but I’m not sure. How am I supposed to be sure? Even if they’re still alive, they could be bit and transitioning. Amanda and Dr. Green appear in the hallway.

“Everyone stay back. Jude, do not let them past, got it?”

I move to the door and slide the bolt. A fist swings in my direction and Davis, carrying another person, stumbles forward. I pull my hatchet away from his face, but not before he shouts, “Jesus, Ramsey, what the hell are you doing?”

The body on the ground has a blood-stained mohawk and I know for certain it’s Wyatt. Davis rolls him over and it’s clear he’s unconscious and covered, again, in blood. This time, I have a feeling it belongs to him. Amanda rushes forward and pushes me out of the way.

“Has he been bitten?” she asks in a collected voice.

I am not so collected. Jude tugs me backwards and out of their way.

“No. Just beat up.” Davis wipes sweat off his forehead. He doesn’t look too good, either. “He got caught in the middle of the swarm and crushed against the fence. We had to use an explosive to get him out of there.”

“Take him to the first room on the left,” she says, and Dr. Green helps pick him up off the ground.

“What do we do?” I grab Davis’ arm as he heads down the hall.

“Get your ass out there and clean up. We killed all the dead. You need to go out there and help the living.”

Chapter 13

There’s nothing worse than cleaning up a dead Eater.

I mean, it may actually be the worst of the worst, and I say this living in the apocalypse. For real. They smell. They’re oozing. And oh, my God, the flies.

I lean over and quickly move the bandana from my mouth and nose and gag.

“Ramsey, if you puke it’s just going to add to the smell. Keep it together, please,” Jude says as he drags a body with only one leg to the pit we spent the morning digging.

Jude, Parker, and I, along with the other new recruits, secured the awesome job of clean up since we didn’t actually fight in the battle the night before. I get the point, and the veteran Fighters are either healing in the clinic or keeping watch over our efforts, but still, it sucks.

And did I mention it smells? Really badly.

“Seriously? Does it not make you gag?” I ask, choking back bile.

“I told you, I’ve just compartmentalized it—like eviscerating a deer after a kill.”

My stomach flips at the thought.

“You’ll get used to it,” he says, patting me on the back.

The number of bodies on the ground is astonishing, but Walker told us that we didn’t lose any of our own in the fight. That makes me feel a little better about our abilities as a group, even if my own specialty seems to be lugging dead bodies into a pile to burn.

I wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve and push the bandana back in place. Reaching for the arm of the dead Eater at my feet, I notice something. Coated in dirt and grime is a thick paper band wrapped around his wrist. I scrape away part of the sooty dust and purple appears. Where have I seen this before?

Parker walks by, dragging her own body toward the pit by the feet. She shakes her head and raises an eyebrow. “Girl, what are you doing?”

I frown at the band and twist it around to see if it has anything else identifying on it. No logo or anything. Just a series of numbers.

“Alex!” Parker shouts and I blink up at her. “What the hell are you doing?”

“This bracelet. I’ve seen one before.” I glance down at the body she’s dragging—this one a female. Her long, dirty hair is tangled with dirt and debris. My eyes scan her body and land on the shirt-covered wrist. “Hold up.”

I hear Parker sigh under the dusty, black bandana, but she waits as I step over the one body and bend over the next. Pushing back the sleeve, I find what I’m looking for: Another band. This one less dirty and definitely purple.

It hits me where I saw the other one. During the assault on the highway on our way down here, one of the Eaters had the same bracelet on its wrist. It can’t be a coincidence. I drop the dead woman’s arm and run to the next body, then the next. Each one is similarly tagged.

This wasn’t a random group of infected people that stumbled upon us. These people all came from the same place. They were from a community—a community that kept track of their members. I pull the handle of a sharp knife I keep tucked in my boot and cut the thick band.

“Have you seen anything like this before?” I ask Parker, who is still watching me, but with less annoyance.

“No.”

“I’ll be back.”

“Wait, what? Where are you going?” I don’t reply. “Alex! You’re not leaving all this work to us!”

“I’ll be back!” I shout. “Just leave a pile for me.”

I jog toward the front gate, passing the other recruits and ignoring the Fighters keeping watch. I get to the gate and bang on the side. Uncovering my face, I say, “Let me in. I need to talk to someone.”

The guard gazes down at me. I don’t know him personally, but he waves his hand to someone below and the gate slowly opens.

Once inside, I dash past the cleaning station, despite the fact I’m filthy. I head straight to the recovery building we holed up in last night. At the door I bang again, impatient to get inside. “Let me in. It’s Ramsey!” I shout. Moments later, Amanda appears with an irritated grimace on her face.

“What are you doing? People are trying to sleep in here.”

“Yeah, sounds nice.” I push past her and she jumps out of the way, not wanting Eater guts on her clothes.  “Where’s Wyatt?”

“You can’t come in here like this. You’re filthy. You’re probably carrying God-knows-what kind of germs.”

“Where’s Wyatt?” I ask again, this time louder than I meant.

A loud groan comes from down the hall and his dark, shadowy figure appears. He leans against the wall, shirtless, with cotton pants slung low on his hips. I avert my eyes to his face instead and spot the tight, painful grimace. That can’t be good. “Alex, what the hell are you doing?”

He’s the third person that’s asked me that in five minutes.

I start to tell him about the arm bands and what I’ve seen outside, but I spot the blooming purple-and-black bruise spreading across his chest and I can’t help but walk over to him. “Crap. Are you okay?”

“I was, until you started banging on the door and raising hell.”

“Sorry.”  The bruise looks beyond painful. Without thinking, I reach up to touch his inflamed skin, but Wyatt catches my wrist and gives me a hard look.  “Right. So, can we talk? In private.”

He gestures to his room while rubbing his hand over his face. Inside, he passes me and pushes away any help as he crashes back on the cot, grimacing with every movement. Realizing his annoyance is going to hit peak levels at any moment, I jump into my story. “Listen, when we stopped the other day and fought those Eaters on the way here, I noticed something on one of the infected. At the time it didn’t seem like a big deal—almost one of those ironic-end-of-the-world-things that jars you out of the moment, but now I’m not so sure.”

Wyatt’s eyes flutter and he says, “Can I get a little context, please? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, right.  You know those plastic armbands they strap to your wrist when you go to a concert or festival or something?”

“Yeah, or a bar.”

Well, I wouldn’t know about that. My bar days got cut short.

“Yes, like that. I saw one on an Eater the other day when we were ambushed on the road.” I hold up the band I’d cut from the Eater outside and pass it over.

“Okay.”

“I found that one outside, just now, as we were cleaning up the bodies from last night. I checked a couple more and they had them on, too.”

Wyatt studies the band, looking a little more interested. “What are you thinking?”

“That these Eaters all came from the same place? Maybe another camp? Is it Jane? Or maybe an evacuation center?” I don’t say what I really wonder, but Wyatt’s not a chicken like me.

“Or one of Erwin’s camps.” he says.

“Or one of Erwin’s camps.”

He shifts like he’s going to get out of bed, but his long arm reaches out to the wall to steady himself. I press down on his shoulder. His skin is hot. “Whatever happened there is long over,” I tell him. “We can check it out when you’re better.”

He nods, but doesn’t look happy about it. “Send Davis in here.”

“Davis?”

“Yeah, we’ll make a plan.”

I step out of the room but pause. “So, you think there’s something to it?”

He sinks into his pillow, shuts his eyes, and says, “We’re going to find out.”

Chapter 14

The branch flies in my face with a loud thwack, nearly taking out an eye. “Jesus, Parker, I need both my eyes.”

“Sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Shut up, Alex.”

“I swear if you don’t both shut up,” Wyatt mutters from the front of the pack. “I will use you as bait the next time we come across a group of Eaters.”

Parker blanches, because she doesn’t know Wyatt that well and he’s completely terrifying. I keep my face even but swallow back any retort because I do know Wyatt, and yeah, he’s still a little terrifying.

“Ramsey,” he says.

“What?”

He cuts me a look. “Come here, please.”

Please? “Sure.”

I push past Parker and Jude. Davis is in the back and Hayes is in the way, way back. After much discussion, we decided to bring him along to have another set of skilled hands. We got out of the truck thirty minutes ago and are walking in the thick copse of woods between the highway and the land beyond. Most of the land has fencing separating private and public land, allowing our left side to have a bit of security.

I fall in step with Wyatt, keeping an eye out on the deserted road. We’re headed toward the access ramp where we’d been attacked on the way down here. “What’s up?”

“Why did you bring her with us if all you’re going to do is argue?”

“Parker?”

“Yes.” He exhales. “Parker. The person you’ve been bitching with for the last three hours.”

“She’s just nervous. I think that’s how she expresses it.” Again he gives me an exasperated look, his jaw tense and eyes narrowed. “What?”

“Remind me not to put you in charge of recruiting for missions from now on.”

I snort. “You guys chose them for the team. I had to assume they were up to snuff.”

Wyatt abruptly stops, holding his hand out as a signal. The barricade of cars is up ahead—large vultures sitting atop like ornaments. From here I can spot the white, baked bones. Animals cleaned up the mess we’d left behind weeks ago. Even so, the smell of death hovers in the air. Wyatt and I wait until everyone catches up.

“I do not want to go over there,” Parker declares, waving a hand in front of her face. It’s fall, but the Indian summer has lasted longer than normal. There’s been little rain, which makes travel easier. But the earth is dry, which has other repercussions.

“We’re not going over there.” Wyatt jerks his chin toward Davis. “You got that map?”

The other Fighter pulls a small map out of his pocket and hands it over. “I’ve marked our destination. It should be over that ridge.”

Even now, Davis and Wyatt are tight-lipped, but they did confirm we’re headed toward what had been a school before turning to an evacuation center at the beginning of the crisis. Wyatt thinks this may be where the purple arm bands are from and not something nefarious, but still a situation that needs to be handled since it’s in close proximity to the medical clinic.

“What’s the plan?” Jude asks.

“We’ll go through these woods here and come up on the backside of the building using the forests as cover until we can assess the situation a little better.” He folds the map and hands it back to Davis, who tucks it away. “We’re looking to see if the Eaters that attacked our vehicle and the clinic are coming from that building, how many are left, and what we need to do about them.”

“How did the earlier patrols miss this?” I ask.

Wyatt tightens the straps on his pack and says, “That’s what we’re going to find out.”

Chapter 15

“A little help?” I shout, throwing my full weight into the Eater in front of me. Somehow, I’d been backed into a corner, and it was the only way to get the upper hand. My request for help is answered by a series of grunts, curses, and the sound of limbs dropping to the ground.

Okay, then. No one is coming to help.

The skinny bitch in front of me has three missing teeth, and I can see her dirty, yellow bra strap at the top of her shoulder. I hate her. She really hates me. She lunges, howling, with her nails coming at me. I take a fast, hard swing with my hatchet and cut her head clear off. It smashes against the trophy case. I brace myself for the shattering of glass but her head bounces off, dropping to the ground like a basketball and rolling across the floor.

“Disgusting,” I mutter, looking around for the next assault, but the floor is littered with dead bodies. The others stand around the school lobby, catching their breath.

“Guess this is ground zero after all,” Parker says, wiping blood off her face.

Earlier, we’d squatted by the edge of the forest overlooking the school. A small field with a track around sat between us and the building. A playground painted blue and red was to the side. The opposite side of the building, near the gym, appeared to still be smoldering from a fire or explosion.

“There’s your fire from the other day,” I point out.

The outside was quiet. “Let’s go check it out,” Davis suggested. “We need to assess any further risk or potential resources. Hayes, you good on perimeter watch?”

“Yep. I’ll signal you if necessary.”

As we got closer, the stench of smoke grew. The whole place seemed deserted, until we busted through the side door.

At first, they didn’t notice us. One weird thing about the Eaters is they seem to have a ’sleep mode’, a strange place they revert to not being on full attack. I haven’t quite figured out what they hone in on other than sight and movement. Maybe smell.

I tried not to think about how bad I smelled, walking into that school.

“Mother-fu—“ Wyatt muttered.

“I think we can take them,” Jude had replied.

That was when the first one shifted out of sleep mode and into attack mode.

Now that it’s over, I glance at Parker to make sure she’s still functioning. Every day is a bit more real world desensitization. Other than shaking hands and a look of disgust on her face, she seems to be coping.

Wyatt leans over the body closest to him and picks up its arm. “Purple band.”

“Same over here,” Jude says, nudging one with his boot.

Parker walks down the hallway, quietly poking her head into various doors. I keep my weapon at the ready, as does Davis, not knowing what could be on the other side.

“The setup is the same here as it was at my school.” She points to an over-turned table near the entrance of the school. “Check-in was over there. We were given cot assignments and our schedule.”

“You guys didn’t have arm bands, though,” I state.

She shakes her head. “No.”

Wyatt, with his gun at the ready, gestures for us to follow him through the school. At the gym, the door handles are bound together with a chain.

“Back up,” Davis says, tapping on the door with his gun after we’ve pushed back against the wall. We wait, listening for any response at all, but the only sound is from our breathing.

Wyatt unbinds the chain--which didn’t have a lock--and steps into the gym. After a moment, he leans back into the hallway and says, “It’s all clear, but I think I’ve figured out the breach.”

One step inside and the problem is clear. Both sets of back doors had been blown off their hinges. The back wall is wide open, allowing anyone--alive or dead--in or out of the building.

“Check out the floors,” Jude says, pointing to the scorch marks. There are more along the walls. “Explosive? Someone did that on purpose.”

Between us and the opening is an abandoned encampment of cots and possessions. Bedding, backpacks, and personal items lay scattered on each bed and across the floor.

“I’ll send a team back to pick those up,” Wyatt says as I walk over to check out the closest one. There’s not much in it, just some clothes. I move to the next one and lift it by the strap. The front of the backpack spins around and I inhale sharply, as though I’ve been hit in the gut.

“Ramsey?” Parker asks. I glance up and she’s watching my hands closely. They’re shaking. I don’t respond, but unzip the top to rummage through the bag. “Girl, what’s going on?”

A large hand closes on the top of the bag and I look up into Wyatt’s concerned eyes. I exhale. “I know this bag.” I poke the familiar red patch—the very last thing I saw before Paul disappeared with the military on the North and South Carolina border. “I, uh, I knew the owner.”

“I’m sure it’s a coincidence.” His voice is soft—gentle. I swallow back my emotions and yank the bag out of his hands.

“Sure. You’re probably right,” I agree, not agreeing at all. If Wyatt is talking to me like a child, then I may need to roll it back a little. Besides, it’s none of their business. Paul is none of their business.

My mother and I met Paul when we first left our home. We’d been trapped by Eaters and he saved us. He sheltered us. In return, he followed us out of Raleigh, forming a bond like a brother. When it was time to split up he’d chosen to go off with a group of evacuees, who’d immediately been under attack by the military. Mom and I were unsure if Paul was one of the survivors.

That attack was our first sign that the good guys weren’t necessarily so good.  I touch the red patch. It the last thing I’d seen before the bombs dropped. Paul was one of the good guys. I knew this in my heart, and we’d been lucky to meet him.

Wyatt turns and leaves the gym and I try to shake off the irony. Everyone in the apocalypse wears a mask. Some better than others. I put mine on, grab the pack and follow him and the others out of the gym.

Chapter 16

After an hour, we’ve filled our bags with supplies and fought off a handful of Eaters lurking around the empty classrooms, but we’re no closer to an answer about the armbands than when we got here. We knew there was a fire—or an explosion--that resulted in releasing hundreds of evacuees-turned-Eaters from the school into the surrounding area. They’d attacked us on the road and later at the clinic. We don’t know why, what the tags mean, and who’d intentionally released the Eaters. Or was it intentional at all?

“It’s getting late,” Davis notes, looking at his watch. “We’ll need to head back soon to avoid getting caught in the dark.”

The group collectively nods. No one wants to be outside the walls after dark. We’ve looped back around to the front of the school, standing around the front office. Parker shuffles through some paperwork behind the main desk. Jude sighs, slumping in a chair. Wyatt disappears down a narrow hallway leading to what I assume is other offices, while Davis stands watch at the door.

It’s a rare moment of quiet for the day, and I look around the office, absorbing the reality of our location. Being in a school is one of those surreal post-apocalyptic moments. The room we’re in is like a time capsule. Plaques and children’s artwork mounted on the walls. The school mascot, an eagle, watches over us from the banner hung behind the desk, with menacing eyes and spread wings. There’s the impression that whoever took over the school figured that one day the students and faculty would return. The empty feeling in my chest would bet otherwise.

“Anything interesting?” I ask Parker.

“Well, this place was definitely under the control of the military. There are papers with their letterhead and logo. The National Guard was here. They had lists of the soldiers that came through, and supplies.” She flips through the papers rapidly until she gets to two sheets and holds them up. A frown sets on her mouth.

“What’s that?” I ask.

“More names. I’m assuming of the evacuees’. It’s got ages, hometowns, and all kind of numbers I don’t understand. Who knows, they could just be students from the school.” She drops the papers on the desk and rubs her temples. “I think I need to get out of here. That ashy burn smell is giving me a headache.”

“For real. Let me go find Wyatt.”

The hallway is more of the same. Award and accolades for the school. Class photos and some of teachers laughing, wearing matching shirts. I pass an empty conference room and another with a now-defunct copy machine. There are little slots on the wall where teachers got their mail. What I don’t find is Wyatt, and with each step I get a little more nervous, clutching my weapon in my hand. I hear nothing—not Wyatt. Not anyone from the front office. I reach the end of the hallway and I see that it turns off to the left. Before I turn, I take a deep breath and brace myself before moving around the corner, expecting nothing but anticipating the worst.

I find the worst.

Okay, close to the worst. My idea of worst has changed a lot lately.

Wyatt stands at the end of the hallway, gun raised at a figure in a similar position. The person’s back is to an open door—a closet or another room. He and Wyatt are in a silent standoff, barrel to barrel. I can’t see the other person’s face—it’s cloaked in a hoodie—but it’s clear he’s human and comfortable carrying that gun.

“Put the gun down,” I say in the strongest voice I can muster. I should have gone for Davis. He would’ve had this guy begging for mercy three minutes ago.

No one listens to me, but my command gives the other guy pause, allowing Wyatt to get the upper hand. In a flash the guy is disarmed, the gun clatters to the ground. To his credit he fights back, but Wyatt is a force to be reckoned with, and it only takes a moment before he’s flipped to the ground, jamming a knee in his back. He grunts in pain and begs, “I’m cool, dude. Swear. Just don’t kill me.”

I rush forward and pick his weapon up off the ground.

With two barrels aimed at his head, he puts his hands out in defeat and continues to beg for his life. A purple armband is wrapped around his wrist.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Wyatt says. “At least not yet.”

Wyatt grabs him by the back of his hoodie and yanks him to his knees, revealing his pale, sickly face.  His hair is shaggy and a thin layer of stubble covers his chin. Circles under his eyes give him a sunken, hollow look.

“Are you sick?” I ask.

He nods. “Not with the virus. At least, I don’t think. I haven’t been bitten.”

Wyatt looks skeptical. A deep line creases between his eyes. I’m skeptical too, but the symptoms he’s showing aren’t the same as when someone is infected. Not exactly.

“Then what is it? The flu?” I guess, taking a step back.

A sound comes from behind him—through the open door. Coughing.

“Watch him,” Wyatt says.

He releases his tight grip on his back and I level the gun steady at his head. From the way he slumps over, I get the feeling he’s not going anywhere. At least not fast enough to get away.

Wyatt moves to the door and pulls a small flashlight out of his pocket, shining it inside. “Holy shit,” he says.

“What?” I ask. With the gun still in position, I move next to Wyatt. The room is nothing more than a small, empty closet. In the faint light I see feet, all connected to bodies huddled together. “Oh God.”

“Please don’t hurt them,” the guy on the floor says. “We’re not infected. It’s something else. Something they gave us.”

“Who? Who gave you what?” I look away from the dark room.

“A group of doctors came in and gave us shots—they said it was a vaccine. But everyone got really sick and some people…” his voice trails off.

“Some people what?”

He swallows. “They died. But that was a while ago. We’ve been holed up here since. Sick—but not dead.”

Wyatt and I look at one another. His jaw is set.

“We have to do something,” I tell him in a low voice.

“What they hell are we supposed to do? We can’t risk taking them back. What if this is just another phase of the virus changing?”

“What if Jane is behind this?” I argue.

“Exactly. What if Jane is behind this? What then?”

There’s movement in the closet and we both look over. One figure moves out of the darkness and to my utter shock calls out my name and asks, “Is that you?”

I grab the flashlight from Wyatt, even though I don’t need to shine the light on the face of the person calling my name. “Paul?”

“Alex!”

His pale, sweaty face breaks into a brief smile before he doubles over and groans in pain. He pitches forward and I lunge at him, tearing away from Wyatt’s hands trying to hold me back. “Don’t go in there!” he yells, but I’m already inside, arms wrapped around my friend.

Paul’s breathing is shallow as I turn him over, but he opens his eyes. “Stay with me,” I tell him. “I’m going to get you help.”

“Thank you,” he replies before his body stills and his eyes flicker shut once more.

Chapter 17

Quarantine sucks, and by day two I’m considering breaking out. We’re not here because of the Eater virus. The vaccine works, but whatever illness Paul and the others from the evacuation center have hasn’t been identified. The doctors want to make sure it’s not contagious and that we’re not infected with whatever it may be.

So we’re stuck in a medical building on the far side of the camp for at least another twenty-four hours.

Wyatt and Parker use the time to sleep. I know from experience, Wyatt is not a fan of tight spaces and doing nothing, but like the rest of us, exhaustion is never far away these days and having forced rest helps in that aspect. They go off to their separate rooms and I haven’t seen either, other than brief trips to the bathroom, in over a day.

In contrast, Davis has dismantled, cleaned, and reassembled every gun in the unit. Four times. One of the doctors finally gave him a jigsaw puzzle scavenged from somewhere. He’s been quiet ever since.

Jude, to my surprise, has spent our time here with his nose in a book. The Bible, actually. I leave him to it.

And Paul? Well, I’ve been sitting in a chair next to his bed since we got here, hoping he’ll regain consciousness. All of the people we found at the evacuation center have been unresponsive, and are being monitored in various beds around the quarantine clinic.  They were dehydrated and feverish. All of them absolutely filthy. While Paul was being washed, the nurse discovered the dark bruises and needle prick scars on his arms.

I’m determined to see my friend survive, and to find out more about what happened and exactly who did this to him and the others.

A worker comes by the tiny room and knocks, holding out a thermometer. I sigh and wave her in. “I feel fine,” I tell her for the hundredth time in two days.

“Open wide.”

She places the old-fashioned thermometer under my tongue—no electronic or digital here—and after a minute removes it. “Still normal.”

“What about him?” I ask, nodding to Paul on the cot.

She squeezes past me and takes his temperature. After reading it, she presses a hand to his forehead. “It’s down.”

“It is?” That’s the first time since we found him. “What about the others?”

“They’re next.”

She leaves the room and I prepare to settle back in my seat until the next interruption, but I notice a slight movement on the cot and lean forward.

“Paul?” I say, quietly. His eyelids flicker and I move to my knees and touch him gently on the arm. “Can you hear me? It’s Alex.”

He blinks and his hand claws at this throat. I grab the bottle of water next to the bed, helping him lean up a little as he takes a small sip.

“Alex,” he says with a scratchy voice. “I thought I was dreaming.”

I smile. “Nope. Not a dream. How do you feel?”

“Better—I guess. Tired.” He looks around the room and for the first time, I see his eyes. They look darker than I remember. “Where are we?”

“At a medical clinic.”

His eyebrows knit together and his entire demeanor changes. “A clinic? Where? What do they do here?”

He’s completely agitated—shifting nervously, those dark eyes panicked. “Hey, it’s okay. My sister and my dad run this place. Remember? I was looking for them? This is why.” He settles under the blanket, but probably more out of exhaustion than from being reassured. I take his hand; it’s warm but not the blazing, feverish heat from the last couple of days. “Can you tell me what happened, Paul?”

He laughs. “Starting when? That day I left you in the truck? Or when I got sick.”

“All of it. We thought you were dead—in the explosion on the bridge.”

Paul reaches for the bottle of water and takes a long drag. With a heavy sigh he begins to speak, describing the scene on the bridge. “Just like we thought, they checked us for the infection and divided us into two groups before loading us on the buses. I just remember that helicopter overhead being so loud, and everyone panicked when it started shooting.”

“Everyone on that other bus was infected?”

He shook his head. “No. They also asked us a question before splitting us up. They asked if we were willing to make a sacrifice for the survival of the country. The bus they destroyed held the people that said no.”

“Wait, what?”

“Yeah, they said no to the people that rounded us up. Join us and you’ll live. Don’t and you’re dead. Thank god I picked the right one.” He frowns. “I guess.”

“What happened after that?” I ask, not sure I want an answer.

He rubs his black hair. “They took us to a facility—we thought it was an evacuation center. I mean, I guess it was, in a way. It was set up for testing.” He looks around. “A lot like this, actually.”

I reach for his hand and take it in my own. “You’re safe here. I promise.”

“It’s a little hard to trust people right now.”

“I understand more than you can imagine. A lot of stuff has happened to me, too, since we last saw each other.”

“After that day, we moved to three different facilities. Each one like the last.” I glance at the bruises on his arm and he tugs at the blanket. “We were guinea pigs. Poked, pricked, and prodded.”

I shiver, remembering my time at Fort Shaw with Erwin in his lab. Festering anger wells inside. “The vaccine?”

“So they said. They were a full-on propaganda machine. We were doing this for our country. It was our duty for the survival of man-kind.”

I’d heard all that before. From Erwin, and to be honest, my sister.

Paul tells me the remainder of his story. How they moved frequently due to general apocalypse instability and what seemed like the scientists upping the vaccine tests at each location. Eventually, they arrived at the final facility a month ago where the tests started up immediately, but this time, he says, something went wrong.

“People had gotten sick before. The occasional virus running through the group or maybe some unfortunate side effects, but what happened at the final school was bad.” He holds up his wrist, revealing the purple band I’d asked them not to remove. “We were each given doses of the latest vaccine. That’s what the band means. What vaccine you were given and at what facility. Before that, the ones I wore were green and yellow. The purple vaccine though…something was wrong with it and it not only didn’t work against the infection, but triggered it.”

“Triggered the infection?” I whisper.

He nods. “Yes, a wave of flu-like symptoms rolled through the group. Fever and nausea. Everyone got it—except the doctors, who were understaffed and overwhelmed. I didn’t care, though. I wanted to be alone in my misery and die in peace.” He laughs darkly. “It was too much to ask. My stomach was a wreck and even though I was delirious with fever, I left the gym for the bathroom in the hall just as the first fight broke out. While I was puking my guts out, the screams and howling started. God, the howling.”

“Eater howling?”

“Definitely like the Eaters. There was no mistaking it. The entire gym was under siege. People attacking one another, the sick being attacked and bitten in their sleep. I watched it all from the window in the door, right up to when the first bomb dropped. I ran away from the gym and found a couple other survivors. We holed up, sick and dying. At one point, I thought someone had come to rescue us. I thought I heard gunfire, but it’s entirely possible I was hallucinating.” He smiles. “Then you found us.”

I barely hold it together, thinking about what Paul had been through and how it was more than a miracle that we’d found him alive. “The bomb,” I say. “That’s how they got out. That’s how they found us.”

“What?”

“The Eaters that didn’t die in the explosion attacked us on the road on our way here the very first day. We saw the smoke in the distance and the arm bands on the dead. It took a few days, but the remaining infected eventually found us here and attacked as well.” His shoulders tense and eyes widen. “We killed them all. I promise. The clinic is very secure.”

“That’s what they said about the testing facility, too.”

I frown. “What happened to the guards? The doctors?”

“I don’t know. I think they left when they saw what was happening.”

“They abandoned you?”

He shrugged, eyes drooping from exhaustion. “Someone sent that bomb to destroy us. All of us.”

A small sound in the hallway gets my attention and I look out the doorway. Wyatt has his back pressed against the wall, listening to every word. I shouldn’t be surprised. I turn back to Paul and see his eyelids closing. I clasp my hand to his. “Get some sleep.”

His grip tightens. “They think we’re dead, Alex. I know they do. I’m sure there were not supposed to be any survivors.”

“You’re safe,” I tell him again. “I promise I’ll keep you safe.”

My words seem to be enough, even though I feel like a liar saying them. He releases my hand, slipping quickly back to sleep. I wait for a moment, composing myself before leaving the room. I take one fast look at Wyatt, who has his mouth open, ready to start giving orders. I hold up my hand and say, “We need to talk.”

Chapter 18

We gather the others in Wyatt’s cramped room and tell them everything Paul just revealed. The testing. The sickness. The bombings. There’s only one question and we all have it.

“Who did this?” Jude asks from his spot next to Parker on the bed.

“That Erwin guy you’re always talking about?” she tosses out.

Davis and Wyatt exchange looks. I know they’re wondering what I’m wondering. Which psycho is behind this? Erwin or my sister? The military or PharmaCorp? I’m no longer sure if there’s any difference.

“Maybe Paul doesn’t have the full story. It sounds like he was pretty sick. Maybe he hallucinated some of it?” Jude is trying to reconcile the terrible story.

“You did say that the military bombed that bus in Raleigh,” Davis says. I’d told them that months ago. Paul just confirmed it. His large frame blocks the door like a brick wall. “Sounds like their M.O. Plus, I’m really not sure PharmaCorp has access to military-grade weapons like that.”

Now it’s time for me and Wyatt to share a look. We both know anything is possible with Jane. Nothing will stop her, but the bombings do sound a little extreme.

“What do you think?” I ask him.

“It sounds like Erwin had a larger testing pool than we knew about.”

“So you don’t think it’s Jane?” I ask. The other three snap their attention to me. Yeah, they just figured out what I think about my sister.

“No. Like Davis said, between the bombings and out of control testing, it sounds like what we experienced at Fort Shaw. He’s desperate.”

I feel relief at his words. “Then what now?”

“I think everyone needs to be careful. It may feel like the world is gone, but it’s not. We’re in a battle for the future and right now we have the leverage, the vaccine. But that also means it’s a liability. It means we will have enemies coming for it. For us.”

“Why are they our enemies?” Parker asks. Her confusion mirrors on Jude’s face. “Don’t we all just want the same thing?”

Before Wyatt can answer, a hand beats on the door.  “Open up!” The nurse yells. Davis swings open the door, hand already poised on this gun. She ignores him but stares at Wyatt. “The front gate has asked for you.”

“We’re in quarantine,” I argue.

“I told them that. They don’t care.”

“And this person overrules procedure?” Davis asks. She shrugs and shuts the door. None of us speak, but my mind has already gone to one awful place.

It’s Erwin. It has to be. The school must have been monitored. We fell directly into his trap.

Again.

Davis and Wyatt must feel the same way and spring into action, checking weapons, using lingo I can’t quite follow. I’m quick on their heels but stop abruptly in the hall. “What do we do about the sick? I promised Paul he’d be safe.”

Wyatt nods at Davis, who takes off toward the back of the building. “Where’s he going?”

“He’ll take care of them. And you.”

“I’m going with you.”

He sighs. “No. You’re not. I’ve been called to the front gate. That’s all. It’s probably nothing. But if it is something, you’ll be fine.”

“One rule, Wyatt.”

He gives me a hard stare and chews on words he never spits out, instead leaving me and storming out the door. I go to follow, but Jude calls my name and it’s clear he needs help with a barely functioning Paul, who is currently slung over his shoulder.

“Fine,” I mutter at the doorway he just exited through. “Whatever.”

Parker tosses me my backpack and I take Paul’s as well. Davis leads us out the backdoor, despite the nurse’s arguments to the contrary. If Wyatt can leave, so can we, right? I have no idea where we’re going, but simply walking outside into the fading daylight perks me up. It’s been days without fresh air.

I inhale, ignoring the lingering soot and smoke from the fight the other night, and I’m caught by surprise when Hayes steps out of the shadows next to Davis. He takes charge and leads us toward the main building—the original Welcome Center. We pass the front doors and the bathrooms connected to the sides. We move quickly toward the back, away from the functioning parts of the compound.

“Where are we going?” Parker asks.

“No talking,” he says. He stops after a few more steps and looks around. No one is watching us. Are we hiding from someone?

Hayes ducks behind a row of thick hedges that obscure the mechanical boxes for the building. We follow and watch as he drops to his knees and rolls back—yes, rolls—a thick section of faded grass. Just beneath is a piece of metal that he quickly heaves upward.

“Is that a door?” Jude asks, shifting Paul’s weight. I grab onto my old friend to give extra support.

He doesn’t reply, but one by one we leave the darkening evening for a darker hole. Parker’s hand clasps mine to steady herself, or maybe for courage, I don’t know.

The stairway is narrow and steep. Jude takes over carrying Paul on his own. Thankfully, a light flickers on above and at the bottom of the stairs it’s clear we’re in some sort of bunker. A short hallway stretches in front of us, ending in some sort of room. I spot tables and a few chairs. Rooms jut off to the sides. Hayes opens one and points to a sparse bed before helping Jude get Paul settled. He rolls over and sighs, seeming content to stay asleep.

I turn and walk out of the room and head toward the bigger one at the end. Lights flip on, apparently triggered by movement, until I get to what I can see now is a small kitchen and living area. A leather couch is pushed against one wall, cabinets and a pantry, the other. A kitchen table is in the middle, surrounded by plastic coated chairs. Jude pulls one away from the table, the legs scraping against the cement floor, and sits down.

“How did you know about this?” I ask.

“There are bunkers like this along every highway across the country, most under welcome or rest areas. High level officials in each state were supposed to use them in case of an emergency—a real one,” Hayes replies.

“When did you find out about it?”

That, he doesn’t answer. “You guys will wait here until Wyatt gives us the clear.”

“You’re not staying?”

He shakes his head but offers nothing else. Soon after, he leaves the way we came in.

Parker groans with frustration. “Why did he bring us down here now? It’s not like we’re under attack.”

“Not yet,” Davis says, glancing over at me. “We stumbled into a hornet’s nest at that school. Someone wanted everyone dead and no signs of the experiments. We brought back survivors.”

“So we’re targets?” she asks.

I laugh through a shiver from the cold and head over to the kitchen to check supplies, adding, “Welcome to my world.”

*

Being down here must have helped lower my guard, because I fall asleep in an instant on the musty lower bunk in one of the rooms. I only wake when I hear—no, feel, a presence in my room.

I wrap my fingers along the cool handle of my hatchet and blink the sleep away. The room is pitch black and I can see nothing, but I know someone is nearby.

The good news is that no one has tried to kill me yet, so it must be a friendly, right?

“Wyatt?” I ask quietly, barely loud enough to hear myself.

“Is there a reason you expect Wyatt in your room while you’re sleeping?” The reply comes from so much closer than I expected, and I’m halfway out of the bed in panic before I recognize the voice.

Unfortunately, not before I’ve punched Cole in the gut.

“Holy crap, Cole!” I drop the hatchet to my bed with a soft thud and grab his shirt with a shaking hand. He gasps from the hit. “I nearly took your head off.”

“It’s good to see you, too.”

I roll my eyes, but it’s wasted in the dark. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, no thanks to that right hook.” His hand moves up my arm to squeeze my bicep. “You’ve gotten stronger.”

I pull him into a tight hug, pushing past the shock of him being here. His body is warm, his shirt smells like the soap from PharmaCorp, but his skin carries the tinge of sweat. I revel in the weight of his hands against my back, happier to see—feel—him than I expected.

“Give me a second,” I say, stepping away and waving my arms around, seeking the wall. It takes a few tries but I manage to find and push the button that flips on the small sconce by the door. The room brightens and he’s standing by my bed.

Moving closer, I see the torn spot on the hem of his shirt and the red scratch near his jaw. I reach for him, running my finger down the hot wound. “What happened? Why are you here?”

He sits on the edge of my bed and I have a flash of being at Fort Shaw, sharing bunk beds and plotting our escape. I didn’t trust him then. I’d just learned his story and how he’d followed me on my father’s orders. But now, when I sit next to him our outer thighs touch, and I can’t express how happy I am to see him.

“Before you left The Fort, Wyatt and I came up with a system.”

I frown. “What kind of system?”

“It was the only way I was willing to stay behind—to leave you,” he says, pushing my hair behind my ear. “My work in the lab is important and the job out here is important, but he promised to let me know if anything changed, he’d get a message to me. I came right away. It took me two days to get down here.”

“You walked?”

“No. Not the whole time. Sneaking out of The Fort is harder than you may realize.”

I can imagine. “So that was you at the gate? Why didn’t you just ask for me?”

He shakes his head. “I had my orders.”

I glance down at my feet, trying to absorb everything. Wyatt knew before Paul told us his story that something major happened at the school. Something he felt required Cole, a scientist, to risk everything to come to the compound.

I exhale, at the same time feeling worse and better. Better because Cole is capable and I can depend on him. We have the same motivation. I never know where Wyatt stands, including being shocked to know he’d been concerned enough days ago to send for Cole.

Worse because…well, something isn’t right. The testing, the sickness and sending in bombs to cover it up. Whoever is behind all of this seems determined, and now Cole is mixed up in it.

“Thanks for coming.”

He plants a kiss on my temple, but he fidgets nervously and says, “I’m glad you think so.”

“Is there a reason I wouldn’t be?”

He sighs and runs a hand over his scruffy blonde hair. “There’s something I need to tell you.”

“Okay.”

“It’s about PharmaCorp. About your sister.”

I have no idea what to even assume. With Jane, it could be anything. “What?”

“Since you’ve been gone I managed to get back on your father’s good side. I think he feels guilty about everything we went through. I’ve had access to everything the lab is working on. Full clearance.”

“That’s awesome.”

“Yeah, the problem is I found out way more than I was expecting.”

“About what?” I ask, not liking where this is headed.

“The vaccine. It’s not what we think it is.”

Chapter 19

I’m on my feet in an instant, pacing. Cole quietly suggests I lock the door. I nod and follow his instruction. I don’t want the others to hear what he has to say. Not yet. The worry I’ve been carrying for weeks—months—about my sister’s work comes crashing down. I rub the spot on my arm where I got my own vaccination and shiver.

“What has she done?”

“When your dad let me on the team, I finally got my hands on some of the real testing that the lab had been performing for the last couple of months. Even before we got to The Fort, Jane and your father had been working on a vaccine.”

“We knew they were trying to replicate the results he’d been working on with me, right?”

He shakes his head. “Yes, but I’ve learned PharmaCorp is always working on more than one project.”

“Cole, what has she done,” I ask again, this time barely a whisper.

“There are two vaccines. The Eater Virus Innoculation-1 and Eater Virus Innoculation-2.” He pins me with a look. “The first is an actual vaccine. If someone who has the EVI-1 is exposed, then the vaccine should fight off any parasitic infection.”

“And the EVI-2?” I ask.

“It’s a bit more complicated. The second inoculation saves an exposed person from the full threat of the parasite. People maintain mental and physical functions but are not immune to the actual infection.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighs, not out of exasperation but out of regret. I can hear it in his exhausted voice and see it in the lines on his face. “EVI-2 manipulates the virus, turning the parasite into a functioning part of the victim’s brain. It burrows into the part of the brain that incites violence and rage. It manipulates the amygdala, which triggers aggression and fear. But ultimately, the parasites form lesions on the frontal lobe, impairing independent thought and decision making, which keeps them malleable.”

“Cole…” I press. He’s getting a little too science-y for me.

“Basically, she’s creating a controllable group amped up and wanting to fight. They’re perfect workers—soldiers really, waiting for the trigger to pull. Then they’re fighting machines.” I shake my head, unbelieving, and he adds, “I know it sounds crazy.”

I scoff. “What it sounds like is Jane has built herself a super army, controlled and dictated by her—and has been for months.”

I continue my pacing, trying to absorb everything he just said. It’s a lot, but knowing my sister and her need for power, I’m not surprised in the least. If anyone could build an Eater army, it would be her. Psychotic bitch.

Finally I ask, “Which vaccine did she give us?”

“According to the records, you were given EVI-1. As was everyone else at this compound and most people at the Fort.”

“Then who is she targeting for her army?”

“That’s an answer I don’t have, but the experiments have been going on for months—if not before the original wave of deaths started. I suspect she’s gathering data from the testing we all get when we go through processing at The Fort or places like this, and then sorting people into specific groups.” His eyes narrow. “Jane is fully entrenched in biological warfare. She’s not trying to save the world. She’s trying to control it.”

“Holy shit.” I finally stop pacing and sit in the middle of the room, unable to do anything but try to process. I blink at Cole and spot his tense jaw. Nope. It’s not working for him, either. “What do we do?”

“I don’t know. What can we do?

“We can stop her.” I will stop her.

He moves to the floor and takes my hand. “I’m not sure there’s much we can do. The vaccines are already out there. This isn’t the only medical compound she’s created. Her operation is huge. Also, Chloe is still at The Fort. I can’t risk Jane going after her.”

“Does Walker know?” I swallow. “Wyatt?”

“I don’t know how much they know, if anything. I did do some digging on Wyatt. He’s definitely a favorite of your sister’s. She did a lot of blood work on him. I’m just not sure to what end.”

Army guys that follow directions, with a quick temper and extraordinary skill. I can’t help but think about Wyatt. He’s got a little bit of each of those—except it doesn’t totally jive. I know he’s got independent thoughts. He brought Cole here. I know he’s in control. I’ve seen it.

Haven’t I?

Shaken even more, I ask, “Then who do we trust?”

He presses his forehead against mine and his hands are warm and strong. I know the answer before he says it, but listen anyway, needing to hear the words. He doesn’t fail me when he replies with the only answer I need.

“Each other.”

Chapter 20

The team waits in the main room of the bunker, drinking instant coffee and eating MREs they found stacked high in the cabinets. Cole and I exit my room together, and I can’t decide if I’m more annoyed by the implied “walk of shame” or the fact any or all of these people could be an enemy. Add trust issues to post-apocalypse gifts my sister has given me.

Parker and Jude look skeptical when they spot Cole behind me—I don’t blame them, they have no idea who he is. Wyatt doesn’t look up from whatever he’s studying on his lap but Davis gives him a short, friendly nod.

I give a quick introduction, explaining that Cole came from The Fort to check on Paul and the others.

“How is Paul today?” I ask. Jude volunteered to stay with him overnight, although I’m rethinking leaving anyone alone with him for long. We don’t know what vaccine he was given or how he’ll react if triggered somehow.  Cole says it’s possible that the infection is dormant.

“Fever’s still down,” Jude replies. “And he drank some water.”

Cole nods and squeezes my shoulder. “I’ll go check on him.” He disappears down the hall.

“He’s a doctor?” Jude asks.

“Sort of. A researcher that worked with my father in Raleigh. He was in med school when shit hit the fan, and has some other experience in the field.”

Parker nods. “What does he think about Paul and the others at the school?”

“He thinks it’s likely they were exposed to a volatile vaccine. He wants to keep an eye on it.” I try to keep my voice even. “We should all be careful.”

“He thinks the vaccine is what caused the outbreak at the school?” Davis asks. I can’t decide if he’s playing dumb to appease me or what. Damn this trust thing.

“A vaccine, or whatever it was they were testing.”

I decide not to say anything further but I feel Wyatt’s eyes on me. He and I need to talk, that’s for sure. He brought Cole here for a reason. He is either trying to placate me or he’s trying to wake me up.

Our eyes meet and I realize it’s likely he’s doing both.

*

I get my chance an hour later when I follow Wyatt into the tiny bathroom just off the kitchen.

“Seriously?” he says.

“I needed to talk to you. In private.”

“Yeah, well, I’d like to take a piss, you know, in private, too.”

I make a face. The word piss is gross. “I only need five minutes.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “You always ‘only’ need five minutes.” Not one to remain idle, he moves to the sink and opens the medicine cabinet. He plucks a packet of shaving gel and a razor from inside before turning on the water.

I close the toilet lid and sit down.

“What do you know?” I ask.

“About what?”

“About why you sent for Cole. About Paul and the strange illness. About the school. About who bombed them.” I take a deep breath. “About everything.”

He glances down at me while lathering his face with a blue gel that quickly turns white and foamy. “You always overestimate my security level. I’m not as all-knowing as you think I am.”

“You may not know everything going on at The Fort, but you have suspicions.”

His hands splash in the water and he expertly glides the razor across his face. I have a quick, wistful memory of my dad from years ago and push away the feeling before it engulfs me whole.

“Did you know that I grew up in Maine?” he asks suddenly.

“No, actually, I figured you were from down here.” Of course, everything he’s ever told me could be a lie. I’ve considered that before.

“Yeah,” he says. The razor scrapes away another strip of hair. “I grew up in this tiny town. Completely idealistic, like something you’d see on TV. To me, it was small and claustrophobic. Everyone knew one another. Our lives were mapped out ahead of us. My dad worked for the post office. He hated it, but it was a good job and he figured me and my brothers would all do the same thing or something similar. Something stable and mind-numbingly boring. Of course, the idea of working in a tiny, brick building sorting mail for thirty years made me scared—and angry.”

“I can imagine.”

“It didn’t matter, though. I knew what I wanted to do—but I’d just never known anyone that had done it before. Not by choice, anyway.”

“What was that?” I ask.

“My classmates rebelled in the most typical ways. Wearing all black. Dressing goth or whatever-the-hell you call it. They consumed tiny tabs of acid and later, ecstasy, while holding poser raves in the basement of their parents’ 1960s ranch-style houses, pretending they were fighting the system. They were pathetic then, even before the E-TR virus ran rampant. They were trapped in that god-forsaken town just like I knew they would be.” He swished the razor through the water, leaving trails of deflating foam and tiny hairs. “While they faked their rebellion, I was actually rebellious. I’d been obsessed with the military since I was a kid, which was absolutely unheard of in my uber-liberal town.  All I wanted was to become an elite member of the Special Forces. I read about it, dreamed about it, watched every movie I could get my hands on about it. I had no real clue what Special Forces really meant, but I enlisted in the Marines the day after I graduated from high school and never looked back.”

“So you went in and kicked ass, huh?”

“Not really,” he says to my surprise. “I was middle of the pack. Average at running, shooting, and combat. The weird thing was that all I needed to be was average. That’s what they’re looking for. Someone trainable. Someone with discipline. They don’t want the best. They want to mold you into being the best.”

“So the Marines taught you how to be a bad-ass, ninja, fighting machine?”

“Yeah, along with some skills I picked up along the way.”

I’m not really sure why I’m getting the Wyatt info dump right now, but there has to be a reason. I sit patiently and wait—even if it’s killing me not to ask a million questions.

“All the little things that made me average helped me excel when I finally got a combat assignment. I led three invasions on terrorist cells. Three successful campaigns. What I learned at the end of my time there is that I am very good at war.”

“So that’s how Jane found you. She wants to work with the best.” And it means Jane thinks we’re at war. But with who? The Eaters? The government? Each other?

“When I came back from combat and was discharged, I was used to a highly structured lifestyle. I immersed myself in sharpening my hand-to-hand skills. Learning martial arts. My reputation was out there and I would get the occasional call for a consulting job.”

I raise an eyebrow and ask, “Consulting?”

“Mercenary.”

“Ah. Right.”

“I was called in to provide security all over the world. To help handle conflicts and smaller political skirmishes. To organize and orchestrate defense against coups or other potential warfare.” He splashes water over his now-smooth face and wipes it with a threadbare towel. “I was also contacted by a private agency interested in studying my skills. I didn’t know the full context of it but I was told it was to assist in training future soldiers—something I could get behind. I lost friends in those campaigns. Good men and women. I’d do anything to keep that from happening. So I signed up and went through a series of tests—blood and physical. They wanted to know everything about me. My DNA. My family background. I was pushed to my limits physically and with combat simulations. When we were done, they asked if I would be willing to lead an operation in Africa—the military wasn’t being proactive with the Boko Haram kidnappings and the agency wanted to try their methods. We were to remove the victims and infect the radicals with a new biological agent that incited them to kill off one another. It was perfect for this isolated group out in the desert. Everything went according to plan. The girls were extracted. We poisoned the soldiers, watched them turn into soulless cannibals, and eliminated any survivors.”

My stomach drops to my toes as the reality of what Wyatt is saying hits me. He was at ground zero. He participated in unleashing the E-TR virus on society. I wave of nausea rolls over me, and I fight back the urge to vomit. When I gather the courage to look at him, he’s avoiding my gaze.

“As usual, my campaign was successful, but what I saw in that desert shook me, and I’ve seen some really bad, fucked-up stuff over the years. I came back to America, put my check in the bank and took off for the mountains, hiking and camping away from civilization. When I finally emerged, that’s when I realized something had gone wrong. Somehow the virus got loose. I hadn’t done my job properly. I’d allowed this poison to infect the whole world. Like, destroy the entire, freaking world. Or at least that’s what I thought.”

He finally looks at me and it’s clear as day what happened. Jane. She did this. She sucked him into her world. Her horrific, virus-infecting, end of civilization apocalypse.

“You didn’t know.”

“I should have.”

He’s leaning against the sink with his arms crossed over his chest. I stand and face him. I’m so angry right now. At him. At Jane.

“So you came down out of the mountains, found out about the infection, and went back to work for her?”

“I went back for answers,” he grinds out. “She assigned me to track you.”

“Why?”

“Because you were the answer. The key to the vaccine. Finding you was the way to fix everything. Plus, you’re her sister. Believe it or not, it means something to her.”

For the first time since I’ve known Wyatt, during all those days and nights together traveling, driving across the farmland in the smelly truck and running for our lives from Erwin, he looks ashamed. Vulnerable, even.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, his hand moving to touch my chin. “I didn’t know she was using me to make another vaccine—something worse.”

“The EVI-2?” I ask, but he doesn’t have to reply because it all clicks into place. Cole said Jane was developing an army to work and fight for her. My eyes travel over Wyatt, taking in his taut, muscular chest, the lean, bulging biceps. His hands are quick. His movements sure.

She used his DNA to build the vaccine.

We’re fighting an entire army of Wyatts.

I grip his arm to steady myself and he moves both hands to my waist.

“I’m sorry,” he says again. The pain in his voice is too much to bear, but I can’t absolve him of this. No one can.

“So do you want to tell them or should I?” I gesture to the group waiting outside.

“Tell them what, exactly?”

“That we’re screwed.”

Chapter 21

Wyatt assures me Davis has no clue about any of this and he’s solid. We can trust him. Same with Jude and Parker, all the new recruits were given EVI-1. Those given the second are being housed elsewhere.

Davis asks about Walker before I get a chance. Wyatt confesses that he’s not so sure what she knows, which means from here on she’s out of the loop.

Jude and Parker sit with dumbstruck faces as Wyatt, Cole, and I fill everyone in on the situation. Davis absorbs it all with the same calm façade as he always does. I understand more and more why Wyatt keeps him close.

“An army?” Jude asks, clearly still processing the information. “An army of guys like you?”

Wyatt nods.

“I have no idea what we’re supposed to do with this information,” Parker says after a period of prolonged silence.

“Run,” Jude says. He’s holding a gun in his lap and runs his finger up and down the smooth, black metal. “We should just run and hide.”

Parker nods, clearly willing to make a break for it. I look at Cole but he’s staring at Wyatt. He’s not angry. He just looks tired.

“You guys are welcome to go,” Wyatt says. “Go off the grid. It’s not a bad idea.”

“But…” I prompt.

“I can’t go with you. I’ve got to clean up this mess.”

“How do you think you’re going to do that? There’s seven of us and we’re hiding out in a bunker, for God’s sake,” Cole says, rubbing his hair with his hands, making it shoot out in every direction. “I’m with those two. Let’s get out of here.”

“Really?” I ask in a low voice. It’s what I wanted all along but he pushed back.

“Yes.” He takes my hand, fingers lacing with mine. “I have to go back and get Chloe, but she’s mobile now. From there, we go. Hit the woods. Like he said—off the grid.”

Parker’s face brightens. None of us are soldiers—proven by the fact Jane didn’t enlist us in her real army. The clinic is busy work to keep us away from her real motives.

“Paul?” I ask Cole.

“We’ll take him with us. He’s better, too.”

“You in?” I ask Davis.

He smiles but shakes his head. He is a real soldier. He’ll stick it out with Wyatt until the end.

“Okay, then,” I detangle my hand from Cole’s and stand. “We need to figure out a way out of here and back to get Chloe. Any ideas?”

I’m met with blank, overwhelmed faces until I catch sight of Wyatt, rubbing his freshly shaved chin. “I’ve got an idea.”

“You’ll help us?” I ask, already feeling relieved.

“I’ll get you out of here and into The Fort. After that, we split.” He nods at me. “Deal?”

I grimace in return but say, “Deal.”

*

As much as we hated it, there was little choice but to give Paul a couple more days to recover. Wyatt left the bunker and explained to Walker that we were just being safe—keeping the possibility of exposure to a minimum. The story seemed flimsy, at best, but Walker trusted Wyatt.

The rest of us held tight.

In the meantime, we gathered whatever supplies we felt like we would need from the bunker’s stocked cabinets.

“What about the others we brought from the school? Shouldn’t they be down here, too?” Parker asks about the three survivors in quarantine. We’re sorting first aid supplies and cans of food into piles on the counter. We can hear grunts from down the hall where Davis is working with Jude on his hand-to-hand.

“There’s not enough room—and none had regained consciousness when we came down here. I think they’re better off with actual medical care,” I reply. “Wyatt says there hasn’t been much change, but hopefully if they’re better by the time we leave, we can bring them with us. I don’t think it’s safe for them to be here, you know?”

“Let’s go over the plan again,” she says. “We’re waiting for a patrol group to head out and we’re going to slip through the gates with them.”

I nod, stuffing a roll of toilet paper into one of the backpacks.

“Then, we’ll head to the vehicle Cole has stashed about a mile away. Hop in that and go to The Fort.”

“Yep, that’s the plan.”

“Then what?”

“Then Wyatt and Cole go in, get Chloe and come back out. They aren’t flagged or anything. None of us are. It shouldn’t be a problem other than making sure she can travel.” That’s where I had my doubts. And what came next. Where were we going? How would we get there?

I’d spent the night before scouring a small book of maps I’d found in a drawer in the kitchen. It was outdated—five or so years old—but it gave me the general idea of the roads and towns surrounding Augusta. We needed to get far away, in as desolate of an area as possible. I’m thinking deep in the Appalachians.

I hear footsteps down the hall and spot Cole. He waves me over and I zip up the backpack, leaving it on the counter.

“I’ll be right back,” I tell Parker. I can feel her eyes following me down the hallway.

“How’s he doing?” I ask, nodding at the back room.

“Better,” he says. “Actually, I think he’s on the mend. He’s eaten the food I brought him and he just got in the shower.”

“Oh thank God.” I wrinkle my nose. “It was getting a little intense in there.”

Cole smiles and his hand settles on my hip. “He should be ready when it’s time to head out. I think he’ll be fine.”

“You really think so?”

He shrugs. “All signs of illness are gone, other than being tired and a little dehydrated. Both understandable things for any of us at this point.”

I lean into the wall and say, “I’m glad you changed your mind about getting out of here. I can’t take my sister’s mind games any longer. She’s crazy—and freaking brilliant, and we’re just no match against her.”

“The hybrid army is a problem,” he agrees. “I don’t see how we can stop them.”

“Do you think Wyatt will really try?”

A worry line slashes across his forehead and a wariness lurks in his eyes. “I think he’ll do what he has to.”

“He feels responsible.”

“Yeah, well, he should.”

“Cole! He didn’t know she was farming his DNA to make replica soldiers! No more than I knew what you and my father were up to in the lab. If only you’d told me you were working on a vaccine I could have made different decisions.”

“It’s not the same thing.”

“No?” I ask.

He drops his hand from my hip and runs this fingers through his hair. “No. You—“

Heavy footsteps tramp down the stairs and Wyatt’s face appears in the dim light. Davis and Jude walk into the hallway and I feel Parker at my back.

“We’ve got a problem,” Wyatt says, uncharacteristically out of breath.

“What now?” Cole snaps.

“Jane sent soldiers to the compound.”

“What kind of soldiers?” I ask.

He ignores me, instead leveling a hard look at me. “They’re looking for Paul.”

Chapter 22

A sinking feeling settles in the pit of my stomach. After a moment I ask, “How do they know he’s here?”

“They’re not dumb. God knows what kind of Intel Jane has set up,” he snaps. It’s the most flustered I’ve seen him. “The simple fact she knows he’s alive means someone reported back.”

Paul isn’t the only liability here. I glance at Cole and worry is etched on his face. My sister will take out anyone that stands in her way, and right now Paul and Cole are both a problem. They know too much. We all do.

“How long do we have?” Davis asks.

“They won’t wait long.”

“They?”

“I suspect her full army is just beyond view.”

“Can’t we just wait it out down here?” Parker asks.

Wyatt shakes his head. “You saw what happened to that school.”

“You think they’d do that?” Jude asks from the doorway next to Davis. Sweat lines the top of his shirt from his workout.  He looks between me and Wyatt for answers.

I’m the one that replies.

“Without a doubt. She’ll kill everyone, if that’s what it takes.”

*

Everyone packs quietly, gathering our gear and weapons. Cole fills in Paul once he gets out of the shower. I’m in my room, checking my backpack again, when Wyatt enters the room and closes the door behind him.

“What’s going on?” I ask, trying to make my two extra pairs of socks magically smaller. I refuse to leave without them.

“I just wanted to tell you one more time that I’m sorry you got dragged into this. I’ve made a lot of bad decisions over the last couple years, but involving you was the one I regret the most.”

The apology makes me stop my packing and focus on the man in my room. He’s got a weird look in his eye, and I’m not sure where this is headed. “Look, if you hadn’t taken the job of following me around, Jane would have found someone else to do it. I’m glad it was you and not some creeper.”

I think about the night we met, barrel to barrel in that old farm truck. I’d asked him if he planned on raping me. I can’t imagine what he thought about me in that moment.

“I do have one question,” I say.

“Okay.”

“Are you sleeping with my sister?”

A pained expression crosses his face. “Uh, no. Definitely not.”

I look back down at my pack and simply say, “Huh.”

“What?”

I shrug. “I was just curious. And I mean, I guess I’m a little thankful, because she’s bat-shit, you know. But for future reference, if you need to use that in your favor, you can. She’s into you.”

He frowns. “Into me?”

“Stop being dense.”

I fight with the zipper, struggling to get it closed. There’s a tiny gap that won’t connect and I freeze when I feel Wyatt’s arms circle around me and firmly finish the job. His breath is hot on my neck and I just don’t move. Not an inch.

Softly, in my ear he says, “I’m well aware of Jane’s feelings for me. She’s not the Ramsey sister I have a hard time getting a read on.”

Oh.

“You’re right. I could have been given a worse assignment than a smart, beautiful, kick-ass fighter like you. Someone who challenges my thoughts and values. Hard-wired values I’d never thought would waver, even at the end of the world.”

I wrap a shaky hand around the strap of my bag and try to squelch the feeling in my stomach and chest. His words come as a shock. A confusing, mind-bending shock. I feel his fingers on my neck, and he brushes the hair to the side, exposing the skin. I wait and he says, “You’re stronger than you realize, Alex. You can beat Jane and her army. Don’t forget that. You know her better than anyone.”

I struggle for a reply but his heat is gone and when I turn, he’s left the room, door wide and empty.

I sit on the bed, sinking into the mattress and mutter, “What the heck was that?”

Chapter 23

When I step into Paul’s room he still looks pale, with dark smudges under his eyes, but he’s clean. When I spot the familiar black backpack with the red patch below the zipper, I know he’s ready.

“How crazy is all this?” I say, eyes lingering on his face. We’d bonded early in the crisis. He knew my mom—the mom she turned into after we went on the road. No one else shared that with me. Just him.

“What? The bunker? Running away from a hybrid Eater-human army in the middle of the night? All of it?” he asks, folding a shirt into a tight square and shoving it into the depths of his bag.

“Finding each other again.”

“Oh, that.” He graces me with a quick grin. “I consider that one a miracle.”

A miracle? As hard as it was to accept, it had a nice ring to it. “You ready to break out of this joint?”

“I’ve been ready to get away from these people since I left you in that truck cab.” He runs his hands over his black hair. “Huge mistake. I don’t plan on doing that again.”

“Let me know if you’re struggling, okay? We want to all get out of here. Everyone.”

“Do you think that’s possible?” he asks.

I watch as he slides his arms into his backpack, looking small under the weight. “Didn’t you tell me you knew how to hunt?”

“Yep, I’m the country-Korean guy,” he says, and I can’t help but smile. It’s one of the first thing he told me and my mom.

“If everything goes according to plan, we’ll settle up in the mountains and you can hunt for dinner every night. I’ll cook.”

His forehead furrows. “You can cook?”

“Okay, you cook. Cole is good with the cross-bow. He can cook.”

His eyes glint with interest when I say Cole’s name. “So he’ll be coming.”

I nod. “And his sister.”

“Anyone else? That guy, Wyatt, maybe?” He says it in a quiet, curious voice.

“Wyatt has bigger plans than hiding up in the woods for the rest of his life. He’s a soldier before anything else.” I move to the door, unwilling to talk about leaving anyone behind at this point. We just need to get through phase one of this plan in one piece—something my sister definitely plans on hindering.

Paul grabs my hand and says, “Thanks for saving me, Alex.”

“There’s one rule in the apocalypse, Paul. You taught me that.”

“What’s that?”

“Never separate. It won’t happen again.”

We walk out of the room, the light blinking off behind us where we meet the rest of the team at the bottom of the stairs.

“Ready?” Davis asks us, prepared to lead us out the same way he led us down here days ago. The plan is to meet Wyatt just outside the fence.

Not one of us knows what to expect. We don’t know how we will get out of here or where this day will end, but one by one we follow him up the stairs, each of us apparently deadly enough for my sister to hunt down.

Chapter 24

The Vaccine Center is normally a quiet system of daily upkeep, incoming survivors, medical staff moving from building to building and guard patrols, keeping a clear watch over the fence. After the attack by the Eaters, no one wants to chance luring any of the remaining infected toward the base, so things adjusted to an ever lower tone. It’s not like we have the same ambient noise any longer. Vehicles are kept far from the area and the electricity the engineers rigged up is pretty futuristic.

But when I stick my head out of the dark, hidden stairway, shielding my eyes from the glaring sunlight, the change is palpable. I can’t see anything at first, but even down one sense, it’s clear that the volume level hasn’t changed much. A coiled, increased energy courses through the compound. The Fighters up on the fence are on high alert, fingers on the trigger. The scientists, the few visible, walk with speedy purpose.

It’s like they’re aware of being observed.

Like their boss is nearby. Or maybe they sense her army lying in wait just outside the gate.

My heart kicks into gear as my eyes adjust and I follow Davis quickly through the shrubbery, taking only a moment to glance back to see Jude carefully lowering and covering the shelter door.

I feel a tug on my pack and see Paul wavering on his feet. “Stick with me,” I tell him, straightening my back. His grip tightens.

We get to the edge of the main building and Davis says, “One at a time, head to that part of the fence.” He holds up a bronze key. “Behind the dumpster is a small gate. Unlock it and head for the woods.”

“What if we don’t all make it out?” Parker asks.

“If something happens, run and hide. Wyatt will find you. He’s already out there.”

Jude volunteers to go first and he snatches the keys from Davis. He darts away from the building, shoulders back with calm confidence. By contrast, I hold my gun with clammy hands. I have no idea what I’ll do if I need to use it. These are humans we’re escaping from. People—civilians—I’ve come to know.

Jude’s Fighter-issued backpack disappears behind the dumpster. We wait a beat. Then two.

“Parker—go,” Davis says, in a hard, efficient voice.

She moves quickly—faster than I thought. Our little team is coming together, and I breathe easier when she slips behind the dumpster to safety.

“Alex, you go next,” Davis commands. Cole’s face is blank, hiding his worry.

“What about Paul?” He’s still clinging to my back.

“Cole will take him. Get ready.”

I step away from the building but feel a hard, painful jerk against my back. My feet lift off the ground as I’m flung against something hard. It’s Davis’ chest. Damn. With his breath against my neck, I watch two Fighters cross the grounds not ten feet away. I press my back against him, trying to sink into the shadow of the building’s overhang. The men pass us by without notice.

“Holy crap, that was close,” Cole says with an exhale.

Davis releases his grip and shoves me in the direction of the dumpster, adding, “Take it slow—no running.”

With my heart lodged in my throat it’s hard to take his advice, but I step off the sidewalk and into the grass. The dumpster isn’t far away. The camp itself isn’t massive.

I’m feet away from the dumpster, the gate slightly ajar in view, when I hear my name called. I turn slowly and come face to face with Amber, the nurse. She walks my way carrying a container of garbage in her hands.

“Hi,” I say, hoping it doesn’t come out in a squeaky panic. I do not look at the dumpster or back at Davis.

“Hey.” She eyes me warily. The sweat trickling down my forehead can’t make her feel better about my health. “I heard you were in high security quarantine. Did they release you?”

“Yep. Just got out.” I force a laugh. “Thank goodness. I was going a little stir crazy.”

“I bet.” She walks past me, opens the lid of the dumpster and drops the garbage in with a thud.  After making a face at the smell wafting out she pushes back her hair she says, “Things are a little weird around here right now anyway. Have you heard?”

“About what?”

“They’ve been searching all the buildings—even the ones under quarantine. I think they’re looking for someone.”

“Weird.” I fight the reddening of my cheeks with little success. “I wonder who?”

“Must be someone important. Maybe one of the survivors brought in for vaccination or something.” She gives me a long look and I wonder if I’m going to have to shoot her. My hand rests on my gun and she asks, “I was wondering if you’d seen Wyatt?”

“You think they’re looking for Wyatt?”

Crapcrapcrap.

Her eyes widen. “What? No. I was just looking for him. Personally.”

Of course she is. “Uh, no. I haven’t seen anyone since they let us out. I’m just, you know, taking a walk to get some fresh air.”

Her nose wrinkles. “By the dumpster?”

I shrug and offer a dramatic inhalation, but then fight off a gag. It really does stink out here.

“Well if you do, let him know I’m looking for him and I’d, uh,” she smiles at me knowingly, “like to continue on with our conversation from yesterday.”

Yesterday? He was flirting with her (or more) while we were all stuck down in that hole? Packing everything up? I start to give a sharp retort when I come to my senses and simply reply, “Sure. I’ll let him know.”

She moves away from the dumpster, hesitating like she’s waiting for me to come with her but I wave her off, mumbling about that fresh air I crave and stretching my legs.

“I’ll tell Wyatt to find you, though. Definitely.” She smiles again and walks back toward the buildings. I take a few steps around the other side of the dumpster hoping no one else spots me, and then dart behind it when Ashley is out of sight. From there it only takes a few seconds to get through the gate and get swallowed whole by the forest.

I see a scrap of fabric tied to a branch and follow it until I see Wyatt and Jude, alert and ready in the forest. Relief is written all over their faces.

“What took so long?” Wyatt asks.

“Your girlfriend stopped me.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks.

Parker looks between us, but I just roll my eyes and jab Jude in the side with my elbow as he barks a nervous laugh. It’s only a few minutes more when Cole appears, pale-faced, like he’s being chased by the devil himself.  Paul and Davis appear before I can ask him what happened. Paul is no longer on his feet, he’s slung over Davis’ shoulder.

“Let’s go,” the fighter says, not stopping and heading through the woods. No one questions him, running to keep up.  Within minutes we’re in deep and I’m totally lost, but I also hear something, like a barking sound.

“What was that?” Parker struggles to get the question out since we’re running.

“A dog?” I suggest.

Other barks join in, forming a chorus.

“Are they after us?” I ask.

“Definitely,” Wyatt says, picking up his pace. “They know we’re out here.”

“Already?” We didn’t buy any time at all. I stumble over a tree root but Cole grabs my pack and yanks me upward before I fall. I shoot him a relieved smile, before turning back to Wyatt and asking, “How?”

Without looking at me he says, “Because we let them know.”

*

We emerge from the forest and Wyatt leads us directly to Hayes, who’s waiting next to a tarp-covered lump on the side of the road. The dogs are nearby, making all of us move faster than normal but the veteran Fighters move extra fast, revealing a military grade truck and then helping Paul and Cole into the back.

“Get under that,” Davis says, pointing to a heavy olive green tarp.

“What about the others?” Paul asks before he’s covered. It’s as though he just realized we left the other school survivors behind.

When no one else replies I say, “They’ll buy us some time.”

The expression on his face tells me exactly how insensitive he thinks I am for saying that, but God knows if that’s even the truth. Wyatt tipped off the Fighters we were escaping. The dogs are close enough that I can hear their feet on the fallen leaves covering the forest floor. There’s no time to hash it out, though. Wyatt is quietly giving out orders and there’s nothing to do but follow them.

“You two—get in the front,” he yells.

“Good luck,” Hayes says, disappearing into the woods. I’m not sure how he’ll escape the dogs on foot, but I can’t worry about that right now.

Parker and I squeezed into the cab while Davis and Jude took point in the back, trying desperately not to step on anyone. The first dogs, of all breeds and sizes, emerge from the forest just as Wyatt shifts the truck into gear and peels out into the road.

“That was close,” Parker says, craning her head to look out the window.

“Too freaking close,” I agree. “They’ll follow us, right? Or is that what you wanted all along? I don’t get what’s happening here, Wyatt. Care to enlighten us?”

His hands grip the wheel and his foot is mashed on the gas. The road we’re on is some sort of back road, nothing but trees and the occasional building. The compound can’t be far away geographically—I just don’t know what’s going on, and my head aches from the stress.

“Seriously? You’re not going to answer any of that?” I ask.

“I’m driving, Alex—trying to get us in the clear. I don’t have time to talk you through this right now. I am trying not to get everyone back at that base killed. If they thought we were still on the compound, they’d blow the whole thing, including civilians and the other Fighters to hell and back!”

“I thought maybe we were going to approach this as a team—you know, since I brought you most of the Intel—,“ Wyatt takes an approaching curve without slowing. I’m shocked into silence as I cling to the seat to stay upright. Parker’s hips crash into mine. “So don’t treat me like a—, “The words catch in my throat a second time and Parker grabs my arm, pointing out the window.

Wyatt lets off the gas and mutters a curse under his breath.

That army we’re running from?

They’ve formed a wall in front of us and are blocking the entire two-way street.

Chapter 25

I don’t know how many there are, but it’s definitely more than the seven of us. They’ve created a barricade—a check point, it looks like, between overturned vehicles. The soldiers I can see have on a similar Fighter uniform, but they have on hat—sort of like a baseball cap.

One walks in our direction. His weapon is drawn but there’s no signal he’s nervous. Why would he be? We’re sitting ducks.

Wyatt rolls down his window as the soldier approaches. Under his breath he says, “Let me talk. Stay quiet.”

The closer the soldier gets, the more I’m convinced that maybe he’s one of the good guys. He looks like all the other men that have been processed through The Fort. A little thin, but healthy enough. There’s no anger on his middle-aged face. Just the same lines we’ve all formed over the last year.

“Morning,” he says, lowering his weapon slightly at the sight of Wyatt’s raised hands. The name Taylor is stitched over his heart. “Where are you headed?”

“Salvage run,” Wyatt replies. “My commander got word there’s a distribution plant about thirty minutes south. We’re going to check it out.”

He peers into the truck and then leans back to get an eyeful of Davis and Jude, both sitting calmly on the tailgate. During all of this, I notice four other soldiers have flanked us, guns at the hip. Again no one seems flustered, just cautious. Maybe Wyatt can talk us through.

“This area just went under lockdown. We’ve been given orders not to let anyone in or out.”

Wyatt’s jaw tenses. “When did this happen?”

“About thirty minutes ago—must have been right after you left.”

“Huh,” Wyatt says. “This puts me in an awkward position. I report directly to the commander. I don’t think she’d want me to abort this mission.”

“Who’s your commander?” Taylor asks. Everything about him is calm and collected except I spot one thing; a tiny, erratic twitch next to his left eye.

Wyatt hesitates before he answers, because what comes next is a full lie. One that could have blowback and not just on us. “Walker.”

“Walker doesn’t have ranking over this one. You’ll need to turn back.” Taylor gives him a hard stare. He lifts his arm and rests his hand on the door of the cab. That’s when I see them. Purple stripes, like an officer would wear, on his shoulder.

Fear washes over me and I glance at the other soldiers and try to see if they have them, too.  Ugh. Crap.

I use my close proximity to Wyatt to pinch him, hard, on the thigh as he negotiates with Taylor.

Taylor, the hybrid-Eater/human soldier.

Wyatt inhales sharply but doesn’t even look my way. Fine. I can handle this. In one quick move, I pull my gun out of my boot, cock the trigger and lean over Wyatt.

The instant the bullet explodes out of the chamber Taylor’s face and demeanor transforms. His reflexes are fast, and he dodges out of the way. Wyatt swears, shocked by the excruciating sound so close to his head, while revving the engine. I shoot at Taylor again as gunfire erupts from the back of the truck. I miss.

“Go! Go!” I scream, but hybrids swarm our way from the checkpoint. I guess I thought I understood what Jane had created—at least in my mind, but seeing it, God. The apocalypse just got a whole lot worse.

They truly are half human-half eater. Dark eyes and veiny necks. Rage vibrates off their bodies but they’re in control of their movements. They can wield weapons. They’re fast, agile, and strong.

The passenger door rips open, the hinges creaking from the force, and I watch Parker being wrenched from the vehicle.

“No!” Jude shouts, jumping from the back of the truck, firing his gun at her attacker. He gets the drop on him, a dark hole marking his successful shot as the Hybrid falls to the ground. Before either can react, they’re surrounded.

“Lock the doors and get in the driver’s seat,” Wyatt commands, jumping out of his door, slamming it behind him.

I lean over to secure the passenger door, catching a glimpse of Cole back to back with Wyatt, circled by a group of Hybrids. I grab the door handle but the spring hinges are busted.

“Are you kidding?” I mutter to myself, but look up to see the feral face of a female Hybrid, as big as any man, pressing against the window, growling. Dropping my gun on the seat, I hold on to the door handle with both hands, but it’s no use, the metal is ripped from my hands, nearly taking my fingers with it. I watch, slack-jawed, as the door flies behind her like a metal Frisbee.

Without hesitation she lunges into the cab, grabbing me by the ankles. I fight back, struggling to land a substantial blow. I kick her stomach and push against her chest, my gun jabbing me painfully and uselessly in the back.  I kick again, missing her body, making contact with her own gun hanging from a holster at her side. She’d have to let go of me to get it. One shot at this proximity would be the end of either of us.

“Who are you?” I snap. “Super Eater Woman?”

She uses her monster strength to flip me over and my arms get loose. I use the opportunity to wiggle like a worm beneath her legs and escape.

“Oh, no you don’t,” the woman says in a bizarre high-pitched voice. She pounces on me like a football. Gravel scrapes across my chin and she lands like a ton of bricks, quickly planting a knee firmly in my back. She grapples with my wrists, cutting my knuckles on the ground, and that’s when it connects.

She’s not trying to kill me.

She’s trying to capture me.

F-ing Jane.

Once my hands are bound, I’m out of the game. I hear Jude’s voice followed by the hard thud on the pavement. I crane my neck and find him in a similar position to my own, lip busted and bleeding on the road.

With every last bit of energy I can muster I nod at Jude and struggle to my knees, hands bound tight behind my back. Once upright, I run.

Just run.

If they survive, Wyatt and Cole can track me. They’ve done it before, but I’m not letting Jane take me back in. No chance. She may not kill me, but whatever is waiting for me will be worse.

The chaos of the battle leaves me unguarded, passing downed Hybrid bodies littering the edge of the road. The woods aren’t far away and I don’t dare look back. I race forward, headed for the tree line, the sound of fighting growing distant. The ground gives way from grass to pine needles. I step under the branches, the air cooler here, and keep going—that is until I run straight into something sharp and taut.

I pull back, my shirt snagging on the jagged edges of a wire fence.

“Are you for serious right now?” I shout to no one, maybe God, maybe just myself. “This is how it’s gotta be for Alexandra Ramsey? Just one nightmare after the other?  Road block after oozing, bloody, road block? Give me a freaking break! That’s all I ask.”

A stick snaps from behind me and I spin and look into the eyes of the bruised face of my attacker. She’s smiling, blood trickling down her chin.  “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. Your choice.”

I stare at her evil, non-human eyes and weigh my options.

“Screw you,” I say, followed with a glob of spit in her face.

Her smile widens and I do the only thing I can: I run. This time, though, I’m barely two feet away when she knocks me to the ground. I see the tree root on the way down and feel my head crashing into the hard wood.

I roll over, see her smug face, and the world turns black.

Chapter 26

I wake, sliding across a smooth stretch of floor, and crash into something hard and warm. My arms are bound uselessly behind my back, the room dark. My head aches and spins. I fight back a wave of nausea.

The loud whine of hinges rockets through my brain, just as a bright light fills the room.  I blink and see we’re not in a room, but the back of a long semi-truck. The hard, warm body I’m leaning against has a mop of blond hair and concerned blue eyes—Cole. His expression is a mixture of relief and worry as he checks me out with his eyes. From the awkward way he’s sitting, he must be bound, too. His face is bleeding but there’s no time to assess him further, because loud steps scurry over the metal floor and I’m being dragged out by my feet.

I’m yanked to a standing position, feet slipping on wet gravel. A fine mist floats down from the sky, covering my skin and clothes. The others fall in line next to me. Wyatt’s tight jaw is visible in the glaring floodlights a couple people away, and from what I can see, it takes two soldiers to get Davis in position.

A soldier with a rifle in his hands directs us to stand with our backs against a chain-link fence. Razor wire coils around the top.  We seem to be in an expansive parking lot filled with massive storage containers and 18-wheelers. I don’t know the city of Augusta well, but if I had to guess, we were on the outskirts.

“Where are we?” I whisper to Cole.

“You were out for about thirty minutes. We were moving that whole time.”

“Are we near The Fort?”

He shakes his head, grimacing at the movement. “I don’t think so, but maybe still inside the safe zone?”

I lean forward to look up and down the line, counting the broken and beaten members of our team. Everyone is accounted for, even if Parker and Paul look like they’re barely standing.

“Then—“

“Quiet!” A solider interrupts us, standing in front of me. His face hovers inches from my own and I gag at the smell of his rancid breath. His eyes are dark—although not spider-webbed like a full-blown Eater.  There’s a rage boiling beneath the surface, yet when his name is called by another soldier he jerks back like a puppet on strings. That’s when I realize I know him.

It’s Hayes.

That’s it. I’m done. Just done with this god-forsaken day.

“You did this?” I ask, surprised but probably not as much as I should be. I’m also scared because from the change that’s taken him over, I realize he could snap my neck in a heartbeat.

“I’m part of the future, Ramsey. Just like you could have been.” Once again, he’s called back and he dutifully follows orders.

“What do you want?” I shout, thinking maybe we now have the attention of whoever is in charge of the group. “You’re obviously not going to kill us—we’d be dead already if those were your orders.”

“Alex,” Cole hisses next to me.

“Shut up,” Parker pleads.

I don’t listen to either of them. “So what’s the plan? Take us to your secret lab and pump us full of parasites? Turn our brains into puppet mush?”

A figure steps out of the darkness. Shoulders back, spine ramrod straight. Purple stripes on the shoulders of their uniform flash under the lights, but this person moves with a distinct calm. There’s a weapon perched against the soldier’s shoulder. Even in the foggy, wet light I can tell it’s a compound bow.

“What’s this about secret labs and brains full of parasites?” A familiar voice rings out and I’m chilled to the bone. “It’s not a good idea to spread treasonous rumors during a time like this.”

I’m shocked into stepping backwards, but there’s no escaping the reality of what’s happening. Cole’s knees buckle beneath him and I slide over to give him support.

“Chloe?” he says, barely above a whisper.

Her attention snaps to him, because you know, enhanced hearing or whatever it is Jane’s done to her.

“Hey, brother,” she says, with a creepy smile. Even under the weird cap the Hybrids wear, I spot her shaved head. “Surprised to see you out here.” She looks between the two of us. “Or not, I guess. I told your sister putting you two together was a bad idea. Two smart but paranoid brains together is a recipe for trouble. Although the emotional connection you share could lead to stupid decisions, you know, like getting caught.”

“What are you doing out here?” Cole asks, ignoring her tirade. “You shouldn’t be out here.” His eyes search her head—looking for the scar. There’s nothing but smooth perfect skin.

“I’m fine!” She waves her free hand like she’s offering herself up for display. “Better than ever, actually.”

“Or crazier than ever,” I mutter.

Cole, still stunned, asks, “But how?”

“Jane healed me and more. Then she offered me a position with her elite team to test my new abilities. She needed someone with a specific skill set and innate knowledge of any threats to her programs.” She eyes us all knowingly, but settles her gaze on Wyatt, like she’s drinking him up like water.  “Unlike some people, I didn’t bite the hand that fed me, and accepted the offer.”

“You’re working for her?” Cole asks.

She tilts her head to the side and a small grin twists on her lips. “Aren’t you?”

“Hell no,” Jude answers for all of us.

“Well that changes things.” She flips the compound bow off her shoulder and points it at the ground. “My orders were to bring you back here for some reeducation on the true mission of The Director and PharmaCorp—clearly there has been some misunderstandings. Director Ramsey is willing to overlook those if you’re all still committed to the team. If you’re not, then my orders change significantly.”

I roll my eyes, because really, the theatrics are a bit much. “So, what? You’re going to kill us?”

Again, she replies with a deranged smile. It’s a signal of how much Chloe has changed—how much this person in front of me is not the friend I had. Not the sister Cole knew. The light in her eye is wrong. The color of her skin is off. My sister is playing games in a way I realize will backfire, on all of us.

“The fence behind you is the final wall of the safe zone. The gate is right there. Beyond it is the Death Fields, unchecked territory. The Director feels like you should know your choice. You can stay here for reeducation, or you can leave.”

“That’s it? We can just walk out of here?” I ask, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“Did you hear what I said?” she asks. “The Eaters have not been culled outside of here. In fact, their numbers grow daily. There’s no guarantee of fresh water or food. People have resorted to violence and more.”

“Great,” Davis speaks up from down the line. “When can we go?”

I can’t keep the smile off my face. Maybe I’m the one that’s deranged.

Without warning, gunshots crack through the night and we all duck on instinct. Well, everyone but Chloe. A menacing growl rattles from behind me, not the angry grunts the Hybrids emit, but the feral pained screams of the infected. I spin on my heel. Dirty fingers clench the fence and the spider-webbed eyes of an actual Eater are on the other side.

Great. Eaters on one side and Hybrid soldiers on the other. Oh, and a former friend turned maniacal enemy. This day couldn’t be more perfect.

A scream penetrates the night and one of the soldiers standing near the fencing is caught by the neck, an Eater biting down to spread the infection. It won’t work, but from the blood gushing down his neck, he’s not gonna survive anyway.

“Fall back!” Chloe shouts and the soldiers follow her directions as gunshots continue to fly overhead. A skirmish breaks out to my left where Wyatt head butts a Hybrid, knocking him to the ground. He drops, using his bound forearm to press against the neck, rendering him unconscious. He looks at the soldier’s discarded weapon wistfully.

“Run,” I say to Cole, but he’s still staring after his sister. I give him a hard nudge and a bullet zings overhead. “Cole…do this for me. We’ll come back for her but we can’t do that if we’re dead.” He glances down and nods, recognition sparking in his eyes. We dart under the shots, hoping not to get hit in the fray. We stop next to a small brick building, crouching in the shadows.

“What the hell was that?” I ask, trying to catch my breath. “When did Jane do that to her?”

His whole body tremors, from rage or fear. I’ll take that as an answer of “I don’t know.”

“We’ve got to get these binds off,” I tell him, just as Wyatt careens our way. He must have seen us run this direction. Thank God.

“Where are the others?” I ask.

“Scattered. Here, reach in my boot,” he says, rain water dripping down his face. “The left one.”

On my knees, I feel around blindly until my fingers swipe against hard metal in a tiny sheath. With two fingers, I work the object out. Wyatt grins when he sees it. “Press the tiny button on the side. It’s sharp, be careful.”

He leans forward and tells Cole to give an assist. Still glazed over, he jumps in to give me step by step instructions since I can’t see. Slowly, I move the knife back and forth against the plastic binds.

“Jesus, how many people does it take to cut a zip-tie, right?” I joke, trying to keep focused on my task and not on the battle just outside my view. The plastic gives way and Wyatt rips his hands apart. He snatches the blade from me, releasing me and Cole both in a blink.

Wyatt’s eyes are wild and searching. He stops at the sloping metal railing on the back steps. In a quick move he kicks the metal until it bends and snaps, scattering pieces on the ground. He tosses a length to each of us.

Cole snatches his and runs to the edge of the building, pipe ready.

“We need to get out of here,” he says.

“No shit,” I reply. I’m still hurt and confused by Wyatt’s actions when we escaped. I pause and say, “Whose side are you on, Wyatt?” He glances at me and I can already tell he’s going to dismiss me, but I grab him by the shirt. “Answer me.”

Something flickers in his eyes, pain maybe, but I don’t release my grip. His hand moves to my chin and he says, “Six months ago I would have said I don’t take sides.”

“And now?” The howls become louder—closer.  He looks in the direction of the Eaters.

“Now I just want to stay alive and keep you alive so I can answer that more definitively.”

I clench my fingers in his shirt, feeling my heart buzz in my chest. I want to say something in return—do something—but Cole rushes over and shouts, “The gate is swarmed!”

Wyatt quickly drops his fingers from my chin.

“What about everyone else?” I ask, dragging my gaze from Wyatt.

“I can’t see anyone out there. It’s too crazy.”

“You two need to find a way to the other side of the fence—then run like hell. Find shelter,” Wyatt says.

“And what are you going to do?” I ask, but he’s already in action, slipping around the corner toward the fray.

I don’t like it. I don’t like anything about it, but I link my fingers with Cole’s and tug him away from Wyatt. Away from the fighting.

Or, at least, that’s what I try to do.

Instead, we run around the other side of the dark building just in time to see the fence fall and a massive swarm of Eaters pour across the muddy field.

Chapter 27

I grip the inadequate steel bar between my slick, damp fingers and race to the fence. It’s stupid. Suicidal, even. But we have little choice.

“Do not leave my side,” I bark at Cole. I can’t lose him, too.

“I won’t. I promise.”

Him, I believe.

The Hybrids are gone, other than the dead bodies scattered here and there on the ground, most surrounded by the infected looking to spread their disease. An Eater rushes toward me, clothes tattered and dirty, limping on one leg. I move fast, cramming the bar through its neck, severing the spine. It falls in a slump to the ground.

I yank the bar back out with a slurping sound and try not to gag.

“I need a better weapon,” I say to no one in particular.

Cole grunts, bashing an Eater in the face until its head caves in the center. Dark blood pours out to the ground. The bar breaks in two.

He wipes his forehead and drops the broken pieces on the ground.

“Come on,” he says, gesturing toward the remains of a Hybrid. Before we reach the body, two Eaters charge, racing with trademark rage and hunger. Cole dives across the slick ground, sliding across the muddy grass. In the dim light I see the glint of metal just out of fingers’ reach. It’s a gun.

Using all the force I can muster, I shove my bar through one of the Eater’s eyes, twisting and gouging all the way to the brain. Leaving him, I kick a leg out, tripping the second monster. He falls with a sprawl on Cole, who’s crawling toward the gun.

“Ahhhhh!” I race over and kick the Eater in the face, right in the teeth. But he’s determined, jaws snapping with an earsplitting scream. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!” I yell over and over, each one punctuated with another kick. Cole reaches the gun and rolls on his back, shooting one and then another now alerted to our presence.

“Alex!” he shouts and throws me a heavy, sword-like blade. It lands in the dirt but I snatch it up quickly, using it across the next Eater’s throat.

His head--seconds before his body--falls with a thud to the ground.

“So Jane gives the Hybrids better weapons than the rest of us?” I roll my eyes. “Thanks a lot, sis.”

We resume fighting, trying desperately to get closer to the fence line, but the infected keep coming. I’m wiping blood off my hand when I spot a flash nearby, followed by the sound of bones crushing.  Davis stands over the dead shell, making a face at the sludge on his boot.

“Nice one,” I say with a grin.

Moments later, Jude and Parker appear, fighting their own battles with scavenged weapons. That just leaves two unaccounted for, but I push the thought out of my head. It won’t matter if I’m dead, too.

At some point, we shuffle into a group-defensive position, back to back to back. Unfortunately, the Eaters aren’t idiots, no matter how much I wish they were, and they circle around us.

“Guys…” Parker says, her voice wobbling with defeat.

“Keep fighting,” Davis barks, but I glance over quickly and see the rifle in his hand quiver.  As if by some signal the Eater howls grow, louder and more feral, until it reaches a volume that sounds more like the roar of a train.

I stare at the one directly across from me, watching his gaping mouth. Focused on his stringy hair and worn T-shirt frayed at the hem, I try to picture where he came from, who he was, but all I hear is that awful, terrible sound ricocheting through my brain. Even when he takes off, I don’t move. I’m hypnotized, standing, staring…completely exhausted.

I’m like a statue as he and the others launch at the same time, flying through the air in a scramble. I hear gunfire around me, the swish of blades, the thwick of an arrow.

My sword lays still by my side.

The Eater licks his lips, drool oozing down his chin; he’s close, so close, and the sound—the roar—is even louder. The wind blows hard, whipping my hair into a frenzy, and I glance upward just as the Eater is two feet away—just as a body crashes into him, expertly taking him down using just hands and feet.

Like a ninja. But it’s not Wyatt fighting the Eater.

It’s Paul.

A voice cuts through. “Alex! Move!”

I snap out of my trance and the world around me is spinning. No, literally spinning, like the blades of a helicopter. An actual helicopter is overhead; a rope tumbles to the ground through the door.  Paul finishes off the Eater with a quick snap of his neck, and the swarm scatters from the sound and harsh winds. A bright light washes over us and I cover my eyes to see.

“What the hell?” Jude asks, but bodies jump from the opening and spread out—guns facing outward—toward the Eater threat. Not at us. Another person descends the ladder. I, along with the others, hold my weapon at the ready, keeping a bead on whoever it may be. Because who has a freaking helicopter during the apocalypse? Other than my sister, who I suspect has not sent help.

Halfway down, my question is answered when I see the uniform. Army green, not black.

He smiles when he gets to the bottom and spots me.

“Erwin,” I declare with an exhale.

“Ms. Ramsey, pleasure to see you again.” He glances around at my battered team. “Looks like you could use a little help?”

Every inch of me wants to say no, to tell him to screw off, because I sure as hell don’t trust him. But the Eaters howl in the distance.

“Alex.” Cole steps toward me. “What do you want to do?”

I look at the others. They’re all on their last legs, starving and exhausted. Each one is bruised. I sigh. “What’s that saying? Out of the frying pan, into the fire?”

I start to laugh, because God, what is wrong with me, but Cole nods at Erwin and waves the others toward the ladder. Jude and Parker go up first, shaky on the wobbly rope ladder but Davis follows, and then Paul (Paul!) and Cole. Erwin waits for me at the bottom.

“You’ll see this is the right decision,” he says.

I grunt but search the area. Panic tugs in my gut. “Wyatt’s not here.”

The General stares at me for a minute and says, “Don’t worry about that one. He can take care of himself.”

I climb upward, the wind shaking the ladder with every step.

Cole notices I’m the last one other than Erwin and his men. He snakes his arms around me and whispers in my ear that Wyatt will be okay. I’ve little choice to believe him. To believe Erwin, although the accusing looks from Jude and Parker don’t make me feel so great.

It’s not until the helicopter starts moving and I’m surrounded by the sprawled bodies of my friends that I allow myself to really breathe. Not because I’m safe. Not because I trust Erwin, but because now we may have the power we need to stop my sister.

Alexandra’s story continues in The Girl Who Kicked Ass, Book 3 of The Death Fields Series. Read below for a sneak peek at the first section of The Girl Who Kicked Ass!

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The Girl Who Kicked Ass

The Death Fields

Book 3

Chapter 1

Schwoop, schwoop, schwoop…

The helicopter blades are hypnotic, lulling my weary bones and exhausted mind to the edge of sleep. My eyelids threaten to close but I force myself to stay awake. I keep my hand on my weapon. I still haven’t decided if we just caught a ride with friend or foe and I won’t let my guard down until I do.

We’re huddled close on the floor—my entire team. Cole sits close with a protective arm wrapped around my waist. To my left, Parker’s dark hair is a tangled mess and she looks like maybe a couple of her braids were yanked form her scalp. The glazed look in her eye makes me think she’s probably more in shock than actually asleep. My boy, Jude, stares straight ahead, too exhausted to even notice the blood seeping through his torn pants. In his hand is the handle of a blood stained knife, ready just in case.

Everyone feels miles away except Davis who’s fully alert like a good soldier. I watch him aware that he’s keeping a careful eye on Paul.

Paul, who’d been on the brink of death days ago. Who’d spent the last half a year as a lab rat at the hands of my sister Jane and her laboratory/survivalist compound, PharmaCorp. He’s the only one that seems unphased by the battle we’d just escaped. He’d just saved my life fighting harder than anyone I’d ever seen. Other than Wyatt, of course.

Wyatt Faraday who’d said some very curious things just before we parted. Things that made my heartache and my mind bend. He’d said his goal was to keep me alive. Me. Specifically. Maybe he just needed something to fight for, other than himself, for once.

I push back the worry I have for him. When General Erwin dropped out of the sky like a dark angel, Wyatt wasn’t fighting off the Eater’s with the rest of us. God knew where he’d gone off to, if it was on purpose or if he was chum for the monsters we left swarming below the helicopter. Erwin had alluded to the fact he would be fine but how does he know? The General is probably just happy he isn’t here.

For a dozen reasons, some I don’t want to admit to, I am not okay with the fact he’s not here.

I feel a warm tickle on my neck and turn to face Cole. His arm is still wrapped around me, even while he sleeps, like he’s clinging to a lifeline. I snuggle in against his chest and his arms tighten. It’s not us against just Jane anymore. It’s our tiny team vs. Cole’s sister Chloe, who’s transitioned to a Hybrid, a terrifying mixture of the adrenaline fueled Eater combined with the strength and skill of a top-notch soldier. Add in the lack of independent thought and the compulsive, murderous rage and you have a Hybrid, my sister’s answer to the apocalypse.

No, now it’s the six of us against PharmaCorp, the force behind my sister’s biological warfare that created this entire world-wide disaster. She wasn’t content to bring down society and rebuild with normal humans. She had to push her twisted vision on the survivors of the crisis. Each scenario worse than the last. It’s the six of us against Chloe, a former friend who has changed into the leader of a genetically altered army whose goal is to take over existing society.

Against the sound of the beating propeller I lean back into the comfort of Cole’s arms, still keeping an eye on Erwin in the front seat, wondering where we’re going, what will happen when we land and how are we going to fix this crazy world, because running is no longer an option.

*

I barely remember landing, following the soldiers across a wide strip of pavement or being led down the long corridors to the barracks. We’re pointed toward dormitories and file in.

In the dim room, Parker does ask in a quiet shell-shocked voice, “Are you sure this is safe?” and I recall telling her that we’re fine and to go to sleep. What I don’t tell her, as I drift off with my cheek on a scratchy blanket, is that I have no idea what Erwin wants us for. I do have a couple guesses.

I wake with a pounding headache and expectations of finding the door locked but to my surprise it isn’t. There are clean towels on the small metal desk against the wall and clean clothes stacked on the chair. Parker is already awake and other than the missing clump of hair, looking much better than the night before. “I peeked down the hallway. There’s a functional shower and bathroom at the end.”

I look down at my hands coated in blood, dirt and grime. My pants have a tear in the thigh and I don’t have to raise my arm to know how absolutely horrific I smell. “I don’t even care if the water is cold.”

We shower quick and quietly. I can’t be sure we’re not being watched, and my sense of paranoia rises when I step out of the stall to find two sets of boots waiting by the bench by the camouflaged uniforms.

I sigh at the green and gray material.

“What?” Parker asks, buttoning her shirt.

“A lot of things turned out differently than I expected and I’m dealing with it, you know? Like sure, I’m not going to college. I’ll never go to a football game or watch Duke play in the Final Four or you know, get into med school. There’s no way I’ll ever get that Mini Cooper I dreamed about buying. But wearing drab military uniforms and constantly being on one “team” or the other is a whole other level of my life has gone off the rails.”

Parker stares at me like I’ve lost my mind, which is fair as I’ve definitely lost my mind.  “At least we have clean clothes.”

“Yeah.” I pull on a white T-shirt and tie my shirt around my waist. Just before we leave the room I glance at my face in the mirror.

“Holy crap, Park! You didn’t tell me it was so bad,” I say, wincing at the sight of myself in the mirror. Both eyes are blackened from hitting the tree root in the fight with the Hybrids. My nose is swollen and puffy.

“I didn’t think you’d really want to know.”

When we exit the room Cole waits for us outside the door fresh and squeaky clean from his own shower. His blue eyes widen when he sees my face but he quickly rearranges it into something more appropriate. Too late.

“I know. It’s awful.”

He touches my cheek, gentle and soft. “How does it feel?”

“Like I landed on a tree stump with my face.”

“Ouch.” He kisses my temple.

I brush the damp blond hair away from his eyes. “How did you sleep?”

“Fair enough. You?”

I nod and say quietly, “Are you okay? You know, with the whole Chloe thing?”

“No, I’m not really okay with it.” His jaw tics. “It’s a lot to take in.”

“We’ll figure it out.”

“With Erwin?” he asks. Neither of us want to get into it with Erwin again, not after last time.

“If we have to. At some point we’re going to have to go bigger to deal with this. We can’t beat my sister and all her resources with six rouge Fighters, none of which have much experience.”

A guard—or soldier—they may be the same thing, waits for us at the end of the hall. The others file out of their rooms and I give Davis a smile. He greets me with a warm smile—we’ve become close over the last couple of months. I don’t know his full story but he’s the best soldier I know after Wyatt. He’s big and burly, sort of like what you’d think a Marine would look like. Rambo or the Hulk, but not green. He has dark hair and watchful eyes that are currently still watching Paul closely even though he seems normal enough today after his display of heroics last night. Maybe it was just one of those bizarre adrenaline spikes last night.

Maybe pigs can fly, right?

I tug Davis on the sleeve and he slows. I ask the question that’s been building for hours.  “So what’s the deal with that?” I ask gesturing carefully at Paul.

“So you saw that last night.”

“Uh, yeah. He saved my life. I was one second from being Eater dinner, but let’s be clear, the Paul I knew could not do that.”

Davis nods. “Do you think he’s one of them? A Hybrid?”

“God knows what my sister did to him. I know he was pumped up with a half a dozen vaccine combos over the last couple of months. He may be hybrid of a Hybrid for all I know.”

Davis looks thoughtful at that idea. “I’ll keep an eye on him. If he steps out of line I’ll take him out.”

“You think you can beat him?”

He doesn’t acknowledge that statement. I continue to keep pace with him and he says, “Something else?”

“Where do you think Wyatt went last night? One minute he was there—the next—gone.”

He shakes his head. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

Everyone heads up the stairs. Jude and Parker talk to one another and we follow, passing a blank faced guard. We’re in the echo-y stairwell when I stop Davis. “Can I ask you something else?”

He pauses, a look of concern on his face. “Sure? What is it?”

“Do you trust him?”

His eyebrows furrow together. “Who?”

“Wyatt.”

I expect him to say yes. To reassure me. But instead he thinks for a moment before saying, “Wyatt is very good at his job. He’s a stickler about meeting expectations. He always completes the assignment.”

“What’s his assignment?” Other than protecting me.

He lifts an eyebrow. “That’s a question I can’t answer.”

“Because you know and can’t tell or because you actually don’t know?”

“I don’t know anything, Alex. I promise.” He may not know but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t suspect something.

Great. That makes two of us.

Pre-order Book Three of The Death Fields, The Girl Who Kicked Ass on Amazon today!

Acknowledgements

Thank you to everyone that had faith in my little book The Girl Who Shot First. As many of you know it was originally written as the book Zocopalypse and released under a small publisher that no longer exists. Even though that situation didn’t work out I knew I wanted to continue Alexandra’s story and as I started writing the second book I thought it would be a two book series. It took me months and months to focus on this book (I blame the 2016 election, tbh) and as I got to the end of the first draft I knew the story wasn’t over—not by a long shot (Bazinga!) I figured I could try to squeeze in the rest of the story in the second installment or, I could cut it a little short at a natural stopping point and start on book 3. That led to book 4 and now I’m in the middle of book 5 and a 6th book is planned too.

I need to thank a couple people and groups for sticking with me during this. Author Lisa Swallow talked me through so many things getting this book off the ground. I discovered Lisa by reading one of her books Because of Lucy many years ago. Sometimes an author’s work touches you enough that you want to reach out to them. I’m so glad I did. My beta reader April S. has been invaluable for me during this novel. She read it section by section and helped me get my head on straight, keep my continuity and make sure I handled certain relationships for certain characters the right way. Same with my other beta reader Lauren. I think she’s always worried I’m going to get mad at her nitpicking! No! Never! Please nitpick more! My editor Vanessa always does a great job and of course my cover designer Angsty G has given The Girl Who the chance it deserved after all this time. These covers are fantastic and exactly what I wanted.

Finally, in January 2017 I had just finished the first draft of this novel but still feeling a little aimless about how to proceed with my next project. More Alex or something else? I normally jumped between books but I was unsure. I stumbled upon the most amazing facebook group for authors and WOW, it changed my entire writing life and perspective. I’ve been writing and publishing books for a while now and there were things I knew but there were also things I didn’t know how to implement (marketing, scheduling, support.) The group changed my entire perspective on how to handle my career. Thank you Michael Anderle for starting a group like this. Positive, affirming, supportive and totally kick ass.

Angel 2017

Angel Lawson Books

The Death Fields:

The Girl Who Shot First

The Girl Who Punched Back

The Girl Who Kicked Ass

Creature of Habit Series:

Creature of Habit (Book 1)

Creature of Habit (Book2)

Creature of Habit (Book 3)

The Wraith Series:

Wraith

Shadow Bound

Grave Possession

Urban Fantasy

The Lost Queen

Vigilant

Contemporary Romance:

FanGirl-A Girl Who Shot First Companion Novel

For the Win

Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27