by Angel Lawson
I understand my father’s worries more than I care to admit. But I’m also fully aware that going to that place doesn’t change anything. We can only move forward and I told him as much.
“I don’t think any of us could comprehend Jane’s real motivations here. While we were thinking about survival she was plotting domination.” The air hangs heavy between us and I decide to change the subject. “How did you end up with Hayes and Chloe?”
“I came on my own, well, with the help of your friend in there.” He gestures to the back room where Wyatt is sleeping. “After I’d seen what she’d done—how she’d mutated the EVI-1 vaccine to create the Hybrids--I knew I needed to observe the Center myself. Things are changing at the Fort. Jane has increasingly taken over the assignments in the lab, and is overseeing much of the work. I’m being squeezed out.”
We look at one another as that sinks in. Jane is a brilliant scientist. She created the E-TR virus that started all of this. Then the EVI-2 Vaccine, that creates the Hybrids. The last place we need her is in the lab with no oversight. “Wyatt brought you here?”
“Yes, I became aware of his allegiance when we gave you the vaccine to hand over to the Army.” He eyes me carefully. “He’s a good man. A complicated one I believe, but his motives seem true.”
“I think so.”
“He seems to care deeply for you. Is there a relationship?” he asks, uncharacteristically.
“He’s an ally. A friend, I suppose.” I hope my cheeks aren’t red. “They’re hard to come by lately.”
“Indeed.”
A loud bang sounds from down the hall and we both jump.
“Wait here,” I tell my dad, picking up the gun from the table next to me. Wyatt meets me in the hallway, shirtless, holding an arm around his bandaged waist. His gun is in his other hand. We look up the dark stairwell.
“A friend, eh?” he says, pushing my hair over my shoulder. “I like your hair—all big and crazy.”
“You’re doped up and talking nonsense. Anyway, are you really eavesdropping when you should be in bed?”
He shrugs but we hear two more bangs on the metal door from above.
I glance at his battered but healing face. “I thought they couldn’t get in.”
“There’s a fail switch of sorts, just in case. A code lock.”
“Who has the code?”
“I do, for one.”
I stare at him. “Who else?”
“I guess we’ll have to see.”
“Stay down here. I mean it.” It’s a testament of how much pain he’s in that he actually follows directions.
I get to the top of the stairs and feel around with my hand for the flat, square door on the ceiling. Muffled voices sound from above and I strain, trying to catch what they’re saying. It’s impossible, though, and there’s nothing I can do but wait with my gun pointed at the ceiling. My heart rockets around my chest. If it’s Chloe or a Hybrid, we’re dead. A muted cry carries through the metal and I ready myself—they’ve opened the lock. A moment later the metal hinges whine and bright light from outside blinds me. I take a step down, feeling the wall behind me to get my vision back.
“Alex?” A familiar voice calls, and I nearly break into tears.
I don’t respond to Paul. It could be a trick.
Two legs appear in on the first step. Black boots and cargo pants. “Alex, I’m coming down. Don’t shoot.”
I hold my fire but I can’t stop the nagging feeling in my gut. Paul’s body emerges, then his face—his hands up, palms forward. He smiles when he sees me. It’s genuine, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. They’re dark and even if he’s alone, there’s something wrong.
“What is it?” I ask, once he’s fully down. I peer up to the top and see Jude guarding the opening. “What’s wrong?”
“We took the base,” he says, looking between me and Wyatt. “We secured the office and medical facilities. There are a lot of injured and Erwin’s men just got here.”
“Why did it take you so long to come down here?” Wyatt asks.
“The door was covered in debris. It took a while to clear it off, and Davis was the only one with the code and he was meeting the teams from Fort Arnold. Is everyone okay?”
“We’re fine,” I say. “Wyatt’s healing. My father is down the hall. So everyone is okay? Parker?”
“They’re fine,” he says, the dark worry filling his eyes again. “But we have a problem.”
“What kind of problem?” Wyatt asks.
“Chloe and a group of Hybrids got away,” he licks his lips and rests a hand on my shoulder. “And she took Cole with her.”
*
The can of soup squeezes between my socks and my hair brush. I look at the table, wondering if the packet of jerky will fit or if I’m going to just have to shove that in my pocket. I fold the package as tight as I can and push it through the zipper, ignoring the footsteps coming down the hallway.
“Hey, I’ve been looking all over for you,” Wyatt says. Without looking, I can tell he’s having to grit his teeth against the pain.
“I just needed to grab a couple of things.”
I tug at the zipper, closing up my pack. I’ve got ammo, two guns, a knife, and my hatchet that I recovered by a miracle outside.
“Looks like you’re going somewhere.”
I lift the bag. It’s a little heavier than I’d like, but I don’t have a choice. “Does it?”
“What the hell are you doing, Alex?”
I turn to face him and can’t help but shake my head. “God, you’re a mess,” I tell him. I can barely make out his features underneath the bruises and cuts.
“Thanks,” he says. “Now answer my question.”
“I’m just going through some of the supplies down here. It’s not like we can use this shelter again.”
He looks at my backpack, the weapons, and my clothes and crosses his arms over his chest. “Erwin’s looking for you.”
“Great.”
“You should go see him.”
“I will. Thanks for telling me.” I fight with the shoulder strap on my bag, trying to make it tighter. Wyatt steps forward and takes the fabric from my fingers.
“You won’t make it to the Fort, you know that, right? They’ve surely tripled their security by now.”
I slap his hands away but he’s already adjusted them so the strap fits perfectly. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You’re going back for him,” he declares.
“Who?” I ask, but the set of his jaw reveals the slightest hint of hurt and it’s easy to guess. “I’m not going after Cole. He made his decision and I’m not risking my life to get him back here.”
“He saved us out there. Gave us the chance to get away,” he says.
“Maybe, but Cole is fighting a battle I’m not sure I can help with right now.” I mean this, and as much I want to be able to help him, I’ve got bigger plans.
I push past him and start up the stairs. “Come on, are we going to see Erwin or not?”
“Alex.”
I take the steps two at a time, knowing for once he can’t keep up. Daylight shines at the top and it’s still a shock to enter the world above. The battle nearly destroyed the Center. The sky smells of smoke and death. I step carefully over the debris and blood-soaked ground and head to the part of the main office that is still standing. It’s Erwin’s office for the moment.
Just outside, I circle around and stash my pack behind a still-standing trash bin, wedging it in tight. I’m back to the front by the time Wyatt catches up, his face contorted in pain. I reach for the door but before I open it his hand clenches around my arm. I pause because he fights for breath and I don’t want him to pass out on me.
“Don’t do something stupid.”
“You should go rest,” I tell him. “Heal up. We’re going to need you for the next mission.”
He doesn’t, instead he follows me in quietly. Erwin stands behind the counter, his maps and strategy s
heets covering every available surface.
“You wanted to see me?” I ask.
“Yes, thank you for coming.” He looks up at Wyatt. “You okay with him being here?”
“If he’s not going back to the infirmary he may as well stay.”
“I know things have been a little intense the last day or two, but now that the dust has settled I think we’re ready for the next phase in our plans.”
“Good,” I say, my eyes on the map. Red arrows point away from our location. A circle outside of Savannah signals his destination.
“We’re headed south. I want to secure the coast.”
Wyatt frowns. “South? We’re not targeting the Fort?”
“Not now,” Erwin says. “The risk is too high. If we focus on the remaining evacuation centers in the southern part of the state, we can add on to our existing army—possibly doubling our size. Then we can take on The Fort when we’re better prepared.”
I feel Wyatt’s eyes on my back but I don’t cave under the pressure. If I’ve learned anything from him it’s that sometimes it’s best to hold your cards and emotions close.
“What’s our anticipated start date?” I ask.
“We’ll need to move fast on this one. At least getting on the road while Chloe is licking her wounds. I’ve sent the rest of your team to scout ahead. They’ll report back in the next couple of days.”
“This all sounds pretty risky,” I say. “What makes you think she’s not already on her way here?”
He nods at the man behind me. “I have more than one fox in the hen house, Alexandra.”
“That makes sense,” I reply, because Erwin too, knows better than to lay all his cards on the table. Luckily for me, I’ve been paying attention.
*
The Center, or what’s left of it, is quiet after dark. There’s nothing much to do once the sun goes down, and people either head to their guard stations, back to the medical center, or go to bed.
I press my back against the wall of the main building and try my hardest not to fall into one of the massive holes created by explosives during the battle.
Easing the pack out from behind the bin, I hook the straps over my arms and start across the field. After the tanks flattened the fence line we had to put up a temporary barricade. It’s old school. Barbed wire, lined with clinking cans and bottles. Anything that will alert us to an intruder attempting to get into the Center. The area is technically clear from Eaters, but there’s no way to have gone through every home or to account for any recently infected.
The wire may be primitive, but it does the trick.
I wait in the shadows, counting the seconds until the patrol passes by. After they’re gone I have only a few minutes to cross over and not get tangled up. The patrol come and go, their low voices murmuring in conversation. I run for the exit spot I picked earlier in the day. The wire is taut and the chimes few. I stumble twice, once slipping on the edge of a hole, my feet shifting on the crumbing dirt.
I get to the fence and toss my bag over, flinching when it lands with a too loud thud on the hard ground. I freeze and look around, but the night remains quiet. I start the process of weaving my body through the barbed wire without shredding my skin.
My shirt snags on the back of my knee and I feel the sharp scrape of metal across the exposed part of my neck but I manage to get through in one piece. I’m sweating by the time I’m on the other side, but I snatch my bag off the ground and disappear into the tree line, leaving the Center and my team behind.
Chapter 20
I’ve never spent a night alone in the woods. Not before or after the initial Crisis. I remember feeling alone—mostly back when I was travelling with my mother--but just knowing another person was nearby kept a large part of the panic at bay.
I’m not worried about the Eaters.
I’m not scared of bobcats or wild animals.
The Hybrids? In a situation like this they would take me out in a blink.
I’m terrified for Cole and even though I said differently to Wyatt earlier, his capture takes up every available part of my mind.
He saved me and Wyatt, but at what cost? I don’t deny to myself that I pushed Cole and his fate out of my head when we went down in that bunker. I focused on healing Wyatt. I needed time to repair my relationship with my father. But I was only assuaging the guilt I had for not staying up top and fighting. Now, in the heavy silence of the apocalypse, there’s nowhere to hide.
Huddled now in the crook of two trees, I burrow into my jacket and the thermal blanket I stole from the bunker. I hold a gun in one hand and my hatchet in the other and allow myself to sleep.
*
I jerk awake. It’s dawn. Hazy with fog. The gun is still in my hand but the other is empty. Wet leaves stick to my palm. A noise woke me—a sharp jolt of fear runs up my spine. I gather my senses and weapons and look around. My eyes land on a pair of familiar boots near my feet. I suck in a breath and mutter a curse.
“Dude, you can’t stop, can you?” I say, lowering my weapons.
Wyatt raises his cut eyebrow. “Can you?”
I sigh and rub my face, trying to wake up a little better while lowering my heart rate. Without another word I pack up my belongings and dig out the jerky, tearing off a piece with my teeth. I offering him nothing. No food. No water from my bottle. I just march on.
He follows.
This goes on for hours. It’s a long walk to my destination, I hope to be there by the end of the day, but I can already tell that’s unlikely to happen. I have the map Davis followed when we came down and with a little luck and my compass, I hope to backtrack and end up in the right destination.
Normally Wyatt would be way ahead of me, letting me know my shorter legs and lack of stamina was holding him back, but not today. Even though he doesn’t make a sound, it’s clear his injuries are slowing him down. Once he falls far enough behind I realize I could make a break for it, but my stupid conscience nags at me. I already lost one man I care about; there’s no way I would survive losing another. I stop a little to sit on a fallen log before the sun hits the peak of the sky. I’ve eaten a small snack, changed socks, and reloaded my gun by the time he appears, breathing hard and coated in sweat.
He leans on the log a couple feet away and catches his breath. I mull over all my comments from I told you so, to Stop being a dumbass, but swallow them all back. Instead I drink a little more water and ignore him as he wipes his forehead with the hem of his shirt, revealing the mottled bruising up his side.
I stand and approach him, silently taking the fabric out of his hand. He stares at me but I ignore him, check the area with my fingers. His stomach collapses at my touch and a tight hiss comes from his mouth. God, it looks bad. So bad, and I feel a twinge of guilt knowing he took that beating for me and the cause.
Searching my pocket, I find one of the tiny packets I stashed away. I tear off the corner and press two pain pills in his palm. Walking off as he takes them, I gather my things, check my compass and head north.
*
I toss another acorn in the fire. It pops and sparks as it explodes. Wyatt sits on the other side. The shadows and flames against his bruised face give him the appearance of a demon.
“How do you plan on doing this?” he asks after hours and hours of silence.
“Doing what?” My knees are bent to my chest and my arms wrapped around them. My stomach growls, begging for more food.
“Rescuing Cole.”
“Is that my plan?” I throw another acorn in and it misses, passing through and bouncing off his chest. Oops.
“God, you’re infuriating.”
I bark out a laugh. Pot meet kettle and all.
“See? Like that. Why are you laughing? You’re committing suicide.” I avoid his stare through the fire. “What if they stop you?”
“Then they stop me.”
“What if I stop you?” he asks in a quiet voice.
My eyes flick to his and I answer carefully. Slowly. “Then w
e’re done.”
*
We reach our destination the next day, although a few blocks away from where I’d hoped to land. The fence between the cleared area and the Death Fields is weak, but as we saw before there’s not much risk around here. Nothing but a few kids toting guns bigger than their bodies.
The leaves are fully off the trees now and the houses look sadder than they did before. Is it Thanksgiving yet? Did it pass? I shut down the thoughts of food as quickly as they start. My pack weighs heavy on my back.
“Can you at least tell me where we’re going?” Wyatt asks. His eyes are narrow and watchful. His finger is on the trigger of the rifle crossed over the front of his body. “There has to be a good reason you brought us back into an infested area even though we had a straight shot at the Fort.”
“No one invited you.”
“Humor me.”
“We left the SUV here.”
“Here?” I can tell he thinks it was a dumb idea.
“Davis’ plan.”
He shuts up at that piece of information and I roll my eyes. Davis gets a pass. Always.
Another two blocks and I spy the street sign. “It’s just down here,” I say. “We sort of ’rented’ space in a garage. It’s probably the safest place down here.”
I’m looking at him as we turn the corner of Spicer and Oak, his eyes scanning over my head. He grabs my jacket and jerks me back.
“Shit,” he whispers, pulling me away.
I follow his line of sight and gasp. Like a rolling swarm of insects, the street is alive. We’ve just come face-to-face with one large mass of hungry, spider-eyed Eaters charging toward us.
Chapter 21
We run. Wyatt limps and I keep one eye behind us. But it’s like they knew we were coming and any lead we had narrows quickly.
The street we’re on is full of empty, abandoned houses. Few have boarded up windows and would be swarmed instantly. Others are so overgrown it’s nearly impossible to locate the front door. Weeds and shrubs have overtaken sidewalks and porches. If we pick the wrong one, we’re trapped. If we don’t pick one soon, we’re dead.
