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The lights glaring through the SUV’s windows woke Ryan to the happy sight of Shay curled in his arms. He carefully extracted himself from their embrace without waking her, exited the car to pee near the Dumpsters, and then filled two empty water bottles from the shower heads before anyone came down to begin the daily cycle.

As he walked back to the car, he discovered a folded paper in his pocket on which was scribbled a note of apology from Shay. She had apparently abandoned him last night and then, at some point, reconsidered. What the hell? Did she not believe him about the extreme danger level? Did she have a freaking death wish?

She was up when he got back to the car. He opened the door and waved for her to join him outside of it.

“Are you insane?” he asked, holding up her note.

“I forgot to take that back,” she said, grabbing for it.

She did not seem at all sorry. “Why didn’t you wake me up at least?” he said. “I could have gone with you. What if you had met some crazy security nut job? Do you not see my face? These assholes are serious!”

Shay touched his cheek. “I see your face,” she said.

He was caught between wanting to kiss her and lock her in the car. “I can’t lose you,” he managed.

She leaned into him and wrapped her arms around his chest. “Losing you is not my goal.”

Ryan held her, embarrassed to need her so badly. This was weak, girly crap, this feeling so desperate. He kissed her head. He had no choice in the matter. Girly crap or not, he was desperate for Shay.

He heard voices from the pavilion and shuffled with Shay to the back of the car, which hid them from view. “So now what?” he asked.

“Preeti wasn’t in the JCPenney,” Shay said. “Her cot was gone.” Her voice broke then and she wiped her face with her shirt. “I have to find her. And there’s only one place to go.”

Ryan was confused—was Shay proposing she try to get security to tell her? “I don’t think security is going to help you out. You busted out of their jail, remember?”

“Not security.” She pulled out Marco’s magic card. “The postal people.”

Shay had clearly lost her mind. “No,” Ryan said. “They will kick your ass and take the card from you. They’ve already tried! What the hell do you think has changed in a day?”

“They’re my only chance,” Shay said. “They can check the intranet, see where Preeti last checked in.”

“But we need that card!” He had to stop her.

“Not as much as I need to find my sister.”

She had already made up her mind. Ryan could tell from the set of her jaw, the tone of her voice. “Then I’m going with you.”

Shay smiled, then cocked her head at the car. “And Ruthie? You’ll just leave her alone in this tomb of a truck to see what happens?”

Ryan was ready to tear himself in two to keep from leaving Shay. Of course she was right—he would not leave Ruthie. Not after everything. But leave Shay as a result? Impossible. He couldn’t.

“They’ll hurt you,” he said. It was lame, but true, and he couldn’t stand to think of her getting hurt.

Shay held a finger up, ducked back into the SUV, and returned wielding a tire iron. “I saw this on the floor,” she said, assuming a karate stance she must have seen in a movie. “Pretty threatening, right?”

She looked about as threatening as a puppy with a stick. “Very.”

Shay broke her stance and shrugged. “Our options suck,” she said, “but I’m not abandoning my sister and you’re not allowed to abandon Ruthie for me.” She tucked the tire iron into her waistband, which dragged her pants to the floor.

They both burst out laughing. Shay tugged up her waistband, hiding those legs, then slung the tire iron through the strap of her bag like it was a bandolier.

“Now I look fierce,” she said, showing off her getup.

“They’ll pass out with fear.”

The smile left her mouth and she pulled herself against him. “I will meet you back here before dinner,” she said into his shirt.

“Dinner,” he said, controlling his voice so she couldn’t hear how scared he was. Would this be the last time he saw her? No. No matter what happened, he would find her, save her. If he had to kill every one of those postal people—would he? He would. For Shay, he would.

They kissed one last time, and then she walked away, using the cars to hide her from the line of showering people. She waved when she reached the wall. Ryan smiled, waved back, then shut himself in the SUV to keep from running after her. He would see her again. No matter what.

Ruthie groaned in the back row of seats.

Ryan leaned over the seatback and pulled the shirt she used as a blanket over her. “You’re safe,” he whispered.

He hoped he could protect at least one person in this hellhole.

• • •

Marco sat on the pinsetters’ catwalk in the bowling alley and scanned the police channels on the walkie-talkie. The security guys he and Mike had shut down had been found. One was in critical condition, the others would recover. He searched himself for some guilt or regret, but found none. This was a survival of the fittest situation. They had tried to kill him; he’d survived. If they died, it was because they were not fit.

Drew shoved his way through the door, arms laden with hockey and lacrosse sticks, duffels of smaller weapons, and other treasures recovered from the Pancake Palace. “A little help, please,” he grunted.

Marco waved the radio. “I was put on recon,” he said, grinning.

Drew dropped his haul by the door, then leaned his head on the wall. “I feel like ass.”

“More Sportade?” Marco said, waving his head toward where Mike had left his private stash. Surely Mike would share anything with Drew.

“It’s not a hangover,” Drew groaned. “Hangovers I know. This is, like, bad.”

Marco scowled, flipped to another channel. A guard was at the med center.

“Just dropped off another kid from the jail, one of the partiers from last night’s catch. Lady at the desk said this was the tenth flu intake who was a kid this morning.”

“Roger that. Will relay to the Bitch.” Goldman’s voice, and Marco assumed that he was referring to the senator. So things were not going well between them.

He looked at Drew, who had taken another Sportade and was drinking it so fast, red liquid cascaded from the corners of his mouth. Was this the effect of the raw duck, or was Drew a victim of the flu? Someone must have brought it with them to the party last night. Mike had been wrong to think they needed an army. They could have gotten food without risking exposure. What else could Mike be wrong about?

Mike and the Tarrytown guys busted in with the remains of the haul from the IMAX. Behind them was the handful of people from the party whom they’d recruited to their cause. It was tough squeezing them all onto the catwalk, but it was the safest place either Mike or Marco could think of.

Marco pressed himself against the far wall and listened to the radio chatter while Mike brought the n00bs up to speed on the situation. Everyone seemed pumped for a battle with security. Clearly, some of the new recruits had been residents of Goldman’s jails and were interested in getting some payback.

The radio provided nothing of interest, mostly just movements of people, more teens at the med center. And then things changed.

“New orders.” It was Goldman again. “Bitch says to evac all healthy adults and children to the HomeMart. Chen confirms new strain affecting teens.”

Marco nearly choked on his own spit. New strain? What new strain? How could there be a new flu strain? Unless. Unless this was some sort of weapon. Had the senator concocted some mutant flu with Dr. Chen in the med center to take care of her teenager problem now that the party thing was off the table? No. She couldn’t. Impossible. She wouldn’t do anything like that, even if she could.

Then again, her security force was Tasering people at will and stun gunning guys in the nuts to gain information. What was really outside her moral code at this point?

He decided to run the concept by Mike.

“You have got to be screwing with me,” Mike said.

Marco turned on the radio and let Mike hear the chatter for himself. The HomeMart was being reorganized to accept more residents. The number of teenaged flu victims was up fifty percent.

Mike handed Marco back the radio. “Should I be surprised? They shot at us. This is just a new weapon. These people are sick bastards.” He ran his hands over his face. “Fine. Great. So the gloves are off. Perfect.” He then kicked the handrail with such force, Marco was surprised that the thing did not explode off its hinges. After a few breaths, Mike again looked at Marco. “If they’re moving to the HomeMart, they’ve got to take food with them.”

“Which means they’ve got to move the food either through the service halls or across the main hallway.” Marco sensed where Mike was going.

“They’ll take the main hallway,” Mike said. “It’s faster, and they sound like they’ve got a deadline.”

The term struck an odd chord in Marco. Deadline.

Mike stood and clapped his hands. “New plan, people,” he said. “We hit the food convoy. Ready yourselves for a showdown.”

• • •

It took all Shay’s willpower to keep from running back to Ryan. Screw Ruthie. The kid could fend for herself. Shay needed Ryan. The only important thing was getting to Preeti.

But she did not turn around. She would do this herself. She gripped her tire iron and made the last turn in the service halls before entering the dominion of the post office.

“Hello?” she screamed. “Crazy postal people?”

Her voice echoed around her. Maybe they had a less insulting name for themselves.

“I’ve come to trade for what you wanted!”

The door in the wall down the hall slammed open.

“It is her,” said the girl who propped open the door. The same girl Shay had attacked. Sydney. She had a nasty scratch on her cheek.

Shay took the tire iron from its holster. “I am willing to give you the card if you give me some information.”

A flood of people poured out in front of the girl.

“Oh, you’ll be willing,” she said.

The gang ran toward Shay. She did not move. When they came within range, she swung the tire iron. The first guy dodged her swing and grabbed the metal, wrenching it from Shay’s grasp. Hands grabbed her arms and legs and lifted Shay up, carrying her toward Sydney.

Sydney patted Shay down while they held her.

“Where is it?” she asked after having completed a disturbingly thorough search of Shay’s person.

“You think I’m stupid enough to have it on me?”

The gang dropped Shay to the floor.

“So you wised up since yesterday,” Sydney said.

Shay rubbed her butt—a nasty bruise was forming. “You tell me what I want to know, and I will tell you where the card is.”

Sydney held out a hand. “Deal.”

Shay pushed herself up. “Let’s see if you can help me first.”

Sydney led Shay through their system of slightly sealed doorways to the mailroom, where the claw-fisted leader sat perched on his mail sorter.

“What the hell is she doing back here?” he snarled. He sported a black eye. A gift from Ryan, Shay guessed, smiling.

Sydney explained Shay’s offer.

“Information?” he asked, turning back to Shay.

“I need to know where my sister last checked in.”

The leader glanced over at one of his cronies with a laptop. “You give me a name, and Giles over there can find her for you.”

“Preeti Dixit.”

Giles typed, then nodded.

The leader cocked his head. “Where’s the card?”

Shay had to decide whether to trust him. Screw it. She didn’t trust him, but what other choice did she have?

“Behind the fire alarm, around the corner from where I met your girlfriend over there.” Shay nodded toward Sydney.

The leader pointed at Sydney, who was out the door and back in less than a minute. As she walked back in through the door, she waved the card above her head and grinned like she’d discovered the thing all on her own.

The leader then pointed to Giles.

“She last checked in at the JCPenney,” Giles said, immediately returning to whatever his job was on the laptop.

“That can’t be right,” Shay said, confused. “I looked for her in the JCPenney last night. She wasn’t there.”

The leader shrugged. “You asked me to tell you where she last checked in, not where she was.”

“But your guy is wrong.”

“Girlfriend,” the leader said, “my guy is just reading what the mall people have in their system, and if their system is good at anything, it’s tracking the people who want to be tracked. If your sister wasn’t in the JCPenney, that’s because she went off the grid, like yourself.” The leader pointed at Giles again. “Where is this little lady supposed to be at this moment?”

Giles typed, then said, “I have two Dixits, one Preeti in the JCPenney, and one Shaila who was last checked in as ‘Jail.’”

The leader raised his eyebrows. “You’re a real rebel, aren’t you?”

Shay felt like the wind had been knocked out of her. Preeti in the JCPenney? But where? She began walking toward the door.

“What, no thank-you?” the leader yelled.

Shay pushed past Sydney and made her way toward the nearest exit. All the security doors on the JCPenney side of the mall were busted, so getting back into the service halls was not an issue. She would sneak in the back and search every square inch of the JCPenney until she found Preeti. And if she wasn’t there? No. She would be there. She had to be there.