Chapter One

 

836 days after initial infection

 

He was going to kill me. I knew that he was.

I was seconds from death.

I fumbled with the knife in my hands. The blade slashed the pads of my fingers as I tried to find a good grip in the dark. I scrambled backwards in order to get away from him, but there was nowhere to go. I was trapped- caught.

I ran for as long as I could, but they found me.

They always find me.

The knife handle was slippery in my hands; my fingers throbbed and dripped blood everywhere. A whimper fell from my lips, and I hated that I showed them any weakness. They didn’t deserve to hear how afraid I was.

Or that I was more afraid for them to catch me alive than I was for them to kill me.

He flung his body on top of mine in an attempt to wrestle my weapon away. I couldn’t let him subdue me; I had to fight him. All I could hear was my frantic breathing as it rushed in and out of my heaving chest; all I could feel was the cold, unforgiving ground and the throbbing pain in my hand. I’d been stupid to cut my fingers. Now the Feeders would come, too. I’d be forced to face two enemies.

Fear cut into my skin as palpable as the blade in my trembling fingers. I felt suffocated by the panic that shrieked through my veins like a banshee calling out in the wild night. And still the faceless man attacked me.

I flailed my body around, a flesh-eating piranha out of water. I was more desperate for this kill than I had been for any other so far. I wedged my shoulder free and then struck out.

The knife sliced across his throat, so clean… so precise.

I’d done this a hundred times already, I knew exactly where to put the tip of my blade, how to slide it across his rubbery skin. He didn’t stand a chance, not when it came to threatening me or my life.

My knife tore through his jugular hot and fast, ripping a gaping hole through his neck so that his head lolled backwards, almost completely detached from his body. Blood gushed over my skin like a waterfall of gore, dousing me in sticky, thick crimson. I choked on it, drowned in it.

I couldn’t see as it poured over my face and body with the pressure of a fire-hose. This couldn’t be real.

I violently shoved at his now limp, lifeless body, desperate to get him off me and away from what I did to him. I couldn’t breathe; I was gagging on his never-ending cascade of blood.

Sobs now racked my chest as I fell into a full-on hysteria.

Oh, god, get him off!

I screamed with the effort to push, kick, shove him away, but he didn’t move. He weighed a thousand pounds and now I was being crushed beneath him.

“Help me!” I shrieked into the darkness. “Help me!”

And then he was gone. Somebody moved him off me, freeing me from the guilt, suffocating fear and the devastating pressure on my chest. I jerked into sitting, sputtering his blood and wiping at my eyes. Panicked cries still afflicted my body, and I gasped for breath and in the next moment I exhaled whimpering sobs.

I’d just killed a man. I’d just killed a man!

Strong arms wrapped around my body, pulling me into the sanctuary of muscled warmth. I fell into him easily. I let him envelop me with his strength and security. He whispered sweet reassurances in my ratted hair; he rubbed my back; he trailed soft kisses from my temple down to the curve of my jaw.

I threw my arms around his neck as the knife dangled from my weak, bleeding fingers. I pressed myself into his body, knowing he would protect me from every other evil of this world.

“Shh, Reagan, you’re safe now,” he whispered into my ear. “You’re where you belong.”

I continued to cry into his chest, weakening as the minutes wore on. We were both covered in blood, and as it dried it became thick and heavy as if it carried a physical weight. Our clothes glued together, and my skin had difficulty pulling away from his. I gagged as I realized that this was gore from a dead man, from a man I’d killed. I couldn’t hold it together anymore. I was going to lose it. I was going to puke everywhere.

I started to push away from the now cold chest, desperate to save him from my sick.

He didn’t like that I was pulling away. He didn’t like that I would distance myself from him, not for any reason.

I strained my head back when my cheek felt slick again.

He was bleeding this time. Bleeding everywhere.

My vision adjusted in the dark enough so I could make out the gaping wound in his chest. Someone had plunged a knife into him. Someone had tried to kill him.

His hands slid up to my biceps and wrapped around my muscle painfully. “Why are you afraid?” he demanded. “You’re where you belong. You can’t go anywhere. You belong to me.”

“You’re bleeding,” I whispered as I finally met the fathomless gray depths of his haunted eyes behind thick black-framed glasses.

His mouth twisted cruelly, and his white teeth flashed in the darkness. “You tried to kill me,” he told me.

I shook my head. I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to hurt him. I just needed him to let go of my arms; he was hurting me.

“No,” I whispered. My long, dark hair whipped me in the face when I protested adamantly. It was the same color as the darkness and blended into the night air so that I couldn’t make it out; I could only feel it.

“Yes, you did,” he growled. “You tried to kill me. But you didn’t. You couldn’t.” His voice dropped to a whisper, but I heard every clip of his consonants and lift of his vowels. “I won’t leave you, Reagan. I’ll never leave you.”

My arms were still around his neck with the dagger dangling loosely from my fingertips, almost forgotten about.

“You have to leave me,” I tried to convince him.

He shook his head this time, “No,” he said. “I won’t.”

“You have to, Kane,” I pleaded. “Please, leave me.”

“No,” he bit out finally.

More tears flooded my eyes, more blinding pain that sealed his fate.

I took the knife more firmly in my palm and aimed it as his back. The tip of the sharp dagger pressed into his flesh barely restrained from piercing his skin. His eyes instantly darkened with the determination to prove that I wouldn’t betray him. His head dropped to within a breath of mine, his mouth ghosting over my lips with a gentle kiss.

“Reagan,” he groaned with such heartache that my entire body shivered. “Don’t, don’t make me leave you.”

“I have to.” But I hesitated. How could I hurt him?

“You love me,” he argued. “You can’t hurt me because you love me.”
“It’s wrong, Kane.” I let myself lean into him and press a tender kiss on the corner of his full lips. “It’s

the wrong kind of love.”

His entire body arched into me as if I were safe instead of deadly, as if I was refuge instead of

danger. His cheek pressed against mine; his body heat so deliciously warm and familiar that I wanted to stay wrapped up in him forever. His hands left my arms to lift my shirt and wrap around my waist. My heart thudded sharply at how desperately I wanted more of this intimacy with him.

“I won’t let you tear us apart,” he vowed with his lips next to my ear.

“And that’s why I have to let you go.” I took a faltering breath and sunk my weapon into his back. The force of my thrust brought our bodies impossibly closer together. I felt the heat of his blood as it gushed out his chest wound. His arms engulfed my waist, holding my body flush against his, not leaving any space of our two beings to be separated.

“But I’ll never let you go,” he promised in a cold, hard voice that compressed like a vice around my heart and squeezed and crushed and pulverized my vital organ into nothing more than a flat, empty shell of what it once was.

“Reagan!”

“Reagan!”

I shot to sitting immediately. I wrapped my arms around my dry body that was in no way covered in blood, and felt consciousness bring understanding back to my sleep-addled brain. My body shivered violently in the dark room. I sniffled and realized my face was wet with tears. My limbs trembled and shook as if I were in shock and my heart pounded ferociously in my chest.

A big hand rested on my shoulder blade, and I instinctively flinched away, still lost in the horrifying nightmare that had become something of a reoccurring event.

“Hey, hey,” Hendrix soothed from behind me. “It’s just me.”

At the sound of his familiar voice, I sunk back into his chest and sobbed again at the feeling of absolute love and devotion when his arms went all the way around me.

“Holy shit, Reagan,” Harrison groaned from somewhere across the black, lightless room. “I get that you’re damaged, but you are killing my beauty sleep.”

“Harrison, shut the hell up,” Hendrix growled at him.

Harrison and someone else, maybe Nelson, let out groans of frustrated exhaustion. I felt the tension in the room from being awakened again by one of my violent nightmares. They didn’t happen every night, but they happened often enough that I knew everyone was sick of them.

I heard Vaughan whispering to Page, trying to calm her down and coax her back to sleep. Nelson and Haley were whispering to each other, too. They were laughing a little at something, but settling back into sleep again.

I felt like the biggest idiot. My unconscious screaming embarrassed me, the tears that soaked my face and t-shirt and the entire freaking premise for my nightmare.

It wasn’t exactly a carbon copy every time, but more often than not my dreams took the same trip. I killed the driver of the Suburban and then I had to stab Kane all over again. Always in my dreams he told me I loved him. And always I didn’t- which I took to be a good sign. But every single time I had to stab him again, I felt like my heart ripped open like I’d plunged the knife into my own chest.

This had to be some guilt complex and leftover trauma from that horrific day four months ago.

In a normal world, before there were Zombies, and I lived in an actual house with windows and electricity, I would have forced myself into therapy. Immediately.

But in this post-apocalyptic reality where I foraged for food, carried multiple weapons on me at all times and hadn’t had a proper shower in years, shrinks were out of the question and kind of like a hilarious joke. Besides, what put my distress ahead of everyone else’s?

Honestly, every single person housed in this once-storage-facility-turned-secured-compound had been through the bowels of hell. We’d all killed. We’d all gone to desperate lengths to stay alive. I wasn’t more special than anyone else here.

That being said, there had to be some stupid reason I couldn’t internalize my pain like a normal, screwed-up survivor. For some reason, my ghosts came to life in my head and threatened to strip away my sanity until there was nothing more left of me than a human-shaped haunted house.

Hendrix pulled me back down to the single mattress we shared. He tucked me into the nook of his arm and traced soothing circles on my back while he pressed comforting kisses into my hair. The gesture reminded me so much of my dream, and how I’d imagined Kane in that secret place, that I jerked against him.

“Reagan,” he hushed. “It’s alright; you’re safe.” I forced my body to relax into him as he continued to soothe me with his tender words and gentle touch. “They can’t get you here. They can’t get you ever, yeah? You’re safe.”

I nodded against his chest and breathed him in. He hadn’t bathed since yesterday, and there was an outside smell that lingered to his clothes- wind, earth and the faint hint of his sweat. He smelled like home; he smelled like love.

He smelled like Hendrix.

“Come here,” he murmured. I turned to face him, and he wrapped me tightly against his chest.

I laid my cheek on the heat of his arm and nuzzled into his peaceful sanctum. He rested his chin on the top of my head and squeezed me one more time before he drifted back into sleep.

If I were honest, it was a little difficult to breathe this way, but I wouldn’t have pulled away for anything. I needed the pressure of his chest against mine, the rise and fall of his body as he slipped into a deeper sleep. I needed his strong arms protecting me from the evils that chased me both in consciousness and unconsciousness. And most importantly, I needed the nearness of his body to save me from the demons inside my head.

God, I felt like I was shrinking.

I regulated my breathing and closed my eyes but sleep never came again for me, and I knew it wouldn’t. I couldn’t risk going back to that dream and picking up where I left off.

Or worse, starting it over.

The inside of the storage facility we’d moved into permanently after Kane Allen and his dad Matthias basically declared war on Gage and my adopted family- the Parkers- was mostly dark. There were a few walls that had significant-sized windows, but they were on the top two floors and we avoided them as often as possible. The bottom two floors were concrete and hopefully impenetrable.

The doors that did give us entrance were made from heavy steel and always locked.

Gage’s uncle left him in charge of people who had come searching sanctuary from the Zombie horde or other, more dangerous settlements.

Because while we were a permanent outpost of survivors, this was by far the fairest, most healthy environment I’d stumbled upon since the world fell apart. Usually, in places where humanity was allowed to stay long term, women were treated like property or worse; the population was always greedy and volatile and there was never a guarantee that those in charge were smart enough to keep their citizens truly safe.

In fact, the only other settlement I’d seen that was as stable as ours was Kane’s. Although, The Colony was in no way a healthy environment.

Matthias ran his town like a dictator and had the task of keeping Zombies away down to a science. As long as you didn’t include the Feeders he trapped and starved inside his “courthouse.”

Personally, I believed that my once-human-now-brainless-cannibal friends preferred a quick end to their obviously horrifying existence. But the Allens had a different set of standards. They not only used the infection to punish their citizens who didn’t see exactly eye-to-eye with them, but once they were successfully turned, Matthias had them locked up in holding cells along the halls of the old high school where he kept them starved and suffering.

Matthias’s treatment and cold, callous attitude towards the Feeders made me sick. He was the only person alive that could make me feel sorry for the undead.

And since I’d killed my fair share of Zombies on the hunt for my brains; that was honestly something he should be proud of.

I hoped I would never have to face those halls again. Last spring, Vaughan, Hendrix, Nelson and I had been held prisoner in that same settlement and in the chaos of our escape, we’d enlisted Miller to break the trapped Feeders out. While Matthias’s men rounded up the hungry, starved, desperate Zombies, we got the hell out of there as fast as we could.

And I vowed never to go back.

Easier said than done, since I’d somehow managed to make myself into some kind of Holy Grail for Kane. He’d fallen for me, never quite understanding that I wasn’t interested in him in the same way… or any way.

But fall for me how? That was the question. It wasn’t love between us.

It was something so much darker, but without question real and binding, that kept him obsessively fixated on me.

Or, I thought so, anyway.

Maybe he’d changed his mind since that day in May when I’d stabbed him twice, shot him once and then stabbed him again, just above his heart. I had also kicked him out of a moving vehicle in one final act of closure.

If Kane was still living- which was a huge freaking if- then I hoped he had moved on by now.

There were girls still left in this world. Sure, we were few and far between, thanks to the age-old survival-of-the-fittest crap. As the weaker sex, which I said with as much malice and contempt as possible, we could be an easy target. Not Haley or me… but other girls, in other places.

Anyway, whatever the reason, there was a shortage of girls, and that’s why men kept trying to own us. If it wasn’t for our supposed natural skills in the kitchen and homemaking department then menfolk- who could be likened to horny, humping, mangy dogs at this point- were trying to breed with us.

I swear; they all had this stupid belief that they personally were put on this planet to “go forth and multiply.” And basically any woman they could get their hands on would serve as a sufficient vessel to repopulate the planet.

Whilst the Parkers seemed the exception to every rule I’d just laid out, Kane was by no means excluded. He’d put his claim on me almost the moment he met me.

And I’d been on the run from him ever since.

Last May, he caught me. And planned to take me home and force me to play house with him. Tyler, his sister, and I had gotten out of that horrifying situation by the skin of our teeth and at the great cost of leaving Tyler’s little brother behind.

Miller was still with his psychopathic dad and unhinged, psychotically deranged, older brother and not faring well. We hadn’t had any opportunity to grab him yet, but we were actively working to save him.

We’d been discreetly scouting The Colony and had seen the horrible conditions they kept him in and the disgusting way they treated him. But he was alive.

And I had to believe that he would stay alive. I had to believe that my desperate selfishness wouldn’t cost him his life.

I knew that I would not have been able to save him, even if I went willingly with Kane that day. I knew there wouldn’t have been a single ounce of hope for me once Kane got me secured behind the protection of The Colony… but still the guilt ate away at me.

And Tyler was worse.

I would bet a thousand non-existent dollars that she was also awake tonight.

I wasn’t the only one plagued with nightmares and reoccurring dreams.

I had no concept of time in the darkened space we all shared. Originally, Haley and I were going to move the girls out months ago, but after the Allen attack on the compound, our entire group had been hesitant to split up- even into neighboring units. We’d been together for six months now and developed this very close-knit community.

We relied on each other. We trusted each other. And we needed each other.

It was hard for us to separate. It was hard for any of us to be apart- even the younger boys. So, we stayed together for as long as we could.

But we were at the point now, where it was probably wise to get some space. Hendrix and I were getting very serious, and Haley and Nelson were, too. It wasn’t like we ever got the chance to enjoy any alone time to act out these feelings of physical attachment… that might have been part of the problem. There was definitely some pent up frustration. Ahem. But it was getting harder and harder to sleep next to each other.

So at this point, we had two options. One, we could split our group into girls and guys and hope that the isolated nights didn’t kill us. Or, we could get our own units and shack up for real.

Um, I’ll have door number one, please.

Becoming a couple with Hendrix had been one thing. Marrying myself to him and getting a place of our own was an entirely different thing.

A thing that gave me hives and made me unconsciously cross my legs.

I loved Hendrix. Loved him. More than anything.

I’d also known him for six months.

And while that might as well have been a lifetime in our personal End of the World saga, it was actually, not that long.

Possibly, I had trust issues from my first boyfriend. He not only cheated on me, but also tried to eat me! As in my brains… He tried to eat my brains.

Get your mind out of the gutter.

But there was this other part of me that fought for what I believed in, and allowed myself the freedom to set standards for myself even if they didn’t make sense to anybody else.

I wasn’t ready.

That was all that mattered.

That was all I needed to know.

I had no doubt that I would get there with Hendrix soon. There was way too much delicious chemistry between us for me to have any doubts about that.

The boy set me on fire with his touch. And I could not get enough of him. There were moments when I thought I would breathe him in so deeply, I would consume him… that he would melt into me, and we would join souls, and bodies and whatever other molecular pieces and parts of us that got swept up in our vortex.

But I wanted to take this slowly. I wanted to savor this part of our relationship- the newness, the innocence, the butterflies.

There was no other section of my life that got to be like this. Everything else that surrounded me was dirty, deadly and dark.

So we were moving into separate “apartments” and taking things slow.

At least for now.

Haley’s educated philosophy on the matter went something like, “Nelson can get lucky when bikini waxing becomes a thing again.”

Tyler had snorted at that and then offered her services. I told Tyler I wouldn’t have trusted her near my lady bits when I had the option to go to the ER and demand they surgically pry apart my thighs and other important nether regions, I sure as hell wasn’t going to hand hot wax to her now when my only option for surviving that catastrophe-waiting-to-happen was to grow new skin.

Seriously though, it did not seem fair that the further into the Zombie Apocalypse we walked, the scruffy-boy thing got sexier while the shaggy-girl thing basically de-evolved society.

They were becoming rugged, buff-to-the-last-ab-muscle sex gods while we resembled something along the lines of cavewoman-meets-Planet-of-the-Apes.

And I couldn't even broach the subject of eyebrows without falling into a deep depression. What I wouldn't give for ten minutes with a backlit magnifying mirror.

Dear Jesus, I promise not to kill anything that isn't already mostly dead or that doesn't probably deserve it anyway, if you give me good lighting and a decent mirror. Just once... a week.

We were lovingly calling this Hair-Mageddon. Privately… obviously. We wanted to take this slow with our boys, not send them running off to any other female, not even a particularly human one.

Finally, Tyler came to life and crawled out of her corner mattress. She’d been a little reclusive since we got back from stabbing her older brother and abandoning her little one. I knew she was going through lots of crap, and I wanted to be there for her, but I could only do as much as she would let me.

I kissed the underside of Hendrix’s jaw and wiggled out of his warm embrace. He grunted a sound of disapproval, but flipped over onto his stomach and buried his face into one of our pillows. I slipped out of the heavy comforter and made sure he was tucked in nice and cozy.

My boots were already on- sleeping with heavy footwear made it a little easier to resist the temptation in a room full of his siblings. Also, it was a necessity. I grabbed a hoodie and my toiletries kit and followed Tyler out.

I checked on Page on my way and smiled at King’s ability to take up his entire mattress with his arms spread straight out; his legs likewise kicked to far corners and his comforter wrapped around one arm like a tourniquet. The boy was active in his sleep, and I worried about the future female that would share a bed with him. He’d probably give her a black eye and several bruises just when he flipped over.

Out in the hall, I stumbled blindly to the nearest “bathroom.” We did all our business outside… as necessity required, but there were the original facilities with mirrors and useless sinks where we could gather and pretend to keep our old routines.

Tyler stood over the sink staring into her lifeless eyes as if her reflection would talk back to her. Her hands gripped the counter so tightly her knuckles stretched white in the flickering candlelight. She seemed thinner than ever, and I hated that she was going through this. I hated that I was so helpless to fix it for her.

“Hey,” I whispered tentatively.

She looked over at me and although her expression wasn’t exactly welcoming… she wasn’t disappointed to see me either. “Hey.”

“Couldn’t sleep?” Stupid question, but I was anxious to fill the silence.

She shook her head and dropped her chin to her chest. “I hate sleeping these days. It never ends well for me.”

“I know what you mean.”

We fell into uneasy quiet as we both relived the heavy nightmares that wouldn’t leave us alone. I started getting ready for the rest of the day and Tyler eventually joined in the routine. I brushed my teeth, using the absolute minimum of toothpaste I could and then I brushed out my ridiculously long hair before throwing it up into an extra messy bun on the top of my head.

It had been two years since I’d gotten a haircut, and I had long hair before the Apocalypse. It wasn’t exactly the healthiest hair ever, especially with the lacking fresh fruits and vegetables in my diet, and now I was starting to look like a hippy. Something needed to be done.

And fast.

Tyler watched me wrap my bun around more of my bun and gave me a sympathetic smile. “I can cut that for you if you want.”

“Really?” This offer was so much better than her waxing invitation. “I don’t even care what it looks like, I just need some of it gone.”

“One of my friends from high school became a hairdresser after graduation; she taught me a few things.” She shrugged casually, like this wasn’t the greatest skill to have during a Zombie takeover. “I could even give you layers.”

“Really?” I whispered.

“Really.”

“You just made my day!”

“Haley, too, if she wants. Page probably needs a trim as well. We’ll need to find good scissors though. I haven’t seen a nice pair in a while.” She rummaged through her makeup bag and squinted into the dim light to apply some eyeliner.

I copied her stance and shut one eye in order to apply one of my most precious possessions. “I’m on the raiding team today; I’ll see if I can find some.”

“And I’ll ask Gage. He might have a pair hidden somewhere.”

“If they’re hidden, how will you convince him to hand them over?” I teased her.

She didn’t take the bait. “He owes me,” she all but growled. “Last week he promised me to take me scouting for Miller again, and he’s been putting it off ever since.”

“It’s dangerous, Ty,” I reminded her. “We’ve been lucky so far.”

Tyler snorted derisively, “We haven’t been lucky. They’ve been taunting us with Miller, showing him off.”

“Do you really think that?” I whispered. Those sick, nauseous feelings made a violent comeback in the pit of my stomach.

“Yes, Reagan.” Her voice was unquestionable conviction. “My dad knows exactly what he’s doing.”

“This is a mess,” I sighed.

She didn’t say anything, but her shoulders sagged and not even the dark eyeliner could mask the despair in her haunted expression.

We continued our morning routines and changed into new clothes for the day. I tucked the necklace Page gifted me underneath my long-sleeve t-shirt, letting my fingers trace the charms that meant so much to me. There was a tiny plastic compass that had cracked on a supply-run a month and a half ago, an even smaller toy gun and a golden locket that had the words “love always” torn from a romance novel kept in the storage bay. This necklace was by far my most prized possession and it meant something profound to me. That Page had thought of it, made it and given it to me intensified my love for both the necklace and the little girl more than I thought humanly possible.

Tyler and I finished up in the bathroom and then left together. Activity bloomed to life out in the hallway. People were waking up and starting their days. Candles had been lit all down the hallways and stairwells, and the dark oppression of living in a solidly concrete building lessened.

“Where did you go?” Hendrix asked as soon as I was back in our communal room.

“I thought I would get a head start on the day,” I smiled at him.

“Couldn’t sleep again?” He guessed. I shrugged because it was the truth, but I knew my discomfort would bring him unnecessary guilt. “Do you want to talk about it?”

I flinched, even though he usually asked me this question. He was thoughtful, considerate and such a good man. But there was no way in hell that I was going to open up to him about my dreams, He could cope with a lot, but Kane declaring his literally-undying love for me night after night, was not something I would put on Hendrix. “No, thanks,” I said instead.

His blue eyes narrowed on me, but he pulled me into a hug. His minty-fresh breath teased my senses, and I lifted my mouth for a good morning kiss. I could swear that in this day and age, spearmint had become an aphrodisiac. And there was nothing sweeter than early morning kisses with his rough beard rubbing against my smooth skin and his warm hands exploring every PG part of me.

“That’s much better,” I whispered after a few moments of bliss.

“Mmm,” he agreed roughly. His lips brushed over my jawline and then I felt the gentle bite of his teeth on my earlobe. I shivered against him. His tongue swept the fleshy part of my ear and descended south in wet kisses along my throat.

“Hendrix,” I breathed, completely lost to him.

“Do you guys want to explain to Page where babies come from or should I?” Vaughan asked dryly from behind us.

I felt my face flash bright red, and I let my forehead drop to Hendrix’s vibrating chest- vibrating because he was laughing at my embarrassment. It’s not like this didn’t happen every single morning.

“Is she asking?” Hendrix talked over my head, his arms still a cage around my body.

“She will be if you two don’t knock it off,” Vaughan growled.

“Sorry, Vaughan,” I squeaked.

He made a grunting noise behind me and then changed the subject. “You two are in the scouting group today, right?”

I finally found the willpower to turn around and face Vaughan. Hendrix still kept me against his chest, but at least this conversation didn’t make me blush furiously and rethink my stance on separate apartments.

“Yep,” Hendrix said. “Are we the only ones?”

“No, Nelson and Haley are going with you.” Vaughan rubbed a hand over his scruffy jaw and shook his head out against the sleep that still lingered. “And I think Gage wants you to leave as early as you can. But you’d better check with him and see who else is going.”

“Sure,” Hendrix agreed. “We’ll go find him now. What are you up to today?”

“Organizing the move,” Vaughan explained. He looked around at our accumulated possessions and gave a weary sigh. “Tyler’s going to help.”

“That should go good for you then,” I grinned at him.

“Right,” Vaughan laughed without humor. “It’s going to be great. One of us will probably die today, but hopefully not before everything’s moved.”

“One of you’d better die today,” Hendrix said seriously. When Vaughan lifted a confused brow, he explained easily, “Nelson and I have a bet on which one of you is going to make it out alive. My money’s on her.”

Vaughan almost choked. “What kind of brotherly support is that?”

“It’s not your fault that she’s the more worthy opponent,” I explained. “If it helps, none of us think you can beat her.”

“You need to leave.” Vaughan pointed at the door. “Go now, before I throw all your possessions over the wall and take away your food rations.”

“So touchy,” Hendrix scolded, but he was pushing me toward the doorway where we would catch Haley and Nelson and get organized for a trip into Zombieland.