BREN

Colin's body was laid to rest in a small mausoleum in the middle of the cemetery. His body was still fresh, probably only dead two hours ago, a bundle of flowers laid on his chest. His eyes were closed, looking serene and peaceful, and I reckoned Audrey must have something to do with cleaning him up a bit. A pool of blood had formed where he had cracked his skull, dripping over the stone coffin and onto the concrete ground.

Christ. I shuddered to think about the children seeing him, losing their father at a time like this; it was horrible. They didn't even have time to bury him properly. A deep knot twisted at the back of my heart, and I looked away from the body.

There, in his hand, I caught something shoved between his palm and belly, a folded piece of paper. I pulled it out and recognized Miguel's handwriting:

Bren,

If you see this, then stay away from Randy. He killed Colin and hurt Bernadette. I don't know why he did this or where he went, but he took Holly and Indy with him in Cora, along with our guns. We are moving to the second meeting point. I hope you and the others are still alive, and by God, I hope you all make it there. If you see Randy by any chance, consider him armed and dangerous.

Miguel

I crumpled the paper in my fist.

Randy.

I had my doubts about him, but killing his brother and then leaving his family, well, that was just cold. And the fact that he stole our stuff, too...fire lit in my belly, and I had Randy's name burned over it.

"They're at the museum," I said as I walked out of the mausoleum. "And Randy killed Colin."

"Randy? Really?" Peter asked.

I gave him Miguel's note. "Says so in the note."

"He stole our stuff. Shifty motherfucker."

"I saw fresh tire tracks leading west. The wheel marks matched Cora's," said Jun.

"That's the way to the museum, too," Peter said.

"But we don't know where Randy could have gone then. There are a lot of confusing streets from here to the museum, and he could easily lose us if we follow," I said.

"He took Indy," said Haskell. "We gotta get him back."

"I know." I looked down at his hand, now bandaged, and the bleeding had stopped. It had been half an hour now, and so far, Haskell hadn't turned yet. He didn't even look sick. When he caught me looking, he drew his hand behind his back.

"I'm fine, Bren," he said. "I don't have the symptoms yet."

"Let's not worry about that right now," Peter said. "We know you got the slow one like Luke's. If you had the other, you're already one of them in minutes."

"Thanks for the reminder," Haskell said, "but I'm feeling alright. No fever. No puking. I don't feel weak, or have a headache, or nauseated, or whatever the CDC listed as the symptoms. I'm...me. I'm not craving anyone's blood or have the urge to attack you."

Lauren flinched when Haskell mentioned the latter, and even Yousef, Alfie, and Aria seemed wary. Jun never let me know whether he thought differently, but at least I could tell he's keeping an eye on Haskell, too.

"I know, Hoss, I know," Peter said, placing his hand on Haskell's shoulder. "Should we take a rest?" Peter asked me. It wasn't for us but for Haskell.

I nodded. "Alright. Let's take five. We'll wait if the others show up. I know some of them could be on foot, too. If they don't show by then, we'll head over to the museum."

Everyone nodded and broke apart.

It seemed whenever the bite was closer to the brain or if the wound was close to being fatal, the lines between infection and turning were in less than two minutes. With Luke, he got sicker after twelve hours from his initial infection, and the bite he had wasn't even that deep, similar to Haskell's

Twelve hours.

I drilled that into my mind, watching out for Haskell the closer that deadline arrived. I had no stomach to take him out right now, not when Peter insisted on keeping him alive just yet. Haskell wouldn't make it out of Harrisburg, and the thought of leaving him to be one of the vectors was a fate worse than death.

Twelve hours was a short time, and I dreaded doing what needed to be done.

He could still be useful, I thought grimly. He could still use a gun and protect us. Yet, the doubt grew in Haskell's mind, the worry, the despair, and sooner or later, he would crack. Haskell tried to ignore it, of course, joking around, saying the bite didn't hurt and it was nothing, but the inevitable was coming. Peter and I played along even when the others were uncomfortable. I knew they wanted me to leave him behind without saying so—I could see it on their faces—to force him out of the group, but I couldn't do that to Haskell, throwing him out like trash. We've been through a lot together.

I suggested cutting off his hand, but Haskell refused. He didn't want to lose a limb, or rather, he didn't like to imagine himself a cripple. But it was either that or die, and he chose not to do it. I didn't even know if it would save him, but it was worth a try. Then again, if it were successful, he'd just bleed to death without proper medical supplies.

No matter what we did, he'd end up dead. I backed off from forcing that operation, knowing no one in the group was capable of keeping him alive after we cut his hand, and it seemed Haskell was glad we didn't have to. I didn't know if he accepted he was doomed or he was still in denial. That was up to him.

"Hey, Bren, can I talk to you?" Lauren asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked around and saw that Peter and Haskell were talking underneath the tree, and Peter seemed to be consoling him. I couldn't imagine what Peter must be feeling right now. He was close to Haskell than any of us. Jun and Alfie went off to scout the perimeter while Aria and Yousef found a bench they could sit on.

I turned back to Lauren. "Alright. Shoot."

"Okay." Lauren took a deep breath. "We have to talk about what to do with Haskell."

"We've already talked about it. He's coming with us."

"But he's infected."

"I can see that."

"Then, you know he's a liability. He can turn at any moment and kill one of us."

"The slow ones have very distinct symptoms. Trust me. I've seen it before. You get sicker and sicker until you're so weak you can't even move or speak clearly. Then, you turn. Haskell isn't like that yet. He can still help us."

"Aria told me you two were supposed to go to Columbia. A great school. You were going to study Biology there."

"And?"

"Then, I know you're a man of science. I'm a Biology major as well, studied how diseases worked. We can't trust him or whatever state he's in now. He's mourning himself, and who knows what his mind is doing to him with all that emotion and grief. He's a loose end, and it's gonna get us killed."

"I'll decide when to keep him or not."

"You killed Sarah, my friend. How's that any different?"

"The bite was on her neck, and it was pretty severe. I know she's going to turn in minutes, maybe seconds, so I acted out of mercy. Haskell is still himself."

"Prolonging Haskell's condition isn't mercy, Bren. It'll only lengthen the pain."

"That's not for us to decide. It's his. If the pain becomes excruciating, then I'll ask Haskell if I could end it myself." I caught sight of Jun and Alfie over Lauren's shoulder, coming out from the pathway and tailed by four other figures. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Lauren sighed. "Alright. I'll talk to you later."

No, we won't. I didn't say it out loud.

I walked over toward Jun and Alfie, and I quickly recognized the other frat boys following behind them. Gus was at the front with Riki nestled on his shoulder. Behind him, Nash and Barry had their heads lowered, clearly avoiding my gaze. Only Russell looked me in the eye without guilt, as if offended that I was staring at him. He had run over people back at the CRA checkpoint, men, women, and children, and it hadn't shaken him one bit.

"I found them walking out from Edgemont Road," Alfie said. "They say Mavi was with them, but..."

Oh. Was. "I see. We drove past the crashed car," I said.

Gus gave Russell a dirty glare before he spoke. "We have to leave it behind after we got chased by vectors into the woods, and we've been running ever since."

"Have you seen Logan and the others on your way?" I asked.

Gus shook his head. "We didn't run into them. Sorry."

I frowned. I looked over toward Edgemont Road, just hidden behind the trees west of where I stood, picturing Logan and the others walking out of the foliage. But after a few seconds, that image faded, crashing me back to reality. I still hoped he's alive, and if I could choose again, I would have jumped out of the Humvee and stayed behind.

But I didn't. My hand curled into a fist and relaxed. I've regretted that decision all the way to the cemetery.

"We should leave now while we're on schedule," Peter said beside me. "We don't want any Alphas, the military, or even other survivors from seeing us here and bring trouble with them."

I smoothed the creases on my shirt. "Right. Let's get moving."

I made a mental note to leave a message for Logan, so I asked Peter to hand Miguel's note back and walked back to the mausoleum. With Yousef's drawing pen, I signed my name under Miguel's and folded the note under Colin's hand with the added words:

Please be safe. Stay alive, Logan Hardy.

——

RANDY

"This is just great!" Randy huffed. "Another goddamned checkpoint. Just for once, I would have loved it if everything went perfectly well!" He slammed his fist against the dashboard and stepped on the brakes.

Cora screeched into a halt just in front of an upturned car. Ahead was another abandoned CRA checkpoint. He grabbed the revolver from inside the dashboard compartment and put it at the back of his pants. He tried several times to get the weapons storage at the bottom of the floor, but it required a key—something he didn't have. None of the keys attached to the keychain worked. He reckoned Miguel must have had it, and he was tempted to go back to the cemetery and wrangled it off his fingers.

His dead fingers, perhaps, Randy thought, staring at the revolver. That's all the weapon he could find in the RV aside from the kitchen knives. But if he was going to encounter more of those monsters, he doubted four bullets could stop them.

He looked around through the windshield, making sure no survivors were going to ambush him like the last checkpoint, checking out the alleys and hiding spots around the RV. So far, he didn't catch any movement or anyone sneaking from his blind spots. At least the street was cleared out: no abandoned cars in front of the gates, not even bodies and armed soldiers guarding against the ramparts. The checkpoint gate itself was ajar; a brutalized body lay between the gap, a uniformed soldier with his back torn to shreds by those monsters. He couldn't see past the gate since it's blocked by a tarp that covered the entire length of the chain-linked gate.

He speculated if the other soldiers were still around, watching him from the windows, but he didn't see anyone there. He half-imagined someone parting the curtains from a third-floor window, but it was just his mind playing tricks.

So the monsters got here first. He wondered how far the infection had spread across Harrisburg and if the military could even regain their lost territory once Reclamation Day arrived. It was supposed to start tomorrow.

Still, he had to reach downtown before that started. He listened but didn't hear their distinct shrieks and calls for prey. All he had to do now was get out of there and slide the gate to the side. After that, he could drive away into downtown!

He strode to the end of the RV and opened the cabin door. When he opened the door, Holly retreated into the bunk bed, putting her legs and knees closer to his chest while Indy sat on the floor, growling at him. When he got to the RV, he hadn't realized someone was inside the back room until he stopped to check the barking and commotion there, only to find the damned, whiny girl and a stupid dog. Of course, she had heard everything with Bernadette, saw how he pushed the old woman out of the door and banged her head. Holly was smart enough to hide from him, but the dog gave her away, dumb little animal.

Randy glared at Indy. If the mutt ever made another step, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot him, even if he's a puppy. He wasn't perfectly trained nor could fight, and Randy wondered why Bren and the others kept him alive. Such a waste of food to keep a thing like that around. It would be a mercy to shoot him right here.

Holly realized this and grabbed Indy by the collar and held him back. "Indy. No. Stay," she said.

But they have their uses, he thought. He was glad he kept them alive rather than killing them right then and there when he found them.

He aimed the revolver at Holly. "Get out."

"What?"

"I said get out."

She looked out the window and shivered. "I don't know what you want from me. I won't do anything or get in your way, I promise! Please, don't send me out there!"

"Stupid girl, I said get out! We ran into another checkpoint, and I want you to open the gate. It's already ajar, so you won't have to do anything much but walk out of there and slide the gate open."

"But if I do that, you'll just leave me!"

Randy paused. The thought had crossed his mind, but if she made it back to safety, he could still use her as bait if things got dicey in the future. If he encountered the Alphas, he could trade her for safe passage. After all, she's young, white, and pretty. Lots of men loved taking a white girl's innocence. Hell, he could have a turn for himself! Seventeen is just a number...

"I won't leave you," he said. "Why would I leave someone who's helping me? Like you said, as long as you're not in my way, I won't hurt you. By refusing what I asked, you are in my way. Do you want this to be harder than it is?"

Holly thought about it for a moment, but she slowly nodded her head. Randy smiled. "Good. That's what I like to see."

"But I don't have any weapons."

"I can give you a weapon. And if it makes you feel better, you can bring that damn dog with you."

Indy whined a little, but Holly nodded and took him by the collar, urging him out of the room. Randy walked back a little and opened the door, gesturing for her to move. "Grab that knife there," he said, pointing at the butcher knife sheathed inside the bamboo knife block.

"A knife?"

"Weapon or no. You're choice, girlie."

Holly tentatively grabbed the blade and climbed out of the RV; Indy followed.

Randy shut the door, and Holly jumped in fright. "Hey!"

"I'm closing it just in case. If no biter gets you, then I'll open it. Now, get that gate open so we can get out of here faster!" He locked the door for good measure.

"Fine. As long as I do this..."

"Then, we're out of here."

Holly walked over to the gate with Indy close to her heels. Randy wanted to scream at her to hurry up because she was walking too slow, perhaps push the horn, but he stopped himself. He didn't want to attract unwanted attention. All he did was grunt and rolled his eyes every time the girl flinched at every little thing that moved or made a sound like the windpipes above a bookstore's front door or when something hit against the gate, but it was only the tarp flapping against a gust of wind.

"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up," he muttered.

Holly made it to the gate, avoiding the dead body there. She slowly slid the gate open, but she stopped, looking past the gap.

She ran back to the RV with Indy close behind, slamming her fist against the door. "Quick! Let me in! Let me in!" She screamed.

"What the fuck's wrong with you? Open the damn gate!"

"I—I can't! Please!"

Her idiotic screaming and banging drew their attention. Eight distinct shrieks and the infected poured out of the gap, their eyes trained at Holly and Indy. Holly screamed and ran out of sight, and the eight vectors chased after her.

"Fuck!" Randy spat. "Stupid, stupid, girl!" Now what?

Holly and Indy grew fainter and fainter the farther they ran, taking the vectors with them.

Well, at least that took care of the monsters. Good riddance!

Randy realized he's going to open it by himself.

He made sure that there were no infected around by checking the RV's cameras. It was brilliant for those boys to have it installed and very helpful for him. He was happy to score a vehicle like this. Randy found enough courage to step out of the RV. He flinched when his feet landed on the pavement, making it all real that he's back in hell again. If he had a choice, he never wanted to leave the RV. No wonder Bren and his ilk desperately wanted to keep it for themselves. If it wasn't for that stupid girl, I could have enjoyed driving away from here!

Randy stalked toward the gate, scanning around in case a vector managed to sneak behind his back. It was only twenty steps. That's how far it was, a thing that he reminded himself of like a mantra. He shouldn't be scared when those things were already chasing the dog and the girl.

Everything was quiet. No shrieks. No other inhuman noise coming from behind the gate, veiled by a fucking tarp. If he had magic, he wanted the wind to blow it off so he could see what was behind, but sadly, he didn't have superpowers. Eventually, he reached the gate and peered through the gap.

At least sixteen bodies lay dead in the middle of the street, torn to pieces by the infected, and most of them were soldiers. Unlike the ones he saw from the previous checkpoint, their bodies weren't littered with bullets. Colin had speculated they were ambushed by other survivors or by the Alphas, but the squad assigned to guard this checkpoint seemed to have been killed by monsters.

Randy opened the gate all the way to the side, cringing with every creak, squeak, and screech of its wheels. He got slightly angry at the soldiers for not oiling the wheels better. It won't have to make a sound if they're good at their job. I guess that's why they're dead, Randy thought.

Now that the gate was opened, he went back to the RV.

He stopped in his tracks, his stomach twisting just under his ribcage.

"Fuck."

An infected—a boy no more than eight years old—stood between him and the RV. He had a bite on his upper arm, though it looked like it was healing. He had heard of infected kids before, mainly on the news, and they were supposed to be smarter than the usual monsters. For all he knew, he could be the one who took down this CRA checkpoint with those freaks.

And if he is smart enough to do that, maybe he can also be reasoned with? Randy raised his gun as if he's surrendering, slowly walking up toward the child.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm just passing your...um, territory?" Randy said, but the boy didn't budge. "I have no intention of hurting you or your friends. If you are offended that I've touched your stuff...I mean, the gate...then I am deeply, deeply sorry about that. See, I need it open so I can drive through peacefully. That's me. I come in peace. I'm a friend."

He caught the boy's eyes darting from him and the gun, and then he realized he had a screwdriver gripped around his hand. Randy didn't know if these things could use a weapon, but he had never seen them carry one before. Still, he had to proceed with caution. He was only fifteen steps away from the door, which he stupidly left open. He still had some distance between him and the kid, and he could just shoot him point-blank. He doubted he would miss from where he stood.

"Look. If you and your friends are mad or hungry, you can have the girl and that dog. In fact, your friends are chasing her right now. If you're there, I'm sure you can catch her. She's easy prey. Consider her my peace offering to you."

Randy glanced at the RV's open door, and the boy caught him looking, turning his head slightly to glance over his shoulder.

There!

Randy aimed the gun at the boy and fired. The bullet grazed the boy's skull, a spurt of blood trickling down his head, but he ducked and ran. Randy fired, again and again; one hit the pavement behind the boy's ankle, but the third bullet hit him under the shoulder blade.

"Aha!"

Randy shot him, hitting the boy on the back just a couple of inches down from the second wound, but he rolled over and crawled behind the RV for cover.

Click!

Click!

Click!

Randy didn't have any bullets left.

And the boy heard it.

"Shit."

Randy darted for the door. If the boy came out of cover and ran after him, he was tall and big enough to slam the revolver on his temple and knock him over. He was just a little kid, and he was sure he could take him! Size did matter after all.

Five steps from the door.

The boy hadn't shown up yet. Perhaps he didn't hear his gun was empty, maybe licking his wounds after he shot at him. If he was too injured to move, then Randy could drive away as far from this place as possible, and to rub it on the boy's face, he could back up and ran him over. He'd enjoy that very much.

Randy made it to the door, smiling as he grabbed the handle and pulled himself up through the steps.

"Ahh!"

Something grabbed his right ankle. For a split second, he had enough time to look down and saw a small hand shot out from beneath the RV and grasped around his ankle. Randy slammed his back against the pavement. Another hand gripped his other ankle, and he felt a strong pull.

"No!"

The boy dragged him under the RV. Randy shot his arms out and grabbed the steps, trying to pull himself out, but for a small child, the boy was as strong as a grown man. Randy felt a sharp pain in his abdomen, then another, and another. He looked down, saw the screwdriver wedged into his gut, blood oozing out of the holes it made, and the gleeful smile of the boy just between his legs.

"Oh, God! NO! Please! Stop! No! Not like this! Not like this!" Randy begged and blubbered, sobbing uncontrollably. Blood spurted out of his mouth.

The boy stabbed and stabbed until Randy's belly had more holes to match the pores on his skin. The screwdriver caught him by the balls, by his chest, piercing his heart, liver, lungs, kidneys, and even his cock.

"No!" Randy's arms weakened, losing his grip on the steps, and the boy dragged him fully underneath the RV and crawled up to his face.

Randy couldn't forget the boy's rotten breath, his malevolent smile creeping up to his face before he opened his jaw and clamped down on Randy's face, tearing his cheek, saw the muscle and tissue chewed between the boy's teeth. He tried to push him off, but the boy chewed and gnawed, and he was utterly at his mercy.

The boy suddenly stopped, looked at him as if he was seeing him for the first time. He crawled out and pulled Randy with him, dragged him out like he was a sack of nothing, and even sat him against the RV's wheel.

Randy couldn't stop the blood from pouring out of his belly. He looked down and saw what a mess he was and grew dizzy. He leaned his head against the wheel, watching the clear skies. The boy stood over him, waiting. He didn't seem bothered by the bullets stuck behind his back.

He was losing blood. Fast. Any second now, he would slip unconscious, and he never believed in the afterlife. He wondered what he would see there, wondered if Colin would forgive him after what he had done. His brother. He was sorry for what he had done, but if he had only listened...

He sobbed.

And there, the rage grew. It filled his belly, replaced the blood he had lost, the pain he felt all over until it faded away into nothingness, and it was all he could feel. Until it was all that occupied his mind.

The rage.

It was life.

It was death.

It was calling.

And it was hungry.

——

BREN

I heard the screams first, then a dog's furious barks.

I gestured for everyone to stop, and we sneaked toward the corner, with me leading upfront and Peter behind me. It was clearly a woman screaming, and I quickly recognized the vectors shrieking, crowing after her.

"Get away! Get away from me!" She yelled.

"Should we find another way?" Peter asked.

"Wait," I said. I peeked out from the corner and saw a woman and a dog trapped on top of a school bus with eight vectors surrounding her.

Holly and Indy.

Every time a vector managed to grab hold of the ledge, Holly would run up to them and stabbed their hand, making them lose their grip and fall back to the ground. Indy followed her move, biting the fingers of other vectors. Many of them already had multiple stab wounds and bite marks at the back of their hands, some lost a finger or two, and they were all bleeding. I wondered how long they had been up there.

"Shit. It's them," I said.

"Randy? Miguel?"

"No. Holly and Indy."

Haskell and Yousef gasped. "Our dog!" Yousef said.

Peter slowly peeked out, and after a few seconds, he sighed dejectedly. "So, how are we going to do this?"

"Alright, Jun, Peter, Haskell, and Alfie, listen to me," I told them what needed to be done while the others stayed back.

We spread out from the intersection; Peter and Haskell crossed the pedestrian walkway toward the pedestrian signal, putting their back against the post. Alfie and I took cover behind two newspaper dispensers, and Jun hid behind an abandoned car in the middle of the street.

Ahead, A vector had almost managed to climb up to the roof, swinging his other leg to get a better foothold on the ledge. But before it could pull itself up, Holly ran over to him and pushed the knife through its eye. The vector went limp and fell over, taking the blade with him.

The other vectors realized this and began climbing.

Shit. She's weaponless!

Jun quickly got on top of the car and drew the bowstrings.

Twang!

The arrow flew, hitting a man in an army uniform at the back of the head. He made a gurgled cry before he face-planted on the pavement, dead.

Two down. Six more to go.

Jun drew another bow as Peter, Haskell, Alfie, and I started shooting. Two of them went down instantly, the first two who were closest to Alfie and me, riddling them with bullets along their necks and chests. But I didn't expect what the others did next.

As soon as the two vectors fell to the ground, the other vectors quickly fanned out and took cover from our line of fire, and we lost sight of them.

It dawned on me. "Shit! There's a honcho out here somewhere!"

"Let's draw it out!" Haskell shouted.

But how?

We had no idea how those things operated. We knew they were more intelligent than the normal vectors, but how smart, really? Were they driven by the same insatiable hunger and wrath like their thralls, or were they capable of having wants and needs? Suddenly, I felt so open and vulnerable behind that dispenser that I asked Alfie to pull back.

Then, the vectors attacked.

One had snuck past behind me, using the vehicles parked by my side of the street for cover. He leaped over the hood, landed a foot away. I didn't even have time to react before he slammed against me, and we crashed into the cafe's windows. I heard gunshots, glass shattered all around, and the next thing I knew, I was on the ground, scrambling up to my feet as the vector shrieked and rolled over. I could feel the scrapes and tear where the glass had found skin along my arms, and the moment I did, I realized I lost the shotgun.

My ax!

I took out my hatchet from my belt and threw it at him, but the vector hunched down at the last second, and the hatchet wedged on a table two feet away.

"Shit!"

The vector launched forward as if gleeful at my mistake and vaulted over the overturned chairs and tables, reaching for my throat. I slid to the side and ducked, using his momentum to grab his shirt and slammed him against the wall. It made a cratered dent on the wall as the vector fell back to the ground. I vaulted over the counter, desperately searching for a weapon.

The vector managed to get back up to his feet.

I threw two mugs at him, one completely missing his head, but the other landed on his chest and shattered into pieces. He climbed over the counter, breaking the glass of the espresso grinder container when he swung his legs over.

I held him back with my arm, my free hand desperately trying to find a weapon to kill him. My eyes landed on the espresso grinder again, one of those battery-operated ones and a blade large enough to get some serious damage. I let out a scream as I grabbed the vector's head and slammed his eye against the machine, the blade sinking into his eye socket.

I switched the grinder on.

The vector shrieked, blood spurting out from underneath as the blade churned muscle and chips of bone. Suddenly, the machine went dead, overloaded by the weight on top of the blade. Without giving the vector a chance, I grabbed another mug nearby and broke it, using the shards to slice the vector's throat until he stopped moving.

I climbed over the counter, huffing, found my shotgun underneath the table, and wiped off the shards of glass on top of it. I took back my hatchet from where it got stuck and climbed out of the coffee shop through the broken window.

Two other vectors were already dead on the street, one with an arrow through its cheek while the other had its head caved inward with a bullet. One shifty vector took cover behind a police car, hiding from Haskell and Peter's line of sight, but he left himself open to me.

I raised my shotgun and shot him, blowing his arm off his shoulder socket. I pumped my shotgun for another shell and blew his head off with the second.

That's the last one, I thought, but I counted again in my head to make sure. But where's the honcho?

As I turned around to face the school bus, the honcho stood a block away, watching us. Behind him was a tall man with dark skin, his entire shirt soaked with blood, and chunks of his cheek were missing. I realized it was Randy.

Before Jun could pull another arrow from his quiver, the honcho darted off and disappeared from a corner, heading north. Randy followed like a duckling to its mother. I waited for a moment to see if it would throw another surprise attack, but with its army defeated by us, I guessed the honcho realized it was outmatched.

That made me shiver. A honcho that retained its self-perseverance was a scary thing and made them much worse than humans.

"Holly? Are you alright?" I shouted.

"Yes!" Holly answered. "Are they all dead?"

"Yes."

"I'm gonna come down now."

"Wait a minute there, Holly," said Peter. "We gotta make sure you're not...hurt."

Lauren walked over, glaring at Peter. "What do you mean by that? She's clearly fine. She's just scared."

"We need to make sure that she wasn't bitten," Peter said.

Lauren turned to me, and I just stared at her. She knew what I was thinking. All that talk we had earlier must have replayed in her mind, and if she refused for Holly to get checked, she was just hypocritical with the things she said to me. Lauren let out a heavy sigh and asked for Holly to stand up and turn around.

Holly wasn't injured: no bites nor scrapes, but she certainly got the fright of her life being chased by a pack like that. And with a honcho leading it. She climbed down from the emergency hatch she opened and carried Indy with her, and opened the bus's door. Indy bounced out and ran over to me, tongue out and tail wagging fervently.

I laughed and knelt, letting him lick my arms with all he could muster. He barked and whined, but I told him that I'm here now, that he was safe, scratching the back of his head, even letting him lay on his back as Yousef, Gus, Haskell, Aria, and Alfie crouched down around him to rub his belly. Indy loved all the attention. Holly ran over to Lauren and sobbed in her arms.

Peter stood over me, watching. "Come on, Peter. Come and get in on this."

"I have to keep an eye out. That honcho might come back."

I realized we were still out in the open.

"Hey!" Nash cried out. "Someone's coming."

"Okay, everyone! Get off the street! Get in the bus!" I barked.

Haskell and Alfie guided the others into the bus while Peter, Jun, and I hid behind the police car. I could distinctly hear a motor running, realized it must be a truck approaching. Peter and I shared a grim look.

"Do you think we can take it?" Peter asked.

"We have to," Jun said. "We can't keep walking forever."

"I know." It was kind of ironic that we were going to ambush survivors after what happened at the checkpoint, doing the same things they did. I realized I might have to kill them.

The truck approached, and I stepped out with my shotgun aimed at their windshield. If they tried anything, I would shoot the driver before they could step on the gas, flee, or run over me. In the end, they'd still be dead.

But suddenly, the truck stopped in the middle of the pedestrian crossing, the motor running, and a man got out from behind the wheel. I rolled my eyes. That's pretty stupid for him, but it was my gain.

"Bren?" Logan said, taking me out of my head.

Shit. I quickly lowered my gun and stared at his stupid, grinning face, wanting to punch him right then and there that I almost shot him. I almost did! But I couldn't find the right words, letting my legs guide me toward him, my arms snaked around his body and pulled him in; the warmth, his breath against my shoulder, his arms wrapped around me. I didn't let that go for a while.

"You're alive," I said.

"I got your message."

I smiled and let go of the hug. "I know you're alive."

"I didn't know you were so worried about me."

"Who do you think I am? Of course, I'm worried about you."

"You are?"

"Why shouldn't I be?"

Logan paused, could see his mind turning, but then he returned my smile. "I'm worried about you, too."