by Angel Lawson
I shake my head and watch as Wyatt’s face turns a strange shade of red. “Who is saying all this? Where are you hearing it?” The stuff about Cole is pretty specific, although the Devil herself is living in New Hope. I can’t help but wonder if Hamilton knows exactly who Jane is and what she’s done.
“No one in particular. Just survivors coming in.” Again she smiles, toothy and wide. “Some of the kids have even written stories about it. We pass them around.”
I honestly don’t know how to respond, all this time we’d been fighting so hard to survive—so desperate to stop Chloe—it never crossed our minds that there were other people out there, living lives and doing the mundane, like listening to gossip and creating entertainment about us.
Wyatt, as usual, saves the moment. “Get your stuff. And don’t step on any of the bodies.”
In minutes we’re away from the scene and headed toward the next spot on our map: The meeting place with the other teams.
Zoe walks ahead and Wyatt grips my arm. “Why didn’t you tell me she’s Hamilton’s daughter?”
“I just found out. I swear—I knew something was up but didn’t have time to talk it over with you. Walker is being weird. She’s totally buying into this Safe City concept.”
He grunts. “Don’t keep secrets from me, Alex. It’ll get us killed.”
I don’t fight him—he’s right. “What do you think we should do?”
“For now? Hunt down the Hybrids. Obviously they’re still hunting us, but from there I’m hoping Paul can get us some details on Hamilton and what this guy is up to.”
I follow him through the woods but I’m pretty sure Paul isn’t the only one Wyatt has questions for. Walker may have to answer a few of her own.
*
“What the hell is that?”
Wyatt’s been in a foul mood since the Hybrid attack and it doesn’t get any better when we spot the sign the next day. It’s plastered to the front of a gas station, using patriotism invoking colors and graphics. The colors are bright, which is what caught my attention. Everything post-crisis is faded and worn. The sign has bold reds and blues.
Wyatt, Zoe, and I approach the sign and I read it out loud.
Wanted!
Who: Soldiers from the Southern Army
Crime: Treason
Kill on Sight! Bounties given for proof in Safe Cities.
-Executive Order Issued by Colonel Hamilton, New Hope
Beneath this, in small print, is a list of identifying factors. Dark eyes, aggressive behavior. There’s a warning that they are armed and dangerous. What qualifies as proof is vague.
“I guess my dad sent out the propaganda teams,” Zoe says running her hand over the fresh ink. “He was pretty excited about it.”
“The what?” I ask.
“He had this big idea to push out ahead of the bounty hunters like us and get word out to the survivors. It’s also an intimidation tactic or something. He thinks it will rattle the Hybrids.”
“You’re not a bounty hunter.” Wyatt clenches his jaw. “And nothing rattles a Hybrid.”
“How many of these teams did he plan on sending out?” I ask, starting to grow worried. If they’re roaming the Death Fields alone they may be in serious danger.
“I don’t know. Maybe ten. They were hand-selected from New Hope’s Select Security Guard.”
“Jesus,” Wyatt mutters.
“How long ago do you think they were here?” I ask, scanning the area. There are faint tire impressions in the dried mud near the road.
“At least a few days.”
“What’s the big deal? They can take care of themselves,” Zoe declares. The sun has hit a hard angle and she’s wearing wide black sunglasses.
“Do you remember that attack last night? I don’t care how special those security officers are, if I hadn’t picked up on them miles away we would have been ambushed.”
The girl tilts her head and I really wish I could see her eyes. “Miles away?”
I swallow and Wyatt says nothing, just watches stone-faced. “I’m exaggerating. After a while you know the difference between a deer and a super-soldier. I’m sure one day, if you survive out here, you’ll be able to do the same.”
Her jaw drops. “If I survive?”
“What?” I ask. “Does that hurt your feelings?”
I take a deep breath and walk back toward the road. Wyatt isn’t far behind but I am surprised to hear him talking quietly to her. If anything, he should be more pissed than I am.
I feel his fingers tug at my elbow. I yank away and snap, “What? Am I being too mean?”
“A little. It’s not really her fault her dad is an idiot.”
Fair enough, there have been times I didn’t want the blow back of being Jane’s sister. “I don’t like where this is headed,” I tell him.
“Me either, but we may need her. Keep your enemies close and all that.”
I sigh. “I’m twenty. I don’t think I should have this many enemies.”
He reaches out and tugs the back of my ponytail. “The good news is now we have a place to start.”
“With the propaganda team?’
He nods. “I’m thinking if we can find them, we’ll find our Hybrids.”
I shake my head and look down the long, desolate road. “Hopefully they’ll still be alive.”
Chapter Eight
The pool of blood on the asphalt is the first sign of trouble. The next is a roll of propaganda posters in the weedy grass. Zoe picks it up and then drops it quickly.
“Gross.” Her hands are coated in blood.
“Shut up,” I bite out in a hiss. Wyatt jerks his chin toward a small row of trailers, each one more dilapidated than the last. My adrenaline spikes and in a blink the Mutt takes over, sending my senses on overdrive.
“In there,” I whisper, gesturing to the blue, metal trailer. The roof is a solid sheet of rust and the grass surrounding it is knee length, except where it was recently bent by someone walking through it. The shell of a small sedan hides in the overgrown weeds. I look at Zoe. “Get in that car and don’t make a sound.”
For once, she doesn’t argue, but it’s probably more that she doesn’t want to step foot in that trailer than actually being afraid. Her heart rate accelerates but I don’t catch the scent of fear on her skin. She’s an enigma but not one I can crack right now.
“You take the front,” Wyatt says. “I’ll hit the back.”
I nod and take a step forward, aware of the bloody handprint on the aluminum door. I’m listening, trying to catch on to something—a wisp—a clue. What I inhale isn’t blood or sweat. It’s gasoline.
I look up at the trailer and see the wavy ripple of gas and shout, “Wyatt, run!” a mere heartbeat before the building emits a heavy creak and explodes into a ball of fire.
The heat rolls against my back, singeing the hairs on my neck. I run to the car, praying Zoe is safe inside. Wyatt must have had the same idea because we crash into one another hiding behind the trunk from the raging fire, ducking from falling debris. The sound of bending metal sets me on edge and I say, “They’re all going to blow. I’ll get Zoe.”
“I’ll get her,” he says. “You make sure this isn’t an ambush.”
The fire has built into an inferno, a cyclone thrusting into the sky. Glass shatters, drawing my attention back to the car where Wyatt kicks the cracked window in before dragging Zoe out. I clutch the wooden handle of my hatchet, alert and ready as I head back to the road.
The fire has created a glow that lights up the area for miles. Even if the Hybrids or Mutts or Eaters were nowhere around, they will be soon. Our location has been announced to the surrounding area.
Footsteps echo off the asphalt and a quick glance back tells me it’s not Zoe or Wyatt, who are just emerging red-faced and drenched in sweat from the grass. I hold up my hand and in a heartbeat Wyatt has his gun in his hand.
“How many?” he asks, moving by my side.
“I don’t know.”
/> He looks at Zoe and says, “Stay close.”
I can’t get a handle on the number coming our way and there’s nowhere to hide—just the fire and empty fields around it—thank God they weren’t closer to the woods. I can just see the eastern part of the state going up in flames.
Wyatt eases his back against mine and Zoe’s shoulders press close, making a triangle. “Don’t panic,” I tell her. “Just go for the kill. We’ll get out of this.”
She snorts. “Of course you’ll get out of this. You’re like, superheroes.”
Before I can tell her to shut her mouth, that we’re not comic book characters, I hear the sound I dread more than anything else: a long, painful howl that soon grows into a chorus louder than the blaze.
“What is that?” Zoe whispers.
“That, sweetheart, is a horde of Eaters. Welcome to the freaking apocalypse.”
*
“We can’t just stand here,” I tell Wyatt. “We need to pick a direction.”
“What if it’s the wrong one?” he shouts. His back is sticky against mine, the heat from the fire unbearably hot.
“Do you want to get pushed back into that?” I jerk my thumb at the fire.
“I don’t want to get eaten,” Zoe says, almost too quiet to hear. “Don’t let me get eaten. Oh my God, we’re going to get eaten.”
Her voice rises on the last sentence and her eyes dart between me and Wyatt.
“Zoe—”
She panics and runs down the street.
“Dammit.” Wyatt rubs the top of his head. “I guess we’ll go that way.”
With the decision made for us, we chase Zoe down the road. The girl is fast, I’ll give her that, and it takes nearly a minute to catch up with her. Looking back, I see smoke has coated the road behind us and my eyes burn and water. Lumbering shadows move in the hazy, yellow light. The screaming howls bounce off the trees and night, taunting us.
“Look, I say we just keep running. We’ll find a place to stop at some point,” I suggest. The hair on my arm stands on end and I inhale. “Or maybe not.”
Wyatt’s eyes dart around. “What?”
I spin around, searching the dark road. We’re not alone. Wyatt’s gun glints in the faint light. An Eater dives out of the dark, then another and two more. They move so fast their faces are a blur. Zoe screams and I raise my hatchet but gunfire pierces the night and each monster falls landing inches away, their screams dying on their lips.
“Wyatt?” I ask.
“Wasn’t me.” He clutches his unused gun.
We aim for the darkness. If whoever is out there didn’t let the Eaters kill us, most likely because they want to do it themselves.
A figure emerges from the dark and the first thing I spot is a long, graying beard. The second is the barrel of a shotgun. The third actually startles me; it’s a small dog. A Jack Russell, and he rushes over to sniff my feet.
“Rooster! Leave that girl alone,” the man says. “Looks like you got yourself in a pickle. Need a hand?”
“We can manage,” Wyatt says. “But thanks.”
“You look capable.” He glances at Zoe and then at the Eaters on the ground. “But I suggest, you get off this road. Those aren’t the only predators around here.”
I’ve been down this road before and rarely are any of the survivors living in the Death Fields friendly. Most of them are downright deranged, and I’ve got little interest in being locked up in a cage again. Unfortunately, one look over my shoulder tells me he’s right. We need shelter.
I make sure my weapons are visible and ask, “You have a place nearby?”
“Sure do. You’re welcome to rest for a spell.”
Wyatt nods and Zoe shows her naiveté by smiling in relief. I just brace myself for what’s next.
Chapter Nine
We follow the man off the road and away from the Eaters and whatever blew up the trailers. We’re inching closer to the Appalachians and occasionally it’s obvious in the landscape; cliffs become sheer walls of rock. We face one of those now, but the old man expertly navigates a trail up to one side. It looks like notches have been carved out of the rock for steps.
I scale the steps easily, offering a hand to Zoe to help her up the last part. The mutation boils beneath the surface, ignited by heightened adrenaline. I’m growing used to it now and catch myself relying on my senses. It’s wrong and I shouldn’t want the lingering effects, but the Death Fields are dangerous. I’m not sure how long we would last without them; because of the abilities, I can tell the old man’s heart rate is even and I don’t sense the slightest threat.
“How much further?” she asks, as though I would know.
“Just around the ridge,” the old man says. The dog runs just a little ahead, always keeping an eye on us and his owner. “I lived in town before all hell broke loose. My daddy showed me this place when I was just a kid. I think he always expected Armageddon or something. Either that or he thought he may need a place to hide from the cops back when he was a bootlegger.”
Wyatt’s hand grazes my back and we both know we’re crazy to follow this old man deep into the countryside. But we also know something happened to the propaganda team back at the trailer. I’ve little doubt the Hybrids are close by. I’m just hoping not way out here.
At first I don’t even see the shelter. Weedy vines twist up hard rock and I’m suddenly sure the man is crazy when he steps close to the wall and pushes his hands into the greenery. He grunts and leans back, revealing the edge of a thick wooden door.
The three of us hesitate and he looks us up and down. “You think I’m gonna kill you?”
“In the past two years I’ve been held as a prisoner by a crazy person, locked in a cage by a town of deviants and a couple other unpleasant situations. I apologize for being a little nervous about going into a hidden cave with a stranger.”
“You came out of those situations alive?” he asks.
“Yes.”
“Did the people make it? The ones that did you wrong?”
I shake my head. “No. They’re dead.”
“Then I guess I’m the one with the poor odds.”
I never thought of it that way. We’re always wondering who our next enemy will be, but I’ve never considered that we may be the ones people should fear. Death and destruction follow us—me in particular—especially with my personal connection to the virus that started it all. I assess the old guy in front of me, with this weathered hands and wrinkly skin. If he made it this far he must be pretty smart. Smart enough not to screw with us.
I smile and offer him my hand, “I’m Alex, by the way. Thanks for leading us out of that mess.”
“I’m Roger.” He grips my hand and looks down at the dog, who is looking back up at us. “That’s Rooster, and we’re just trying to do our part to keep the remains of civilization civil.”
*
The cave is larger on the inside than expected—there’s room to stand and different alcoves for rooms. Battery-powered lanterns light the space. I notice a bowl of fresh eggs and salted meat in a small ’kitchen’ area near the door.
“My daddy made moonshine up here,” he points to a vent that allows him a small stove. “When that virus came around I just started moving up here, a little bit at a time. I’ve got a chicken coop out back and a couple of goats. Those monsters can’t climb up the rock, so the animals are safe.”
“So you’ve been alone this whole time?” I ask.
“Yeah, my wife died ten years ago and my kids are across the country. No idea if they made it or not.” He reaches down and pats the dog on his little head. “I found this guy on the last day I moved up here for good.”
“Why’d you name him Rooster?” Zoe asks.
“Cause he wakes me up at the crack of dawn like clockwork.”
I’m starting to think Roger invited us in because he’s lonely. After my time in solitary with Chloe, I understand better than I’d like to.
He offers us a seat and we sit around a square
table. The furnishings are nice and it’s really a pretty good set-up, other than the damp chill that lingers in the air. I rest my weapon on the table and dig in my bag for some food. I pass both Wyatt and Zoe a bag of trail mix.
Wyatt, never content to just sit, pulls out a rag and begins cleaning my hatchet. “Any idea what caused that explosion?”
“Down at those rat-infested trailers? I’d say it was God intervening, but I know better. It’s whoever you guys are hunting.”
Wyatt frowns. “Why do you think we’re hunting someone?”
The man shrugs and strokes his beard. I offer him some of my mix but he waves me off. “You’re traveling light. Just weapons and a pack. Picking up supplies as you go. I’ve watched a lot of things come and go around these parts over the last year. Armies and monsters and sometimes a mix of the two. I saw the signs that group was posting before they got tracked down and slaughtered.”
“The propaganda team was killed?” Zoe asks, her mouth agape in horror.
“Did you set off that explosion?” I ask, the pieces finally clicking together.
He looks at Zoe. “The soldiers or whatever they were came in quick. Those people had no chance, emptying their guns into thin air. I’ve never seen men so fast and efficient. I wanted to give those…things…no reason to return here, and when I saw you guys poking around I knew they’d be back.” He seems so rational but the truth is he almost killed us. I tell him as much and he replies, “Sorry about that. I came back to check and make sure you were in the clear. Unfortunately the monsters were attracted to the fire.”
“Yeah, they seem to like bright light.”
“So are you guys bounty hunters?” He looks between us. “Like on the posters?”
Having learned to hold our cards, Wyatt and I don’t reply right away. Zoe, on the other hand, blurts out, “Hell yeah. We’re here to take those Hybrids down. Clear out the countryside until they’re all gone.”
