The Ashes of Pompeii

CHAPTER 1 KEO

“See the world. Kill some people. Make some money.”

Well, one out of three wasn’t bad.

Okay, so it was downright pitiful, but then Keo was used to making lemonade out of lemons these days. First there was that whole end of the world curveball, then getting stuck with strangers in a cabin in the woods. He compounded those problems by falling in (lust) something with a girl named Gillian.

And now this.

“This” being stuck on a luxury yacht adrift in the middle of the lake with Song Island behind him and God only knew how many guys with guns in front of him. On the plus side, he was well-armed; besides the shotgun, he still had the Heckler & Koch MP5SD submachine gun, and he had added an AK-47 and a silver-chromed revolver with five bullets left to his arsenal. If life before everything went kaput had taught him anything, it was that there was no such thing as having “too many” guns.

Have bullets, will make mess.

In some ways, his life now wasn’t all that different than it was a year ago. These days, though, people weren’t paying him a lot of money to risk his hide. These days, he was voluntarily risking his precious limbs for…what again? A bunch of people he didn’t really know? Sure, he respected them, but was that really worth dying for?

Then again, maybe he had just finally developed something approaching a conscience.

Say it ain’t so.

The big guy with the melon for a head was lying half-on and half-off the floor of the upper deck. Or what was left of the head, anyway. The shotgun in Keo’s hands had removed most of the top portion, leaving behind something that looked suspiciously like a badly carved jack-o’-lantern. Clumps of blood and brains were spilled across the floorboards on the other side of the spiral stairwell that connected the upper and the main deck directly below.

There had been footsteps pounding up those same stairs a few seconds ago, but they quickly stopped after Melon Head took the buckshot to the side of the face. The hard chargers decided to retreat after that, then went very quiet soon after. They were tiptoeing around down there, most likely getting ready for an assault on his position. So they weren’t complete idiots, after all. Too bad. He liked dealing with amateurs.

Keo was crouched in the semidarkness of the Trident, the boat continuing to move even with the anchor lowered. He had turned off the whisper quiet engine at the same time, allowing him to hear everything around and underneath him, including his own slightly racing heartbeat.

Jesus, calm down. What is this, your first time in a firefight?

He leaned back from the turn in the hallway that connected the bulk of the deck’s floor with the bridge behind him. Keo spent a few seconds slowing down his breathing while keeping one ear open for noises.

Come on, boys, let’s not keep daddy waiting. He’s getting antsy.

Song Island was directly behind him, but Keo hadn’t had the opportunity to check how far he still was from the beach before he dropped the anchor to keep the boat from running aground by accident. They were close, he could tell that from the halo of lights visible on the other side of the bridge’s curving windshield, the swath of intense brightness reaching all the way across the room and into the hallway.

There was no doubt Lara and the others would have heard the shooting by now. Even muffled by the walls around him, there was no mistaking a shotgun blast against the quiet night. Just to make sure, though, Keo leaned out from the corner and fired another shot at the wall across the deck, squinting involuntarily at the thunderous boom!

There. They’d have to be deaf not to hear that.

He recalled his last conversation with Lara (a.k.a. kid leader), just before he went for a swim (again) in the cold lake water:

“Don’t shoot unless you have to,” she had said.

“Trust me,” he had replied, “if you hear shooting on the boat, there’s a very damn good reason for it.”

He didn’t know why, but Keo trusted her. She had proven to be a tough customer with some big brass ones. That was hard to find in a woman, but especially the civilian variety. He didn’t even mind that she had manipulated him into helping with the island’s defense the last few days. Now that was smooth. Keo was a shoot-first-and-what-was-the-question type of guy, but he’d always had a lot of grudging respect for people who could think two, three steps ahead and give orders with lives at stake (usually his).

He pressed his back against the wall and tried to pick up any slight vibrations that could signal an incoming attack.

Nothing. A big fat zero. Nada. Zilch.

That should have comforted him, but instead it just made him more paranoid.

Come on, boys, what are you waiting for? An engraved invitation?

To keep his mind off what may or may not be happening out there right now, Keo spent a few seconds taking inventory.

He counted four victims, but only three bodies. There were the two in the bridge — the captain (or the guy wearing a captain’s hat, anyway), his first mate, and a third man who had come up the stairs. And Melon Head made three stiffs. The captain was kneecapped and whimpering softly in one of the bridge’s corners. Alive, but whipped. Just the way Keo liked them.

That was four down and an unknown number still to go. The vanishing footsteps he had heard earlier were proof of that. There was also someone named Rod, a sniper who had been watching the island when the boat was on approach earlier tonight. He was likely on a high perch — possibly on top of Keo right this moment, or maybe somewhere along the side rails. Someplace high to shoot from.

Counting Rod, there were at least two more still running around out there. His one big advantage was that they were going to have to come to him if they wanted to get the Trident moving again. That meant retaking the controls on the bridge.

Keo waited for ten more seconds.

Then ten became twenty…

…and still no attack.

At thirty, he got up and moved, slightly bent over at the waist just in case (you could never be too careful when there were assholes running around with loaded guns), making a beeline back to the bridge. The assault rifle and submachine gun thumping against his back made more noise than he would have liked; the eerie quiet made them sound like firecrackers, and he wished he had tightened their straps before moving.

Live and learn, pal. Live and learn.

He slipped back inside the bridge and closed the door, then locked it. Not that he expected to keep out a half dozen determined assaulters, but it would give him time to prepare a proper defense. Which, in this case, meant waiting with the shotgun for the first target to appear so he could pull the trigger. Keo was a simple guy that way.

The “captain” was still in the corner, where Keo had left him earlier. The man had taken off his shirt (it turned out he had an undershirt beneath, though it, too, was now stained with blood) and wrapped it over his right kneecap, trying desperately to stop the bleeding. Keo couldn’t tell if the man was more freaked out by his injury, the pain, or the inability to stop blood from dripping through his makeshift tourniquet.

Or it could have been the sight of his first mate’s body, sitting on the floor with his back against the long console that covered nearly the entire front half of the room. The man, like Melon Head outside, was missing most of his noggin, with pieces of it clinging to the curving glass windshield behind him. It was a hell of a mess, made more surreal against the wash of the island’s LED and multicolored lights from the boat’s computer screens and buttons. The fragments of a destroyed handheld radio were sprinkled around the body. Too bad, because Keo would have liked to use it to contact the island.

If wishes were assholes…

Bottom line, he was cut off. Or, at least, until either the remains of the boat’s crew got their act together and assaulted the bridge or Lara decided to do something from her end. Frankly, he hated the idea of waiting for one of them to do something already. Patience had never been his strongest trait.

The captain flinched even before Keo got close enough to do anything to him. “Don’t kill me!”

Keo put a finger to his lips, and the man clenched his mouth shut. He picked up the white captain’s hat from the floor and put it back on the man’s damp head, then gave him a slight tap on the cheek.

“That’s a good boy,” Keo said.

“Don’t kill me,” the captain mouthed.

“Now why would I do a thing like that? You’ve been so cooperative.”

The captain glanced down at his bleeding leg.

“Oh sure, that,” Keo said. “You’re not the type to hold a grudge, are you?”

The captain looked uncertain about answering, so he didn’t.

“Let’s put that behind us and move on,” Keo said. “Start with this: How many of you are on the boat?”

The man stared back at him, sweat dripping down his forehead despite the cooling mid-October weather. It was still hot in the day, but at night Louisiana dipped to fifty and sometimes hit the forties. Right now Keo felt a slight chill; then again, he had been submerged in the lake not all that long ago, so that probably factored into it.

“Numbers,” Keo said when the man didn’t answer fast enough. “I need numbers, el capitan. How many are on the boat with you?”

The captain seemed to be seriously brooding over the question. It wouldn’t have surprised Keo if the man thought his life might be at stake, depending on his answer. He was a man in his late thirties and wore a beard that was flecked with white strays, and he actually did look like a ship’s captain. The only thing missing was a pressed white uniform like the one worn by that guy from The Love Boat.

“Come on, spit it out,” Keo said. “You don’t know, or you don’t want to tell me?”

“Sev — eight,” the captain finally said.

“Sev-eight? I must have been absent from Mrs. Krapthorpe’s math class that day. How many is sev-eight again?”

The captain swallowed. “Seven.”

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

“I think you’re lying.”

Keo pushed the barrel of the shotgun against the man’s wounded leg. The captain let out what sounded like a low-pitched squeal. Keo didn’t know what to make of that noise, but it seemed to be working so he added more pressure.

“Seven or eight?” Keo said. “Think carefully.”

“Eight,” the captain said, almost shouting the word out.

Keo lessened the pressure slightly. “Rod the sniper is one.”

“Yes…”

“Where is he?”

The captain’s eyes shifted up to the ceiling.

“Still?” Keo said.

A shrug and a look of uncertainty.

“And the others?” Keo asked.

“Below.”

“Doing what?”

“Guard—”

Keo heard a soft tap! and glanced up, reaching forward and clamping one hand over the captain’s mouth at the same time.

Tap…tap…

It was coming from the roof.

Rod, the sniper.

Keo pulled his hand away from the captain and took two, then three quick steps toward the middle of the bridge. He leaned the shotgun against the nearest wall and unslung the MP5SD. He traced the sound as it moved from the back of the roof toward the front. Slowly, carefully, because Rod the sniper was that kind of a guy.

A second later, an elongated shadow draped over the windshield. It was in the shape of a human head.

Keo fired into the ceiling, stitching it from west to east, then north to south until he had emptied half of the magazine. The only noise was the cyclical whine of the German weapon’s parts as it unleashed a series of 9mm rounds. The clink-clink-clink of bullet casings flicking and bouncing off the floor was louder than the actual gunshots themselves, thanks to the built-in suppressor at the end of the barrel.

There was a soft thud, followed by a pair of arms dangling out the windshield where the glass met the roof of the bridge. Blood dripped from the fingers and ran in thin rivulets along the smooth surface all the way to the bottom.

Five down, three to go.

Keo moved quickly to the door and pressed up against it. He stopped breathing entirely and listened, flattening his hands against the wall to search for any hints of vibrations that would signal the impending attack he had been waiting for.

To his surprise, he continued to hear nothing and felt nothing. Either these guys were incredibly patient, or they weren’t willing to risk their necks to regain control of the bridge. Frankly, Keo didn’t know whether to be impressed by their sense of self-preservation or irritated by it.

He looked over at the captain, who was staring back across the room at him. The man’s face was slicked with a new coat of sweat. That was either all fear, or the man was just a perspiration machine.

“Three to go,” Keo said.

The captain’s lips trembled slightly, as if he wanted to say something but was too afraid to.

“Catfish got your tongue?”

He got a confused reaction that time.

Keo nodded at the largest chunk of the destroyed two-way radio on the floor next to the first mate’s body. “Got another one of those?”

The captain followed Keo’s glance, then looked back at him. The man gave Keo a look that convinced him the guy wasn’t sure if he should cooperate. Or maybe he was wondering what was in it for him.

Keo decided to help him out and drew the revolver from his waistband, cocking the hammer back. The loud click! seemed to echo through the large room.

The captain’s entire body went rigid.

“I think that’s a yes,” Keo said. “But you don’t want to tell me where I can find it. Now, normally I’d make you show me how to use the boat’s radio, but that console looks awfully complicated, and I’m just not a very techie sort of guy. So…where’s the backup radio?”

“Under the console,” the captain said.

“See? That wasn’t so hard.”

Keo moved back across the room, maneuvering around the still-wet glistening pools of the first mate’s blood and brass casings that were now everywhere, and slid back a compartment under the large console that controlled every facet of the yacht. Inside, he found a first aid kit, supplies, and, near the back, another two-way portable radio. He fished it out and spent a few seconds trying to recall the frequency the islanders were using.

Keo turned the dial and pressed the transmit lever. “Lara, come in.”

Five seconds of silence went by.

Then ten…

Had he tuned into the right channel? The island was well within the radio’s reach, so that couldn’t have been it. Of course, if they didn’t recognize his voice, they might not respond. Maybe they were wondering who the hell had just broken into their lines of communication—

“Keo,” a voice finally said through the radio. Lara. “You’re still alive.”

“Surprised?” Keo said.

“Just worried. What’s going on over there? What’s your situation? We heard shooting. Was that you?”

“It wasn’t Santa Claus. Watch out for snipers. I took one out, but there might be more.”

“I was wondering what was hanging off the bridge’s roof.”

“That would be Rod.”

“You talked to him?”

“I heard the captain and his first mate talking.”

“What else did you hear?”

“Remember our talk? That if I started shooting, there’s a damn good reason for it?”

“I remember.”

“Well, there’s a damn good reason I started shooting.”

She didn’t answer back right away. After a while, she said, “We’re getting ready to head over and board the boat right now.”

“I wouldn’t do that.”

“Why not?”

“There are still three more of them running around outside the bridge. I have no idea where they are at the moment. That means they could be lying in wait for you, so there’s no point in taking the risk. At least, not yet.”

“What about you? Are you under attack?”

“Not right now. They seem to be hanging back.”

He looked over at the door just to make sure. It would have been a hell of a jinx if they burst inside as soon as the words came out of his mouth. But the door was still closed, and there were no telltale vibrations of approaching men.

These guys are either the most patient assholes left in the known universe, or they’re quaking in their boots right now.

“What about the yacht?” Lara asked. “It stopped moving.”

“I killed the engines and dropped anchor. At the moment, I have possession of the bridge. That means I control where the boat goes; or, in this case, doesn’t go. But I don’t have eyes on what’s happening outside or on the two lower decks.”

Another long pause from her. He could almost imagine that brain of hers working, turning over her options, trying to come up with a plan that wouldn’t get her people killed. The kid leader was definitely impressive.

“All right,” she said finally. “We’ll stay back for now. What are you going to do next?”

“I’m going to stay up here and wait for them to make their move. If they’re smart, they’ll realize they’re beat and take one of the life boats and abandon ship.”

“And if they’re not that smart?”

“I got plenty of bullets,” Keo said. “And since I’m surrounded by water in this floating tub, this is one time where the night’s my friend.”

The night settled down into a crawl, with the only noise coming from the occasional slapping of Beaufont Lake’s lazy waves against the hull of the Trident. It always amazed him just how dead the world was at night. Now mostly devoid of the loud excesses of humanity, there was a peacefulness here that, were he a peaceful-loving kind of guy, he might have appreciated.

Now, though, the pervading silence, with armed men somewhere outside the bridge door waiting to kill him, just made him irritable.

Keo glanced down at his watch. 12:51 A.M.

Six hours before sunrise.

He looked over at the captain, who was trying desperately not to pass out in the corner next to him. Keo didn’t know why the man was even fighting an obviously losing battle. In his experience, people sometimes hung onto things when they didn’t have to. But then again, most of the world’s population didn’t see things the way he did. Too bad, because Keo was sure he was right and everyone else was wrong.

“You got a name, cap?” Keo asked.

The man blinked sweat from his eyes, but the prospect of conversation seemed to give him new energy. “Gage.”

“As in 12-gauge?”

“Gage. G-a-g-e.”

“Cute name.”

“What’s yours?”

“This isn’t a date. I ask the questions and you answer them.” Then, “This your boat, Gage?”

“It belonged to this Mexican guy we worked for.”

“What happened to him?”

Gage shrugged. “He didn’t need it anymore.”

Keo smiled. “Gee, I wonder if you had anything to do with that.”

“I didn’t,” Gage said. His eyes flickered to the headless first mate across the room from them. “But Johns did. I…just went along with it.”

“Sure you did.”

“I had to. Johns was in charge.”

“Hey, I believe you,” Keo said, though he assumed Gage knew differently by just looking at him. He had heard the two of them talking earlier. They sounded more like partners-in-crime than boss-and-lackey. “What about the others? What were they doing when this totally mutual exchange of boat ownership went down?”

Gage decided to start drifting off at that moment.

Keo stuck a hand in front of him and snapped his fingers. “Hey, wake up. This is no time to be falling asleep, pal. Especially not in the middle of a Q&A. That’s just rude.”

Gage’s eyes opened back up. “What?”

“You were giving me a very good reason why I shouldn’t just put you out of your misery right now.”

The other man looked alarmed. “I was?”

“Yes. And let me just say, you’re doing quite the shitty job of it.” Keo drew the revolver with its five bullets and laid it across his lap, tapping the trigger guard with his forefinger for effect. “Wanna try harder?”

Gage suddenly looked very alert, or was trying very hard to give that impression, anyway. “The boat. I can drive the boat.”

“I thought you said this wasn’t your boat.”

“It’s not, but I was its captain.”

“That explains the hat,” Keo grinned.

Gage didn’t know how to respond to that, so he didn’t.

“What about the other three?” Keo asked. “Your crew?”

“A couple of them. The others, we picked up along the way.”

“Like Rod?”

“Yeah.”

Keo glanced over at what was left of the first mate. “What about Johns?”

“He’s just a friend.”

“He was just a friend.”

“Yeah…”

“Your boat buddies. The ones running outside like busy little mice. Any ideas what they’re up to—”

The rattle of automatic gunfire stopped Keo in mid-sentence. His eyes darted to the door before he realized it had come from behind him — from the direction of Song Island.

He got up and hurried to the front of the bridge and looked out toward the island, just in time to see full automatic rifle fire pouring from one of the piers. It was shooting at something bobbing in the water in front of the Trident. A second rifle was shooting from the beach, both weapons spraying at what he could now see was an orange raft, its color making it nearly impossible to miss in the darkness. The small craft had been moving toward the island when it was fired upon. Now, it seemed to be floating in place and Keo could just barely make out a figure lying inside.

He unclipped the radio from his hip and pressed the transmit lever. “Song Island, come in.” He waited for a response, and when he didn’t get one after a few seconds, “Anyone there? What was the shooting about? Song Island, come in.”

“Keo,” Lara said through the radio. “Are you still on the yacht?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“People were heading toward the island on some kind of boat. They fired at Blaine, so we fired back. It’s orange.”

“I see it. Survivors?”

“Doesn’t look like it.” Then, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I think we might have hit it one time too many; it’s starting to sink.”

Keo saw it, too — the raft was being pulled under the lake’s surface.

“You said you saw two people onboard?” he said into the radio.

“Pretty sure,” Lara said. “Blaine was on the pier, and he had the best view.” Then to someone else, “What did you see, Blaine?”

“Two,” Blaine said through the radio. “Probably two.”

“That leaves one still unaccounted for,” Keo said.

“How many lifeboats does a yacht like that hold?”

“Usually one or two. Hold on, let me ask el capitan.”

“He’s still alive?” Lara said.

“Sort of.” Keo looked over at Gage. “Hey, how many lifeboats do you have onboard?”

The man didn’t answer him.

“Gage,” Keo said, louder this time.

When he still didn’t respond, Keo walked over and crouched in front of him. Gage looked dead and was leaning over slightly to one side. Keo pressed two fingers against the side of his neck and detected a pulse. Weak, so apparently Gage had decided to go with the flow after all.

“Keo?” Lara said through the radio. “What did the captain say?”

“He’s unconscious.”

“What did you do to him?”

“I shot him in the kneecap with his own gun.”

“Now why the hell did you do that?”

“It seemed like the thing to do at the time.”

“Let’s…try not to shoot people in the kneecaps unless we have to from now on, okay?”

“Sure, if you want to take all the fun out of this.”

She ignored him and said instead, “So what do we do about the last man? If there’s really only one left?”

“El capitan sounded pretty certain. Then again, he looks like the type that might lie.” He stood up and looked over at the door again. “Sit tight and wait for morning. We’ll figure it out then.”

Lara didn’t answer right away.

“You good with that?” Keo asked.

“I guess I don’t have a choice,” Lara said.

He could hear it in her voice — that burden that came with leadership. He had heard it often enough in people who took on the job that few could do, or wanted to do.

“Relax,” he said. “It’s not coming tonight.”

“What isn’t?”

“The attack you’ve been expecting for the last two days.”

She paused for a moment, then, “How can you be so sure?”

“The bad guys will have heard the shooting. They’ll know something is happening, but they don’t know what. And this boat showing up would have freaked them out. Add all of that with the damage they took yesterday from moi, and if I was them, I wouldn’t attack tonight. I’d wait, because I could afford to wait. It’s not like you’re going anywhere, right?”

“No…”

“And they know that. So my guess is, they’ll wait another day. Which means we don’t have to do anything drastic until then.”

“Captain Optimism, huh?”

“I don’t know what means.”

“Inside joke,” she said. Then, sounding more reassured than a few seconds ago, “Okay. If we’re not moving until sunrise, that means you’ll be on your own for the next six hours. Can you go that long without unnecessarily killing people?”

“No promises.”

She sighed. “I’ll get one of the boats ready, just in case.”

‘Just in case,’ he thought with a smile. The island motto, apparently.

CHAPTER 2 LARA

In the morning light, the Trident’s long, sleek, and sharp features gave it the impression of being a massive white sword, ready to pierce the side of Song Island if it so desired. That seemed to be the only thing the island was good for these days — a target to be attacked.

Maybe keeping it is more trouble than it’s worth, Will. Maybe it’s time to go.

She watched the sun rising in the distance as Blaine, Roy, and Maddie were prepping the bass fishing boat behind her. Everyone was moving on automatic pilot, strung out on coffee and the work in front of them. Bonnie had returned to the hotel to rest, though Lara was surprised Roy was still there. She guessed he was still trying to make up for two nights ago.

“Keo,” she said into the radio. “We’re about to head over to you now. Any word on the eighth guy?”

“What, no good morning?” Keo said through the radio.

She smiled. “Good morning.”

“Good morning to you, too.”

“So, about the eighth guy…”

“Not a peep all night.”

“Are we even sure there’s an eighth guy?”

“I’ll ask the captain again when he’s awake. I guess he’s not a morning person.”

She glanced down at her watch. 7:22 A.M.

Sunrise had come about thirty minutes ago, and she had watched it with barely contained glee from inside the boat shack, where she had been sleeping on a cot. Keo was certain the collaborators wouldn’t attack, not with the mess he had made at their staging area yesterday and the chaos of last night. His reasoning was sound, but then these days you couldn’t always count on logic to save the day.

He had turned out to be right, though, and she had never been more happy to be wrong in her life.

She concentrated on the Trident now. It was almost two football fields away but looked much closer, like she could swim to it with a few strokes. Well, maybe Keo could. She had seen the man swim like a fish the last two nights.

“Boss lady,” Blaine said behind her. “You coming, or what?”

Lara turned around and walked back to them. They were already inside the boat, Maddie settling in behind the steering wheel while Roy sat on a chair up front with his M4 in his lap. Blaine was seated on another chair at the back, next to the outboard motor that sent out puffs of smoke and coughed loudly, sounding as if it was going to die at any moment.

She climbed into the boat and nodded at Maddie. “Let’s go.”

Maddie guided the boat away from the pier. The back dipped slightly as it gained speed, and Lara hurried up to the front to help balance out the weight distribution.

Roy looked over at her and shouted over the roar of the engine, “What about the last guy?”

“I don’t know!” Lara shouted back. She glanced at Maddie and Blaine. “Keep your eyes peeled! He might be waiting for us!”

“If there’s actually an eighth guy!” Blaine said.

“Take no chances! If you see a head, and it doesn’t look like Keo’s, shoot first and ask questions later!”

The big man nodded back and checked his rifle.

The boat had already carried them halfway to the Trident, the yacht growing in size (and sharpness) as they got closer. Lara unslung her own carbine and flicked the safety off without even realizing it.

Jesus. I really have become used to this thing.

“I can’t believe that guy took the whole boat by himself!” Maddie shouted at her. “Let’s make a reminder to ourselves: Don’t piss this guy off!”

“I’m glad he’s on our side!” Roy said.

Lara nodded. She thought about telling them how close she had come to not trusting Keo, but she didn’t. They didn’t need to know the details right now.

Is this what being a leader is, Will? Keeping things from people, for their own good? Making big decisions that could cost everyone their lives and knowing you’re solely responsible for the outcome?

How in God’s name did you ever manage the burden all by yourself all these months? You should have told me. I would have been there for you…the way I wish you were here for me right now…

“Approaching!” Maddie shouted behind her.

Lara gripped her M4 tighter, and so did Roy next to her.

The Trident really was long, though not nearly as wide (What had Keo called that? The beam?) as she had thought when looking at it from afar. Even so, it was an intimidating sight, especially the large chain connected to the massive anchor sitting at the bottom of Beaufont Lake at the moment, keeping the white beast from floating away. The yacht had three decks, with the bridge at the very top. Windows lined the sides, sweeping from front to back.

She eyeballed every inch of glass and railing within range, looking — waiting — for that elusive eighth man that may or may not exist.

Maddie steered them alongside the boat, then turned completely around until they were facing the back. They were greeted by a large, flapping flag hanging from a long metal pole, featuring an eagle eating a snake over green, white, and red stripes. The engine shut off and they continued drifting toward what looked like a lounging area, complete with chairs and recliners for sunbathing. A ladder dipped into the water, though it looked like it could be folded back up when not in use.

Roy stood up with his rifle at the ready, while Maddie manipulated the smaller craft over, deftly spinning the steering wheel left, then right, then left again. Lara felt anxious just watching the smaller woman grit her teeth as she cautiously moved closer and closer. Behind her, Blaine remained seated, but like Lara, he was sweeping the visible parts of the yacht looking for something—someone—to shoot.

Lara unclipped her radio and keyed it. “Keo, we’re at the back of the yacht now.”

“I heard you on approach,” Keo said through the radio. “Did you see me waving?”

“Uh, no.”

“Too bad. I was doing a jig and everything.”

She smiled. “I’m sure you were. What about the eighth guy?”

“You don’t see him out there?”

“Not a living soul.”

“Maybe he’s hiding. If el capitan’s numbers square up, he’s the only rat left that hasn’t tried to jump off this sinking boat yet. That means he’s either very determined, or a dumbass. Either way, that makes him unpredictable.”

“Understood. We’ll make our way to you as soon as we can.”

“Roger that,” Keo said.

Lara put the radio away, then watched Roy sling his rifle and position himself precariously at the front of their boat. She wanted to tell him to be careful, but doing so might undermine his courage, so she didn’t say anything. Roy waited, and when Maddie had gotten close enough to the yacht, he jumped. For a second Lara thought he had missed his target, but he landed soundly on the Trident, barreling into one of the chairs and causing it to skid along the smooth floor.

“Easy there, Oklahoma,” Maddie said.

Roy gave them an embarrassed grin.

“Throw him the line, Lara,” Maddie said.

Roy held out his hands to catch the rope Lara tossed over to him, then began pulling them all the way in.

“Blaine, you first,” Lara said.

Blaine got up and moved forward before jumping the short distance onto the luxury cruiser. He landed next to Roy, who was already tying up the rope. Lara had to admit, they were working pretty well for people who had never done any of this before. She almost felt like a proud parent.

Adapt or perish, right, Will?

She followed the men further onto the Trident while Maddie stayed behind at the lounge area to keep an eye on their boat.

Lara climbed onto the deck with Blaine and Roy before unclipping her radio a second time. “Keo, we’re on our way now.”

“Take it easy,” Keo said. “No rush. The captain woke up, and we’re having a nice talk.”

“Try not to shoot him again.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

She followed Blaine and Roy toward the nearest ladder. The bridge would be on the top deck, which meant they had to climb two floors. That was preferable to traveling through the interiors, where anyone could be waiting around any corner. Out here, in the sun, she felt slightly safer.

“What’s he saying?” she said into the radio.

“He’s spinning a pretty interesting story,” Keo said.

“About?”

“How he and his buddies commandeered the boat. They’re originally from Mexico, you know.”

“I saw the flag. He’s Mexican?”

“Nope. Looks like a gringo to me.”

“What happened to the owners of the boat?”

“Let’s just say they didn’t give their pride and joy up willingly.”

“They killed them and took the boat?” Blaine asked.

Lara nodded. “Sounds like it.”

“A Mexican boat staffed by an American crew?” Roy said from up front. “That’s a new one.”

Blaine chuckled. “End of the world, man. Everything’s upside down these days. Monsters are real, silver’s more valuable than gold, and Mexicans are using Americans to clean the poop decks.”

They didn’t find the eighth crewman on the first deck. He wasn’t on the second one, either. The third also didn’t yield a hidden shooter, and they had to go inside this time in order to access the bridge at the front. Walking through the top floor, Lara almost slipped on the congealed blood in her path. Keo had left behind a hell of a mess as he took the boat last night.

Blaine moved diligently in front of her, while Roy stayed behind outside in case someone tried to sneak up on them. He also kept an eye on Maddie. Will would probably have come up with a better system of watching each other’s backs; but then, Will was a soldier and she was just a third-year medical student masquerading as one.

She and Blaine had to circle around two bodies before they reached the hallway that connected a roomy area — a combination entertainment center and living room, complete with couches and a big screen TV along one wall — to the bridge. One of the bodies was missing its head and lay half on and half off the floor, the rest of the man draped over a spiral staircase that connected two of the decks. The other body lay on its back in a thick pool of blood. His face was pale, lifeless eyes staring up at her as she stepped over him.

“Keo!” Blaine shouted as he stepped around the second body and into the adjoined hallway.

They heard the sound of a door opening, then Keo appeared. He had that German weapon of his and was clad all in black. He looked dry for someone who had been swimming most of last night. “I was wondering who was stomping around out here. You guys ever heard of a subtle entry?”

Blaine ignored him and said, “We couldn’t find the eighth guy.”

“I wouldn’t worry about him. He’ll poke his head up sooner or later.”

“Where’s the boat’s captain?” Lara asked.

“Inside, resting. Got questions? He’s in a very talkative mood this morning.”

“I’m sure he is,” Lara said, reminding herself what a good decision it had been to recruit Keo onto their side instead of making an enemy out of him. It could have gone either way, but she had trusted her instincts.

Maybe you were right, Will. Maybe I can do this leadership thing.

Maybe…

The yacht’s “captain” looked like he had seen better days. Even so, despite the blood loss and obvious pain on every inch of his face, he seemed to be taking captivity reasonably well. If nothing else, he looked well-rested for a man who was missing one of his kneecaps.

Blaine stayed outside the bridge to stand guard, with Roy and Maddie remaining at their posts. If the eighth man was out there, he was biding his time. Which was fine with her. She didn’t feel like adding another victim to her growing body count this morning anyway.

Sorry, lake, you’ll just have to wait until tonight for more bodies.

Keo nodded at the man in the white hat. “Gage, this is Lara. Lara, that’s Gage. Say hi.”

“Hi,” Lara said.

Gage peered through a sweat-covered face at her. “Hey.”

Lara focused on Gage, which helped her to ignore the body sitting against the Trident’s control console across the room, along with the chunks of…something sticking to the windshield. She hadn’t asked Keo where he had gotten the shotgun and AK-47 he was carrying around with him this morning, but she could guess. There were three bodies on this deck alone.

“What happened last night?” she asked Keo.

“They were Trojan Horsing you,” he said. Then to Gage, “Tell her.”

Gage nodded. “He’s right.”

“You’re admitting it?” she said.

“Yeah, why not? Everyone’s dead. I’m half dead. What’s the point in lying now?”

“See?” Keo said. “Gage here’s the pragmatic type. He figures that if he doesn’t lie, I won’t have any reason to shoot him in his other kneecap.”

“Yeah, that, too,” Gage said, and this time he did managed a full grin, though she noticed it was half-amusement and half-mortal terror. “What else you wanna know, lady?”

“What were you going to do?” Lara asked. “When you got to the island?”

Gage quickly lost some of his enthusiasm and began noticeably squirming in the corner.

“Don’t start lying now, el capitan,” Keo said. “The truth. Nothing but the truth. So help your other kneecap.”

“We were going to take it,” Gage said. “Then we would take everything else.”

“What’s ‘everything else’?” Lara asked.

“Whatever you had. The food. The supplies. The…people.”

“The people? What were you going to do with the people?”

“Not everyone. Mostly…just the women.”

“The women…”

“Yeah.”

“What were you going to do with the women?” was the next question that she never asked. She knew. Keo knew. They all did, even the dead man with half of his head blown across the windshield.

She turned to Keo. “What are we going to do with him?”

“That’s up to you,” Keo said. “It’s your island he was going to raid. It’s also your people he was going to do probably-not-very-nice things to.”

She nodded and looked back at Gage.

“Hey, you promised nothing bad would happen to me,” Gage said, but she noticed he had said it to Keo and not her. He wasn’t even looking at her now. Maybe he was afraid, or maybe he thought his salvation lay with Keo.

He was wrong.

She drew the Glock and shot him.

The bullet hit the wall an inch from Gage’s ducking head, and the yacht’s captain might have actually squealed.

Footsteps pounded the deck behind them just before Blaine burst through the open door. “Jesus, what’s going on?” He looked at Gage, at Keo, then finally at her. “Lara?”

“It’s okay,” she said, holstering her sidearm. “I was just making a point.”

“Oh.”

“I need you back outside, Blaine.”

The big man nodded, then exchanged a brief look with Keo, who shrugged back at him. “She was making a point,” Keo said.

Blaine didn’t look convinced, but he left anyway.

Her radio squawked, and she heard Maddie’s voice. “Guys? What’s happening? I heard a gunshot.”

“Everything’s fine,” Lara said into the radio. “Everyone stay where you are. We’re just…interrogating the survivor.”

“You sure?” Maddie asked.

“Yes. Keep an eye out for the eighth guy.”

“Will do.”

“Well, that was fun,” Keo said.

Lara stared at Gage, who peered back out at her from the corner of the room. When he saw her looking, he quickly glanced away. If he could have gotten up and run, he probably would have. But his days of running were over with that still-bleeding kneecap.

“He can be useful,” Keo was saying.

“How?” she asked.

She hadn’t thought about putting Gage to use. The very idea of the man’s continued existence offended her at an almost primal level.

“The yacht,” Keo said. “You’re going to need someone who knows his way around it.”

“You know boats.”

“I know boats, but I don’t know that,” he said, pointing at the long console behind them. “He does.”

“You also told me a boat this size needs a big crew to run it. All of his crew is dead, except for an eighth guy who may or may not exist. How is one man going to keep this thing afloat, even if he does know what all those buttons are for?”

“We’re talking about a twenty-first-century luxury yacht here, Lara. It might break down eventually, but it’s still in good enough shape right now that you could use it to get to wherever you needed to go. I think that’s worth keeping him alive for a little while longer, don’t you?”

Keo wasn’t wrong. She was already thinking about all the things she could do with a boat this size when she first saw it last night, and seeing it sitting on the lake under the morning sunlight had crystallized so many of those possibilities.

Keep the island if you can, but if you can’t…

Hope for the best, but prepare for the worst, right, Will?

Gage was still cowering in the corner, probably trying to figure out if he was going to live past the next few minutes. She could have reassured him, but Lara decided to let him keep wondering instead.

Her radio squawked, breaking the silence, and Carly’s voice came through. “Lara, come in.” Carly was back on the island in the Tower with Benny, and Lara thought she sounded slightly anxious. “You still there, ol’ fearless leader?”

“I’m here,” Lara said into the radio.

“I have your boyfriend on the other radio,” Carly said. “Should I tell him you already found someone else?”

“We’ll get home,” Will said through the ham radio. “Whatever it takes. We’re not going to leave the island undefended for another day.”

He sounded noticeably tired. She could only imagine it was the culmination of what he had gone through the last few weeks, coming through in his voice even if he didn’t mean for it to. So much of Will’s life was about making the right choices for the right reasons and internalizing most of it, and she hadn’t realized how draining all of that was until the last few weeks.

How did you do it all these months, Will? How did you not break down?

She was glad she was by herself on the Tower’s second floor. It was easier to talk to Will when no one else was around. She could let her guard down and for just a brief moment strip away the façade of leadership that they had given her, that she wasn’t certain she was capable of living up to.

I feel like every choice I’m making is the wrong one. Why aren’t you back here with me now, Will? Why are you still out there?

“It’s not undefended,” she said into the microphone. “I know it’s hard to believe, but we’re actually not nearly as incompetent as we seem.”

He chuckled on the other end. “Yeah, but I have a couple of M240s that’ll come in real handy when they try to land on the beach next time.”

“What’s an M240?”

“It’s a machine gun. Spits out enough lead really fast to make things uncomfortable for an invading force. Put two on the beach and we’re all set. What do you think?”

Machine guns. On the beach. It was as if she were living in a World War II movie.

“Lara,” he said when she didn’t respond right away.

“I’m still here…”

“I love you. Have I said that lately? I’ve always meant to.”

He said it with such seriousness that it made her catch her breath slightly.

“I love you, too,” she said, barely getting the words out.

“You hesitated for a moment,” he said. Was that an attempt at humor? Will was bad at jokes. That was Danny’s department.

“I didn’t,” she said.

“Don’t tell me you’ve found someone else. You always did have eyes for Blaine.”

“He’s already taken, so you can relax. No one’s replacing you yet.”

“I hear a warning in there somewhere.”

“Good, because I was afraid I was being too subtle.”

“Loud and clear, babe.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, how much longer until you come home?”

“Soon,” he said. “We’ll be on the road soon, and then home.”

She recycled through their conversation from yesterday. The farmhouse. The soldiers on the roads. The town of Dunbar…

“What happened to the soldiers from last night?” she asked. “I thought you said they had you surrounded at the farmhouse?”

“They did. But they were gone when the sun came up.”

“How did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything. They were just…gone. It doesn’t matter why.”

“Doesn’t it?”

“No.” He paused for a moment before adding, “What matters is that we should be back on the road in half an hour. If all goes well, we’ll be home by three or four today.”

“With Gaby and Danny…”

“That’s the plan.”

This time it was her turn to pause. After a while, she said, “What if it’s a trap, Will? The soldiers. What if they pulled back to ambush you further down the road?”

“Maybe. But we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.” Then, with more than a hint of approval in his voice, “You’re thinking like a soldier now. I like that.”

“I’ve been hanging around you and Danny for too long, picking up bad habits.”

“Danny will be happy to hear that. He likes spreading his bad habits around. Among other things. Smelly things.”

“I’m sure he does.”

“Lara…”

“Yes, Will.”

“I love you.”

Again, there was something in his voice, a surprising seriousness that made her wonder what was actually going on out there with him, Danny, and Gaby. He had told her what had happened last night at the farmhouse, how they had made it through, and that they were all “in one piece.” That should have comforted her, but Will’s idea of “one piece” was a little different than hers…and every other person in the world.

Despite all that, hearing him tell her that he loved her made her smile anyway. “I thought we already did this…”

“Do it again anyway.”

“I’m tired, Will.”

“You’re not that tired.”

“I slept inside the boat house on the beach last night. Did you know that? I think I clocked a few minutes total.”

“Ouch.”

“That’s what my back says.”

He chuckled again. “I’ll be home soon.”

“Promise?” she said. She realized how silly she sounded as soon as the word left her mouth, but she didn’t care, especially down here on the second floor alone with just Will on the other side of the radio.

“I promise,” he said. “Whatever it takes, whatever happens, you won’t have to face another night alone.”

“Because you’ll be here with me.”

“Yes…”

There was something about the way he said that. “Yes.” It should have put her mind at ease, because Will making a promise was as close to a sure thing as you could get these days. But the way he said it made her hesitate for some reason.

“Now,” he said before she could put her troubled thoughts into words, “what’s this Carly was saying about a new boat?”

“It’s a yacht.” Lara smiled. “And it’s big…”

CHAPTER 3 WILL

Sunrise brought the peace and tranquility that he always longed for, but also that nagging sense of incompleteness, because it was another day without Lara. How long had it been now? Weeks? It felt like months. Even his daily communications with her through the radio only left him needing more.

Feeling the morning’s warmth against his face after the brutal encounter of the previous night made him smile for the first time in hours. He should be grateful to have another day when so many people didn’t have that luxury. Lance was one of those poor souls, but Annie, his girlfriend, had made it through. So had the two girls that had come out of Dunbar with Gaby. Both Danny and Gaby had also made it, though, like him, they had seen better days.

So what else is new?

“Smells like a trap,” Danny said through the radio now.

Will picked up the two-way from the front passenger seat. “What does a trap smell like?”

“Warm and fuzzy, and not the nice kind of warm and fuzzy. Slightly odorous, with a hint of sewage.”

“Nice imagery.”

“I do my best.”

“We gotta find out one way or another, right? Can’t stay at the farmhouse another day, not after last night.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Last night was a hoot and a half. And you know how much I like my hooting and halfing.”

“How far are we from the interstate?” Gaby asked.

He didn’t have to look at the folded map on the seat next to him. He had been counting the distance ever since they left the farmhouse this morning. “Ten minutes, give or take.”

“Ten minutes to death,” Danny said.

“That’s the spirit.”

“Oh, sorry, did I say that out loud? My bad.”

Danny and Gaby were in the Nissan Titan behind him, carrying the two girls and Annie in the backseat. Their truck followed closely behind his, leaving just enough distance for both vehicles to stop on a dime and (retreat) maneuver around any obstacles, if necessary. Will drove the Toyota Tacoma by himself, the wind rushing in through the missing driver-side window. The Nissan was the bigger of the two vehicles, so it made sense for it to carry the others, including most of their supplies, while he used the smaller (and disposable) mid-size Tacoma.

“Is this really a good idea, Will?” Gaby asked through the radio. “Splitting up like this?”

“We’re not splitting up. We’re just making it harder for them to hit us with an ambush.”

“But if we know there’s an ambush up ahead…”

“Can’t be helped. We need to get home, and there’s only one way to do that. Straight ahead.”

“Right into the jaws of death,” Danny chimed in. “Oops. Did I say that out loud, too? Damn my charming mouth.”

Will understood Gaby’s apprehension. In fact, he shared it. But he had spent the entire night, while waiting for the second attack that never came, thinking about this, turning the options over in his head. There were always options, but some were more possible than others.

And time was against them. Time was always against them.

Time…and Kate.

“Like a certain little island that should have stayed quiet. This is what happens when you stick your head out and get my attention, Will. I grab a hammer.”

Kate was talking about Song Island. About the message Lara had broadcast out into the world.

How much of it was true? How much of it was just an excuse to attack? Kate wasn’t Kate anymore; this Kate, this ghoul Kate, wasn’t above a bald-faced lie.

But they had to get back home to Song Island. That was the only thing he knew with absolute certainty. Lara and the others had made it through yesterday thanks to a combination of guts and tough decisions, but what were the chances of that kind of favorable circumstances two straight nights?

Maybe, maybe not.

He couldn’t risk it, because the stakes were too high…and time was running out.

It was still a kilometer away from their position when Will took his foot off the gas, slowing the Tacoma from thirty-five miles per hour to thirty, then twenty-five, until he had stopped completely in the middle of the two-lane highway.

Route 13.

Not-so-lucky thirteen.

Then again, given how they’d managed to stay alive, maybe it wasn’t such a bad stretch of road after all.

He glanced at his left-side mirror. Danny, in the Titan behind him, had also parked and left a twenty-meter space between the two cars.

On cue, his radio squawked, and Danny’s voice came through. “Home sweet home.”

“Not quite,” Will said. “But we’re getting there.”

“You and what army?”

“You, me, the girls…”

“The bad guys don’t stand a chance…says the two idiots in the trucks about to drive right through an ambush.”

Will grinned. “Captain Optimism.”

“Hey, you know me, always bringing the funk. Just ignore the BO.”

“It’s getting harder by the day,” Gaby said.

“Ouch,” Danny said. “You really know how to hurt a guy’s feelings.”

Will leaned forward against the steering wheel and focused out the front windshield. The portion of the glass in front of him was dirty, but at least it didn’t have a bullet hole to obscure his vision like the passenger side half. Danny’s bullet had caused that, along with the bloody spot left behind on the seat and headrest.

He unzipped his tactical pack on the passenger seat, pulled out a pair of small binoculars, and peered through them. The same buildings from yesterday rose out of the flat scenery flanking the highway, looking like something humanity simply decided to drop into the middle of nowhere. The last time he was here, men on horseback had been trying to kill Gaby, forcing them to retreat backward. They couldn’t do that today. Going back was out of the question. Everything was in front of them, including the gray concrete structure on the other side of the buildings.

Interstate 10.

It would take him west toward a small town called Salvani. From there, it was a straight shot south down to Beaufont Lake and Lara. He needed to reach that stretch of gray concrete in the worst way.

“What do you see, Will?” Gaby asked through the radio.

It was a good question. What did he see, really? Seemingly empty (Yeah, right) buildings on both sides of the road, and I-10 beckoning them. This was the first sign of civilization other than the half dozen or so abandoned farmhouses they had passed since they took off this morning.

“Will?” Gaby said through the radio again. “What do you see?”

It’s not what I see, it’s what I don’t see.

Nothing and everything.

“The same feeder road businesses from yesterday,” he said into the radio. “And I-10 on the other side.”

“What about the posse from yesterday that tried to perforate our little Gaby?” Danny asked. “They didn’t seem like the ‘wander off and not come back’ types.”

“No signs of anyone on horseback.”

“Hunh. I guess my prayers last night worked. Now all I have to do is sit back and wait for that private jet to take me to Song Island. You guys can hop along if you want. I’ll only charge half-price.”

“You’re a swell guy, Danny.”

“Just don’t tell anyone. I got a reputation to maintain.”

Will reached over and pulled his M4A1 off the floor where it had been leaning against the hump between the two front seats. He laid it on the passenger seat with the stock facing him for an easy, fast grab.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” Danny said through the radio. “We gonna sit here on our hands and wait for your ghoulfriend to try her luck again?”

“‘Ghoulfriend’?” Gaby said.

Danny chuckled. “I came up with that, you know.”

“Somehow, I figured that, Danny.” Then Gaby said, “Are we really going to do this, Will?”

We don’t have any choice, Will thought, but said instead, “We have to get home. It’s not about the island. There are a thousand islands out there. It’s about the people on it. Lara, Carly…”

“…Maddie, Blaine…,” Gaby continued.

“Carly,” Danny added.

“He already said Carly.”

“I know, but she’s so special she deserves to be mentioned twice.”

“You’re such a charmer.”

“Why do you think Carly lets me do questionable things to her?”

“I think I just threw up a little in my mouth,” Gaby said.

“There goes breakfast,” Danny said. Then, “So, back to our little Sophie’s choice here. I don’t know about you guys, but I got people to see and things to shoot, and if that means pulling a Clint Eastwood and Gauntleting it through that little two-horse town, then so be it.”

“What’s Gauntlet?” Gaby asked.

“Damn, kid, what are you, a kid?”

“Kind of.”

“It’s a movie starring the baddest man alive, Clint Eastwood. Ol’ Dirty Harry plays a cop — of course — who has to get a witness to court in order to testify and all that good stuff. But in order to do that, he has to brave an army of gun-toting bad guys waiting to shoot him. Which he did.”

“Clint had an armor-plated bus,” Will said.

“And you got me. Same difference.”

“God, you guys are old,” Gaby said.

“Shut up and get off my lawn,” Danny said.

Will tuned them out for a moment, letting the group of buildings in front of him fill his vision.

Options. What were his options?

There were a couple, but all of them would take time. Too much time. That was the one thing he didn’t have at the moment.

“Like a certain little island that should have stayed quiet. This is what happens when you stick your head out and get my attention, Will. I grab a hammer.”

Time. They were always running out of time.

Will put the truck back in gear, but didn’t take his foot off the brake.

“Well, make up your mind already,” Danny said through the radio. “Some of us got places to go and things to do, ya know.”

“Stick to the plan,” Will said. “Understand?”

“About damn time.”

“Will, are you sure?” Gaby asked.

No, he thought, but said, “Yes. Stick to the plan.”

“Okay,” she said, even though he could hear the obvious hesitation in her voice. “What about the machine guns? I can go out there and man one of them.”

She was talking about the two M240s mounted on the roofs of the Titan and Tacoma, each one capable of unleashing a hellacious number of rounds per second. But someone had to stand out there in the open in order to use them. That made them too easy a target. He knew, because both he and Danny had shot the two men who had been manning those guns a day earlier.

“No,” Will said. “You’d be too vulnerable back there. All it takes is one sniper on a rooftop and you’re done. Stay inside with Danny, and stick to the plan we came up with this morning. You’re in the full-size truck for a reason.”

“All right,” she said, but he could tell she still wasn’t the least bit convinced.

He didn’t blame her. He wasn’t convinced either, but he had spent all night and morning thinking about it, and it was the only path he could come up with.

Time. That was the culprit. There was so little time, and the island was still so far away…

“We’ll get home,” he had promised Lara. “Whatever it takes. We’re not going to leave the island undefended for another day.”

“Danny,” he said into the radio.

“That’s my name, don’t wear it out,” Danny said.

“We can’t let the island go undefended for another night. Agreed?”

Danny didn’t respond right away.

“Danny,” Will said. “Agreed?”

“Yeah,” Danny said finally. “Agreed.”

“Rangers lead the way.”

“Is that why your blinkers are still on? How many times have I told you about that? You’re making us look bad in front of the kids.”

Will grinned. “Okay, everyone. Ears up, eyes open, and guns within easy reach.”

“Roger, Roger,” Danny said.

“We’re ready back here,” Gaby said, and Will almost believed her that time.

If only we had more time.

If only…if only…

He took his foot off the brake and pressed down on the gas pedal, and the Toyota started moving forward again. At first slowly, then picking up speed. Five miles an hour, ten, then twenty, until the buildings in the distance started to grow with every passing second, including two large signs glinting under the sun. There were no indications of movement. Nothing that would tell him people had been gathering all morning.

What kind of game are you playing, Kate? I know you’re behind this. In the background somewhere, pulling the strings…

Something one of the blue-eyed creatures had said to him last night was still stuck in his head:

“Don’t worry,” it had hissed. “It’s not going to end that easily for you, Will. Kate made us promise her this time. I think she has big plans for you.”

He picked up the radio with one hand, keyed it. “Gaby.”

“Yeah,” she answered.

“Whatever happens, keep moving forward. Don’t stop to look back. Keep moving forward, because that’s how we survive. Understand?”

She didn’t answer right away.

“Gaby,” he said. “Do you understand?”

“I understand,” she said.

Will put the radio down and refocused on the road ahead. The sun poured streams of light down on the rooftops of the buildings gathered in front of him, and Will looked through the binoculars again, one hand on the steering wheel, and searched for glimpses of figures hiding on top of them.

Something. Anything.

Half a kilometer now, and getting closer…

He could make out more of the buildings, including two gas stations facing off across the street from one another — a Chevron and a locally-owned business called Palermo, their signs raised high and proud like dueling billboards. There were no cars parked along the pumps of either gas station that he could see. In fact, there were no vehicles in either parking lot.

Where did all the cars go?

You always found cars where there were businesses. That was one of the undeniable patterns of a post-Purge world. He was so used to seeing them abandoned in front of stores and gas stations and along streets and curbs that the total absence of them here was unnerving.

200 meters…

Route 13 wasn’t well-traveled — he knew that all too well after spending two days on it — but the spot next to a major interstate was still good for business. He put away the binoculars as a restaurant popped up to his right, a Domino’s to his left, and an auto body garage owned by a man named Ralph alongside a cellphone store.

150 meters…

A restaurant called Louie’s, next to a furniture place advertising new and secondhand inventory. They were having a sale for just this weekend…a year ago.

100 meters…

The buildings were one story high, which made their rooftops easier to spot from a distance. He couldn’t make out every detail, but if there was someone (someones) up there right now, they were well hidden. Of course, Josh’s boys would know they were already on their way. You couldn’t hide the sound of two trucks moving up a flat and empty road for miles. He didn’t discount the hidden presence of scouts around the farmhouse, either, or along the highway as they traveled across it. Men whose job it was to watch and radio ahead.

That’s what I would do.

He glanced briefly at the radio. He should call this off. Try their luck some other way. Use one of those other options he had considered this morning. Yes, they would take longer. Not just hours, but days…

Can’t afford days.

Not even close…

There was no getting around it. The enemy knew where they were going. Which made the lack of activity, the apparent nothingness of the road since they left the farmhouse, the stuff of nightmares. There was nothing worse than knowing that the bad guys knew you were coming. He had endured plenty of that during his time in Afghanistan.

Fifty meters…

He gripped the steering wheel with both hands and looked over to make sure the M4A1 was where he had left it. He did a last-minute weapons and inventory check, then gave the Titan behind him a second glance to make sure it was still back there.

Forty meters…

Now!

Will gunned it. He slammed down on the gas pedal until he felt it thud against the floor. The Tacoma leaped forward like a caged monster finally unleashed, its engine roaring exponentially louder and louder as he flooded it with gas. The truck bucked and fought under him, and it was all he could to do hold on with both hands on the steering wheel for dear life.

He didn’t have to look to know Danny was doing the same thing behind him in the Titan. He could always trust Danny. And he would need to, now.

The Domino’s to his left disappeared in a streak of red, white, and blue, then the restaurant to his right (something Onions; he hadn’t caught the rest of the name) did the same thing. Up ahead, the Chevron and Palermo rushed up toward him, their signs beckoning him forward, sunlight glinting off the sharp, metallic edges.

He kept the truck floored, the speedometer rising on the dashboard.

From thirty miles to forty, to fifty, to sixty—

The first shot came when he was almost at the gas stations. He didn’t know if he had caught them off guard, or if they had been waiting for him to get close all along. Not that it mattered. He had been waiting for it and his foot remained on the gas pedal as the bullet chopped into the side of the Tacoma; there was a loud-ringing ping! as it pierced metal.

Crack! A second shot fired, this one coming from his left, as another bullet went ping! off the other side of the truck.

There were a third and fourth shot, both producing their own ping! as they either ricocheted or punched through another part of his car.

A flicker of movement, and Will caught sight of the first sniper standing up on the square-shaped roof of the platform that covered the gas pumps of the Palermo to his right. The man’s form was silhouetted by the sun, and for a second — just a brief second — Will thought it was a ghoul, out here in daylight, armed with a rifle.

The sniper fired down on him on semi-auto. Will braced himself — at this distance, he didn’t think it would take much of a shooter to hit the windshield and him behind it — but there was no pain, because the man’s bullets weren’t landing. Or, at least, they weren’t piercing the windshield the way he had expected them to. The man, he realized quickly, was trying to hit the tire of the Tacoma.

They’re trying to shoot out the tires. Why are they trying to shoot out the tires?

Because they’re not trying to kill us. They’re trying to take us alive.

Why?

Kate…

“Don’t worry,” the blue-eyed ghoul had hissed at him last night. “It’s not going to end that easily for you, Will. Kate made us promise her this time. I think she has big plans for you.”

Kate, this is your doing, isn’t it?

“I think she has big plans for you…”

He glimpsed more figures rushing out of the Palermo store. Men in camouflage uniforms. Josh’s soldiers.

The second sniper was to his left, also standing on the platform over the Chevron’s gas pumps. But this one wasn’t shooting at him. The man was firing at the Titan coming up behind him.

The ping-ping-ping! of bullets bouncing off both moving vehicles rang up and down the street. He was amazed he could actually hear it over the loud roar of the Tacoma.

And there, up ahead—Interstate 10.

It was elevated, with a view of more businesses on the other side of its underpass. The turn was coming up. Right would take him onto the feeder road, then up and onto the interstate itself. Salvani was waiting for him on the other side. Then south to Song Island.

Easy as pie. All he had to do was make the turn now and—

There were two of them. Both trucks with large tires that made them look like hulking predators. One was black, and the other cherry red. They were massive against the sunlight, appearing out from behind the gas stations where they had been hiding all this time. There were uniformed men in the back, and though he was surprised by the lack of mounted machine guns, they made up for it with two shooters in the bed of each truck. He almost laughed at the sight of the four men in the backs trying desperately to hold onto the fast-moving vehicles as they were tossed around like rag dolls.

Will knew what they were trying to do. It didn’t take Patton to figure out their plan. The snipers were trying to shoot out his tires, and if that didn’t work, the two “monster” trucks bursting onto Route 13 directly in front of him right now would cut off his path to the interstate. It was so simple even a CPA masquerading as a soldier could have come up with it.

And I drove right into it. So who’s the sucker here?

He grabbed the radio and shouted into it, “Don’t stop! Don’t you let him stop, Gaby!”

“Will!” Gaby shouted back.

“Get to the island! Whatever you do, get back to the island!”

“Will!”

She might have said something else, but he had already dropped the radio and returned both hands to the steering wheel. His eyes were fixed out the windshield and on the two trucks. They took up positions in the middle of the road and parked nose-to-nose, both vehicles occupying the entire two lanes. The only way around them was up the curb and into the parking lots of either the Chevron or the Palermo, and there were already men in uniforms, carrying assault rifles and racing out of both gas stations. He counted at least half a dozen on each side.

Jesus Christ, Josh, where do you get all these assholes from?

He saw what was in front and to the sides of him, and Will knew what he would find even before he took a quick peek at the rearview mirror. He looked past Danny and Gaby in the Titan and saw two similarly large trucks appearing in the road behind them, blocking off their retreat.

The snipers were still shooting, trying to hit the tires but missing badly.

Amateurs, Will thought, wanting to laugh. Danny could have shot off the tires on a moving vehicle. If he had missed once, he would have corrected for the next shot. But these guys had already wasted half their magazines (if not more), and they hadn’t come close to knocking either the Tacoma or the Titan off course.

Better luck next time, boys!

They must have known he wasn’t going to stop, because one of the soldiers in the back of the cherry-red truck up ahead said something to the man standing next to him, and they both leaped off the vehicle. Two seconds later, Will smashed the front grill of the Tacoma into the noses of both parked trucks. They had stopped so close to one another (part of the plan, probably) that it didn’t take much to get both of them at the same time.

The loud crash! of metal against metal spun both vehicles out of the road, and he glimpsed a body flying through the air. Then, his vision blurred at the same time the airbag deployed and slammed into his face. His hands were ripped from the steering wheel by the blinding blow as the Tacoma spun out of control. It seemed to go round and round in a dozen revolutions, but he guessed it was probably more like one or maybe half of one, until it crashed into a streetlight pole, the sound of more metal grinding against metal piercing what little of his senses were still functioning.

He didn’t actually have to see the smoke flooding out from the crumpled hood to know it was happening. He could feel the steam filling up the cab, though that took a backseat to the pain pounding through every inch of his face and chest at the moment. The airbag had done its job and kept him alive, but it had also rendered him useless. He scrambled to push the nylon fabric out of his face and reached sideways for the M4A1.

Except the rifle wasn’t there anymore.

He was still looking for the carbine when the shooting outside broke through the haze. There was the loud ping-ping-ping! of bullets hitting their intended target — which wasn’t him.

The Titan. They were still shooting at Danny, Gaby, and the girls.

He waited to hear the sound of another crash to signal that the chase was over, that the Titan had also spun out. Maybe one of the snipers would finally get lucky. Even the sun had to shine up a dog’s ass once in its life, he thought.

But instead, the sound of ricocheting bullets seemed to become more distant with every passing second. Which had to be good news, right? If there was no crash, no screams, and the ping-ping-ping! was fading, that could only mean…

Faster, Danny. Get to Song Island. Save them.

Save Lara…

He was dazed from the impact, which made finding the rifle even harder. It was difficult to focus on the passenger seat, the sea of sprinkled glass, or the shattered window on the other side of the vehicle. The passenger-side door may or may not even still be connected to the car.

Was he losing consciousness? No. He had gotten hit in worse ways, and he’d always made it through. Besides, the airbag had saved his life—

Voices, coming toward him.

Will abandoned his search for the M4A1 and groped for his holstered Glock instead. He drew it and turned toward the door, somehow finding the handle despite the fact there were now three levers instead of one. He managed to grab the right one — or were all three the right ones? — and pulled.

A gust of cooling Louisiana wind hit him in the face, piling on the already throbbing pain. He stumbled out of the truck, almost lost his balance but somehow regained it, and saw the first man coming toward him with a rifle at the ready. The man hadn’t fired yet, which Will thought was stupid because he wasn’t going to hesitate.

He lifted the Glock, but before he could fire, something hit him on the side of the head. The blow stunned him and Will staggered to his left, his gun hand falling to his side. Suddenly the sidearm seemed much heavier than it should be. Like a bowling ball. Or maybe a really big metal pole. Gripping it was difficult.

And slippery. Why was it slippery?

A second blow to the same part of the head made him drop the gun. He stumbled, then was sitting on his knees a second later.

How’d he get down here? He didn’t have a clue. Things weren’t making sense. He still couldn’t focus on any one thing, especially not on the dozen or so pairs of feet surrounding him.

More voices. Men’s voices.

Garbled at first, but slowly, very slowly, he started to make out actual words and sentences. Which was a hell of a feat, given that he could barely keep his eyes open. He just wanted to lie down and go to sleep. That would be nice. When was the last time he had actually slept? Days? Weeks?

He couldn’t remember…

“Why are we keeping him alive?” someone was asking. He didn’t sound very happy about it.

“Shut up,” someone else snapped.

“I’m just saying, let’s just put him out of his misery.”

“You’re not in charge here.”

“Then who is?”

“She is.”

“‘She’? Who the fuck is—” the man started to say, but never finished.

She? Who is she? Why won’t someone answer him?

He should know the answer. And maybe he did. It was right there at the tip of his tongue. Or the edge of his brain. Or wherever it was that words came from. Or the letters that would form those words. And make a name.

She. Who is she?

I know that answer!

Hands grabbed and pulled him up, saving him from the hard concrete that was biting into his knees. He had lost the Glock and couldn’t find the rifle, but he still had his cross-knife. Ah. The trusty cross-knife. It had saved his and Danny’s lives on the first night of The Purge. It would be strapped to his left hip, still in its sheath.

If only he could reach down for it…

“What about the other truck?” a third voice asked. “Should we go after them?”

“Don’t worry about them,” the second man said. He was clearly in charge. “They’re not gonna get far.”

They were carrying him across the parking lot now. Which one? The Chevron or the Palermo?

He smelled old motor oil and spilled gas on the ground around him, all these months later.

Despite the cool air, he was still dripping sweat as he was carried across the parking lot. Curiously, his perspiration looked bright red for some reason.

Focus.

Focus!

The fact that he was still alive was all that mattered right now. As long as he was breathing, there were options available to him. He just had to see them — and seize the right one — when they presented themselves, and they would. They always did.

Don’t worry, Lara. I’m coming home.

I’ll just be a little later than expected, that’s all…

CHAPTER 4 GABY

She hadn’t said a word since Route 13 and was content to watch the vehicles strung along both sides of the interstate flash by in groups of two, three, and every now and then, a lone car that looked out of place. But mostly, there were just empty slabs of gray concrete, and despite the cars, she couldn’t shake the feeling of wandering through a barren and lifeless world.

She was numb all over and barely felt the wind against her face, flooding in through the shattered front passenger-side window. There were holes in the windshield and dry blood on the seat behind and under her, but she was used to the stains. It helped that they weren’t hers, but instead belonged to the men who had been in the vehicle a day earlier, when they had the misfortune of running across Will and Danny.

Danny drove with a singular determination, both hands on the steering wheel, his eyes seeking out ambushes that weren’t there. He was calm and steady, and to look at him, she wouldn’t know he was riding in a car that was covered in bullet holes. If most of that was a mask, Danny wore it well.

“Don’t stop! Don’t you let him stop, Gaby!”

She hadn’t had to convince Danny to keep going. He knew the odds and what was at stake, just like she did. Not that the knowing made abandoning Will back there any easier. If it was hard for her, it had to have been hell for Danny.

“Get to the island! Whatever you do, get back to the island!”

“Gaby,” a voice said behind her.

She turned and smiled back at Claire, who was sitting in the backseat with the FHN semiautomatic shotgun clutched between her legs, the barrel pointed up at the ceiling of the Nissan Titan. Claire was thirteen, but the girl already had the stern face of an adult and the lines around the eyes to match.

“I’m sorry about Will,” Claire said. She flicked absently at a strand of dirty blonde hair draped over her face. “He was a great guy. I really liked him.”

“Is,” Gaby said. “Will’s not dead yet. If he died that easily, then he wouldn’t be Will.”

Claire nodded back. Gaby couldn’t tell if the girl believed her (Had she been convincing enough, or did her own doubts come through despite her best attempts?), or if she was just humoring her. With anyone else — Milly, for instance — the latter wouldn’t have been possible, but Claire wasn’t anyone else. The girl had lost more than her share, and Gaby didn’t for one moment mistake her for just another “kid.”

She’s like me. We haven’t been kids for a long time now.

“How’s everyone doing back there?” Gaby asked.

“Scared,” Claire said, “but we’re okay.”

“We’re okay,” Milly said to the right of Claire.

Milly was thirteen too, with a round face and large eyes. One of these days, Milly would grow up and turn boys’ heads. Seeing the two girls side-by-side was always such an amazing contrast. Milly looked fragile and unready for the world, especially sitting next to Claire, with her dirty hair and steely resolve.

“Annie?” Gaby said, looking to Claire’s left.

Annie had been staring out the window the whole time, and she flinched noticeably at the sound of her name. She gathered herself and gave Gaby something that was supposed to be a smile. “I’m okay. You?”

“I’m in one piece. We all are, thank God.”

“I don’t know how,” the older woman said. “They were shooting from everywhere. I wasn’t this scared back at the farmhouse last night. All those guns, all those bullets… It’s a miracle we’re still alive. How are we even still alive?”

“I don’t know. Lucky, I guess.”

“I haven’t felt very lucky these last few days.” She attempted another smile, and it came out equally bad. “But I guess we’re owed a little, huh?”

“Yeah,” Gaby said. She thought about Lance. The other Lance. Annie’s boyfriend, and not one of the soldiers who had guarded her back in L15. The good Lance had died last night in a pile of rubble. “Song Island’s not far now. We have plenty of gas, and we’ll be there by noon today. Right, Danny?”

“Oh sure, you betcha,” Danny said without hesitation. “Smooth sailing now, kids. You got ’em, I suggest you smoke ’em.”

“Smoke what?” Claire asked.

“He’s just being funny,” Gaby said. “We’re getting there. Just hang on a bit more.”

Claire nodded. Annie, next to her, had already looked back outside the window at the seemingly never-ending wave of concrete dividers that separated the east and westbound lanes. Will had once told her about the thousand-yard stare that soldiers would get after a firefight, the result of being shell-shocked by combat. Annie looked like she was having one of those at the moment.

Gaby sat back in her seat and looked at Danny. “Were they just bad shots back there? Was that how we survived?”

“No one’s that bad,” Danny said. “They were aiming for the tires.”

“The tires?”

She took a moment to digest what he had said. The tires? They were shooting at their tires? Was that why they had missed the windshield? Every second during the ordeal, she had waited and waited for the first bullet to punch through the glass or the roof and kill her, Danny, and the girls in the back. It would have been easy, because the snipers were firing down on them without anything at all blocking their view.

Instead, all she could remember was the ping-ping-ping! of bullets hitting the sides of the vehicles.

He’s right. They were trying to shoot out the tires.

“Why were they doing that?” she asked him.

“Because they were trying to stop us, not kill us,” Danny said. “The only reason we survived back there was because they were trying to take us alive.”

“They didn’t seem to care whether we lived or died yesterday.”

“Different day, new orders. The only thing you can count on as a grunt in the field is the higher-ups sitting around in their comfy chairs back at headquarters, changing their minds from day to day.”

“So someone changed the orders. Who?”

Danny didn’t answer right away. Gaby watched him closely. She looked past the bruises, the broken nose that was still healing, and the cuts that covered a face that always used to remind her of a transplanted California surfer, even though she knew for a fact Danny had never lived anywhere else outside of Texas after his Army days.

“Danny,” she pressed. “Whose orders were they following back there?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.”

“Bullshit. I know you well enough to know when you’re lying.”

He looked over and grinned. It was a valiant attempt, but it wasn’t anywhere close to being the usual Danny grin, and she thought he probably knew it, too.

“You sound like Carly,” he said.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” Then, “Tell me, Danny.”

“I don’t know for sure…”

“But you know something.”

“Willie boy and I talked about it on and off. She’s been dogging him since she went turncoat.”

Gaby knew who Danny was talking about without hearing the name. She had heard it often enough. Not from Will or Danny, but from Lara and Carly. The topic never came up on purpose, but something would happen that reminded them she was out there. Both women had known her in the early days of The Purge, especially Carly, and they knew what she had become later, and still was now.

Out there, somewhere.

“You know about her and us,” Danny said. “More specifically, her and him.”

“They were at the underground bunker in Starch, Texas, together. You all were.”

“She came back with a vengeance while we were out there looking for you. A few nights ago, she made one of her patented appearances in his dream. Or nightmare. Foggy walkabout.” He shrugged. “Whatever you want to call it. She was there, and she showed him that whole mess in Dunbar.”

“With Harrison…”

“Uh huh.”

She paused. Gaby didn’t want to say the woman’s name, but she had to make sure. “Are we talking about the same person, Danny?”

He looked at her and mouthed the word, “Kate.”

She knew the name, but hearing Danny say it — even if he didn’t actually say it out loud — made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

Kate.

Will’s Kate.

And now her men — her human hands and feet in the daylight — had him. That was the bad news. The good news was that knowing that Kate was behind all of this made it easier to accept that Will was still alive back there, and that, ironically enough, buoyed her spirits. Because he was Will, and as long as he was still breathing, there was a chance.

“Someone once told me I’m too stubborn to die,” he had said to her not all that long ago. “Okay, more than one person, actually. There’s a good chance it could be true.”

For the first time since the shooting stopped, Gaby found herself smiling into the wind.

They didn’t stop for another thirty minutes, when Milly declared she couldn’t go another mile without using the bathroom. Of course, there wasn’t a bathroom or a roadside rest stop anywhere nearby, so Danny parked the Titan in the middle of the highway, and Milly jumped out and ran behind a blue sedan.

Gaby climbed out to stretch and look over the damage from the ambush. Danny was right when he said the shooters had been trying to disable the car instead of killing them. The bullet holes were all concentrated around the four tires, which by some miracle had all made it through in one piece. She didn’t know what they would have done if one of the shooters had actually managed to puncture a tire. Did they even have a spare in the back somewhere? What would have happened if they had lost two tires?

Danny hobbled out of the truck on the other side. For a guy moving on one good leg — the one encased in a makeshift split that was really just floorboards and duct tape — he had driven amazingly well throughout. He was still grimacing with every step, and when he turned his back to her, she heard the clinking of pills in a bottle he had retrieved from one of his cargo pants pockets.

She wished she could say seeing Danny hurt was a novel thing, but the sad truth was they were all hurt. Their entire life since The Purge had been a series of running and fighting, and that kind of existence tended to leave scars and bruises. If they weren’t struggling against the creatures in the night, they were braving their human lackeys in the day. Thank God those same men couldn’t shoot for crap, or they might have been dead a dozen times over by now.

The sun beat down on her as she peered down the highway. Will was back there, somewhere, captured by those very fallible humans right now.

“Someone once told me I’m too stubborn to die.”

She smiled again. Those same men were going to find out just how stubborn he was very soon. As long as Will was breathing, she had faith he’d find his way back to the island. Or wherever Lara ended up, anyway.

Gaby glanced around her to make sure they were alone. I-10 consisted of four lanes, two on each side, and had become low to the ground as they left Route 13 far behind. The east- and westbound lanes were separated by a tall divider with a healthy stretch of shoulder on both sides of the concrete barricade. Tall walls of wood flanked them, and it had been ten minutes since they last drove past a business advertising seafood and “Good Eats.” There hadn’t been anything else since, which made stopping here ideal.

With the truck’s engine turned off, they would be able to hear another vehicle coming for miles. More than enough warning to get back in and flee. It still nagged at her that the soldiers hadn’t pursued them from Route 13. They had chased after them on foot for a while, but those large trucks that had tried to block their path, the same ones Will had barreled into with the Tacoma, or the ones that had cut off their retreat, hadn’t pursued.

They have a plan. Whoever’s leading them, has a plan.

Is that you out there calling the shots, Josh? Is that you doing Kate’s bidding?

She looked down at her watch: 10:16 A.M.

It felt like evening already. The temperature had lessened noticeably when they stepped out of the farmhouse this morning. It was hovering around seventy degrees at the moment, pleasant enough that she almost didn’t realize for the first time in a long time that she wasn’t sweating profusely under her clothes while standing out in the open.

According to the map they carried with them, they were already halfway to Lake Charles. It would take another hour of driving at a decent rate of speed to get there. From there, the town of Salvani wasn’t far off. Once they made it past that, it was south toward Song Island. Smooth sailing.

Because everything up to this point has been smooth sailing so far, right?

Danny leaned against the driver side door and looked across the hood at her. “How’re you holding up, kid?”

“I’m still standing,” she said. “You?”

“Got me a busted face, with a busted nose, and a busted leg. Other than that, I feel super duper awesome.”

“Glad to hear it.”

Danny was looking past her at the girls. Annie had walked over to join Milly behind the sedan, while Claire was standing watch with that shotgun of hers and looking back down the highway, as if she, too, expected someone to appear in pursuit of them at any moment.

“Where are they, Danny?” Gaby asked. “They had trucks. Maybe more, stashed behind those buildings. But they just let us go. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Danny said. “Maybe because they got what they wanted.”

“Will.”

“Yeah.”

“That would make sense, if she’s the one pulling the strings like you thought.”

“Oh, it’s her, all right,” Danny said with absolute certainty. “I told him never to pick up the psychos. They have separation issues. Plus, he shot her. That tends to sour a relationship, which is why I always try to avoid shooting my girlfriends.”

Gaby smiled. It came out easily that time, and Danny looked pleased with himself as a result.

I guess we both needed that.

“Come on,” Danny said, “let’s keep truckin’. Mother always said not to look a gift horse in the mouth. If we can get to Song Island by three or four, I’ll be a happy little boy with bells on his feet.”

“Should we radio ahead? Tell them we’re coming?”

Danny shook his head. “Not yet.”

“We should tell them we’re coming.”

“We will, when we’re closer, but…not yet.”

“Why—”

“I don’t know what to tell her,” he said, and climbed back into the Titan without another word.

Lara. Danny was talking about Lara. As much as they both believed that Will would be fine, that as long as he was breathing he would find them (Maybe even beat us to Song Island), a part of Danny had doubts.

But she didn’t.

Did she?

“Girls!” Gaby called. “Let’s go!”

Milly and Annie headed back, clinging to one another and looking like mother and daughter. Claire stayed behind until the two had passed her, then she turned and jogged over.

“Next stop, Song Island?” Milly asked, looking brighter than she had all day. Or maybe that was just the sun shining in her face.

“Next stop, Song Island,” Gaby nodded.

“Sweet,” Claire said. “I’m going to drink cold water until I barf.”

The part of her that had been trained by Will and Danny, and that had been surviving out here by herself without them, knew that they weren’t going to reach Salvani without encountering resistance. The nineteen-year-old in her that was barely a year removed from her senior year of high school was holding out hope that it was a possibility.

She should have known better.

The first shot hadn’t finished its echo before the bullet punched through the front grill of the Nissan and Danny jammed on the brake. The truck swerved slightly, Danny fighting the steering wheel for control, face contorted into a tight grimace. He finally managed to stop the vehicle, freezing it in place across the two-lane highway, the nose barely a foot from ramming into the concrete divider.

That allowed Gaby to look out her glassless window and up the road at two nondescript trucks parked about fifty yards from them. They had looked like all the other derelict vehicles they had passed since Route 13, with nothing about them standing out. Which was why Danny had almost driven right up to them when the first shot shattered the calm midday air.

Except these cars weren’t abandoned, because there was a man peering back at her from behind a scope, the long barrel of his rifle leaning over the hood of the parked white Ford truck. The other vehicle was some kind of Chevy, and it sat along the shoulder. She thought she caught a glimpse of another figure moving around on the other side of its windows.

A flicker of movement drew her attention, and she didn’t have to turn very far to see a third man moving on the other side of the concrete divider, jogging up the highway toward them. The man’s head was bobbing up and down as he attempted to stay as low as possible, but he was doing a very poor job of it.

She twisted in her seat and shouted, “Get out the other side! Now now now!”

Then she was turning back around, opening her car door, and lunging out before she even realized what she was doing.

The other side, you idiot! Go out the other side!

Too late. Her M4 rifle was clutched tightly in her hands, though she didn’t remember when she had picked it up from where it had fallen during Danny’s chaotic struggle to regain control of the vehicle. As soon as her foot landed on the hard highway floor, she expected to pay for her dumb decision. When she heard the crack! of the rifle, instead of feeling pain in her chest, there was a buzzing sensation right next to her right ear. The bullet sailed past her and hit the roof of the car behind her before ricocheting into the air.

Two more shots rang out as she darted toward the back of the Nissan, the ping! ping! coming from behind her. She swore she could smell metal against metal. Maybe that was just her imagination, though she didn’t stop to ponder it. Instead, she grabbed at the top of the truck bed and used it to slingshot herself around the corner until she saw the back bumper and kept running until she was on the other side.

She was happy to see that Danny was on the highway and pulling Milly out after him with one hand, the other holding his beat-up M4A1. Claire and Annie were already huddled against the truck, using it as a shield.

“You okay?” Claire asked when Gaby crouched down next to her.

Hey, that’s my job, Gaby thought, but it took her a few seconds to stop her racing heartbeat long enough to respond. “I’m good. You?”

“I don’t think I was hit.”

She looked past Claire at Danny, who was depositing Milly next to Annie. “Danny…”

“I saw two,” he said.

“I saw three.”

“Where?”

“On the other side of the divider—”

“Check.”

“—behind the white truck—”

“Double check.”

“And behind the red Chevy.”

“Didn’t see that one,” Danny said. “You still running around with just the holes God gave you?”

She managed a smile. “Yes.”

“Good.”

Crack! A bullet punctured the front tire on the front passenger side of the Nissan. The truck dipped slightly just before a second shot rang out and the back passenger tire joined it.

“Sonsofbitches,” Danny grunted. “And I misplaced my Triple A card, too. Now how are we gonna get to Song Island on just two good tires?”

“Maybe we have some spares in the trunk?” Annie said.

Danny looked over at her, then grinned at Gaby. “Captain Optimism, this one.”

“I thought you were Captain Optimism,” Gaby grinned back.

“I’ve since decided to relinquish the title. It’s too much work—”

Crack! A third shot cut Danny off, and they heard the ping! as the bullet pierced the other side of the vehicle.

It didn’t take long for Gaby to smell it: gasoline.

She dropped to the ground and looked under the car and saw liquid pouring to the highway on the other side. “Danny, they shot the gas tank.”

“Oh my God, is the car going to explode?” Annie said, her eyes wide with terror.

“You watch too many movies,” Danny said. He looked behind them, back down the highway.

“What is it?” she asked.

“They’re pinning us down. Probably because they have reinforcements on the way.”

“Is this why they haven’t been chasing us? Because they knew that sooner or later we’d run into these guys?”

“Yeah, looks like it,” he nodded. “These buggers are a lot cleverer than I gave them credit for.”

“Is that a word?” Claire asked.

“What?” Danny said.

“‘Cleverer.’ Is that a word?”

Danny chuckled. “I got a dictionary back at the island. We’ll look it up when we get there, kid.” He looked past her at Gaby. “Let’s hope either the Ford or the Chevy is still drivable, ’cause we’re gonna need a new car if we wanna get there.”

“How are we going to get to them?” she asked. “They have us pinned down, remember?”

“Normally this is when I tell Willie boy to come up with a plan, but since he’s not…” Danny didn’t finish. He shook his head instead, the frustration visible on his face for the first time since Route 13. “Goddammit. I told him that plan of his was shit. You heard me, right? But no, he always had to have a plan. Well, shit on my bread and rye. That didn’t work out too well, did it?”

Gaby wasn’t sure if he was talking to her, the girls, or…someone else.

“Danny,” she said. “What do we do? How do we get out of here? If they’re content to just pin us down and wait for reinforcements, we can’t just sit here.”

Danny blinked up at the sun. “At least the weather’s finally nice. I was starting to think this place had only two decent things going for it — bad weather and bad weather.”

There was enough of a cool breeze that none of them had started sweating yet despite the harried last few seconds. The sudden shift in weather, from insufferably hot to almost chilly, was a strange feeling because it was already making her think about sweaters, or a jacket, or maybe even some thermal socks—

“Hey! You back there!” a voice shouted. “Can you hear me?”

It was coming from the guy closest to them, the one behind the divider to their left. Thirty yards? Unless the man had moved further up since she last saw him.

Danny scooted closer to the front bumper of the Nissan and leaned out briefly, then pulled back a second later.

“Close?” Gaby asked.

“Twenty-seven meters, give or take,” Danny said.

Gaby did the calculations in her head. Twenty-seven meters was…thirty yards. Give or take. So she wasn’t too far off. That surprised and pleased her. Will used to say that combat was like playing sports — after a while, you got so used to the speed and chaos that everything started to slow down.

Too bad I can’t put this skill on my college resume. Harvard would have been so impressed.

“Did you see if they were wearing uniforms?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Too well hidden.”

“Hey!” the man shouted again. “I asked you a question!”

“Fuck off!” Danny shouted back.

They heard laughter, then, “I guess that’s a yes.”

“What do you want?” Danny shouted.

“You know what we want!”

“World peace?”

More laughter, though this time it sounded slightly forced. The man clearly wanted them to think he was enjoying this, that he had no worries whatsoever.

Yeah, right.

“That too,” the man said. “But what I’d really like is for you to throw out your guns so we can have a talk.”

“Oh, is that all you want?” Danny said. “Just to talk?”

“Exactly!”

“I’m gonna have to politely decline and ask you to kiss my ass instead.”

“Har har,” the man said. “You’re a funny guy.”

“You think?”

“Absolutely. That’s why I’m going to shoot you in the face, funny guy.”

“Well that’s ironic, because that’s what I did to your mom last night,” Danny shouted back.

The man went quiet.

Danny looked back at Gaby and grinned. “Too much?”

“Come on, leave the moms out of this,” Gaby smiled back.

“Yeah, that was definitely uncalled for.” Danny glanced at his watch, then back down the highway again to make sure it was still empty. “Can’t stay here forever, kid. If their reinforcements aren’t already on the way, it won’t be long now.”

She craned her head a bit and listened, expecting to hear car engines approaching at any second, but the drip-drip-drip of the gas on the other side of the Nissan overwhelmed everything. The smell was also getting stronger, which meant the entire tank was going to be empty, or close enough, soon.

“Danny,” she said, “what are we going to do?”

He looked at the girls. At Claire, crouched with the large shotgun, which appeared somehow even larger in her small hands. At Annie and Milly, the two of them with their arms around each other. If they were even aware of what was happening, Gaby couldn’t tell.

His eyes finally settled on hers. “You and me, kid.”

“Yeah…”

“And me,” Claire said, looking at Gaby, then Danny. “I know how to use this,” she said, clutching and unclutching the shotgun. “I saved Will’s life last night.”

“Yeah, you did,” Danny nodded. “But that’s a close-quarters weapon. Those boys are at least half a football field away—”

Crack!

All three of them ducked on instinct, but instead of hearing the familiar ping! of a bullet hitting the other side of the Nissan, there was instead just the echo of the gunshot.

“What the hell?” Danny said. “What were they shooting at?”

Before she could answer, there was a second crack!, followed by the pop-pop-pop of a magazine being unleashed on something. Or someone.

A moment later, there was just the silence again.

Danny and Gaby exchanged another look.

Even Claire, between them, looked confused.

“You take that side, I’ll take this one,” Danny said.

Gaby nodded and looked at Claire. “Stay here.”

“But—” the girl protested.

“No,” Gaby said, cutting her off. “One day I’ll teach you how to use this,” she said, showing her the M4. “For now, all that shotgun’s good for is close range. You understand?”

Claire nodded grudgingly. “You’ll teach me one day.”

“Promise.”

Gaby nodded at Danny, then turned around and moved toward the back bumper. She leaned out and looked up the highway. The white Ford was where she last saw it, about fifty yards up the road. The red Chevy was still parked across from it, but there were no signs of the men she had seen earlier.

“Anything?” she said, looking back at Danny.

He was leaning out too, when he pulled back and shook his head. “Squadoosh.”

“The guy behind the divider?”

“No signs of him.”

“What’s going on, Danny?”

“Hell if I know.” Then he sighed. “Stay here.”

“No,” she said, and lunged out from behind the bumper and into the open before he could protest.

Maybe it was a little bit courage, a little bit stupidity, or just a lot of adrenaline. Either way, she was sick and tired of hiding, of being hunted, and Gaby practically ran up the interstate with her rifle in front of her, eyes zeroing in on the two vehicles, looking for a head, a body, or just a limb. Something—anything—that she could shoot.

She was, she realized, just too pissed off to think clearly at the moment.

And Danny wasn’t trying to stop her. Instead, he had somehow hopped the divider and was moving up the highway at the same time and keeping pace with her, which was amazing given that he was limping the whole time, and she was pretty sure he was in extreme pain by the way he was grimacing with every inch.

“Don’t shoot!” a voice shouted.

It was male, but not the same one who had been trading barbs with Danny earlier. This one was coming from behind the Chevy.

Gaby went down on one knee and lined up her scope on the red truck. She was halfway to her target and wanted desperately to find cover, but there was none around her. She was out in the open, but at least she had her rifle. A year ago, the idea of dying with her weapon clutched in her hands would have been surreal. These days, it was the best-case scenario she could hope for.

She screened the car windows, looking for signs of a head—something.

But the man was smart and remained hidden.

She sneaked a peek at Danny and saw him moving steadily up the highway on the other side of the concrete barrier. He was twenty-five yards from the truck and getting closer, and it didn’t seem like the shooter had noticed him.

“Gaby!” the voice said.

The sound of her name sent chills through her.

What the hell?

Danny had stopped ten yards from the closest vehicle and went into a crouch. She could just barely make out the top of his head on the other side of the structure, but she knew he had reacted exactly the same way she had — confused and surprised by the sound of her name.

“Gaby!” the man called again. “Don’t shoot!”

“Who the hell are you?” Gaby shouted back.

“I’m throwing out my weapon!”

“Do it!”

An AR-15 skidded across the highway from behind the Chevy. It didn’t stop until it had gotten ten feet from the back bumper. A second later, a Glock followed, landing a few feet from the rifle.

“I’m unarmed!” the man shouted.

“Come out with your hands up!” Gaby shouted, trying to inject as much menace into her voice as possible.

She didn’t have a clue what was happening. Where did the other two men go? Was there some kind of gunfight? A betrayal? Was the last remaining man trying to surrender to them? Was this some kind of trick? If it was, it was overly elaborate, because the shooters had them pinned. They had all the advantage and this…this didn’t make any sense at all.

What the hell is going on?

“Gaby!” the man shouted again.

There was something in the way he said her name, as if he knew her. As if they were close. Except she didn’t recognize the voice.

Or did she?

“Yeah?” she shouted back.

“You don’t recognize my voice, do you?” the man asked.

Not a goddamn clue.

“Maybe!” she said instead. “Come out and show yourself!”

“Coming out!” he said. “Tell the guy behind the divider not to shoot!”

Danny stood up on the westbound shoulder and took aim as the figure stepped out from behind the truck, his hands raised above his head. She immediately picked up the camouflage uniform, with the familiar white star insignia above a name tag and a patch with the Louisiana boot on one shoulder.

The man walked toward her. The sun was behind him, and instead of providing the clarity she needed, the light instead turned him into a silhouetted figure whose face was hidden almost completely in shadows.

“You really don’t recognize my voice?” he asked. She thought he sounded almost hurt.

“No,” Gaby said, standing up. She hadn’t lowered her rifle, and neither had Danny. She squinted against the sunlight, trying to see his face. “What happened to the other two?”

“I shot them.”

“Why?”

“I had to, or they would have killed or captured you. I couldn’t let either of those things happen.” He paused, then added, “Has it really been that long? You really don’t remember me…”

By now, Danny had reached the trucks and climbed back onto their part of the highway. He hobbled his way around the Chevy and then peered behind the white Ford.

“Danny?” Gaby called. “What do you see?”

“Two bodies,” Danny said. “Looks like he’s not lying. He took them both out.”

“I told you,” the man said.

“Who the hell are you?” Gaby said.

“Can I come closer?” he asked.

She nodded. “Slowly…”

He continued walking toward her, making a concerted effort not to move his hands too much or lengthen his stride to give the impression of aggression. He was taller than her, though not by very much. Maybe five-ten to her five-seven.

“They made me cut my hair,” he said. When he got to within ten yards of her, he stopped and she could finally see his face.

“You,” she said, the word coming out as barely a whisper.

“Too bad, too,” Nate said, smiling wryly at her. “Chicks dug the Mohawk.”

CHAPTER 5 LARA

Will would have taken Gage into the back of the boat, made him stand next to the railing, then shot him in the back of the head and let the body drop to the water below. And Lara wouldn’t have lifted a hand to stop him, or think about it ever again. Will did what had to be done and though it sometimes stayed with him, he never looked back on it with regret. Or, at least, he never let her think that he did.

She wasn’t Will, though.

Instead of putting Gage out of his (their) misery, she decided to use him, always keeping in mind what the man was capable of. She had no doubts there were crimes he had committed since The Purge that she didn’t know about and that he would never willingly confess to, but she knew what he had intended to do to the island. He had admitted as much, and Keo had told her what he had overheard Gage and his first mate, the man without the head inside the bridge, discussing before he opened fire on them.

“They’ve done it before,” Keo had said. “A lot of times, from the sound of it. They might as well be talking about the weather.”

“And you’re sure?” she had asked, looking him in the eyes because she needed to know with absolute certainty.

Keo had nodded. “I’ve breathed the same air, eaten with, and lived with guys like Gage. Trust me when I tell you, what they had in store for the island would have turned your stomach.”

She believed him. Every word of it.

It took her a full hour to walk the entire 140-something feet of the Trident, slipping in and out of its three decks. The interiors were surprisingly roomy, each section broken down for crew, guests, and the owners. She ended up back on the first deck where she had arrived with Maddie and the others earlier before moving through the passenger cabins, then the crew quarters further up front. The second deck (or main, as Keo called it) contained a complete dining room that was part of a large entertainment area with a bar on the side. It was big enough for a dozen people to gather around without bumping into each other.

An owner’s cabin took up the majority of available space up front, with a window that opened up onto a terrace overlooking the front of the yacht. She walked past a king-size bed, its well-used satin sheets tossed across the floor. There were spots of dried blood on the expensive carpeting, along with a pile of men and women’s clothes. She did her best to not think about who they belonged to or how they had gotten there, or where their owners were at the moment.

“Trust me when I tell you, what they had in store for the island would have turned your stomach.”

When she stepped outside the terrace, she had no trouble picking up Jo, Bonnie’s little sister, standing guard in the boat shack on the beach. The yacht had been moved a little closer to the island and they could have swam back and forth if they needed to, though of course using the boats was easier — and drier.

Jo saw her and waved, and Lara returned it.

She felt odd standing out there as if this rich man’s toy belonged to her, especially knowing what Gage and his “friends” had been using it for. So she hurried back inside, giving the posh bed and furniture a longer second look. Eventually they’d have to dump most of it. The boat was diesel-powered, and although she was sure it probably wouldn’t make much of a difference, the idea of leaving all these luxuries onboard felt wrong. Besides, they’d need the extra room sooner or later, and she’d rather everyone fit than be comfortable.

She moved back through the deck, past all the signs of money, from the large screen TVs that curved along with the wall to the bottles of liquor and wine behind the bar (albeit most of them appeared empty) to abstract paintings from people she had never heard of, but knew that each one probably cost more than she had ever made in her life up to this point. That might have changed if she had ever finished medical school and become an honest to goodness doctor. Those dreams were long gone, though, especially now with Zoe taking her place on the island.

So what am I now?

I guess we’ll find out tonight.

Her boots left behind white sand from the beach on the expensive flooring. Some kind of glossy wood…or something. The wall paneling that adorned the place looked like it might have cost more to install than her three years of medical school. Her mind wandered back to the yacht’s previous owner. Dead now. She hadn’t bothered to ask Gage how the man had died. It didn’t matter. Dead was dead.

Well, not really, but close.

She stepped outside onto the patio and leaned over the railing. Maddie was below her on the lower deck, busy fastening a plastic raft in place in case they needed it. The lifeboat that was supposed to be in the spot where Maddie was putting the raft now was, of course, lying somewhere at the bottom of the lake, along with its two occupants.

Two down. That leaves one.

So where’s the eighth guy?

Lara unclipped her radio and keyed it. “Blaine, come in.”

“What’s up?” Blaine said.

“Anything yet?”

Blaine and Roy were two decks below her in the engine room, searching for a man who may or may not actually exist. Lara had gone down there and taken a look herself, but it was like stepping into the belly of a submarine — she didn’t have a clue what she was looking at. It did make her glad she hadn’t actually shot Gage earlier. Whatever the man was — and he was a lot of things, most of it bad — he still possessed knowledge that none of them did. She was going to exploit that until she didn’t need to anymore.

After that, well…

“It’s dirty down here,” Blaine said through the radio, “but so far no signs of the eighth guy. But I can see why he’d be down here, though. This place is a maze. There are nooks and crannies and places I don’t even have names for.”

“A lot of places to hide?”

“Too many. We’d need more time and manpower to look everywhere. And if he knows the place as well as Keo thinks he does, then he’ll know where to hide from us. Or move around without being seen or heard.”

She didn’t know what she had expected. That the eighth guy would voluntarily give himself up after hiding out all night? She was hoping, maybe, but she always knew it wasn’t going to happen.

Of course not. Because that would have been too easy.

“Okay,” she said into the radio. “Finish searching what you can, then get back up here. Once you’re outside, seal the engine room. If he’s down there, we’ll just have to be satisfied with locking him in.”

“What about the engine?”

“What about it?”

“What if he sabotages it?”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t that what people usually do in the movies? To keep us from launching a nuke or shooting someone important? Or, in this case, using the boat?”

Sabotage? She hadn’t thought of that.

So what else hadn’t she thought about?

“Or he could just do enough damage so we can’t use it, but he can fix it later,” Blaine said.

“Blaine, you’re overthinking it.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” she said, doing her best to sound confident. Did it work? Was she just fooling herself? She added, “Finish up and get up here. Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it.”

“You’re the boss,” Blaine said.

So everyone keeps reminding me. God help us all.

She clipped the radio back to her hip. Maybe the eighth guy didn’t even exist, and Gage was playing games with them. Or maybe the man didn’t know how to count. Either way, she didn’t like the mere prospect of having someone running around on the boat who could hurt one of her people. Not that she could do anything about it at the moment. At least, not without more manpower.

Below her, Maddie was looking up in her direction. “I always wanted my own personal yacht!” she shouted.

“What were you going to name it?” Lara called down.

“Jaxon. With an x.”

“Ex-boyfriend?”

“I wish. He didn’t know I existed.”

“Well, now you have a yacht. That’ll teach him.”

Maddie laughed, then went back to cinching the craft into place.

Lara looked down at her watch. It was almost ten.

Will had called two hours ago. He wouldn’t call again for another few hours, until he was almost at the island. She had wanted to ask him to make it three contacts instead of their usual two, just for today, but had decided against it. Will had other things to worry about out there, like men in uniforms with assault rifles. The less she put on his plate, the more energy he could devote to actually surviving. God knew that was difficult enough on an island that didn’t move, but to be constantly hounded and chased out there in the open…

Hurry home, Will.

She glanced over at the shoreline in the distance. She couldn’t quite see the burned-down marina or the two-story house with the naked eye, but if she squinted long and hard enough, just maybe…

Her radio squawked, and Carly’s voice came through. She sounded anxious and even slightly out of breath. “Lara, come in.”

She answered as fast as she could. “What’s wrong?”

“Can you hear it?”

“Hear what?”

“I guess you can’t hear it,” Carly said. “Boat motors. They’re coming toward us from the north.”

“Did you say ‘motors’? Plural?”

“Yeah. Benny says he can see two of them right now.” She paused, then added, “Benny says there are men in camo army uniforms on both of them.”

Already? In the daylight?

She pressed the transmit lever again, said, “Keo, did you hear that?”

“I’m on my way to the Tower now,” Keo said.

He was back at the hotel, having returned earlier to get out of last night’s damp clothes and escort Gage over to Zoe in order to get his wound treated. She might have entertained the idea of killing the “captain” earlier, but now that she accepted how valuable he could be, they had to keep him alive, even if he only had one good leg left. She only needed what was inside his head, anyway.

“Blaine, Roy,” Lara said into the radio.

“Where do you want us?” Blaine answered.

“Stay on the boat and guard the yacht.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” Then, “Maddie, get the boat ready.”

“Readying,” Maddie said, already climbing onto the bass fishing boat tied to the back of the Trident below her.

Lara hustled down the rung of stairs. She hadn’t set foot on the lower deck for more than a few seconds when her radio squawked again.

“Lara,” Carly said through the radio.

“Where are they now?” she asked.

“Still at the same spot. But remember when I said there were two boats?”

“Yes…”

“They just got friends,” Carly said. “There are four of them now.”

Are they really attacking? In the daylight?

Maybe I was wrong about them. About what they would do. What they could do.

What else was I wrong about?

Four boats. If they had two men in each one, that was eight soldiers. That was the best-case scenario, anyway. It was more likely there would be more than just two per vessel. Like four. She remembered that night when Karen’s people tried to retake the island. There had been around four per boat then.

The worst-case scenario had sixteen heavily-armed men sent to kill them.

In the daylight? she thought again.

For some reason, she found herself hoping sixteen was the right number. Sixteen men, as menacing as that sounded, was preferable to twenty, or thirty, or God help them, forty or more. If Kate really wanted the island and to kill every living thing on it, she had plenty of collaborators willing to help her achieve that end. All those soldiers out there (like Josh) running around rounding up survivors who hadn’t capitulated to the ghouls yet was proof of that.

But still…sixteen?

She was jogging up the pier, having hopped out of the boat even before Maddie finished sidling alongside it. Lara was amazed how comfortable she had become with moving while carrying a full arsenal strapped to her body. The gun belt didn’t even feel heavy anymore, and she hardly noticed the M4 thumping against her back. She had even become used to the weight of the ammo pouches, the handgun, and the knife on her left hip.

Look at me, ma. All armed and a lot of men to kill.

She unclipped her radio and keyed it as she leaped off the pier and landed on the cobblestone pathway that wound its way from the beach to the hotel grounds beyond the wall of trees in front of her. “Talk to me, guys.”

“Four boats, two men each,” Keo said through the radio.

Two men per boat? That didn’t make any sense.

Why so few? And why in the daylight?

“Small boats?” she asked.

“Nope,” Keo said.

She couldn’t tell if he was just as confused as she was. It was hard enough to hear nuance over the radio, but Keo, like Will, had a bad habit of not giving away his thoughts, even up close and personal. And she knew Will. As much as she had put her trust and the lives of her people in Keo’s hands, she had to constantly remind herself that he was still a stranger.

“It doesn’t look like this is an attack run,” Keo added.

“So what are they doing?”

“Watching us back with binoculars.”

A scouting mission? Was that it? Was that all this was?

“How far?” she asked.

“About half a kilometer.”

“Can you take a shot?”

“You mean you want me to shoot them?” he asked, almost…was that befuddlement?

“Yes,” she said, racing between the trees.

She was momentarily alarmed by the sudden dip in temperature as she jogged up the cobblestone pathway. The island had cooled down noticeably in the last few days, but with the plentiful shade provided by the towering walls of trees to both sides of her at the moment, she felt as if she was running through a pristine valley.

“Um, no,” Keo was saying through the radio.

“Why the hell not?”

“I can’t make the shot. Who do you think I am, an ex-Army Ranger?”

She sighed. “Never mind. Just keep an eye on them for now.”

“Now that, I can do.”

Bonnie was on the front patio of the hotel waiting for her when she emerged out of the woods. The ex-model had her rifle and looked like she had just woken up, which was probably not too far from the truth. Bonnie was tired, but then, they were all getting by with less sleep these days. It was just another privilege of surviving in a post-Purge world.

Adapt or perish, right, Will?

“I heard on the radio,” Bonnie said. “Where do you want me?”

“Stay in the hotel,” Lara said as she jogged past Bonnie. “The girls. Watch the girls!”

Bonnie nodded before heading back into the hotel.

It took Lara another few minutes to finally reach the Tower, a tall structure — a combination lighthouse and radio tower — on the northeastern edge of the island. It stood next to a cliff overlooking Beaufont Lake and was tall enough at forty meters to give them a perfect view of the entire island and the surrounding lake and its shorelines. Will called it a perfect sniper’s perch, and she supposed that was true. Unfortunately for her, there was no one on the island at the moment who was good enough with a rifle to actually make use of it. Still, it served other purposes, like an early warning device in case of an attack.

Or boats of undetermined motives approaching, like now.

What the hell are they doing out there? If this isn’t an attack, then what is it?

She climbed the cast-iron metal staircase up the three floors and was laboring badly by the time she poked her head through the third floor’s opening. The Tower’s second and third floors had four windows in each direction, and Keo was standing at the north one, now peering out with binoculars. He had changed into dry cargo pants and a sweater and had that German submachine gun slung over his back. For the life of her, she didn’t understand why he didn’t switch to an M4, which had a much better range.

Even as she thought that, Lara almost laughed at herself. When did she get so comfortable with all of this that she was seriously considering telling a man like Keo what made for a better weapon? A year ago, she had thought every gun had a safety and didn’t know the difference between a clip and a magazine.

She had managed to regain some of her composure and wasn’t nearly hyperventilating as much when she stepped through the door. “Where’s Benny?”

Carly looked back at her from the south window. “Keo sent him down to the northwest cliff in case they had managed to sneak someone closer when we weren’t watching.”

“Did they?”

“The kid hasn’t seen anything,” Keo said.

“Benny’s still hurt.”

“He’s fine enough.” He handed his binoculars to her as she walked over. “North. That means they came from the same staging area I told you about.”

“The same one you’ve hit twice now.”

“That’s the one.” He smirked. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or annoyed by their refusal to abandon that place. A part of me feels just slighted enough to go back there and hit them a third time.”

“Hey, you shoot the grenade launcher, and I’ll drive,” Carly said.

“I thought you were leaving soon,” Lara said to him.

“That’s still the plan,” Keo said. “But I had a few minutes to kill.”

“Thanks.”

He gave her a noncommittal shrug, then pointed again. “See them?”

It was impossible to miss them with the binoculars. Even half a kilometer away, they looked clear as day drifting on the water. It wasn’t as if they were trying to hide. A couple of the men were standing and peering back at her with their own binoculars, while the rest seemed to be lounging about without a care in the world. All four boats were powered by outboard motors that were shut off, and the only sound was the crashing of waves against the rocky formations at the edges of the island outside the window.

There were only two in each boat, and although they were heavily armed, the way they were just loitering around made them look like fishermen hanging out for the day. Of course, the fact that they were all heavily armed and wearing what looked like army uniforms said otherwise.

“You’ve seen those before?” Lara asked. “The uniforms.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “They’re the same ones I’ve run across.”

“But are they Army?”

“As in US Army?”

“Yeah.”

“No.”

“You sure?”

“I’ve been around grunts all my life. Those aren’t standard army issue. They’re assholes dressing up in costumes.”

Carly chuckled behind them. “Damn, you and that silver tongue of yours, K-pop.”

“I try,” he said. Then, “My guess? Whoever’s in charge already knows that you know they’re coming. Maybe he figures there’s no point in hiding it.”

“Maybe it’s a she,” Carly said. “Just because it’s the end of the world doesn’t mean you can be a sexist pig, Keo.”

“My mistake. It could be an asshole chick calling the shots.”

“Better.”

“So what’s the point of this?” Lara asked, lowering the binoculars.

“Maybe just intimidation,” he said.

“That makes sense to you?”

“Beats the hell out of me. I just do the shooting. I don’t spend a lot of time thinking about the psychology of why, how, and when.”

Lara shook her head. “Well, I do spend a lot of time thinking about that, and none of this makes any sense to me.” She keyed her radio. “Benny, come in.”

“Benny here,” the young man answered.

“Are you seeing anything out there?”

“Nothing. I’m halfway to the western half right now, but so far, I don’t see anything.”

“How’s the leg?” she asked.

Benny had come to them with a broken leg, and she hadn’t expected very much out of him as a result. But the young man had proven himself more than capable, and with the help of a custom leg brace designed by Stan, he was moving around again. To help maximize his abilities, she had given him jobs that didn’t require a lot of constant movement, such as standing watch on the shack at the beach or in the Tower.

“It itches,” Benny was saying, “but I’m still mobile.”

“Okay, keep looking. I need to make sure they’re not trying something.”

“Roger that.”

“Carly?” Lara said, looking across the room. “Anything along the shoreline?”

“Not a thing,” Carly said. “If they’re out there, or planning something, they’re really being sneaky about it. Sneaky buggers, as Danny would say.”

The not knowing gnawed at her. What the hell were they doing out there? Or was Keo right? Were they just trying to intimidate them? Maybe whoever was in charge didn’t even know these bozos had come here? Maybe they were trying to figure out what all the shooting last night was about? Did they know about the yacht yet?

She had so many questions, and so few precious answers.

To keep her mind off the growing frustration, Lara keyed the radio again. “Blaine, come in.”

“Blaine here,” the big man answered.

“Anything on your end?”

“There’s nothing coming at us. It’s all quiet on this side.”

“Okay.” She put the radio down and glanced at Keo. He was staring out the window at the men in the boats. They were mostly stick figures with the naked eye, but that didn’t seemed to deter him. “So?”

“So?” he repeated.

“You’re the expert. What happens now?”

“I’m the expert?” he said, sounding amused.

“Compared to the rest of us? Yes.”

“They’re going to attack tonight, aren’t they?” Carly said behind them.

Keo did that noncommittal shrug again.

“What does that mean?” Carly said, echoing Lara’s own thoughts.

“Pretty sure, yeah,” he finally said.

Lara waited for him to elaborate, but he didn’t. She was about to press him on it when she heard the roar of outboard motors starting up. She looked through the binoculars as the four boats turned around and began moving away, back in the direction they had come.

“They’re leaving,” she said.

“They’ll be back tonight,” Keo said.

She handed the binoculars back to him, catching his eyes as he took it. “We could use you tonight.”

“Your boyfriend will be back by then.”

Hopefully, but I’ve been living on hope for so long, maybe I’m just deluding myself this time, too, she thought, but said, “I know, but we could still use your help.”

“I told you, army guys and me don’t get along.”

“After what you’ve done for us, I’m pretty sure Will and Danny aren’t going to have any problems with you, Keo.”

He didn’t reply right away. He hung the binoculars back up on the hook along the wall and looked across the room at Carly, who had also turned around and was watching him intently as well.

He turned back to Lara. “Look, I respect what you guys are doing here, fighting for this island. But you know my feelings about it. Sooner or later, this place is going to fall and you’re going to lose people. It’s not worth it.”

He stopped for a moment and seemed to be trying to gather his thoughts. Lara could tell talking things out wasn’t something Keo did on a daily basis and that this was all new territory for him.

“But I can tell I’m not going to change your mind,” he continued. “I hate to say it, but I’m a selfish bastard, and I can’t die for a cause I don’t believe in.”

She could see he was struggling with it, which actually surprised her. Will had called Keo a mercenary, and maybe he had been once upon a time. But he had clearly changed a lot since The Purge, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

Lara decided to take pity on him. She keyed her radio and said into it, “Maddie, come in.”

“Are they attacking?” Maddie asked through the radio.

“No. They left.”

“They just left?”

“Looks that way.”

“That’s good, right?”

“For now.” Then, “Maddie, I need you to prep one of the boats for Keo, like we talked about before.”

Maddie didn’t say anything for a moment. It took about five seconds, and Keo was watching her closely the entire time. Or was there something else going through his mind at the moment that she couldn’t read? She hated to admit it, but the only thing obvious on the man’s face was that long scar along the left side of his cheek. Other than that, she couldn’t read a damn thing from his expression.

“Roger that,” Maddie finally said.

“Thank you,” Lara said. “Sarah, come in.”

“Yes,” Sarah answered. She was back at the hotel with the kids, Bonnie, and the others.

“Put some supplies together for Keo. At least a month’s worth.”

“Is he leaving?” Sarah asked. It was impossible to miss the disappointment in her voice.

“Yes. I need it within the hour, okay?”

“Okay,” Sarah said.

Lara clipped the radio back to her hip.

“I could use some more weapons and ammo, too,” Keo said.

“You can take whatever you need from the basement.”

“The Army Rangers won’t mind if I raid their stash?”

“They probably will a little bit, but I won’t tell them and since you won’t be here to say otherwise…”

“Works for me. I guess all that’s left is to say good luck.”

“You too.” She shook his hand. “Thanks for everything. We couldn’t have gotten this far without you.”

“Yeah, watch yourself out there, K-Pop,” Carly said.

He smiled awkwardly back at her. If Lara thought Keo was bad at expressing his thoughts, he was even worse at saying good-bye, apparently.

She decided to take pity on him again. “I hope you find Gillian, Keo. I mean that.”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

She watched him step through the door, his footsteps clanging against the cast-iron stairs as he went down, and down… She didn’t know why, but Lara kept expecting him to pop back up through the opening and confess he wasn’t really leaving after all.

He didn’t, of course.

When they could barely hear his footsteps, she looked across at Carly. “We need to get ready for tonight.”

“Will and Danny should be back by then,” Carly said.

“I know, but we need to get everything and everyone ready anyway until they do get here. Besides, it’ll give everyone something to do, keep their minds off other things.”

“You’re the boss, boss.”

“Until then, I’ll get Stan up here with you.”

“What about Benny?”

“Keo had the right idea. He’s better out there making sure they don’t sneak up on us before nightfall. I should have thought of it myself.”

“Yeah, but Stan?” Carly said. “He’s an electrician, Lara.”

“He’s an electrician, I’m a failed medical student, and you were a teenager before all of this. We adapt or perish, remember?”

Carly sighed. “I hate it when you get all bossy.”

“Hey, you’re the one who made me boss, remember?”

“Me and my big mouth.”

Lara glanced at her watch. 11:30 A.M.

It wouldn’t be long now until Will radioed to tell them he was almost at the shoreline and for her to get a boat ready to pick him up. She would probably need to use the pontoon, because Will was coming with more than just him, Danny, and Gaby. And there were those M240 machine guns he had promised her.

In just three — maybe four — hours, she would see him again. Finally.

It’s about time, Will. You’ve kept me waiting long enough…

CHAPTER 6 WILL

They were talking amongst themselves when he woke up, and they were still chattering away when he finally summoned enough strength (A few minutes later? A few hours later?) to sit up on the dirty tiled floor. He was in some kind of back room, with the only ventilation coming from a small vent along the top wall in front of him. Except the AC had stopped working a year ago, leaving behind just unrecycled, musty air. Slivers of sunlight shined through a closed high window above him, but most of it came from the open door across the room.

His movements were limited by the zip ties around his ankles, though they were nice enough to let him have his hands folded in front of him instead of bent behind his back. He was uncomfortable, but it could have been a worse. A lot worse.

Yeah, that’s the ticket.

He was breathing, which was all that mattered. As long as he was alive, there was a way out of this. He just had to see it. Then he would be back on his way, back to Song Island. Back to Lara.

His current surroundings weren’t much to look at. The wallpapers were peeling, and debris was strewn along the floor. A pair of empty boxes sat in a corner, but the room was otherwise empty. Figures moved back and forth across the open door, and he could just make out the rest of a store beyond. He guessed he was inside one of the gas stations along Route 13. Either the Palermo or the Chevron.

His head throbbed like someone was inside his skull kicking up a ruckus. Dried blood clung to one side of his face and ran all the way down to his neck. He looked down at his waistline to make sure the nagging wound he was most worried about hadn’t resurfaced, but breathed easier at the lack of blood at that particular spot. That meant Zoe’s stitches were still holding. Good, because the last thing he needed right now was to start bleeding down there, too.

“Do you always carry thread and needle around with you?” Zoe had once asked him.

Expect the best, prepare for the worst, Zoe.

They had taken his weapons, of course. The gun belt, the pouches, the sidearm, and the sheathed knife. The Motorola radio and comm gear were also gone. When he moved his legs back and forth he didn’t hear the familiar clink-clink, so they had taken the pills, too. That, more than anything, was problematic. He was still sore from the last few days, and without the relief of the meds, it was going to be tough sledding.

They were nice enough to leave him his watch, though, and Will looked down at it now: 11:05 A.M.

Cutting it close. Lara’s going to be so pissed when I don’t show up later today as promised.

Sorry, babe, but it couldn’t be helped. I did send Danny and Gaby on ahead. At least two of us will be there for you tonight, so don’t be too mad at me.

He looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps, just before a man appeared in the doorframe. Will assumed it was a man, though he was much shorter than any soldier he had ever seen. Of course, these men weren’t actually soldiers, either, so his past experiences in Uncle Sam’s armed forces was probably irrelevant to the current situation.

Shorty leaned against the door and looked in at him. The man was casually shining a red apple against the front of his uniform and stood about five-five, but Will figured that was partially thanks to the boots. Without those, he was five-three, max. He had short black hair and dark beady eyes and a smirk that looked permanently fixed on his face. Even the sidearm appeared to be too big for him, though the uniform seemed to be tailored for his size.

They must have a sweat shop in one of the towns, cranking out these uniforms. Custom made, too. That must be nice.

“Will, right?” the man said. The name “Mason” was stenciled across his name tag. Like the others Will had seen walking by the open door in the last few minutes, Mason’s uniform had the Louisiana patch and white star in prominent locations. “How the hell are ya?”

“I had a bottle on me,” Will said.

“What, no ‘Hey, how you doing?’”

“Hey, how you doing?”

Mason grinned. “That’s better.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the familiar white bottle. He shook it, the pills clink-clinking inside. “This one?”

“That’s it.”

“You need it?”

“I could use it.”

“Say ‘please.’”

“Please.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

Will gritted his teeth. “Pretty please with a cherry on top.”

“Good boy.”

Mason tossed it over to him. Will caught it with both bound hands. He was surprised when he twisted off the cap and saw the pills inside and not the small rocks he had been expecting. For some reason, he didn’t think it would be this easy, and Mason, smirking at him from across the room, seemed to get a kick out of proving him wrong.

“Thanks,” Will said.

He tilted back his head and dropped two of the pills into his mouth, then swallowed without chewing.

“Damn, just like candy, huh?” Mason said.

Will ignored the comment, said instead, “You want it back?”

“Nah. You look like you need them more than me.”

“That’s awfully civilized of you.”

Mason chuckled, then took a big bite out of the apple. Juice flowed down his chin and he wiped at it with the sleeve of his shirt. Will’s stomach might have growled a bit at the sight.

Definitely not officer material, this one.

“Hey, we’re all just trying to get by, right?” Mason said.

“Absolutely.”

“Besides, she made it pretty clear she wants you alive. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

“Yeah,” Will said.

It took a while before he finally matched Mason’s voice to that of the man who had given the orders earlier when they pulled him out of the truck. Mason was the one who had responded, when asked about pursuing Danny and Gaby’s vehicle, “Don’t worry about them. They’re not gonna get far.”

Officer material or not, the man was definitely in charge. Or, at least, in the daylight.

“What about my friends?” Will asked.

“You should be more worried about yourself right now,” Mason said.

“I’m multitasking.”

“Be careful; you can get hurt doing that.” Mason shrugged, giving the impression of indifference, even though Will suspected the man knew — and cared — more about what was happening around him than he wanted to let on. “Don’t worry about your friends. I know it looks like we’re running a Scooby-Doo operation around here, but there are actual brains at work. What, you thought we were just going to let you get to the interstate and keep going after last night?”

“I was hoping.”

“Hope springs eternal. But no.” He took another large bite of the apple. “What you saw out there when you tried to come through was just a small part of it. We have people everywhere. If you’d tried to go back to Dunbar, it would have ended the same way. Even if you’d tried to bail through the fields? Same difference. You wouldn’t believe the number of guys with rifles I got running around out there. Like cockroaches. With, you know, assault rifles.” He chuckled. “You really thought we’d just leave you alone after last night?”

“So you’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

“Not me. I’m just following orders.”

“Hers,” Will said.

Mason grinned. “Yeah. Hers.” Then, as if he were conspiring with Will, he leaned slightly forward. “You know her, don’t you? I mean, really know her.”

“Yeah.”

“I guess she wasn’t always like that. What do you people call them? Ghouls?”

“Sounded like a good name at the time.”

“Well they are a little…ghoulish. The black-eyed ones, anyway. The others, like her? I don’t even know how to describe them.”

Mason had gone back to chewing on his apple when the radio clipped to his hip squawked and a male voice said, “Mason, come in.”

Will didn’t recognize the voice, but the reception was staticky, clearly transmitting just outside the two-way portable’s range.

Mason unclipped the radio. “How goes it out there, boys?”

“I just got word from Reeves,” the voice said.

“And?”

“He just reached the ambush point, and he says they’re gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“The others,” the man on the radio said. “They made it through the ambush.”

“They.” He means Gaby and Danny.

Will almost smiled outwardly, but managed to hold it in just barely.

He watched Mason closely instead, waiting to see the flash of anger, but the man’s only reaction was to curl one corner of his mouth into a half-smirk. Will had always thought of the collaborators as more opportunists than true believers; people who were in it for themselves, using the situation to their advantage. He’d always believed there were more Kellersons among them than Joshes. Mason, without a doubt, fell into the former group.

“Well, shit,” Mason was saying. “How’d they do that?”

“Reeves found Harry and Douglas dead,” the man said through the radio.

“What about the targets?”

“They ditched the Titan and took one of our vehicles.”

Something seemed to bother Mason, or occurred to him suddenly. “Wait, weren’t there supposed to be three people down there?”

“Yeah. Nate’s missing.”

The name made Will straighten up slightly. He hoped Mason hadn’t noticed.

Nate? Did he just say Nate?

“Reeves wanted to know what he should do now?” the man on the other end of the radio asked.

“I guess he better find them again,” Mason said.

“We have more people waiting in Salvani, right?”

“Last time I checked.” He glanced at his watch. “Whatever you do, you better do it fast. You have exactly six hours before it gets dark, and then you’ll be answering to her.”

“Me? Why me?”

You’ve got them running scared, Kate. Didn’t anyone ever tell you a scared soldier is a poor soldier?

“Hey, I did my part,” Mason said into the radio. He looked amused, like all of this was fun and games. “I got what she wanted. You’re the one who screwed up with the girl.”

‘Girl’? Were they talking about Gaby, or Annie, or one of the kids?

Will sat silently and waited for more clues.

“You heard what I said?” Mason said into the radio.

“Yeah, I heard you,” the other man finally answered. “Out.”

Now that’s one hell of a chain of command there, boys.

Mason put the radio away and gave Will that smirk again. “These radios don’t work for shit. We had to put in relays just so we can keep in contact with the ones spread out too far. What do you guys have on that island? Ham radios? Now, that’s smart.”

“Thanks.”

“Maybe that’s why she wants you so bad. To take over this sad mess we have going on here. You think?”

Will shrugged.

“I guess it doesn’t matter,” Mason said. “All that stuff’s way above my pay grade, anyway.”

“I’ve always wondered what they’re paying you.”

Mason grinned. “Life.”

“Life?”

“Duh. I get to live. Self-preservation, my man. It’s a hell of an incentive to do anything, but especially these days.” He glanced over his shoulder at the store for a moment before looking back at Will. “Damn, no rest for the weary. We’ll have to continue this chat later. I hope you don’t mind, but I never had the privilege of asking an Army Ranger for advice before, and I wanna pick that brain of yours later if you got the time.”

“Sure,” Will said. “I got no plans.”

“Hah,” Mason said. “I’ll be back.”

The short man turned and left, closing the door after him. Will listened to the sound of a deadbolt click-clacking into place on the other side.

Alone again, he took inventory of his situation.

What did he know with absolute certainty? A couple of things.

First, Gaby and Danny had survived a second attempted ambush further up the interstate. Which meant they were still en route to Song Island. All they’d have to do now was get past Salvani, which, according to the conversation Will had just overheard, meant there were more soldiers waiting for them there.

Secondly, there was that thing about someone named Nate.

Could it be…?

That would depend on how optimistic he was willing to be at the moment.

I’m not ready to take over Captain Optimism just yet, Danny.

Not that knowing what was happening out there did him any good in here. He could hear them moving around outside the door, along with the occasional sounds of car engines in the streets beyond. He tried to re-orient himself with his surroundings, to get a better sense of direction and where everything was. He was still at Route 13, he knew that much. Everything else was open to debate.

Bottom line: He needed more information, and he wasn’t going to get it locked in here.

He leaned back against the wall. It was still noon, so there were still over six hours until sunset. Nightfall was the enemy — had always been, would always be. Besides the darkness, and the creatures lurking inside it, she would come, too.

“Don’t worry,” the blue-eyed ghoul had hissed at him last night. “It’s not going to end that easily for you, Will. Kate made us promise her this time. I think she has big plans for you.”

Kate.

Where are you now, Kate? What are you doing? Are you waiting for nightfall, too? Or are you on your way here now, the way you made the soldiers transport your shock troopers to Dunbar in the U-haul?

Somehow, some way, all his actions — what he did or didn’t do — always seemed to be spurred on by Kate in one form or another.

Eventually, inevitably, it always seemed to come back to her…

He opened his eyes to what sounded like hell on Earth and promptly sought out his watch in the semidarkness of the back room.

11:47 A.M.

Shit.

The realization that he had dozed off despite having been knocked unconscious just hours ago was troubling, because it could have been a sign there was something wrong with him. Or, at the very least, a lingering effect of the blows he had taken to the head.

That, and he knew what those thunderous brap-brap-brap sounds coming from outside were without having to think about it. God knew he had heard and been around them often enough. Someone, somewhere, was firing a machine gun, and the pop-pop-pop that accompanied it meant a gun battle.

He stared at the door, waiting for it to burst open and for someone to run inside. Maybe Mason, the short guy in charge of this mess they called an operation. People were definitely running around in the store outside; the vibrations of boots racing frantically back and forth were hard to ignore. Shouting, too, though that was mostly lost in the back and forth gunfire.

It was chaos out there, which was both good and bad for him.

It was good that someone was attacking the soldiers. The phrase, “The enemy of my enemy is my friend” ran through his head.

Bad, in that he was stuck inside the back room of a gas station while men were shooting machine guns outside in the streets. Depending on how much gas was still left inside the tank under the Palermo (Or the Chevron, either/or), there was a very good chance he could die in a raging fire sometime soon. Double the chances if someone had some kind of incendiary device and decided to stupidly use it.

Okay, so it was mostly bad.

He couldn’t tell who was winning or where the shooting was coming from, because it seemed to be some kind of running gunfight.

How many men did Mason have out there, and how many were attacking them? Better yet, who was attacking, and what were the chances they could be friends instead of foes? The only group he’d seen proactively attack the soldiers had been Harrison’s group back in Dunbar. And that, unfortunately, hadn’t ended very well for them.

“What you saw out there when you tried to come through was just a small part of it,” Mason had boasted earlier. “We have people everywhere.”

But how many of those people were here, now? Especially since the ambush had succeeded. He knew for a fact Mason had sent more men up the interstate after Danny and Gaby. So how many were left? How many would Mason think he needed when he had already, essentially, won the day?

Will was still trying to come up with a viable number (or, at least, one that would make him feel better) when the door finally banged open and a familiar camo uniform rushed inside. No, not familiar. Same uniform, but different person inside it. Taller, skinnier, and younger.

The kid (he couldn’t have been more than eighteen, maybe seventeen?) spun around and slammed the door shut before stumbling away from it. He was cradling an AR-15 and wore a gun belt with a sidearm, but Will recognized the awkwardness in the way he carried the equipment.

He’s green. Really, really green.

“Kid,” Will said.

The teenager whirled around, lifting his rifle and aiming it at Will. He looked frightened, even shocked to see Will there. “Jesus! I almost shot you!”

“It’s a good thing you didn’t. What’s going on out there?”

The kid (he was tall for his age, which was amusing when Will thought about the thirty-something but much shorter Mason) lowered his weapon and shook his head. He wiped at beads of sweat along his temple and whirled back around to face the door. Then he hurried over and leaned against the wall and listened to the pop-pop-pop of gunfire still raging outside.

The battle hadn’t slowed down even a little bit in the minute or so since Will woke up. That meant there were a lot of people out there, and all of them well-armed. Meanwhile, he was stuck in here, hog-tied and weaponless.

Will looked for and finally caught the name written across the kid’s uniform: “Michael.”

“What’s going on out there, Michael?” Will asked.

The kid looked momentarily confused by the sound of his name, then must have realized how Will knew and shook it off. “They’re attacking,” he said.

“Who’s attacking?”

“I don’t know. They came out of nowhere. They must have…they must have been crawling along the fields all day toward us.”

‘Crawling along the fields all day’?

Will watched the kid closely. He was scared. That much was obvious. So Will did what he always did: He took stock of his situation and considered his available options. Because there were always options. You just had to see it.

“Kid,” Will said.

Michael didn’t react, either because he was too focused on what was happening outside or he was purposefully ignoring him. Will would have put good money that it was the former.

“Michael,” Will said, louder this time.

That did it. Michael looked over. “What?”

“Listen.”

“I am…”

“No, I mean, really listen.”

Michael looked confused again.

Doesn’t take much, does it, kid?

“You’re losing,” Will said. “You know that, right? The other guys are winning. You can hear that, can’t you?”

Will had said it all with absolute certainty. It was in his voice and on his face. He knew what he was talking about, and Michael would be smart to listen.

Of course, it was all bullshit. It was impossible to tell who was winning the battle outside. He had no idea how many were taking part or even who they were — two very important details needed to predict the outcome of a gun battle. Who were the good guys and who were the bad guys? If there were any good guys at all. For all he knew, Mason and his men could be putting down the attackers right this moment, which would lead him right back to where he started.

But he didn’t tell Michael that. No. The kid was frightened and out of his element. Running in here to hide was proof of that. The shaking hands trying desperately to keep their grip on the assault rifle sealed it.

“Your unit’s losing,” Will pressed. “Mason’s losing. If he’s not already dead.”

Michael didn’t answer. Instead, he looked back at the door so Will couldn’t see his face to gauge if he was getting through.

“You need to get out of here, kid,” Will said. “Before it’s too late.”

“There’s too many of them out there,” Michael said. His voice shook noticeably. “I think they’re using our trucks. The ones with the machine guns. How’d they get those?”

“I know, I can hear them using it,” Will said. More bullshit. He couldn’t tell one way or another who was firing the machine guns, but Michael didn’t need to know that at the moment, either. “Trust me, kid, I’ve been through enough of these situations to know a losing side when I hear it. And your side’s losing. Bad.”

Michael shook his head. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“I am. And you are, too.” Then, with a harder edge to his voice, “You wanna live or not?”

Michael glanced over. He opened his mouth to answer, but then snapped it shut just as quickly.

A second, then five…

“Yes,” Michael said finally. “I want to live.”

Will held out his bound wrists. “Cut me loose, and I’ll get us out of here.”

“How?”

“You’ll have to trust me on this.”

“What? No fucking—”

An explosion ripped through the building and something smashed into the door on the other side. The clatter of shelves falling, glass pelting tiled floors, and someone (or someones) screaming in pain. Chunks of the ceiling rained down on them, and Michael threw his arms over his head as if that would save him. Thankfully, the bulk of the store remained in one piece, leaving them to cough in the aftermath of falling debris.

Oh, hell. That was definitely a grenade.

“Kid,” Will said, watching Michael pick himself up from the floor and coughing. “It’s either get out of here with me, or stay here and die with the rest of your guys. What’s it going to be?”

Michael was on his knees and looking for his rifle. He had accidentally tossed it while falling and grabbing for his head. Now he crawled over and picked it up, even as the gunfire continued to rage outside, the brap-brap-brap of a machine gun continuing to fill the air as if the damn thing had an endless supply of belt-fed ammo.

“Michael,” Will said. “You gotta decide and you gotta decide now: You wanna live or not?”

The teenager got up and hurried over, drawing his knife. The blade was trembling as he cut the zip tie from around Will’s wrists, then did the same to the one around his ankles.

“What now?” Michael said. “How are we going to get out of here?”

“I need a gun,” Will said.

The soldier stared at him.

“A sign of good faith,” Will continued.

Michael sighed and drew his sidearm — a Sig Sauer 9mm — and handed it over reluctantly. “Can I trust you?”

Will stood up. “Kind of a little late to be asking that, don’t you think?”

The kid made to smile back, but it came out badly forced. “I guess.”

“A deal’s a deal,” Will said. “Come on, let’s get the hell out of here before whoever’s wiping out your friends finishes the job and comes looking for us next.”

He grinned at the kid.

For a moment there, Will actually thought he was in trouble.

Option found. Opportunity seized.

I’ll be home soon, Lara.

“How many of you are out there?” Will asked.

“Ten,” Michael said.

“I saw more than that this morning. A lot more.”

“Most of them left after we captured you.”

“Where did they go?”

“I don’t know. They really don’t tell me very much.”

Of course not. You’re the kid so wet behind the ears he runs into the closest room to hide the first time someone’s shooting at him.

“What about Mason?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I think he left before the attack. Like I said, they don’t really tell me very much.”

Will crouched among the ruins of the gas station (the Palermo, as it turned out) and watched through the broken windows as a bullet-riddled blue Ford F-250, its front windshield dotted with the same bullet holes that had punctured its side and front hood, moved slowly down the street. There were two men in the back, one swiveling a heavy M60 perched on the roof of the vehicle.

Christ, no wonder Mason’s people hadn’t stood a chance. The all-purpose American machine gun was capable of firing 500 rounds per minute with an effective range of over 500 meters and beyond. That single weapon probably accounted for all the broken windows in the stores up and down the street that he could see, not to mention the destroyed cars that hadn’t been there this morning, along with the crumpled uniformed bodies visible in the parking lot on his side of Route 13.

The Ford looked like one of the technicals Josh’s soldiers had been using, though he’d never seen this one before. While one man was behind the machine gun, a second was slightly crouched behind him with an AK-47. Other well-armed men were walking alongside them, easily keeping up with the truck’s slow pace.

This wasn’t a charge, it was a victory march through occupied territory.

The gunfight had stopped almost at the same time Will and Michael slipped out of the back room and into what remained of the convenience store. They hid behind a couple of fallen shelves now, within sight of two bodies lying next to the gas pumps outside. The frag grenade had landed inside where it had left behind a crater in the middle and torn apart everything that wasn’t nailed down, including the poor soul whose shredded uniform they were looking at.

There were no rifles for Will to find, though he did see the remnants of an M4 stock among the debris. Which meant he had to make do with the Sig Sauer. At least Michael was smart enough to carry spare magazines, which Will had pocketed. The young man continued clutching his AR-15 (as if he knew how to use it, which Will doubted), eyes snapping from the remains of the uniform and out the shattered windows at the technical and its companions.

The sight of the attackers was intriguing. They were wearing civilian garb, including jeans, cargo pants, and long-sleeve shirts. The fact that they had come extremely well-armed and had acquired one of Josh’s technicals offered up more questions than answers.

Who are these guys?

“What now?” Michael whispered behind him.

“Do you know who took my rifle?” Will asked.

“Your rifle?”

“Yeah. I had an M4A1 with me when I was captured. It was in the truck.”

“I dunno. What’s an M4A1 look like?”

Will started to answer, but shook his head instead. “Never mind.” He looked back out the store at the figures moving slowly down the street. “We’ll let them pass us by. There’s no point in engaging. We’re outmanned and outgunned—”

He hadn’t finished “outgunned” when two of the attackers broke away from the technical and started angling—right toward them.

Right. Because why would luck be on my side now?

“Oh no,” Michael whispered a few seconds later.

Kinda late there, kid, don’t you think?

“What now?” Michael said in a hushed voice.

Will didn’t answer right away. He glanced back at the teenager’s terrified face, then looked past him at the back room. There was nothing in there that could help him escape. The window was too high to climb out of, and he wasn’t going to break down a wall with his bare hands. The only way out was through the front door of the Palermo. Or the broken windows would do just as well.

The technical had continued down the street and out of his view, but the two figures were stepping over dead bodies at the pumps after checking them for signs of life. One was a man, the other a woman. They both looked haggard, as if they had been fighting for days instead of ten, maybe fifteen minutes, tops. The woman looked in her mid-thirties and was wearing a Texas Rangers baseball cap that she pushed slightly up when she stopped in front of what remained of the windows so she could peer inside.

“Anything?” the man, who was older by at least ten years, asked behind her.

“I see a body,” the woman said.

“Dead?”

“I said a body, didn’t I?”

The man grunted. “So let’s go.”

“There’s a back room.”

“What about it?”

“It’s open and it looks undamaged.”

Shit. Should have closed the door… Too late for that now.

“Be careful,” the man said.

The woman didn’t answer him. She stepped through one of the broken windows, crunching glass under her boots.

Will’s mind turned. Spun. Then whirled.

He looked back at Michael again. The kid was trembling badly, causing the rifle in his hands to shake along with him. He looked like he was about to throw up.

Will back to the woman, the man in the background, and the technical out there, along with, from what he could see, at least four more heavily-armed men.

Then he glanced down at the Sig Sauer in his hand. It was a good weapon. He could probably kill the woman, take her weapon (it looked like an M4), and use it on the man outside. But then there was that damn truck and the M60 mounted on top of it. That thing could chew up what was left of the gas station in no time, and him right along with it.

Gotta get to Song Island. Can’t do that if I’m dead.

As long as I’m alive, there’s a chance…

“Shit,” Will said, before he realized he had said it out loud. Or whispered, anyway.

“What?” Michael said, alarmed. “What are we—”

Will grabbed Michael’s rifle and jerked it out of his hands. It came easily, as if the teenager was barely holding onto it. Before Michael could protest, Will tossed the rifle along with the Sig Sauer toward the woman. The two weapons skidded across the floor and stopped in front of her. She immediately snapped up her M4 and took aim at them, hiding behind one of the many toppled shelves, though he was certain she couldn’t actually see them.

“Don’t shoot!” Will shouted. “We’re unarmed!”

The woman didn’t answer right away. She looked confused. Then, “Step outside. Slowly!”

Will nodded at Michael, who stared back, horrified. “Slowly, like the woman said, okay, kid?”

Michael sighed, but didn’t respond. He did, though, stand up when Will did, and they moved slowly — ever so slowly — out from behind the shelves. The woman’s hands tightened around the rifle, and Will was almost certain she was going to shoot them down at any second. There was something in her eyes…

I’m a dead man. Any second now…

But she didn’t fire. Instead, she held her ground and glared at them over the iron sights of her weapon, even as the older man rushed into the store behind her. “Where’d these jokers come from?” he asked, slightly out of breath despite the relatively short distance.

“Dunno,” the woman said. “They tossed their weapons.”

“Step forward,” the man said, motioning at them with his rifle.

Will and Michael did as they were instructed, the kid still shaking so much it looked as if he was moving in a herky-jerky motion, desperately trying to make each leg move forward one at a time, one at a time.

The older man hurried forward and circled them before patting them down. He found Will’s pill bottle and pocketed it, then stepped back. “They’re clean.”

“Hear me out,” Will started to say.

“You don’t have a uniform,” the woman said, cutting him off.

“No. I’m not one of them.”

“So what are you doing here with them, then?”

“I was captured this morning.”

The man and woman exchanged a glance. Will was suddenly very thankful he looked like he had been through the blender, with his bruises and dried blood clinging to one side of his face. He really didn’t look anything like the clean-cut Michael in his spiffy uniform standing beside him.

“This morning?” the man said.

“Yeah,” Will nodded. “I’m not one of them,” he repeated, just in case they didn’t hear it the first time. You could never be too clear about your allegiances when someone was pointing a rifle at you.

“What about him?” the woman asked, moving her rifle to rest on Michael. “He’s one of them.”

“He’s surrendering,” Will said.

“I’m surrendering,” Michael said, nodding furiously while his voice trembled badly. “Please don’t shoot. I’m surrendering.”

“How old are you, kid?” the man asked.

“Seventeen,” Michael said. “Please don’t shoot,” he said again. “I’m surrendering, like he said.”

The woman stared at Michael.

Those eyes. Will had seen those eyes before.

Aw, shit, he thought, just before the woman said, “Too bad. We’re not taking prisoners.”

Then she shot Michael in the head from ten feet away.

CHAPTER 7 KEO

He was ready to say good-bye to Song Island by noon. The fact that he hadn’t come to the place with very much, so had very little to pack on his way off it, helped. The short Texan, Maddie, was taking care of the boat while the other pretty blonde, Sarah, was packing his food for him in the kitchen.

With everything he needed being taken care of, all Keo had left to do was to grab some dry clothes from the hotel’s lost-and-found room, where there were piles of the stuff. He knew where they came from, even though Lara hadn’t mentioned it. Some of them probably belonged to Allie’s people, who had come here months ago seeking salvation, only to find death instead. He should have been a little queasy taking dead people’s things, but a shirt and cargo pants, along with socks and boots that fit, were hard to come by these days. Besides, it wasn’t as if he had ever actually met Allie’s people, or the poor saps who had found the island not quite as hospitable as they had expected.

He was surprised when Carrie knocked on the open door and leaned inside. In all the chaos of the last few days, he had forgotten about her and Lorelei.

“Busy?” she asked.

He gave her his best smile. “I got time if you got time.”

She walked over and sat on the edge of the bed and watched him stuff a couple of extra T-shirts and a few rolls of duct tape into the bag. The Rangers had really stocked up on the duct tape.

“What’s on your mind?” he asked.

“I just wanted to come see you off. We wouldn’t have gotten here if it wasn’t for you. Lorelei and me. I’m sorry to see you go.”

“I made a promise.”

“I know. And you always keep your promises.”

Not always, he thought. “These days, yeah. I try.”

“It’s too bad we never got to talk.”

“What would we talk about?”

“I don’t know. What you were like before. What I was like. What could have been…”

“Ah. Trouble lies in that direction.”

She laughed. It was just a little bit forced. “I guess you’re right, so maybe we shouldn’t go there.”

“Probably a good idea.”

“It’s going to be lonely out there by yourself. The Gulf of Mexico is a big place.”

“So maybe you should come with me.”

Carrie looked surprised. She wasn’t the only one. It took Keo a second to realize what he had said and another second to know that he meant it. It wasn’t because he wanted the company. Well, that might have been a part of it, but it was also the undeniable fact that he had brought her and Lorelei here, a place that was about to come under attack. He felt, as difficult as it was to admit to himself, responsible for the two of them.

“It’s not safe here,” Keo said. “You must know that after everything we’ve been through the last few days. Especially after last night.”

“I know it’s dangerous…”

“Dangerous isn’t quite the word I’d use, Carrie.”

“What, then?”

“Endangered.”

“‘Endangered’?” She gave him a puzzled look. “I don’t understand.”

He hesitated and spent some time searching for the right words. What would make her understand? Did she really know what was coming tonight? How was he going to convince her without scaring her at the same time? Or maybe that was exactly what he needed to do right now. Terror might be what she needed.

“They want this place,” Keo said. “The soldiers working for the ghouls. And they’re going to take it. If not tonight, then the next, or the one after that. Eventually, it will happen. These people are fighting a losing battle.”

He paused. Was he using the right approach? Was the truth what she wanted to hear? Needed to hear?

“Sooner or later, the island’s going to fall,” he continued. “It’s not a matter of if, it’s a matter of when. And when that time comes, one of two things will happen to you and Lorelei along with everyone here. They’re either going to capture you and take you back to the towns, or they’re going to kill you. That’s it. There is no third option.”

Carrie didn’t say anything. Instead, she looked down at her hands. He didn’t have a clue what was going through her head at the moment. Keo had never been especially good at reading the opposite sex, and the end of the world hadn’t changed that.

“Come with me,” Keo said. “You and Lorelei. There’s plenty of room on the boat. Lara would probably be okay with giving me extra supplies.”

She finally looked up at him. Damn if he had no idea what she was about to say. He guessed picking up women in seedy bars across the world, as it turned out, hadn’t been very beneficial to understanding them.

“What’s out there?” Carrie said.

“It doesn’t matter. It’s better than what’s going to happen here when night falls. You saw the same things I did out there. The second time I was at the staging area, there were even more soldiers than before.”

Her face paled a bit. He had never asked her what had happened to her that forced her and Lorelei to go on the run in the first place. There was that whole thing about the women in the collaborator towns being impregnated, but he always suspected there was something else. He hadn’t pushed her about it because he didn’t think it was his business.

Now, looking at her, he wanted to ask but managed to bite his tongue. He said instead, “You’ll like Gillian. And I hear the Texas coast is nice this time of year.”

“We’re not going,” she said. She pursed her lips into a half-smile. “Lorelei doesn’t want to leave, either.”

“Carrie…”

“I know the risks, Keo. I also know there’s nothing out there for us.”

“There’s something in Texas.”

“You don’t know that. You just hope there’s something waiting for you.”

Crap. She’s got me there.

He hadn’t been in touch with Gillian or Jordan in months, ever since they split up back at Earl’s cabin. That was…how many months ago? Too long. So what were the chances Gillian was actually out there waiting for him, like he kept telling people? Or if she was even alive at all? For all he knew, Mark’s boat could have sunk on the way over. Or they might have met more of those soldiers, or…

I’m hoping for the best, just like a sucker. I’m no different from these people.

“Maybe she’s there, and maybe she’s not,” Carrie was saying. “You’re just like Lorelei and me before you met us, Keo. You’re looking for a place to belong, hoping something’s there when you finally arrive. Well, we found that. Here on Song Island. You could stay with us. With me.”

He didn’t answer right away. It was a tempting offer. Gillian may or may not be out there, but Carrie was here, now. That was a certainty. And he’d always been more pragmatic than a dreamer, so what was keeping him from accepting her offer?

Tonight. The answer was tonight.

It’s going to be a bloodbath. Only an idiot would stay behind.

“You don’t seem to understand what I’m saying,” Keo said. “There won’t be an island after tonight.”

“Maybe,” Carrie said. “Maybe not. Lara’s friends are coming back.”

“The Rangers.”

“Yes.”

“They won’t be enough.”

“You don’t know that.”

“It’s just an island, Carrie. There are other islands.”

“The one in Texas is just an island, too, but you’re doing everything you can to get to it anyway. What’s the difference?”

He sighed. Christ. She had an answer for everything. The woman was going to drive him crazy if he spent any more time arguing with her.

And she was right, too. That was probably the most galling part. Dammit, she was right.

“So you’re staying,” he said. “You’ve decided?”

“It’s not about the island,” she said. “It’s about the people on it. It’s always been about the people. Stay with us, Keo. There might not be anything for you out there, but there’s something here, now.”

“Not after tonight.” He walked to the dresser and picked up the Glock and holstered it. “I guess there’s nothing left to say.”

“Yeah,” she said, the disappointment showing on every inch of her face. So she had come here with a mission after all: To convince him to stay. “I hope you find her waiting for you in Texas. I really do.”

He nodded. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to say next, because everything he was thinking of at the moment would have come out sounding too obviously forced.

Carrie, thank God, decided to take mercy on both of them and left before he could come up with something.

He stepped outside onto the front patio and breathed in the fresh air. The island had cooled down noticeably, and he was glad he had on a long-sleeve shirt. The grass crunched under his boots as he made his way to the beach, using the road that wound around the island like a stone serpent, each different pebble like scales. He glanced over at the Tower and saw a figure moving behind one of the windows. Judging by the height, he guessed it was either Carly or Jo, Bonnie’s little sister.

A motor started up as he neared the beach, the noise rudely breaking through the quiet. He walked across the mushy sand and toward the pier, where Maddie was revving one of the boats. It was an ugly aluminum vessel with chipped navy blue colors, but judging by the sound of its outboard motor, it would do just fine.

She shut down the boat when he was halfway to her. “Lara tells me you know your way around boats.”

“Just enough to get in trouble.”

“Like last night?”

“They started it.”

“Right. So,” she said, doing a Price is Right gesture at the boat, “it’s not the best-looking specimen we have on the island, but the motor’s good and it should get you where you need to be. That is, unless you run into pirates out there in the Gulf.” She glanced at the big Trident anchored nearby, moving slightly back and forth with the wind. “Which would have been an absurd idea until last night.”

Keo looked over the boat. It was a sixteen-footer, one of those deep-V vessels with a stainless steel stern and bow, and had fishing decks that took up plenty of space. The windshield above the center console was tinted, the glass cracked in places with something that looked like a fresh bullet hole near the center. He decided not to ask about that.

“Don’t let her looks fool you,” Maddie was saying. “She’s a sturdy little one.”

“It’ll do.”

“Where’s your stuff and that cute German gun of yours?”

“Back at the hotel,” he smiled. “I was thinking about picking up one of those M4s you guys like so much for insurance.”

“How many guns do you need, Keo?”

“After everything that’s happened, you’re actually asking me that question?”

Maddie chuckled. “Sorry, total brain fart.” She tossed him the key, then climbed up onto the pier. “Tank’s topped off and I’ll bring out the extra gas cans when you’re ready to shove off.”

“How many?”

“It won’t get you all the way to the Texas coast, but that’s what the 12-volt trolling motor is for. Battery’s fully charged, and I’ll give you a spare just in case. Also, two livewells, twenty gallons each, to stash your supplies, and plenty of compartments for everything else. First aid kit, flare gun, et cetera. Oh, and two paddles. You know, just in case.”

“Looks like you got everything covered. Thanks.”

“Boss lady tells me to do it, I do it.”

“You believe in her,” Keo said, looking at Maddie.

“She’s got us this far. Her and Will. I’m not going to start doubting them now.”

“That kind of loyalty’s hard to come by. I respect that.”

“What can I say? They earned it.” Maddie nodded at the white yacht. “I’m surprised you didn’t want to take that monster.”

“Too rich for my blood.”

“I think Lara’s already coming up with some ideas on how to use it.”

“Oh, I’m sure of that.” He remembered the look on her face when she had first seen the Trident last night. “She strikes me as the kind of girl who thinks two or three moves ahead of everyone, including me.”

“I’m just glad she’s on our side.” Then, “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask…”

“What’s that?”

“What kind of name is Keo, anyway?”

“George was taken.”

Maddie snorted. “You got that down pat, huh?”

Keo smiled. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Absolutely no one has ever asked me that question before.”

“Riiiiiight. Well, I wish you’d stay. I won’t lie; we could really use another gun around here. But I get that you have to go. If I don’t see you again, vaya con dios, Keo.”

“What if I don’t believe in God?” he asked.

“I’m sure he’ll get over it,” she smiled back.

The last time he was in the Tower’s basement, he had been looking for something with explosive capabilities. This time, Keo was content to pick up an M4 carbine with a decent optic and a collapsible stock. He liked the MP5SD, but there was nothing wrong with loading up on firepower — especially since he didn’t know what was waiting for him out there. The absent Rangers had stockpiled plenty of silver ammo, and he loaded up on as much as he could carry.

He climbed out of the basement with the weapon and spare magazines in his cargo pants pocket. As he was closing the door back up, he heard voices coming through a radio from two floors above him. Foreign accents, some thicker than others, floated through the open doors.

The idea that people around the world were contacting each other made him feel strangely optimistic. Of course, those good vibes always faded when he realized what some guys in China, Russia, or France were doing had zero impact on his life at the moment. The world was a vast place, made more distant by the lack of convenient transportation. Unless, of course, you could find a pilot somewhere with a working plane and the fuel for it. Talking to some guy over the radio was one thing; actually getting together to form some kind of plan was another.

Good luck with that, guys. I’m just looking for a girl to hook up with again.

He headed out, feeling strangely content. What Lara and the islanders did from now on was their business. He had done his part — more than his part, actually — and it was time to go.

There was no one working the nascent garden outside because everyone was sticking to the hotel these days. Keo wasn’t entirely sure if that was a good idea and thought about bringing it up, but decided against it. Lara was a smart girl, and she probably knew what she was doing. And if not…

Not my problem anymore. Time to go.

Carrie wasn’t in his room when he returned, but there was a large faded gym bag sitting on the bed. Keo opened it and found stacks of sealed beef jerky, along with bottled water, nonperishable canned goods, and a dozen shiny bags of MREs. There was enough inside to last him weeks on the ocean. More than a month, if he conserved. Of course, if he needed a month’s worth of food out there, he was already in trouble. Whoever had brought it over had also generously tossed in a couple of metal sporks and a can opener.

Keo shoved the newly acquired magazines into the same tactical pack he had put his spare clothes in earlier, one of many the Rangers had stashed around the hotel. He slipped the nylon bag on and picked up the much heavier gym bag (the damn thing weighed a ton) and left the room.

The faster he moved, the faster he climbed into the boat, the faster he took off, the better things would be. For him. For Carrie. For Lara and the others.

He decided he wouldn’t tell Gillian about Song Island when they finally reunited. Hell, he’d like to forget about this place too after tonight, but somehow he didn’t think that was going to be possible anytime soon.

He returned to the beach just in time to see Lara and Maddie cruising toward the Trident in one of the bass fishing boats while Blaine watched after them from the yacht’s main deck. It was just as well. He had been dreading another encounter with Lara anyway. He respected the hell out of her, so the prospect of having to face her again while he was (running) leaving wasn’t at the very top of his to-do list.

Bonnie saw him coming and stood up on the boat shack, where she was standing guard. She was easily the tallest woman on the island, but that wasn’t what he noticed most about her. He didn’t have any trouble believing she used to be a model. In another time, another place, Keo might have decided dying tonight was worth it if that meant the possibility of getting into her good graces.

But that was then, and this was now. And right now, he had to get the hell off this island before he did something stupid…like decide not to.

“So you really are leaving,” Bonnie said.

“Afraid so.”

“Too bad. We were hoping you might stay awhile.”

“‘We’?”

“Everyone on the island.”

He sighed. He should have run instead of walked to his boat.

“Can’t,” he said.

“She must be some woman.”

“What makes you think there’s a woman?”

“Oh, come on. There’s always a woman. Plus, Carly told me.”

“Ah.”

“Is she pretty?”

“What do you think?”

“Must be. I just hope she’s actually there.”

Great. Who doesn’t know I’m the world’s biggest sucker?

“Gotta take the chance,” he said.

“So this is all on faith?” Bonnie chuckled. “Somehow, I never took you for the kind of guy who went on faith, Keo.”

“People change.”

“I guess so.”

Keo stopped next to Bonnie’s shack and glanced in the direction of the luxury yacht moored nearby. Maddie had expertly sidled the boat toward the back, as if she had done it a million times.

“What’s going on over there?” he asked. “Still searching for the eighth guy?”

“If he even exists,” Bonnie said.

“The captain thinks so.”

“But he’s not a real captain.”

“He had a captain’s hat.”

“Well, since he had a captain’s hat…,” Bonnie said, rolling her eyes.

“So what’s happening on the yacht?”

“Lara wanted to check something out.”

“She didn’t say?”

“Not to me. I guess she has a lot on her mind.”

“Guess so.” Keo started up the pier toward his boat. “See you around, Bonnie.”

“Later, alligator,” Bonnie said after him. “Don’t be a stranger.”

He turned around, but continued backpedaling down the pier. “Remember: Shoot first, shoot often, and reload fast.”

“Yeah, but I don’t have one of those grenade launchers,” she shouted after him.

He grinned. “Somehow, I think you’ll do just fine without one.”

He spun around and tossed the gym bag into the boat, then untied the line before climbing in. He put the M4 down next to the supplies and dug out the key Maddie had given him and powered on the boat. The outboard motor coughed for a bit, then caught a second later and filled the air with a loud ear-splitting roar. It sounded like a winner. Or close enough to get him to Texas.

Bonnie, still watching him from the shack, waved. Keo waved back.

He maneuvered the boat away from the pier and turned it around, then pushed the throttle forward. North took him further inland — with the soldiers waiting up there — but south took him to the Gulf of Mexico. From there it was right toward the Texas coast and Santa Marie Island.

“So this is all on faith? Somehow, I never took you for the kind of guy who went on faith, Keo.”

No kidding. Neither did I.

Blaine appeared along the railing on the main deck of the Trident as he neared the big boat. The big man waved and Keo returned it, even though doing so made him feel like a fraud. He didn’t see Lara or Maddie or the other kid, Roy. Which was just as well. If he had to fake another good-bye wave, he might decide to end it all now with a silver bullet to the temple.

Keep going. Don’t look back.

Gillian’s waiting. You’ve kept her waiting enough, don’t you think?

Damn straight.

Goddamn, you almost convinced yourself that time, pal.

He pushed the throttle up as far as it would go, and the boat dipped slightly behind him. The loud noise helped to drown out his thoughts, which was something he was very grateful for. Who knew a guilty conscience could be so loud and annoying?

Keep going, he told himself, and repeated over and over again. Keep going and don’t look back.

Just keep going…

CHAPTER 8 GABY

“Is something wrong with your shoulder?” Nate asked.

Gaby had been massaging her shoulder for the last few seconds. The pain had lessened noticeably thanks to the painkillers, but every now and then (usually when she sat in one place for too long doing nothing, like now), it came back. It was a reminder of last night and the fight with the blue-eyed ghouls, as if she would ever forget it for as long as she lived.

“No, I’m fine,” she said.

“You sure?”

“Yes.”

There was an edge to her voice that she hoped he didn’t catch, because she didn’t know where it had come from. She should be happy to see Nate alive and well, but for some reason she wasn’t. Not entirely, anyway.

“So that’s Danny, huh?” Nate was saying. “The way you talked about him, I thought he’d be prettier.”

“He was, until a few days ago.”

“What happened?”

A farmhouse. Blue-eyed ghouls. Will killing them, then cutting off their heads to keep an army of the black-eyed ones at bay all night.

You know, same-o, same-o.

“A lot of things,” she said. “Like how you’re supposed to be dead, but aren’t. Why is that, Nate?”

“I’m starting to think you’re not happy I’m alive.” He smiled. It was his attempt at being charming, but he didn’t have his heart in it and she saw through it.

“You’re supposed to be dead, Nate. Why aren’t you dead?”

He sighed. “I guess I wanted to live more.”

He shook his head and she could see him struggling with it, too. Gaby felt suddenly very guilty about not responding to his resurrection with the fanfare he had expected, and that she dearly wanted to give him but just didn’t know how.

“It’s a long story,” he said.

“We’re not going anywhere.”

“Maybe later…”

Gaby sneaked a look at him. She thought it was the absence of the absurd Mohawk that made him look somehow older, but she realized now that she had been wrong. It wasn’t the hair at all. Nate just seemed to have physically aged since the last time she saw him.

“Gaby,” he said. “It’s me. I swear it.”

She looked away, feeling very self-conscious about her own appearance. Nate didn’t look the same, but neither did she. Far from it. They had both changed so much in such a short time, in every way that mattered. She had the broken nose that still hurt if she touched it (which she did often, always forgetting why it was tingling), and the bruises and scars from the last few weeks that would never heal properly.

What did he see when he looked at her, she wondered.

“You’ll tell me everything later,” she said.

“I will. I promise.”

She nodded before refocusing back on Interstate 10.

Everything was where they had left it thirty minutes ago, including the white Ford truck and the overturned Nissan Titan further down the road, sitting in a pool of its own gasoline. The only thing missing was the red Chevy Silverado truck, which they had taken to replace their now-unusable vehicle.

“By the way, you look good,” Nate said.

Gaby sighed. “This isn’t the time.”

“I’m just saying. You still look good, and I don’t say that to a lot of women with more scars on their face than me—”

Her radio vibrated against her hand, cutting off Nate. Danny’s voice came through the speakers at half-volume, just loud enough for them to hear. “Heads up. Here comes the cavalry.”

The sound of car engines grew in the distance, getting louder as the vehicles got closer.

“More of your friends,” Gaby said.

“Not my friends,” Nate said, sounding almost…annoyed?

Two trucks, with men clinging to the back, sped down the highway toward the Titan. She watched them through her binoculars and easily identified the camo uniforms they had on. They were identical to the one worn by the man crouched next to her right now. The vehicles stopped ten yards from the Nissan, and the men hopped out and swarmed it. They were moving in something that she could almost believe was an actual tactical formation.

“Nate,” Danny said through the radio.

She looked to her left at a patch of overgrown grass about forty meters from her position and halfway to the highway. Danny. He was close enough that he could probably hear everything the soldiers were saying. He had camouflaged himself so well that she couldn’t find a single trace of his existence. And if she couldn’t spot him — and she knew exactly where to look — there was no chance the men on the interstate were going to.

Gaby handed Nate the radio, and he said into it, “Yeah.”

Although they weren’t quite whispering, they had adopted a low decibel. She and Nate were firmly established inside their hiding spot more than seventy meters from the highway, far enough that they couldn’t be spotted through the yard or so of trees in front of them. Of course, it would be a different story if the soldiers started walking toward them or looked closely with binoculars, but hopefully the missing Silverado would convince them they had taken it. After all, what reason could they possibly have to stick around thirty minutes later?

So what does that make us? Smart or stupid?

I guess we’ll find out.

“Who’s in charge of this little circus of yours?” Danny was asking Nate through the radio.

“In charge?” Nate said. He thought about it for a moment. “I guess Mason. This short guy. He was running things when they sent us over to replace the ones they lost back in Dunbar. Why?”

Danny ignored his question and asked instead, “How many of you are running around out here?”

Nate winced a bit at the “how many of you” part, as if he didn’t like being reminded of the uniform he was wearing. Which was hard, since he was still wearing the damn thing. It even had his name on it, for God’s sake.

“They sent ten of us over just in case you made it off Route 13,” Nate said. “They left the three of us behind and the rest went on to Salvani, like I said before.”

“The not-so-magnificent seven. What were their orders?”

“I have no idea. They don’t actually tell me everything. Most of us don’t know what’s happening until guys like Mason show up and start giving orders. You gotta understand, these aren’t actually soldiers. They’re playing dress up. I don’t think half of these guys could have survived a real Boot Camp.”

“What about these mutts we’re looking at now? What’s their story?”

He was talking about the six men spreading out along the interstate in front of them, probably looking for hints of where she and the others had taken the Silverado. Gaby wondered if any of them actually knew what they were doing.

“Weekend warriors,” Will had once called them.

“My guess is that Mason sent them forward to connect with us,” Nate said into the radio. “We’re using two-ways, but they have limited range. There’s probably another group further down the highway, waiting to relay the message back to Route 13.”

On cue, one of the men took out a radio and spoke into it. She had no chance of hearing him over the distance, which was good because that meant he couldn’t overhear them, either.

“It’s a slapdash operation,” Nate continued. “I get the feeling they’re just making it up as they go.” He had looked over at her when he added, “Imagine what they could do if they had someone with actual leadership ability at the helm, instead of some eighteen-year-old kid.”

He’s talking about Josh.

“That’s nineteen-year-old kid to you,” Josh would say.

She didn’t bother correcting Nate or responding to his querying glance. If he was going to keep secrets from her until later, then she’d return it in kind. Maybe it was a little childish, but what the hell, he was supposed to be dead.

“You gonna tell me what we’re still doing here?” Nate said into the radio. “We could be halfway to Salvani by now.”

“There’s no hurry, kid,” Danny said. “You ever heard the story about the hare and the tortoise?”

“Slow and steady wins the race?”

“Sure, there’s that, but I was referring to the part where the tortoise hid in the woods and ate a bag of jerky.”

They heard what sounded like chewing on the other end of the radio.

Nate gave her a confused look. “Is he eating?”

Gaby shook her head. “It’s Danny.”

“And that explains it?”

“Yes.”

“Hunh.”

They sat in the same spot and watched in silence until the newly arrived trucks fired up again and the men climbed into the back. The vehicles took off up the highway, picking up speed as they went. Soon, the only sounds were the slight echoes of their engines reverberating across the calm midday sky. Gaby and Nate didn’t move or say a word until they couldn’t hear the vehicles anymore. Even then, both of them were hesitant to break the silence—

“There goes the hare,” a voice said behind them.

She spun around at the same time as Nate, both of them reaching for their weapons.

Except it was just Danny, standing behind them chewing on a piece of jerky he had taken out of a bag of Oberto.

“Jesus,” Gaby said.

“Nah, it’s just me,” Danny said. “Let’s get back to the Chevy before the girls run off in search of better pastures.”

He turned around and began moving through the woods.

She got up, and with Nate at her side, followed him. Nate gave her a How’d he get behind us? look.

She shook her head.

“What now?” Nate asked Danny.

“They’re going west, toward your other friends,” Danny said.

Nate flinched again, this time at the word “friends.”

Danny was picking his way back to where they had parked the collaborator truck they had taken off the highway, and she couldn’t help but find his slow and steady pace to be slightly irritating. Shouldn’t they be moving faster? With purpose?

“Looks like they’ve gathering the buggers into one place,” Danny said. “Despite my legendary skills, that’s way too many to take on, especially with the women and kids to take care of. And, oh, you too, Natester.”

“So we go around them,” Gaby said. “We don’t actually have to go through Salvani, do we?”

“No. But it’s likely they’ll have the rest of the interstate covered, too. Leave behind spotters just in case we decide to take a detour or find a shortcut. Right, Nathaniel Hawthorne?”

“I don’t know,” Nate said. “Maybe. Like I said, they didn’t really tell me the whole plan. Go here, stay there, back up these guys. That’s pretty much it.” Then he added, “And it’s just Nate.”

“We need to get going, Danny,” Gaby said. “Lara and the others are counting on us showing up tonight.”

“Get back to the island!” Will had said. “Whatever you go, don’t leave it undefended for another night!”

“You know anything about that?” Danny asked. The question was obviously directed at Nate, even though Danny hadn’t looked back at them when he said it.

Nate shook his head. “That’s beyond my AO. I haven’t been anywhere past the interstate since I woke up.”

Woke up? Gaby thought, but restrained herself from blurting out the question.

She said instead, “AO?”

“Area of operations,” Nate said. “Though they didn’t call it that. Like I said, it’s a pretty helter-skelter outfit. I don’t think they know what the hell they’re doing. Mostly, they’re just obeying orders from them.”

She didn’t have to ask who “them” was. She knew. Danny knew, too.

“So what’s the plan?” she asked Danny.

“The fastest path to Song Island is the interstate,” Danny said. He was still moving unfathomably slow. She wished he would move faster already. “We could try going around it, but it’s going to cost us time if we have to pick through the small roads. Of course, we’d have to try not to get lost in the process, too. One wrong turn, and it’s another hour or two. Or days. Maps aren’t nearly as reliable as GPS, and unfortunately I don’t think those are up and running anymore. Like you said, kid, we gotta get home before dark.”

“So what are our options?”

“They think we already went on ahead, in the truck we took. So the guys at Salvani are expecting us, and the ones that just took off think they’re going to cut off our retreat. I’m guessing they also have guys in Lake Dulcet thirty minutes from here, and Lake Charles after that.”

“They’re not real soldiers by any stretch, but yeah, they’re not total idiots, either,” Nate said.

“Good to know. So, my guess is when they can’t find us, they’ll start spreading out, thinking we left the interstate before we reached one of their ambushes. That’s the smart move.”

“But that’s not what we’re going to do,” Gaby said.

“Nope.” Danny bit on another big stick of jerky and nodded back at Nate. “Nice uniform.”

“Thanks?” Nate said.

Danny grinned at them.

“You trust this guy?” Nate asked.

“If it wasn’t for Danny and Will, I wouldn’t be alive more times over than I could count,” Gaby said. “Yeah, I trust him.”

“That’s good enough for me.”

She looked at the girls in the backseat. Annie had Milly in her lap, the two of them staring somberly out the window. Like Gaby, they hadn’t protested when Danny laid out his plan. Although she looked like she might have bolted at any second, Annie hadn’t said a word when given the chance. Milly, too, had kept quiet. But if Annie and Milly looked terrified of where they were heading, Claire was the exact opposite.

“We’re almost there,” Claire said, smiling at her.

“Almost,” Gaby said.

She returned the girl’s smile, though inside she couldn’t help but wonder where she was leading them. Was Song Island really safer than out here? Or in one of those collaborator towns? If you obeyed and went along with the program, those places weren’t so bad. All you had to do was give blood every night…and let some stranger impregnate you…so your child could be born to serve the ghouls.

Like cattle.

That’s what they want to turn us into. Docile cattle.

Gaby shivered slightly and was glad no one noticed, including Nate behind the steering wheel next to her. Claire was also too busy wiping dirt off her FNH shotgun to pay attention.

God, Josh, how did you ever convince yourself any of this was okay?

She turned back around in the front passenger seat and got a quick glimpse of herself in the tilted rearview mirror. If seeing Nate in the fresh soldier’s uniform still threw her for a loop, seeing herself in one was even more jolting.

There was a hole in the back of the shirt she was wearing now, along with some dried blood. The man Nate had shot in the back had been about her size, though a few inches taller and wider around the hip area. The pants barely fit, but she was able to cinch it mostly in place with the gun belt. Not that she was going to have to wear it for long, which was why she kept her original clothes crumpled on the floor at her feet.

There were hardly any vehicles left along the interstate to look at, or obstructions in the roads to avoid. This stretch of the countryside had been barren of stray cars for the last twenty minutes ever since they drove out of the woods and made their way back onto I-10. According to all the signs, Lake Dulcet was still five minutes ahead of them.

“I know you want to ask,” Nate said after a while.

“Later,” she said.

“If we live through this.”

Gaby sighed and hoped Claire and the others hadn’t heard that. But of course they had. They were sitting right behind them, after all.

“We’ll be fine,” she said, a little louder than she needed to because she wanted the girls in the back to hear her clearly. “Danny knows what he’s doing. You just have to trust him.”

God, I hope Danny knows what he’s doing.

“You really trust him,” Nate said.

“We’ve been through a lot together.”

“So have we.”

“It’s not even close, Nate.”

“Not even close?”

“Night and day.”

“Even after the pawnshop?”

“Even after the pawnshop.”

“Oh.”

He sounded genuinely hurt that time, though she couldn’t understand why. He had to know, didn’t he, that what she had gone through with Will and Danny was beyond anything he and she had shared in the couple days they knew each other before he was taken? Didn’t he know that?

“Let’s talk about something else,” she said.

“Okay,” Nate said. Then, “They’re there? Dwayne, Kendra, and the others? They made it to Song Island safely?”

“They did.”

“Good. Not knowing what had happened to them kept me up at night.”

“After what you went through, you were worried about them?”

“I’ve been responsible for them for a long time. Old habits are hard to break, I guess.” He paused for a moment, then, “How sure are you they’re going to attack the island tonight?”

“Will seemed pretty sure.”

“I’m sorry about that. Will, I mean.”

“You don’t know Will. As long as he’s breathing, he’s capable of anything. I wouldn’t be surprised if he beats us to the island.”

God, I almost believed myself that time.

“You didn’t know about the ambush on Route 13?” she asked.

He shook his head. “I know they were setting up an ambush, but not that you were involved. I told you, they really don’t tell us anything. Just where to go and what to do. I didn’t even know you were still alive until I saw you through my scope.”

“When did you decide?”

“Decide what?”

“To change sides.”

“I was never on their side,” Nate said. Again, he sounded slightly frustrated with the question — or the accusation, she guessed, was the more appropriate word. “You have to understand what happened to me after Lafayette—”

“Later,” she said, cutting him off and leaning slightly toward the dashboard. She peered out the windshield at what she had been waiting to see since they returned to the highway.

Nate saw it, too, and went quiet.

There were two vehicles up ahead, parked nose-to-nose in the middle of the two-lane highway. The shoulders were wide open, but getting to them would be a miracle with the four men standing around the trucks, aiming assault rifles down the interstate at them.

Nate began to slow down. “Ready?”

She nodded, then turned around slightly in her seat. It was a minor move that was (hopefully) unnoticeable from outside the car. “Guys, get down, just like we rehearsed.”

There was a lot of movement behind her as Annie and Milly sank into the floor behind Nate’s seat, and Claire did likewise behind hers. She imagined the thirteen-year-old clutching her shotgun and steeling herself for what was about to come.

Gaby faced fully forward again and gripped the M4 leaning against her right leg. It had been there the entire time, just out of view.

Please let this work. Please don’t let us all die in the next few minutes.

The two-way radio on the dashboard squawked, and they heard Danny’s voice. “Easy does it, Nathaniel Ramsey. Just pretend you’re back at the Colonial Congress of the Confederation.”

“What the hell is he talking about?” Nate said to her.

Gaby couldn’t help but smile. “I have no idea. Just keep going. Remember who you are.”

“And what’s that?”

“A traitorous scumbag who sold out humanity.”

“Ouch.”

“I didn’t mean—”

“I know,” he said.

She nodded. “I didn’t say it before, but it’s good to see you again, Nate. I’m glad you’re still alive.”

He smiled at her, genuinely touched by that. She almost blushed under his gaze.

“Ditto,” he said.

Now all they had to do was survive the next few seconds.

I hope you know what you’re doing, Danny. God, I hope you know what you’re friggin’ doing…

CHAPTER 9 WILL

“One door closes, another door opens.”

Or maybe the better saying was, “Up a creek without a paddle and nothing to show for it but a wet ass”?

The point was, he was in trouble. Maybe. There were options in front of him, but as always, the trick was to pick out the best one and go for it. Choose the wrong one, and he was likely a dead man. And Lara would so be pissed off if he went and died on her.

Don’t worry, babe, I don’t plan on going anywhere anytime soon.

“You’re from Dunbar,” Will said.

“How’d you know?” This was Leo, the forty-something who, along with the woman, had found him inside the Palermo. He was the talkative of the duo; which was to say, he was the only one who talked.

“The direction you came from, for one,” Will said. “That, and your less-than-enthusiastic reaction to the soldiers.”

“‘Soldiers,’” Leo snorted. “Don’t call them that.”

“What do you call them?”

“Wannabes. Killers. Pieces of shit. Take your pick.”

Will nodded. He would have gone with “weekend warriors” himself, but “wannabe killer pieces of shit” was just as good.

Natasha, the woman, was watching him closely from across the room. Not that there was a lot of space between them. They were sitting on the dust-covered floor of one of those small pick-up centers for Domino’s Pizza. The building was on the other side of the I-10, beyond the underpass, and to the right of Route 13. They were close enough to the highway that he could see out the windows at the Palermo and Chevron signs jutting in the air. There were two more men in a Valero gas station across the street from them, both heavily armed individuals that were, like the three of them, waiting for signs of a counterattack from Mason’s men.

Dunbar’s fighters didn’t have the desire to go anywhere anytime soon post-attack, he had discovered. They were at least nice enough to give him back his painkillers and a half-full bottle of water to wash away the caked blood from his face while they waited, though Will spent most of it keeping dehydration at bay.

He sneaked a look down at his watch: 1:06 P.M.

Almost an hour after Leo, Natasha, and the others laid waste to the ten or so men Mason had left behind at the intersection. Since then, no one else had shown up yet. Looking around him at Leo’s gnarled face and Natasha’s dead-serious eyes, he couldn’t shake the feeling he had found himself in the company of people who had embraced a death wish. Attacking the soldiers had been a hell of a gamble and had cost them two of their own, leaving behind just six, including the two in the technical hidden next to their side of the highway now, ready to burst out and open fire at anyone who came down Route 13.

That was the full extent of their “plan,” as it turned out. He wondered if he could use that lack of ambition to his advantage. What would a group of people who just wanted to kill some assholes that had laid waste to their city do when those intended targets never showed up?

Maybe I should find out.

“You’ve been to Dunbar?” Leo was asking him.

“We thought about it, but we never got that far down the highway,” he lied.

“Where you from?”

“Mississippi.”

“That was you,” Natasha said. “We saw a minivan not far from here, at a farmhouse. It had Mississippi plates.”

Will nodded. He was hoping they would have stumbled across it on their way down the road. The minivan belonged to a young man named Lance and his girlfriend, Annie. The two had come to Louisiana from the neighboring state with other survivors looking for salvation.

Old story. New characters.

Annie was the only survivor after last night, and she was with Gaby and Danny right now on their way to Song Island.

Song Island. That was the key.

But first, he had to slowly build up his credibility. Maybe Leo and Natasha knew about his and Danny’s presence in Dunbar two nights ago, and maybe they didn’t. Right now, he needed them to see him as an unaffiliated third party who wasn’t a threat. After all, it was hard to take suggestions from someone you’d rather shoot in the head.

“You alone?” Natasha asked him.

He shook his head. He had a feeling she already knew about the other truck — the one Danny and Gaby had managed to escape in earlier. What was that Michael had said?

“They came out of nowhere. They must have…they must have been crawling along the fields all day toward us.”

That kind of stealth approach took a long time. It hadn’t surprised him to learn Leo and Natasha’s group had been approaching Mason’s long before his and Danny’s vehicles made their mad dash to reach the interstate. Which meant there was a very real possibility the two people watching him closely right now had witnessed the ambush from cover.

So he had to choose his lies and truths carefully. Very, very carefully. He could see it in Natasha’s stare — and, to an extent, in Leo’s, too. Days later, they were still reeling from what happened back at Dunbar.

“No,” Will said, looking Natasha in the eyes, because this version of him that he was trying to sell had nothing to hide. “After we left the farmhouse, we ran across a couple of the soldiers in trucks. We managed to overpower them and take their vehicles. We were trying to escape when they ambushed us.”

“How many more of you are out there?” she asked.

“Four.”

“Christ, how many did you fit into that minivan?” Leo asked, with just a hint of amusement.

“We didn’t just come in one vehicle.”

“Why did you burn down the farmhouse?” Natasha asked. She was still staring at him, trying to read him, maybe catch him in a lie. Sunlight streamed through the windows to their right and splashed across her hardened face.

“After they attacked us, we thought there were some left in the basement in the morning,” Will said. “We couldn’t stay there anymore, so we burned the house down in hopes of getting some of them, too.”

It wasn’t a total lie. All of it was true, except for the part where he inserted himself into Lance’s role.

“You’re talking about them, them,” Leo said. “The creatures.”

Will nodded.

“Did you get them?” the older man asked. He sounded almost hopeful. “Did it work?”

“I don’t know,” Will said. “We never opened the basement door to check.”

Eureka, he thought when he saw Natasha casually slide her finger out of the trigger guard of her M4. She probably didn’t even know she had done it — an unconscious act that told him she had stopped seeing him as the immediate danger he once was.

Or, at least, he hoped he was reading her reaction correctly. He had to remind himself that he was treading on very dangerous ground here. One wrong lie, one creative story that couldn’t be collaborated by evidence or what they already knew, and he’d never make it to Song Island.

Like walking a tightrope fifty stories up…while getting shot at.

Will sat back against the dirty wall, took out the bottle of meds, and downed two more, leaving just three lonely white pills at the bottom. He had been surviving on mostly adrenaline and sweat these last few days that the old wounds throughout his body had begun to fade into the background. He just had to worry about the ones still held together by stitches, especially the one in his side. That, more than anything, was his primary concern.

“What’s that?” Natasha asked.

“Painkillers,” Will said.

“You hurt?”

“You’re not?”

She almost smiled. Almost.

“Who isn’t, these days,” he said.

“Dead people,” she said.

Leo chuckled. “Hallelujah.”

The older man was sitting to Will’s left and rummaging through a school backpack. Will had been hoping one of them had picked up his tactical pack, along with all the silver ammo inside, but it was gone. Either Mason had thrown it into his own inventory, or it was lost somewhere in all the rubble back in the Palermo.

There were also no signs of his M4A1, which really hurt. From Afghanistan to Harris County to the end of the world, only to lose it at a lousy gas station in the middle of nowhere. He couldn’t ask them about it, either, because that would mean he was a guy who knew guns, and the Will he was trying to sell right now was a civvy through and through.

“Here,” Leo said, and tossed him another refilled bottle of water along with a vacuum-sealed bag with strips of jerky inside. “Eat up; it might be a long wait.”

“Thanks,” Will said. He pried the bag open and devoured the jerky. It tasted like deer meat. “You made this?”

“None of that store-bought junk. I’ve been hunting since I was twelve and learned to make my own jerky when I was thirteen.”

“Where did you even find deer?”

“They’re around, if you look hard enough. Not easy by any means, but there are a few still running around out there in the woods. Of course, turns out surviving the bloodsuckers is easier than dodging me.”

“He’s really proud of his jerky,” Natasha said. She unzipped her own pack and took out a similar bag, then produced another long strip of jerky. “He should be. It’s better than the crap we hoarded after everything fell apart.”

“And that’s the closest you’ll come to getting a compliment out of Nat, kid,” Leo said.

Will smiled, then, “How long are you guys going to stay here?”

Leo and Natasha exchanged a brief look.

They have no idea. They’re just making it up as they go. Swell.

“Maybe an hour,” Leo said with a shrug. “If they send more over, we’ll deal with them the same way we dealt with the others. Too bad we already used up the frag grenade.”

“Whose bright idea was that?”

Leo grinned at him. “One guess.”

Natasha. Of course.

“I expected the damn gas station to go up like a Roman candle,” Leo said. “I guess it’s a good thing for you that Nat doesn’t throw like a girl. You should have seen that fastball vanish into the Palermo. Boom. If it had landed over the storage tanks under the pumps, we wouldn’t be having this conversation right now.”

“No kidding. Where’d you get your hands on something like that?”

“From the same meatheads we took the truck from. The stuff these guys are carrying around, all those M4s and MGs. They must have hit a fort or something. Who knows what else they have stashed around the state.”

Will glanced down at his watch again.

“You in a hurry?” Natasha asked. The edge had crept back into her voice.

“Yes,” Will said, meeting her suspicious gaze.

Sell it. She expects you to run from her glare. So don’t.

“My friends got away, and I need to find them again,” Will said. “We came here together, survived all this as a group. You guys seem okay, don’t get me wrong, but these are my people. I need to catch up to them.”

He must have sold it well enough, because Natasha nodded. “They went up the interstate. West.”

So they really had been close enough to witness the ambush. Where the hell had they been hiding during the whole thing? The sunburned grass in the fields around them wasn’t exactly a sniper’s dream. There were thicker woods further up the highway, but there wasn’t much of that over here, where the businesses were concentrated.

“Where they headed, anyway?” Leo asked.

And there it is.

“Have you ever heard of Song Island?” Will asked.

They waited another thirty minutes.

Then thirty minutes became an hour.

And no one showed up.

Meanwhile, the carrion birds had begun circling over the corpses left behind in the streets and parking lots of both the Palermo and the Chevron.

Ray, one of the two guys in the Valero across the street from them, jogged over, his lanky six-three frame like a scarecrow against the heavy afternoon sun. “We’re leaving,” he said as soon as he was inside the Domino’s. “They’re not coming.”

Then he left and ran up the street, toward the parked technical.

Leo stood up, brushing dust off his pants. “Come on,” he said to Will, “let’s see if you can convince the others about this Song Island. If we’re going, it’s gotta be as a group, or not at all.”

Will pulled himself up from the floor. He was glad to finally be up again. His side stung a bit, but stinging was better than bleeding, and a quick check told him he was still fine. For now, anyway.

“I can be pretty convincing,” Will said.

“You better hope so,” Natasha said.

There may or may not have been a warning in her voice, and before he could gauge which one was more likely, she had pushed open the doors and stepped out into the street, leaving him behind with Leo.

“What’s her deal?” Will asked.

“What do you mean?” Leo said.

“Back there, at the station. She shot that kid in cold blood.”

Leo frowned, which didn’t do anything for his already heavily lined face. “She lost her daughter two nights ago. The kid was waiting for her in the VFW hall in Dunbar when the soldiers attacked, and… Well, it didn’t end happily for her. For any of us. I guess that explains why we’re all out here trying to kill as many of the bastards as possible.”

Will nodded. He didn’t need Leo to give him the details. He knew what had happened in Dunbar two nights ago, because he had been there. Kate’s shock troops, Harrison’s people being slaughtered…

He walked outside with Leo. “What was she before all of this?”

“State trooper,” Leo said. “She actually busted me a couple of times for hunting out of season. I don’t think she ever had to draw her weapon before the world went to shit, though. Funny how things work out.”

“Yeah,” Will said, though the word “funny” wasn’t quite what he would have used.

“An island? Are you fucking kidding me?”

“An island. You’re out of your mind.”

“The radio broadcast? I heard about that.”

“I say we keep going.”

“Maybe we should go back to Dunbar.”

“We have to find someplace else. Dunbar’s lost.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Let’s find more of these fuckers and kill as many as we can, before they get us.”

Because what remained of Dunbar’s fighters didn’t have anything resembling a leader, everyone spoke at the same time. Which made it difficult for Will to judge who was leaning toward his proposition and who was just shooting off at the mouth.

Natasha, though, had kept out of the fray. She leaned against the Ford’s hood and looked solemnly back down Route 13 through the underpass, as if she expected Mason’s soldiers to pop up at any moment. By the way she was holding her M4, he guessed she was hoping for exactly that.

“Shit, it’s not any more unbelievable than what’s happening now,” Leo was saying. “Look around you, boys. The impossible is possible. What makes this any less possible, considering everything we’ve been through? Have you forgotten about those blue-eyed fucks we all saw two nights ago?”

That seemed to quiet them.

I have a champion, Will thought, fighting back a smile. He couldn’t have chosen a better person to argue for him, either. Leo was tall, big, older than the rest, and forceful when he talked so you couldn’t help but pay attention.

Leo turned to him now. “And it works. The bodies of water. Just the way the woman on the radio says it does?”

“She was right about the silver,” Will said.

“You’ve used silver on them?” Ray asked.

“We have. After we heard the radio message, we started sharpening silver crosses into weapons. All you have to do is stab them and they die. They actually die.”

Ray, Leo, and the others exchanged a look. All except Natasha. She was still focused on the underpass, oblivious to the conversation. Will thought she would at least react to his confirmation that silver worked on the ghouls, but no. Natasha was in her own world. Right now, he didn’t think anything besides the presence of Mason’s men could make her care.

“Dammit,” Ray said. “We heard that same broadcast days ago, but Harrison insisted it was all bullshit, so we never followed through on it. But you’re saying it works. You swear it?”

“I swear it,” Will said, “and I’ve used it.”

“So, silver bullets?” Leo said. Will could practically see the gears in the older man’s head turning. “We could do that. Make silver rounds. It’d be nice to finally be able to shoot and kill the fuckers for once.”

“Silver works, just like the woman on the radio said it would,” Will said. “If she’s right about that, she could be right about the bodies of water, too. All we’d have to do is get to Song Island. You guys are looking for a new place to stay. There it is.”

“I have a question,” Ray said. “How the hell are we going to survive on an island?”

“It has a hotel and solar-powered electricity.”

“And you know this how?”

“We didn’t all come from Mississippi. One of us was from here. He was born and raised around Beaufont Lake and he saw them building the hotel over the years, and he says it’s mostly finished. As for what you’d eat, that’s easy — the lake is filled with fish. When we heard the radio broadcast, it just made sense to retreat to Song Island.”

“Sounds like a fool thing to do,” another man, Greg, said. He was in his thirties, squat, and looked ridiculous next to the tall Ray.

The other two were Olsen and Barnes, who had been manning the technical all this time.

Olsen was leaning out the front passenger side door looking bored. “They’re from Mississippi, what’d you expect?”

Will ignored him, said, “Look around you, guys. There’s not a lot of choices left these days. If it’s not the creatures, it’s the soldiers.”

“And hiding on an island is better?” Ray said.

“Better than out here.”

“He’s got a point,” Barnes said. He was resting against the front hood of the Ford. “We barely got out of Dunbar with our hides. This island sounds pretty good to me. I mean, what the fuck? We gonna run around getting into fights all our lives? We did what we could. Maybe it’s time to move on.”

The others didn’t argue Barnes’s point, but they didn’t exactly shout their agreement, either. A couple of them, like Leo and Greg, sneaked a quick look over at Natasha. If she noticed them, she didn’t show it.

“When we get there, how do we reach the island?” Ray asked.

“John, the guy who told us about it, said there are a couple of marinas with boats in the area,” Will said. “He also said there are houses along the shoreline, in case we get there and need emergency shelter.”

He stopped talking to let all of that sink in. If he didn’t know better, he’d think it was working because each man seemed to have retreated into his own internal monologues, maybe even weighing the pros and cons. He hoped at least most of them were leaning toward the pros. He probably had Leo and Ray. The others, though, were a toss-up.

“Clock’s ticking,” Will said. “If you’re going to decide to go, you need to do it soon.” He glanced at his watch for dramatic effect. “You know what happens when it gets dark out here. We all do.”

They glanced at each other in silence. All except Natasha. Will wasn’t sure if she had even heard any of the conversation going on around her.

“Well?” Leo said finally. “Do we go, or continue taking our chances out here?”

“Fuck it,” Ray said. “How long we going to last out here like this, anyway? We had it good in Dunbar, but that’s gone. Harrison’s dead or worse. Rachel, too. What’s left?”

“An island,” Greg said. He sounded as if he wanted to laugh, but couldn’t make himself do it. “Well, shit. I’ve heard of worse ideas, I guess.”

“If we go, we all go,” Leo said. “So do we go?”

They nodded one by one.

Except for Natasha. She still hadn’t said a word.

“Nat,” Leo said, turning to her. “Did you hear—”

“Okay,” she said before he could finish.

“Okay?” Leo repeated, just to be sure.

“Yeah, okay.” She walked past him and to the back of the truck. “I guess we better hurry, then. Like the man said, the clock’s ticking.”

The others followed her example and began piling into the truck.

Leo turned to Will and grinned. “You better hope this island’s there, buddy, ’cause if it’s not, we’ll be standing around watching the sunset with our balls in our hands.”

Will smiled back at him.

I’m coming home, Lara. Just hold out a little longer, babe.

By 1:44 P.M., they were back on the highway and heading west. Olsen and Greg were in the cab of the Ford F-250, with Barnes behind the wheel. Will sat in the back with Ray, Leo, and Natasha. They had given him one of the M4s from the gun battle, but there were still no signs of his M4A1. Besides the carbine, he was wearing a dead man’s gun belt and a holstered 9mm Sig Sauer, though not the same one Michael had given him earlier.

The optimist in him hoped Danny and Gaby had already arrived back at the marina and were on their way to the island right now. They needed to be there before nightfall. They had to, because it was going to happen tonight. He could feel it in his bones. Lara had managed to stall them with the help of the new guy, Keo, but that was a Band-Aid on a gaping wound. She was counting on him to return, and the last thing he wanted to do was let her down.

Dunbar’s people had a map of the state and knew the way down to Song Island, and Will had told them about Salvani. He was worried about a potential ambush along the way — Mason had shown enough foresight to set one up for Danny and Gaby earlier — but he didn’t tell the others about that. He should have felt guilty about the omission, but he didn’t. He was using them, yes. He couldn’t avoid that even if he wanted to, and he didn’t want to.

He had to get to Song Island. He had to reach Lara before tonight. That was all that mattered.

It was chilly in the back of the truck with the wind ripping at his face, because Will was sitting with his back against the right side of the bed, facing Leo. He had chosen the spot on purpose, because it allowed him to see both in front and behind him. Natasha sat to his right, with Ray next to her. The ammo belt attached to the M60 draped down from the roof and into the can of ammo sitting between them. Dunbar’s fighters hadn’t said a word since they started on their way, but every now and then he caught them glancing up at the sun, as if to make sure the night hadn’t snuck up on them when they weren’t looking.

Will passed the time by watching the never-ending stretch of road flashing by, a constant sea of unyielding gray structures. How long would the roads last? The highways, big and small? The buildings? The businesses and homes and vehicles? Man’s time was over. It didn’t take a genius to figure that one out. He sure as hell wasn’t one, and he knew that.

After a while, he became aware of Natasha staring at him again.

“What?” he said, raising his voice a bit to be heard over the roar of the wind in his face.

“There were two vehicles this morning,” she said. “You were in the Tacoma.”

He nodded.

“You rammed the trucks that were blocking the streets,” she continued. “Why?”

“They were in the way.”

“But you rammed them. You could have tried to go around.”

“Maybe. But there wasn’t any time. I made a split-second decision.”

“Why?”

“Why?”

“Yeah,” she said. “Why?”

“I don’t understand,” he said, wondering again just how close Natasha had been to the action this morning to have seen all of that.

“You sacrificed yourself for your friends,” she said. “By opening up a lane for them to drive through. Why?”

“I didn’t think I was sacrificing anything,” Will said. “I just misjudged how badly the truck would go into a tailspin after the impact.”

“You screwed up, is that it?”

“Yeah, I guess I did.”

He wasn’t sure if she believed him. For that matter, did he believe it? Or had he really been thinking about sacrificing himself so Danny and Gaby could reach Song Island, instead of all three of them not making it?

It wasn’t as if he’d had the time to think about it since this morning. He had been too preoccupied with trying to survive since waking up from the crash.

But now that the question was posed to him…

Doesn’t matter. Danny and Gaby are on their way home, and so am I.

That’s all that matters now.

“You might have gotten through if you had been driving the bigger car,” Natasha was saying.

He shrugged. “We had kids in the backseat, and we needed the extra space.”

“Still…”

“Yeah, well, they got through. I just hope they made it to the island.”

“That was your first mistake.”

“What’s that?”

“You still have hope,” Natasha said before looking away.

“I’m sorry about your daughter, about what happened in Dunbar,” he wanted to say to her, but he didn’t. Natasha didn’t care about his condolences. She had lost a child, and some stranger telling her that he was “sorry” wasn’t going to do a damn thing for her.

So Will kept his mouth shut and laid the M4 across his lap instead.

Besides, there was a very good chance he was sending these people to their deaths with an elaborate series of lies and half-truths. Then again, guilt was for survivors, and if he was lucky enough to call himself that after tonight, then he’d embrace it and carry on like he always did.

But first, he had to get home.

Get to Lara.

Whatever it took, he had to get back home to Lara. Nothing else mattered before and after that.

CHAPTER 10 GABY

No one fired a shot as they drove up to the roadblock, and the clatter of gunfire was still unnervingly absent when they parked and climbed out of the truck. She expected to be fighting for her life the moment her foot touched the hard concrete, and when that didn’t happen, Gaby had to spend a few seconds adjusting.

It’s the uniforms. They’re not shooting because of the uniforms.

I can’t believe it’s working.

The men pointing the assault rifles at them saw the familiar camo print and must have breathed a sigh of relief almost right away. Or it could have been the sight of a very assured Nate walking forward with his rifle held loosely at his side before stopping near the hood. He was non-threatening, but somehow still aggressive enough to draw their eyes to him.

If he was scared, Nate didn’t show it, especially when he shouted over at the soldiers, “What the hell, guys? Stop pointing those guns at us! They told us to come up here and back you up, not to get shot in the face!”

‘Shot in the face,’ Nate?

That was a nice flourish. Someone who didn’t belong here would have reacted differently, and not with the righteous indignation that was clearly evident in Nate’s voice. That seemed to relax the men even further. Or, at least, she hoped so. She could have been reading the whole situation wrong and not know it until it was too late.

Gaby had her rifle in her right hand, but she held it loosely at her side, almost cavalierly in order to give off the right impression. Like Nate, she was playing a role, trying to sell that she belonged here, that she wasn’t afraid of the rifles pointing — relaxed, but still pointing—at them. Her body might have seemed calm, but her hand was clutching tightly onto the rifle. Maybe too tightly. She couldn’t be sure because she didn’t look down, but it felt as if her entire arm had gone numb.

Relax. This is going to work.

Because we’re all dead if it doesn’t.

God, I wish Will was here…

She was certain there were just the same four men she had seen from inside the truck as they pulled up. If there were more hiding, maybe even on the other side of the divider like last time, that was going to throw everything off. It would mean they had to adapt on the fly, which might not be possible when the bullets started flying.

What was that Lara liked to say? Adapt or perish.

One of the men had short blond hair, and he straightened up behind the hood of one of the trucks — a black GMC that looked fresh off the lot — and peered up the highway at Nate and Gaby. Thirty yards separated them. That was just far enough of a distance for the soldiers to see them (The uniforms; focus on the uniforms we’re wearing), but not too close to reveal everything. A part of her was afraid they might spot the bullet hole in the back of the uniform she was wearing. Which was silly, because she was facing them. Unless there was a fifth man back there…

Please don’t let there be a fifth man. Please, please…

She could hear nervous movement behind her from inside the truck. It was either Annie or Milly, because it couldn’t have been Claire. The thirteen-year-old knew better. Claire was a born soldier, and Gaby could trust her to remain perfectly still as they attempted this charade. All they had to do was keep their heads down when the shooting started.

Just a little bit longer…

“Who sent you?” the blond shouted at them.

“Mason sent us over as reinforcements,” Nate said. “In case those guys in the truck came back. They up there, or what?”

“Mason sent you?”

“Who else? You think I’m out here for my health? I’d rather be back in town.”

God, he’s good at this, Gaby thought, glancing briefly across the truck at Nate. If she didn’t know better, she would have believed him, too.

“Where you from?” the blond asked. It was almost conversational, like he wasn’t looking at Nate from behind the iron sights of a rifle.

“L17,” Nate said.

“We’re from L11.”

“I’ve been there. You know Hank?”

“Yeah, I know him,” the blond said.

That seemed to do it. Two of the men flanking Blondie started to relax, and one of them took his hands off his M4 lying over the roof of the other truck — a white Toyota pickup — and actually stood back a bit. The third man had also straightened up from behind his cover and now let his rifle hang at his side.

The only one who hadn’t shown any signs of easing up was the fourth man. He was older than the other three by at least ten years and had a large beard. He looked as if he was wearing a uniform that was at least a size too small, making him seem bigger than he really was. He was still watching the Chevy from behind the back of the GMC, as if he expected a gunfight to start up at any moment.

The man must have sensed Gaby staring, because he looked over in her direction and they stared at each other across the short distance. She didn’t know how long that lasted. Maybe it was just a second, or a few seconds. It could have been just a split second.

Oh, shit.

Gaby responded on pure instinct. She wasn’t even aware of what she was doing until she had squeezed the trigger on the M4 and hit the side of the truck.

She had fired too fast and missed!

Fortunately for her, the solid ping! as her round drilled into the vehicle must have startled the bearded man enough, because instead of shooting back at her, he ducked behind cover. That gave her the precious extra second to flick the fire selector on the carbine to burst fire and squeeze the trigger again.

She strafed the truck with the first three-round volley, swinging her rifle from right to left, shattering the driver-side window in the process. She kept squeezing the trigger even as the other three men were slow to react, as if they couldn’t decide between hiding and returning fire. One man was struggling to get a hold of his rifle, while another was racing along the length of the pickup.

Thank God for amateurs, Will.

She was already backing up, moving behind her open passenger door (hoping and praying Nate was doing the same on his side) while continuing to pull the trigger again and again and again—

Then, a second later her own gunfire was lost in the torrential downpour of brap-brap-brap! coming from behind and slightly to her left.

Danny.

Gaby threw a quick look back and saw him standing in the back of the Chevy. He was firing the M240 machine gun over the cab, the nonstop clink-clink-clink of empty 7.62mm brass casings pouring down and bouncing off the roof and landing in the truck bed around his feet. Some flickered onto the highway behind Gaby, while others somehow managed to rain down the front windshield and clank against the front hood.

Danny held onto the heavy weapon with both hands and was moving it right and left, bracing its bucking weight against the truck’s roof to keep it under control as he oscillated his fire. He was slightly bent over, eyes looking behind the iron sights of the weapon at his targets thirty yards up the highway.

There was a loud explosion as a tire blew, then another one. Windows shattered against the constant ping-ping-ping! of bullets punching through aluminum and metal and steel. All the noise and fury drowned out her own labored breathing. She couldn’t even hear (though she could see) Nate, outside the driver-side door on the other side, still firing up the highway. The smell of gasoline wafted across the highway to her nostrils as the two perforated vehicles began leaking fuel.

Gaby didn’t realize she had stopped pulling her M4’s trigger until Danny finally stopped shooting. By the weight of her weapon, she guessed she still had half a magazine left, so she switched it back to semi-auto and focused on the two vehicles.

Or what was left of them.

The last half dozen or so shots from the M240 were still echoing off the sun-baked highway and the walls of trees to both sides of them when she finally recognized her own shallow breathing. Slowly, slowly, she forced herself to settle down, just as the last gunshots faded.

“Clear it!” Danny shouted. She didn’t know why he was shouting until she realized he was probably slightly deaf from firing the machine gun and didn’t even know it.

Then there was just the silence again, with the occasional clinking as she moved forward, kicking casings out of her path. Nate was moving forward, parallel to her. They exchanged a brief look and nod before continuing on to the GMC and Toyota.

They were wrecks. Worse than wrecks. The tires were blown, every window smashed to pieces, even the ones on the other side. Danny hadn’t spared a single round, and she made a promise to herself never to get in front of one of those weapons.

She didn’t say a word, and neither did Nate as they scooted toward the shredded metal carcasses. She counted two bodies on her side, including the man with the beard and the blond. There were two more on Nate’s end. Thick red blood pooled under and around their still bodies, wet and unnaturally bright against the sun.

Gaby lowered her rifle and looked back down the interstate at Danny and waved. He nodded back and put the M240 away and climbed out of the truck. She didn’t have to be able to see his face to know that all those little motions were causing him a lot of pain with his broken leg. Not that Danny said anything as he hobbled over to the driver-side door and looked in at the girls.

She glanced across the lanes at Nate. He was staring at the bodies, and she couldn’t quite tell what the expression on his face was at the moment. Regret? Sympathy? Guilt?

“Nate,” she said. “We should take their weapons and look for anything else we can use in the trucks, then get out of here.”

He nodded back but didn’t say a word. He looked inside the Toyota through the broken front passenger-side window, and she did the same to the GMC. There was a case of MREs in the back, along with green cans of ammo. She grabbed a tactical pack from the floor and found it filled with extra clothes that she yanked out and replaced with the MREs before collecting two M4s from the ground.

Nate had picked up a third rifle on his side, but didn’t bother with the fourth one. “It’s busted,” he said before she could ask.

“Let’s get out of here,” she said, and they took their spoils back to the Silverado, where Danny was waiting for them.

“We good?” he asked them.

“We’re good,” Gaby said.

“How about you, Nathaniel Bacon?”

Nate shook his head. “I don’t know who that is.”

“Read a book sometime,” Danny said. He glanced down at his watch, then looked up at the feeder road beside them. “We’ll cut across Lake Dulcet and make our way south. It’ll be close, but if we haul ass, there’s no reason we can’t reach Song Island by four or five. That sound good?”

“You know where you’re going?” Gaby asked.

“Yeah, sure. Just follow the signs, right? I’m good at that, you know. Back in college, they used to call me Follow The Signs Danny.”

“‘Follow the Signs Danny’?” Nate said.

Gaby managed a smile. “Just go with it.”

“Ah,” Nate said.

She tossed the bag of food, ammo cans, and rifles into the back. Annie and Milly were outside on the driver side and Claire was standing next to her, looking at what remained of the soldiers’ trucks. Gaby was glad the girl couldn’t see the bodies on the other side of the vehicles. Claire was strong, but she didn’t particularly want the kid seeing everything if she could help it.

“What’s that smell?” Claire asked, wrinkling her nose.

“Gasoline,” Gaby said.

“Oh.” Then she turned her calm eyes on Gaby. “I could have helped.”

“Not until you learn how to shoot a rifle.”

“I already know how to shoot a rifle.”

“I mean a real rifle.”

“You’ll teach me?” she said, nodding at the carbine in Gaby’s hands. “Soon? I want to help, too.”

“Soon,” Gaby nodded. “Now get inside so we can get going.”

“Next stop, Song Island?”

God, I hope so, she thought, but smiled reassuringly and said, “Yeah, definitely next stop, Song Island.”

Claire grinned and climbed back into the truck.

Danny was already settling in behind the steering wheel. “You did good, kid.”

“Thanks,” she said.

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Perish the thought.”

He grunted, then, “Asses down and seatbelts on. Annie, you’re up front with me. You know how to read a map?”

Annie climbed into the front passenger seat. She didn’t look nearly as shell-shocked or dazed as she had earlier during the first firefight on the highway. Maybe, Gaby thought, Annie was finally warming to what it took to survive out here.

It’s about time, too.

“It’s just a map,” Annie said, taking the folded paper from Danny. “How hard could it be?”

“Pretty hard, if you’re blind,” Danny said.

Gaby walked over to Nate, who was already waiting in the back of the truck. He held out his hand, and she let him pull her up.

“How old is that girl? Twelve?” he asked, looking into the cab window at Claire on the other side, clutching her FHN shotgun.

“She’s thirteen.”

“Thirteen. Jesus. You think she’s ready for an assault rifle?”

“I wasn’t ready for one, either, but I got over it.”

“Well, in that case, why don’t we just give her a bazooka?”

“If only we had one.”

“I was kidding,” Nate frowned.

“I wasn’t,” Gaby said.

She sat in the back of the truck across from Nate, with the M240, now reloaded with a fresh ammo belt, rattling next to them. The soldiers were, if nothing else, well stocked when they ventured out. Danny drove, with Annie in the front passenger seat directing his turns using the map.

They had taken the feeder road off the I-10 and were now moving through what looked like Downtown Lake Dulcet. It wasn’t a particular big city — more like a tourist attraction — and the only sound for miles was the churning of the truck’s engine. If Josh’s soldiers were in pursuit, they would be able to hear them easily enough. But that couldn’t be helped right now. To move fast, they had to be loud, too.

The one bright spot was that it had been almost an hour since they entered the city and there were no signs of pursuers. That supported Danny’s theory that the rest of the ambushers were either positioned in Lake Charles further up the interstate or waiting to strike near Salvani. Either way, they had skirted trouble.

Or they hoped, anyway.

Nate sat across from her so they could see both forward and back, as well as both sides of the road. She kept the M4 in her lap, because the very thought of not having it was terrifying. The only sounds for the longest time were the car engine, the wind blasting in her ears, and stray brass casings clinking randomly around them. Danny was driving at forty miles per hour in the narrow streets and gassing it when he found bigger lanes.

She should have felt good about making it through a second ambush unscathed, but seeing those men falling under Danny’s onslaught hadn’t been nearly as triumphant as she had expected. Looking across at Nate now, she guessed he felt the same way, which may or may not be why he hadn’t said a word since they climbed into the Chevy.

“You okay?” she finally asked. She had to raise her voice over the roar of the wind to be heard.

He gave her a forced smile. “Yeah. You?”

“We did what we had to. Back there.”

“I know.”

“Then what’s wrong? Is it the four guys we had to kill?”

“I don’t care about those guys. I was thinking about the other two. The ones who were with me before.”

“What about them?”

“I shot them in the back.” He paused. “They never saw it coming. One of them…he was surprised. I could see it on his face afterward.”

They chose their fates, Nate, she wanted to say. They got what they had coming. Would they have felt bad about shooting us?

But she didn’t say those words out loud because she could see how much it was bothering him, and had been for some time now. It didn’t surprise her at all that he would feel guilty about it. They had once argued about whether to kill another man who had ambushed them on the highway not all that long ago.

“Did you know them?” she asked.

He shook his head. “Not really. We were thrown together when I volunteered for this.”

“You volunteered?”

“I had to. It was the only way to leave L17 and find you.”

“L17,” she repeated. “The town they took me to was called L15.”

“There are dozens of towns in just this state alone. You have no idea how massive the operation really is, Gaby. L17 had over 5,000 people.”

Not people, Nate. Cattle. That’s what we are to them. Nothing but cattle.

“I’m glad you’re alive,” she said, and managed a smile that wasn’t completely forced.

“You already said that.”

“It deserves saying again.”

He gave her his best (mostly) unforced smile. “I wasn’t sure for the longest time, you know. After I woke up…”

“What happened to you, Nate?”

His face darkened slightly. “The night at the pawnshop. They didn’t kill me. They’d been feeding on me for…” He shook his head. “I don’t know how long. After they were done, I guess they put me in one of the towns.”

He stopped talking and seemed to drift off.

“What happened then?” she prompted.

“I eventually got my strength back. After that, they asked me if I wanted to keep fighting or comply. That was the word they used. ‘Comply.’ Not ominous at all, right?”

“Who was it?” she asked. “Who asked you?”

“Just some guy,” Nate said. “I was lucky your friend Josh wasn’t around. I don’t think he would have been quite as willing to just let me go on my merry way.”

You have no idea, Nate. No idea at all.

Nate was staring at her intently when he added, “After he took you, that kid, did he do anything to you, Gaby?”

“Like what?”

“Anything. Did he do anything to you?”

She shook her head. “It wasn’t like that, Nate. Josh…”

Wouldn’t have done something like that, she wanted to say, but she didn’t, because she couldn’t be certain. The Josh she knew — the eighteen-year-old kid who had survived with her and Matt, would never have even thought about something so despicable. But that boy was long gone, replaced by a stranger. This Josh was different. He wasn’t her Josh.

“No,” she said. “He didn’t do anything to me.”

Nate looked relieved. She wondered how long he had been thinking about that, tormenting himself with what was happening to her at Josh’s hands. Gaby didn’t know if she should be grateful or annoyed. Maybe she was overthinking it. Nate was one of those gallant types. An idealist. If the world hadn’t ended, he would have become an Army officer and served his country dutifully and likely retired a war hero, one that was well-liked by his platoon. Or unit. Or whatever it was they called groups in the Army.

“But anyway, back to their comply-or-die question, it was a no-brainer,” Nate was saying. “When I told them about my military background, they were happy to let me enlist. Like I told Danny, most of these guys are average Joes. Office drones, salesmen, construction workers, you name it.”

“Why did you decide to become one of them?” Gaby asked. She was thinking about all the soldiers she had seen, the ones she had shot at, and the ones she had killed. The men from Mercy Hospital, the ones in Dunbar, men like Mac and (the other) Lance that held her captive in L15…

“It was the only way I was going to get to leave the towns,” Nate said.

“I thought anyone could leave.”

“That’s what they tell you, but it’s a lie. You’re never seen in town again, but it’s not because you found someplace better. You just…disappear. I don’t know what happens exactly. No one I’ve talked to does; but then, we’re all pretty low on the totem pole. Maybe the guys higher up know.”

I bet Josh knows.

What happens to those who leave the towns, Josh? Where do they go? What becomes of them?

“How did you escape?” Nate asked.

She told him about waking up in L15, then escaping with Peter and Milly before getting captured again in Dunbar by Harrison’s men. He smiled when she got to the part about reuniting with Will and Danny later.

“He’ll be okay,” Nate said. “Will, I mean. I’ve never met a more capable guy in my life.”

“I know,” she nodded. “I would worry if it was someone else, but it’s not. I wouldn’t be surprised if we got to Song Island and found out he already beat us there.”

Nate nodded back, but she could tell he didn’t actually believe her. Which wasn’t a total surprise to Gaby, because she had a hard time believing it herself.

They didn’t say anything again for a while. There was a lot to talk about, but she didn’t want to do it in the back of a moving truck with the wind tearing away every other word between them. Besides, there would be time for everything she wanted — needed — to ask him later.

She glanced into the cab window to break the monotony of staring at Nate across from her. Annie was consulting the map in her lap while Danny drove. They were aimed south the entire time, except for a few minutes where they had to take detours. But for the most part, it was always south, toward Song Island. Toward home.

They were approaching the southern city limits of Lake Dulcet, with the downtown far behind them now, when Gaby heard something that made her sit up. It wasn’t a gunshot, another car engine, or any of the alarming noises she had been waiting for since they abandoned the interstate for the streets.

It was a man’s voice shouting at them.

Nate heard it too, and he looked around before settling on a group of office buildings behind him. There were two figures on the rooftop of what looked like a big box warehouse store, both jumping up and down and waving their arms frantically above their heads to get their attention. The sun was behind them, but both had the shape of men clutching guns in their hands. If the intention was to flag them down, swinging assault rifles wildly back and forth was probably the dumbest thing they could have done.

The Chevy slowed for a bit — not much, just enough for her to notice — but it didn’t stay that way for very long. It picked up speed again three seconds later and continued on. Businesses and storefronts flashed by them again, including the one with the two figures on the rooftop still waving after them, though they had stopped jumping enthusiastically when they realized the truck wasn’t going to stop.

Nate turned back around and looked across at her. “You think Danny saw them?”

She nodded but didn’t say anything. He started to ask another question, but stopped himself and looked down the street instead.

In many ways, he was still the same Nate she remembered (and missed dearly when she thought he was dead), but he had also changed a lot. His smiles didn’t come out quite as easily as before, and when they did, she couldn’t tell if they were genuine or forced. Maybe somewhere in between. As much as she noticed the slight change in him, he probably saw the same thing in her. Beyond the physical (bruises and broken noses didn’t heal overnight), she wasn’t the same girl she was when they had first met in Lafayette.

She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the truck and wanted nothing more than to just go to sleep. Maybe when she woke up she’d finally be at Song Island, back home again. She tried to imagine that the hard steel vibrating behind her was her soft mattress back at the hotel. Of course it was like trying to convince herself the blood and dirt on her tongue was milk chocolate.

“Gaby,” Nate said.

She opened her eyes and looked across the small space at him.

“You’re still as beautiful as I remembered,” he said.

“Bullshit. My nose is broken and I have scars all over me that are never going to heal properly. For the last few days, I’ve purposefully stayed away from shiny surfaces so I wouldn’t have to look at myself.”

He surprised her by chuckling.

“What’s so funny?” she asked, unable to hide her annoyance.

“That you think you’re still not the most beautiful girl running around out here.”

“You know we’re probably going to die tonight, right?”

“You mean at the island?”

“Yeah.”

“So we’re racing like crazy to get to this island of yours, just so we can end up dying there tonight?”

“Yup,” she said. “How you like them apples?”

He laughed. “I like ’em just fine, as long as you’re there. How about you?”

“We’re all going to die one of these days anyway. If my time comes, I’d rather it be at home with my friends.”

As soon as she said it, Gaby knew she meant it. Every single word of it. She had managed to survive when so many had perished, but if her time came tonight, or tomorrow, or the day after that, she would embrace it with open arms. Just as long as she had the right people by her side. Her friends…

“So where do I fit into that scenario?” Nate asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, “but we’ll figure it out.”

CHAPTER 11 WILL

They only stopped once so Ray and Leo could take a leak. Natasha didn’t move from the back of the truck, and neither did Will. He opened one of the MRE bags they had shared with him and spooned out some meat loaf.

“Mississippi, huh?” Natasha said.

He nodded.

“Which part of Mississippi?” she asked.

“South.”

“Where, south?”

He chewed slowly, enjoying the taste. Natasha never took her eyes off him the entire time.

“Hattiesburg,” he finally said. Then, before she could ask anything else, “We took I-59 down before switching over to the I-10. We were originally headed for New Orleans, but it was too big, and you know what that means.”

“The creatures…”

“Yeah. So we headed west instead, looking for someplace smaller where we could get lost.”

“You found that along Route 13?”

“Uh huh.”

“That’s a pretty obscure road. I wouldn’t even know it existed if I didn’t live in Dunbar all my life.”

“We had a map and we were looking for a quiet place. Route 13 is pretty desolate, which was what we thought we needed.” He took a sip from a refilled bottle of water. “It worked for us. For a while, anyway.”

“I’m surprised you guys never went into Dunbar.”

“We had everything we needed, brought most of it with us. Maybe we’d have to start looking for more supplies eventually, but we never got that far.”

“How long were you there?”

“A couple of months.”

He wasn’t sure if he had been convincing enough, because Will didn’t look up at her as he spun his tale. But when Natasha finally took her eyes off him and watched the others coming back from wherever they had gone to do their business, he figured he had probably done a decent enough job.

“I’m sorry about your daughter,” Will said.

She didn’t reply.

“Leo told me about her,” he continued.

“Leo talks too much,” she said.

“I heard that,” Leo said, climbing back into the truck.

“You were supposed to,” Natasha said.

“He understands, Nat,” Leo said, settling in across from Will. “He’s lost someone, too, remember? We all have.”

Natasha didn’t respond. Instead, she closed her eyes and folded her arms across her chest and pretended to go to sleep. Or maybe that was just her way of letting them know she wasn’t interested in this conversation anymore.

“You lost someone?” Will asked Leo.

The older man nodded. “I guess you could say I was luckier than most. Some friends, but no family to lose when everything went tits up.”

Leo opened another bag of MRE and sniffed the contents before peering inside. He must have liked what he saw, because he produced a metal spork from his pocket and devoured the food with a flourish usually reserved for starving homeless people.

Ray climbed up behind them and walked to the front, where he banged on the cab window. “Let’s go, guys! We’re losing daylight!” He glanced at his watch. “We’re cutting it close. I don’t like it.” Ray banged on the window again. “Drive faster!”

“Fuck off!” Olsen shouted from inside.

The Ford started up and they were moving again a few seconds later. The truck began picking up speed, and although he couldn’t see the speedometer, Will guessed they were topping off at around sixty miles per hour, judging by the speed with which the concrete barricade was flashing by in front of him.

Too fast. We’re going way too fast.

He wanted to get to Song Island as soon as possible, but he also remembered all the accidents and ambushes he had endured on the road in the last year. Of course, he didn’t expect someone with a rocket launcher to pop up in front of them, but the possibility existed because Josh’s soldiers had free rein of the state’s armory. The machine guns up and down Route 13, including the one perched on the roof of the truck’s cab right now, were proof of that.

“Ray,” Will said.

Ray looked up from a bag of jerky. “What?”

“We’re going too fast.”

“So?”

“There could be hazards on the road. Barnes is going too fast.”

Ray smirked. “Relax, Mississippi. You want to get down there before sunset, don’t you?”

“He’s right,” Leo said. “Tell them to slow down.”

“Jesus Christ, what are you two, grandfathers?” Ray said. “Keep your diapers on. There’s nothing on the fucking road. It’s been a year since the end of the world, for God’s sake.” He looked at Will. “And besides, you got all the way over here from Mississippi just fine. We’re not even going that far.”

Will was hoping Leo would press the issue — it would have been better coming from him — but the older man had already gone back to eating his MRE. Nearby, Natasha had opened her eyes and was staring at him intently. There was something about the way she was eyeballing him that made him think he hadn’t really thrown her off the scent at all.

He leaned out and looked up the highway. It was flat and empty, with no vehicles other than theirs for miles in any direction. No wonder Barnes didn’t see any problems with going sixty miles an hour along this stretch of road. Maybe he was worried about nothing; maybe Ray was right, after all.

Yeah, that’s the ticket.

He was expecting it. He had turned all the possible scenarios over in his head and how he would react to each one, but as mentally prepared as he was for it to happen, the how still caught him by surprise. It was worse for Natasha, Leo, and Ray in the back of the truck with him, because when the tires blew, no one was ready for it.

At first there was a loud series of popping sounds, like small explosions ringing out one after another underneath them. Then the truck spun, and Will imagined Barnes inside fighting for control of the vehicle. Olsen might have even screamed. Or it sounded like someone was screaming behind him, the voice slightly muffled by the wall between them.

Will went from looking at the divider wall behind Leo to staring back down the highway as the car skidded off course, tires screeching as the brakes clamped down and the stinging smell of burnt rubber filled the air. A moment later, the front bumper dug into the concrete and the F-250 was no longer on the highway.

That was when Will leaped out of the truck. It wasn’t anything he had planned, but he was already being flung anyway by the vehicle’s chaotic flipping momentum, so he decided to stop fighting it. His one hope of surviving was to get far enough from the tumbling vehicle not to get caught — and dragged — underneath it.

Then he was sailing through the air, the wind rushing against his face, grinding metal filling his ears. He blocked the noises out and curled his body inward, doing his best impersonation of a flying human ball, just before he slammed into the highway on his right shoulder. The pain lanced through his body as he tumbled once, twice, and three times before unfurling his legs and arms in an attempt to stop his momentum.

He finally came to a stop on his stomach and was turned in the right direction, allowing him to see the truck as it rolled down the highway on its side, roof and undercarriage taking turns digging gaping divots in the concrete pavement as it went. Pieces of the F-250 flung wildly into the air around it, falling back down to earth just as the vehicle — or what was left of it — rolled one final time and…settled. It had left large chunks of glass and aluminum and metal in its wake, along with thick bloody swaths from bodies it had dragged.

The M60 that was once soldered onto the roof was nowhere to be found, leaving only the twisted legs of its bipod behind. He was thinking about the weapon, about all the other guns that were inside the truck, and where they were now. Tossed free, most likely, along with his newly acquired M4.

What the hell happened?

He was alive, even if his arms and legs were numbed from the collision. He had somehow been tossed almost across the road and now lay in an unmoving pile against one of the guardrails.

Will managed to pull himself up from the scathing hot floor and onto his knees. His palms were cut and bloodied, and he was pretty sure that the warm sensation dripping down both sides of his face was blood. Although it was hard to concentrate, he looked around anyway, searching for bodies. That long and thick trail of blood had to have come from someone (someones).

The sun glinted off a long strip of something metallic lying in a jagged line back down the highway. Linked square-shaped objects stretched from one side of the two lanes to the other, sharp spikes at the end of them pointing in the air.

Police spikes. Christ, they put police spikes on the road and Barnes drove right over them.

You idiot, Barnes, I told you, you were going too fast…

He was still trying to come to terms with what had happened, how Barnes had screwed them over, when sudden movements in the corner of one eye caught his attention. He turned around as men in camo uniforms were climbing over the middle concrete divider. Had they been there the whole time? Probably, given the presence of the spikes on the road. This was the plan all along. Stop them without firing a shot.

Maybe they’re not so dumb after all.

There were a half dozen of them. Or maybe five dozen. He couldn’t be certain because they seemed to be multiplying the more he tried to focus.

There was more movement from behind him, the shuffling of boots against concrete. He turned around (something red — blood? — flicked away as he did so) as another half dozen men in camo were rising up from the fields of swaying grass along the feeder road. They looked like serpents coming out of the ground.

Snakes in the grass. With assault rifles.

One of them stepped over a body (Leo? Ray?) that had been tossed all the way across the highway, while a second man paused to check the prone figure’s pulse before standing back up and moving on a few moments later.

The first group of men was converging on the truck, resting on its crumpled roof. The loud crunch crunch of boots on broken glass and metal were almost as loud as the drip drip of gasoline from the overturned Ford’s tank. Smoke drifted from the battered hood and one of the wheels, now missing its tire, was still spinning in the air. How long was it going to keep doing that, he wondered.

He wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t reached for the Sig Sauer in his hip holster yet. It was within easy reach, so close that it wouldn’t have taken much to move his hand toward it. Except that hand was covered in a thick film of blood that drip dripped from his fingers to the concrete, where they appeared to sizzle as if they were hitting a frying pan.

Christ, it’s hot out here. Didn’t the weather just cool down?

You know what they say about Louisiana. If you don’t like the weather, just wait a few…

Wait, or is that Texas?

The soldiers were now moving cautiously toward him, but no one had fired a shot yet. He kept waiting for it (Here it comes, here it comes) but it never happened. He blinked at the first few faces before they started going out of focus and it became impossible for him to see more than just clouds.

Bloodied red clouds.

He didn’t even feel anything when his face hit the concrete the second time.

“Is he still alive?” a voice asked.

“I think so,” a second voice answered.

“You think so?” The first man chuckled. “You better hope he lives, or it’s your ass on the line. You told me those spikes would work.”

“They did work.”

“So what happened?”

“I don’t know. The guy must have lost control of the truck, or pulled the steering wheel too hard or something. What happened back there wasn’t supposed to happen. Not like that, anyway.”

“Yeah, well, looks like you just got one of your nine lives back, because he’s awake.”

Will opened his eyes to sunlight flooding in through tall glass windows. Too bright, and he immediately had to close his eyes again.

He was alive, but at the moment he wished he weren’t. Every inch of him hurt and there was an incessant banging in his head, like a thousand drums going off at once, that wouldn’t go away. He couldn’t open his eyes a second time and didn’t want to. His entire body felt sticky, as if he were covered in syrup.

Blood. I’m lying in my own blood.

Can someone spare a towel?

“Who is this guy, anyway?” the second man asked. “Why’s he so important?”

“Don’t you worry about him,” the first one said.

That voice. It sounded familiar.

Mason.

The short dickhead in charge of the ambush at Route 13. In charge of more than that, for all Will knew. Was Mason behind the ambush? And, more importantly, he wondered if the man knew where his M4A1 was…

“Just keep him breathing until nightfall,” Mason was saying. “Can you handle that?”

“I’m not a doctor,” the other man said. “I’ll do what I can, but I’m not guaranteeing anything. The guy was in shitty shape even before the truck flipped.”

“He had a little vehicular accident earlier today.”

“So he was already hurt. You can’t put it all on me.”

“The spike strip was your idea, remember?’

“I told you, it wasn’t supposed to do that. If this guy dies, it’s not my fault.”

“Well, shit, Rick, if you can’t keep him alive, then what the hell am I dragging you around for? Might as well put someone else in charge of him, right?”

“I’ll keep him alive,” Rick said quickly.

Will didn’t entirely believe Rick, because the man hadn’t been all that convincing. It sounded like poor Rick was afraid for his own life and was saying whatever Mason wanted to hear.

Join the party, buddy. You and me, up a creek without pants on.

“So it’s true?” Rick said. “She’s coming here?”

“You scared?” Mason asked.

“Shit, yeah. Aren’t you?”

“If you’d seen all the things I’ve seen, Rick ol’ buddy, you wouldn’t be. Now, less questions, more action. Your job is to keep him alive for another three hours. Can you handle that?” Mason’s voice sounded like it was coming from across the room this time. “Get it done, or, well, you know.”

The sound of something opening and closing.

Then, silence.

Will couldn’t be certain how long that lasted, before the man who had stayed behind (Rick) said, “You hear that? Three hours. That’s all you got left.”

Three hours…

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Rick said. “For saving your life. Truthfully, I don’t even know how you’re still moving around even before I got my hands on you. I guess the painkillers help, huh?” Clinking noises. “You’re running out of those, by the way. Don’t worry, we got plenty of refills. Lucky you.” Then, Rick chuckled. “Well, not really lucky you, but…you know.”

Yeah, I know, Rick. Fuck you, too.

He gave up what little fight he still had in him and slipped back, back into darkness.

The next time he woke up, he felt cold, hard floor underneath him. He was getting some feeling back, which meant the thrumming pain coursing through every inch of his body, from head to toe, was worse. Much worse. He wanted to call Rick over and demand those refills he had been promised, but when he tried to open his mouth, the only thing he heard was air escaping his lips. Very, very soft air. Even breathing was difficult.

At least the sticky sensation he had felt all over his body from earlier was gone. He guessed that was because his blood had (mostly) dried since he last woke up. Given how much he was bleeding after the highway, he wouldn’t be surprised if there were parts of him still leaking plasma.

“Your job is to keep him alive for another three hours,” Mason had said.

Three hours.

Three hours until what? He should know this. It was right there, at the tip of his very dry tongue—

Wait. How much time had he lost since the last time he was awake? Hopefully not too much. That would make escaping difficult if it was—

Night.

It was dark outside the glass windows, the blackness overwhelming everything, including the long stretch of interstate road and the…

Eyes. Black eyes, like endless oceans of tar looking through the tall panes of glass back at him.

Ghouls.

A lot of them. Hundreds. Thousands.

So many that the parking lot outside (A gas station? Was he in another gas station? Christ, how many of these places were there along the highway?) was carpeted with them — a sea of pruned flesh swaying against one another. They were deathly silent, as if biding their time, waiting for something.

He expected them to attack the store at any moment, to smash their limbs and skulls against the glass to try to bash their way in like rabid dogs. But they didn’t assault the store. In fact, they hardly moved at all.

Movement.

He wasn’t alone inside. A pair of camo print uniforms shifted in the darkness in front of him. Two men, their backs to him, the barrels of their rifles outlined against the moonlight pouring into the front half of the store. There were shelves to the left of him and the counter along with an abandoned cash register to the right.

Weapons. He needed weapons.

If the soldiers knew he was awake, they didn’t show it. Or seem to care. And why should they? He only had to look down to see that his hands were bound with zip ties, as were his ankles. Again. This was becoming the worst kind of déjà vu.

His head continued to throb, and for some reason both his palms were tingling. Oh, of course. When he was flying down the interstate, he had stuck out his hands to slow his slide. That hadn’t exactly been the smartest thing he had ever done in his life. As a result, the skin was torn and bleeding, though someone had since treated the flesh and wrapped gauze tape around both hands.

He could just barely make out the stark whiteness of the bandages wrapped around him, and since he wasn’t bleeding to death at the moment, he guessed there was more around his waist under his blood-covered shirt. Bandages clung to his temples and cheeks, which he was grateful for, even though he had no interest in seeing himself at the moment. What must he look like, he wondered. Maybe a mummy, only less capable at the moment.

One of the men finally turned around. He was older than Mason, with specks of white in his hair. “Welcome back,” the man said.

Will recognized the voice: Rick.

My savior.

“Well, shit, Rick, if you can’t keep him alive, then what the hell am I dragging you around for?” Mason had said.

My reluctant savior.

“Didn’t think you were going to be awake to see this,” Rick was saying. “You’re lucky I did a stint as a paramedic, otherwise you’d have definitely bled to death.” He looked almost sorry for Will when he added, “Of course, it might have been better for you if you couldn’t see this.”

“See what?” Will said. Or thought he did. He might have just croaked the words out. He swallowed and tried again. “See what?”

“She’s coming for you, kid. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you?”

He did.

She.

There was only one “she” that continued to plague him since The Purge. He knew all about her, all right.

“As sorry as I am about what’s going to happen to you, I’m anxious to see it for myself,” Rick said. “I’ve never seen them before, you know. The blue-eyed ones.”

“Me neither,” the other one said. He was sitting much closer to the twin glass doors of the store, his face partially lit by the moonlight. He was younger than Rick, even younger than Will, and there was an eagerness on his face that defied logic.

Didn’t this man know there were monsters outside the windows?

“I’ve heard stories,” the man added, “but I didn’t think they actually existed. Especially her. I’ve heard them talking about her. She’s…different, they say.”

You have no idea, buddy. No idea at all.

Will looked past them and out the windows, at the mass of black-eyed creatures. They looked like gargoyles, unmoving and watchful. Except he knew they weren’t made of stone; far from it. They were very real and alive (-ish), and he kept waiting for them to spring to life.

Any moment now…

“They’re not coming in,” Rick said. He had apparently seen where Will was looking. “The doors aren’t even locked. There’s nothing to stop them from coming in if they want to, but they won’t.”

“Why?” Will asked. His voice sounded better to his own ears, if a little too gravelly. What he wouldn’t do for a little water.

“Because we’re in here,” Rick said.

“It’s the uniforms,” the other man said.

“You’re just guessing.”

“What else could it be?”

He’s right. It has to be the uniforms. They recognize them. Or the patches on them. Or…something.

But they know. Somehow, they recognize allies from foes.

Dead, not stupid, remember?

“What did you do?” the young one asked, eyeing Will curiously across the semidarkness of the room. Will couldn’t quite make out the name on his shirt. Something starting with the letter “M.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Will said.

“You must have done something. I’ve never seen this before, or heard of it happening.”

“I did what I had to in order to survive.”

“Yeah, a lot of that going around,” M-something said before turning back to the windows.

“That’s it?” Rick said. He was apparently less satisfied with Will’s answer as M-something had been. “There has to be more than that. What aren’t you telling us?”

“Ask Mason,” Will said.

Rick’s face soured at the sound of Mason’s name. “He doesn’t tell us much.”

“Then ask Josh.”

“Josh? Who is Josh?”

Will stared at him for a moment, trying to gauge if the man was lying. Either Rick was the world’s best actor, or he didn’t have a clue who Josh was.

“Never mind,” Will said.

Rick shrugged. “Doesn’t matter, I guess. Keep your secrets, dead man.”

Will leaned back against the cold brick wall and took in the room around him again. The silhouetted store shelves to his left, the boxes of food and candy on the floor — some crushed, others spoiled, which explained the strange smell. The counter to his right, with the heavy cash register on top. Cigarettes in the back. Square-shaped paper (Money?) littering the floor around him. In front of him was Rick and M-something, and on the other side of them…

How many were out there right now?

Too many. Always too damn many.

Those sea of eyes staring back at him, as if they could bore into his soul, made him shiver slightly. He wanted to think it was because of the drop in temperature, but of course he knew better.

Weapons. I need weapons.

He didn’t have to look far for those. Rick, who was less than a meter away with his back turned invitingly to him, had an M4 in a sling. He couldn’t be sure what M-something was holding, but it looked like another carbine. He needed one of those in the worst way.

But then there were the ghouls outside. If they weren’t coming in now, would they act differently once he killed the two soldiers? Somehow, the creatures had interpreted the two men as allies (Dead, not stupid), so what would they do if he attacked them? Would they come in to help?

“The doors aren’t even locked.”

Or would they stay back because they were ordered to?

Ordered? By whom?

Oh, don’t be an idiot. You know damn well the answer to that question.

Of course, for any of this to work he’d have to kill Rick, take his rifle, then kill M-something with it. That was going to be difficult since he could barely move, and it wasn’t just because of the restraints. His body was sore and numb, and just moving his head was painful. How the hell was he going to take out Rick—

“Will.”

He might have stopped breathing at the sound of the voice.

He looked around him, expecting to see its owner in the darkness, but there was nothing, because the voice was coming from inside his head.

“Will,” it said again. Louder and clearer, as if it were right next to him.

He watched Rick and M-something just to be sure, but neither man had reacted.

Because they couldn’t hear the voice.

It was all in his head.

Was he imagining it? Was he going crazy—

“No, Will, you’re not.”

Kate.

“Yes.”

He looked quickly to the ghouls outside the gas station, but they hadn’t moved at all. The cluster of frail forms was still pressed against one another like good soldiers. Waiting for orders. Waiting…for her.

Kate.

“I’m coming, Will,” she said, her voice like a lovely melody inside his head. “I’ll be there soon…”