When I reach the road, I turn left and hope I really can outrun the raiders. I hope I can run to a safe place. But I don’t know where any safe places are. I don’t know if safety even exists. The darkness is pressing in on me, hiding things, obscuring danger, and I don’t know what to do, except run and run and run. I have been programmed to run. Run from danger. Run for safety. Run to live.
But where?
My feet keep pounding the pavement and I feel small, insignificant, like if I’m not careful I’m going to run into oblivion. Run off the side of the world in my sprint for the ever-elusive safety I’ve been taught to hope for.
I hear feet pounding behind me and my muscles go taut. I’m fast. Too fast for Bowen or Fiona to keep up with. Too fast for Jonah. Too fast for Kevin with his injured arm and Jonah’s massive backpack weighing him down. So that means one of the raiders must be faster than me, and I am about to get caught. Without thinking, I veer into the nearest yard, into a copse of stark aspen skeletons. Twigs cover the ground, cracking beneath my feet.
“Stop!” a voice hisses from behind. I don’t stop. Instead, I try to run faster, veering between tree trunks, flinging my arms up against the branches whipping my face. A hand grabs my elbow and I try to yank away, but the grip tightens. I stop running and grab my gun, flipping around and pressing it against a chest.
“I’ve got nineteen bullets in here,” I whisper. “But this close, it will only take one to kill you.”
“Whoa, featherweight.” It’s Kevin, and he’s gasping for air. “Don’t point”—gasp—“that thing at me!” Gasp. Relieved, I lower the gun. I regret it instantly.
Kevin grabs me, throws me onto my back, and climbs on top of me, his hand pressed over my mouth. Compared to me he’s huge. I can hardly breathe, can hardly move as I squirm between him and my bulky backpack in an effort to get away. I freeze with horror as he presses his cheek against mine, his lips brushing my ear.
“Hold still, Jack. They took the bait,” he whispers, his breath cool on my sweaty neck. “The raiders.”
I’m already frozen, so I stay that way, my ribs straining with every breath to lift Kevin’s weight. Within seconds I can hear the sound of running feet over the noise of my pounding heart, over the swish of Kevin’s breath in my ear. His body stiffens on top of mine, and he wraps an arm around my head and buries his face against my neck.
“Don’t move,” he whispers. I don’t need the warning.
The pounding feet slow to a walk, scuffing the street. Noises carry to me, whispered questions, the sound of guns being cocked, of knives snapping open, of baseball bats smacking into open palms, and it is the scariest thing I have ever heard in my seventeen years of life. And then one sentence carries to me:
“Hastings should be here any minute with the dog.”
Hastings. That’s the name the cowboy said. Hastings is the leader of the raiders. And he’s bringing a dog to sniff us out. I begin to tremble.
“Give me your knife,” Kevin whispers. He eases off me and carefully slips his arms out of Jonah’s pack, easing it silently onto the ground beside us. I slide the knife from my belt and hand it to him. Crouching, he darts out of the trees and into the moonlit night. I roll off of my lumpy backpack and onto my stomach to watch.
Men are everywhere, like an ant hill that someone has kicked. If ants still existed. They’re on the road, darting into yards, going into houses. Kevin slinks to the side of the road and then gives me the biggest shock of my life. He stands tall and walks right into the middle of the raiders.
“Any sign of them yet?” he asks.
The closest raider turns and looks at Kevin and stops walking. “We know they came this way. Striker saw them go into one of these yards, but he was too far away to see exactly where. More than likely they’re holed up in a house. They have a woman with them!”
“Yeah, I saw the flare. But you called this many guys out just for one woman?”
“Dire straits call for radical action, man. Flint shot a pink flare yesterday, but these runners didn’t stick to his map. We lost them—until tonight. And since the women broke out of the compound last week—”
“They what?” Kevin blurts.
“Yeah. Eight days ago—every single one of them. They had help from the inside. That’s why we need this new woman so bad. Hastings is on his way here now with a dog, so it’s only a matter of time before we find her.”
Kevin nods. “Good. I’ll check this house while we wait.” He turns toward my hiding place.
The raider grabs his shoulder, stopping him before he can step up onto the sidewalk. “What happened to your arm?” he asks.
Kevin pauses and glances at the dark-stained bandage tied over his biceps. “I got in a fight with Jack.” My eyes grow round, and I press myself a little harder against the ground, hand clenching my gun.
The raider chuckles. “Jack’s got a temper.”
“Yeah, and he’s surprisingly quick,” Kevin says with a laugh.
“No he’s not. You’re just slow.”
They step up onto the curb together and start walking toward my hiding place. The raider peers into the trees—my trees. His eyes gleam in his hairy face.
“Hey! Look!” Kevin whispers. The raider’s gaze jerks away from me and follows Kevin’s pointing finger to the house next door. “I think I saw something in that house. Let’s go check it out.”
He leaves with the raider. And I’m a sitting duck. And the dog is coming. And despite the fact that I’ve read an entire library of survival guides and karate guides and self-defense guides, I have no idea what to do. None of the guides covered being trapped in a copse of dead trees, surrounded by raiders. My head drops to the ground, my forehead in dirt, and I fight back panic.
Not even a minute later, I hear a dog bark and my stomach clenches, making me want to vomit. Another sound slowly oozes into my hearing, a sound that tugs at my memory, bringing me back to the world before bees died and before children turned into beasts: the low, steady rumble of an engine. I cautiously lift my head and look toward the sound.
Moonlight reflects off of a machine zooming up the street toward me. A four-wheeler. A dark shadow sits in the driver’s seat, and another shadow lopes alongside the four-wheeler—a dog. A big dog. The raiders move out of the road to give the four-wheeler room to drive. One raider backs up until the heels of his steel-toed boots are within my arm’s reach. I don’t dare move, not even to put my head down. A sour smell wafts to me, burning my sinuses, and I realize it is coming from the man standing in front of me—a body-odor, dead-animal, unwashed-underwear smell. It might be the last thing I ever smell in my life.
My throat clenches. My eyes sting. If I die here tonight, my parents will never know what happened to me. Why did I want to find my brother? I want to go home. I never want to leave my house again. I am so dead.