⁍ CONTENTS ⁌

EPISODE 03

DEADMAN’S GAMBIT

« Part One »

CHAPTERS

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

« Part Two »

CHAPTERS

11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

« Part Three »

CHAPTERS

22 23 24 25 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 34 35 36 37

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For more about the series, visit:

Tanpepperwrites.com/gameland

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Copyright

Acknowledgments

About the Author

* * *

Brinestone Press

(rv.210528)

Cover by Deranged Doctor Design

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Deadman's Gambit (ZPOCALYPTO, #3)

Episode 03

PART ONE

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

PART TWO | Everything Can Change in an Instant

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

PART THREE | Promises Kept

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

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⁍ THE ZPOCALYPTO SERIES ⁌

EP01: Hacked Into the Game

EP02: Failsafe Codex

EP03: Deadman’s Gambit

EP04: Sunder the Hollowmen

(includes the prequel “Golgotha”)

EP05: Prometheus Mode

(includes the companion title “Velveteen”)

EP06: Every Dead Player

EP07: Cheat Protocol

EP08: Jacker’s Exploit

EP09: Live Another Play

EP10: Return To The Arcade

(includes supplemental material “Infected” pt 1)

EP11: Augmented Zeality

EP12: Reckoning The Dead

EP13: Glitch In The Script

EP14: Open-World Spawn

(includes supplemental material “Infected” pt 2)

Episode 03

DEADMAN’S GAMBIT

PART ONE

Promises Made

Chapter 1

I wait for the tram to pick up speed, but it just clicks quietly along at a constant languid pace. We’re moving no faster than a slow jog. At this rate, it’ll take us more than an hour to get to the mainland.

“Why aren’t we accelerating, Reg?”

“Maybe it’s low on power?” he guesses.

His uncertainty doesn’t really help stifle my mounting anxiety. Every extra minute we delay getting back gives Novak and that man another minute to free themselves from their bindings and call for reinforcements. If I’d known the tram was going to be this slow, I wouldn’t have left them back there. I would have—

killed them

—brought them back with us.

The thought had crossed my mind. But one murder is enough for today. It’s enough for a lifetime.

The darkness of the tunnel swallows us up. Only the meager glow of the LCD safety light mounted in the ceiling of the car provides illumination. Reggie’s a pale ghost as he tries to figure out the dials and switches. He flicks something, and a grainy black and white image appears on a monitor in the console. It shows the section of track directly in front of the tram.

“Let me know immediately if you notice anything strange,” I tell him. “Anything.”

“Where are you going?”

“Back with the others.”

“I get it. You and Kel gots things to discuss.”

I chuff. “No one’s going to be planning any weddings anytime soon. Just keep an eye out. And try to figure out how to get us moving faster.”

“Will do.”

“Also, give me a heads up before we arrive on the mainland side.”

“Worried about what might be waiting for us?”

“I just want to make sure we’re prepared.”

“That’s why you’re the boss.”

“I’m not the boss.”

“Whatever you say... boss,” he says, smirking.

I don’t want to be in charge, but someone has to be. The moment we arrive on the other end, I’m ditching the responsibility. Let someone else take over for a while.

The compartment door slams shut behind me, and everyone looks up.

“Why are we going so slow?” Ashley asks.

Outside the window, a bare fluorescent bulb on the wall of the tunnel drifts past.

“I don’t know. Reggie’s working on it.”

I know I should be more relieved that we’ve even made it this far — all of us, together, alive, and for the most part, intact — but I just can’t shake this feeling it’s all an illusion. My escape from my bed, from Nurse Mabel, all just quirks of fate. I was luckier than I really had any right to be, especially in my physical condition. I shouldn’t have been able overpower Mabel so easily. But to do so again after she resurrected... Well, by rights, I should be sharing that room — and death — with her.

Then finding all the others, including Kelly... All almost too easy.

Almost as if...

I shake my head. I don’t know if it’s the exhaustion or the adrenaline hangover, but I’m having a hard time concentrating. My brain feels two sizes too big crammed inside a box two sizes too small. I used to get these tension headaches, and this feels like that. But this time the pressure is starting to build at the base of my skull.

Kelly walks over and we take a seat a distance from the others. “So,” he says, “about what happened back there.”

I groan. I want to tell him that I really don’t want to talk about it right now. He must sense my resistance, because he doesn’t lead with the marriage proposal.

“I was going crazy with worry over for you,” he says. “These past few days when I couldn’t figure out how to rescue you. I had no idea what they were doing to you guys, and I just kept thinking...”

“We’re safe now, Kel. That’s all that matters.”

“No thanks to me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I wanted to keep everyone safe. That’s why I came back for Jake on my own. All it ended up doing was making things worse.”

“Well, your brother is important to you.”

“Kyle? I don’t understand. What’s he got to do with this?”

“Look, Kel, I know you needed money for his hospital bills. What I don’t understand is why you’d drag all the rest of us into it.”

He exhales heavily and pinches the bridge of his nose. “How’d you find out about that?”

“Does it matter?”

“It’s not what you think.”

“What I think is, how am I supposed to trust you?”

“Jessie...”

Another fluorescent lamp outside on the tunnel drifts past. We still haven’t accelerated.

“Is that all Arc wanted?” I ask. “Or did they expect more. Did they ask you to Volunteer?”

“What? No!” He pulls away from me, appalled. “You know I would never do that!”

“Do I?”

“Yes, you do!”

“Then what did they want?”

“Micah’s hacks,” he finally confesses.

“How did they know about them?”

“I don’t know. It’s Arc. They know everything. They approached me about six months ago, gave me a choice. Either I start handing over everything Micah created or—”

“Just Micah? Or any of us?”

“Anything Micah touched. They didn’t care about the rest of the group, just him.”

“Why?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. They said I had to hand over anything Micah created on his own or with anyone else, or they’d make sure we all got years added to our LSC. At first it was just the game hacks. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. As long as I sent them his work, they’d put money into an account for Kyle’s treatment. But everything changed the moment they found out about Micah’s tracking script. They changed the rules.”

“Changed them how?”

“They stopped sending the money. They demanded more.”

“When did this happen?”

“Two days before we left, a week ago Thursday.”

“So, they knew what we were planning? Or did you tell them?”

“No, I didn’t tell them. I didn’t have to.”

“Would you have?” I ask. “Told them?”

He hesitates, then seems to deflate. “Yes. But only if I believed it would stop us from even trying. It was a stupid idea from the start. I never wanted anything to do with it.”

“Then why didn’t you stop us? It’s because of you that—”

“They wanted us to go through with it. They wanted... proof, I guess, that we could.”

“Just another white hat hack for them to fix,” I grunt. “Is that it? And they don’t even have to pay a cent for our hard work.”

“Something like that.”

“So, why not just hire Micah directly to writes scripts and find holes in their codex?”

“Hire Micah? Not with his family’s ties to the SSC.”

“They’re not Separatists. They just happened to be living in Texas when it happened. The fact that they defected should mean something.”

“Not to Arc. I doubt they see things that way.”

“And the second time?” I ask. “Why’d you go back for Jake? Did they tell you to do that, too?”

“No. I told you, it was to protect you— all of you guys, but mostly you. And because I felt guilty about my part in making it happen. I realized I should’ve drawn the line, but—”

“No, you couldn’t. You made the right choice.”

“Did I?”

“Well, the only choice you could make. But you should’ve told us. You should’ve told me. And you should’ve let us help you, instead of making us all worry.”

“I honestly believed it would be a simple rescue. I’d planned to get back here, grab him, and be home by early afternoon. The fewer people involved, the better.”

“Did you notify them about my lost Link?”

“No, of course not!” He sighs. “But it doesn’t matter. It was still my fault. If only Jake hadn’t—” He stops. “Are you okay? You look pale.”

I shake my head, but it only makes my headache worse. “It’s nothing.”

“If he’d only been there when I arrived, it would’ve been so much simpler,” he goes on. “But of course he wasn’t, because it’s never easy with him, is it? I found his wetsuit where he’d ditched it. That’s how I knew he’d made it all the way back. I didn’t know if he was alive or dead, so I waited a little while for him to return. Busied myself by gathering up the bags and supplies we’d left behind. After that, I had to hole up, because the IUs were starting to swarm again. They were still there by evening, and by then it was too late to go back through the tunnel, with or without Jake. I spent the night at the Holiday Inn.”

“Really?”

He gives me a wry grin. “Terrible service. Barely got any sleep.”

“Jake said you two didn’t join up until late the next day.”

“Yeah, I was about ready to give up when he showed up. Let me tell you, I was pretty angry by then. So when he started arguing, making excuses about the tunnels being blocked, I’d pretty much had it with him. I would’ve left him there, but then those two guys showed up.”

“Arc’s surveyors?”

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it for a second. But I did think Arc had sent them to check up on me.”

“You?”

“Yeah. I was valuable to them. But it didn’t take long for me to realize they weren’t who I thought they were. I mean, they were clearly sent to get us, but I don’t think they knew exactly who I was.”

“I just don’t understand how that all fits with them replacing our implants and preparing us to become Volunteers.”

“I don’t know, either. Arc’s a huge corporation. Oftentimes the left hand won’t know what the right hand’s doing.”

“You think that’s what happened?”

“I don’t know, but I’m done with them. I’m out.”

“What about Kyle’s treatments?”

“We’ll just have to figure something else out.”

He leans into me. His face is suddenly deeply etched with fatigue that I’m afraid it’ll remain like that forever. I’m still angry at him for betraying us, even though he really didn’t have a choice, and for trying to be the hero. I want to forgive him, but I’m not sure the others will be so willing. How will they respond when we tell them?

“That’s going to be an uncomfortable conversation,” I murmur.

“Sorry?”

“Nothing.”

I cradle his head in my hands and pull him to me. He leans in, and we kiss, and oh God, I want so badly for this all to be a dream, a nightmare that dissolves seamlessly into a harmless dream that I can just wake up out of and know that everything’s alright. I want this whole past week to be nothing but some stupid play acted out in my head. I just want things to be back to the way they once were.

“So?” he whispers.

God, I want so badly to say yes. I want to spend the rest of my life with him. And yet...

“You mean more to me than anyone else in this whole world, Jess.”

I know that’s not true, but that’s okay. It goes without saying that Kyle occupies a special place in Kelly’s heart way above me. I try to smile, but it ends up being more of a grimace. The pressure inside my head has bloomed in the last couple of minutes. I’m exhausted, and yet I feel like every nerve in my body is on fire.

“We’ll talk about it when we get home,” I say.

He leans his head back against the window and closes his eyes, apparently satisfied for the moment. In less than a minute he’s asleep.

I wish I could sleep, but I’m far too anxious. Every click of the track takes us farther from Long Island and brings us closer to home. And to whatever awaits us. My stomach feels like a hot greasy fire pit. I need to stand up. I need fresh air. I stagger down the aisle.

“The funny thing about this whole situation,” Stephen says, as I near him, “is that you think you’ve got it all figured out.”

“What?”

“You think this is all about you. You’re just a small part of this.”

“Of what?”

Jake raises his head and squints over at us from his seat. He looks as miserable as I feel. “No one asked you,” he grunts. His voice is shaky. His words slur.

“You okay, Jake?” I ask, alarmed.

“Don’t feel so great.”

The tram rocks slightly, messing with my sense of balance. My body responds far too sluggishly. I stagger across the aisle and settle clumsily into the seat beside Stephen. My brain feels like it’s turning to mush inside my skull. I take a deep breath and wait for the nausea to pass, for the roaring sound in my ears to subside. But they both intensify.

What the hell is wrong with me?

Stephen’s face swims before me. He grins like a madman, like someone who doesn’t understand how much trouble he’s in. Once we get back to...

Back to...

Where are we going?

He speaks, and his voice sounds distorted.

Jake coughs and suddenly lurches out of his seat. He drops to his knees and starts puking.

What’s happening?

A sharp cry from elsewhere in the car draws my attention. I turn, and it’s like I’ve just stepped off the spinning teacups at the amusement park. The walls of the tram are a blur around me. Ashley spins past, once, twice. She’s slumped in her seat. She appears to be asleep, except how can anyone sleep like that? Tanya tries to stand. She grabs her head and screams again. Then she crumples to the floor, where she starts writhing and gagging. I lurch to my feet, and the world spins even more violently— Kelly and Jake and Micah and Ash and Tanya.

kellyjakemicahashtanya

kellyjakemichal—

I don’t remember falling. One moment I’m upright and the world is spinning around me. Then I’m on the floor, staring at the ceiling, and the world it whirring above me.

kellyjakemicahashtanya

I hear laughter. It’s Stephen. I hear him say something about not being able to leave.

And then it all makes sense. From someplace deep inside of me, I know what they’ve done to us. I remember Miss Novak echoing the same sentiment a half hour before. The same words Nurse Mabel had uttered before I killed her.

They did something to our implants so we can’t leave.

“Someone really should’ve told you about the failsafe,” he tells me. He sounds so far away now, fading in and out, like I’m on the carousel now, and he’s standing in the middle of the midway, and I keep zooming past him. “You didn’t think you’d just be able to walk away, did you?” he asks.

What did you do?

He acts like he doesn’t hear me.

What did you do, you asshole?

He makes his way over to the medical cart and starts pulling out drawers. He finds a pair of scissors and starts sawing through his bindings.

Why isn’t anyone stopping him?

Because they’re already dead. Or dying.

And I’m next.

I don’t know how I’m able to get to my feet again. Stephen glances over at me and laughs, as if he can’t believe it, either. He tells me not to fight it. I do the only thing that makes sense to me right now: I head forward to the engineer’s compartment. I have to stop the tram. I lose my balance and fall.

Stephen laughs again. “You just don’t give up, do you?”

I stand. I lurch. I carom from pole to pole, bracing myself on seatbacks, crashing into walls. Them I’m standing at the door to the engineer’s compartment, and I look inside. It’s empty. No one’s at the controls.

Reggie, I moan, as I slip to my knees. Giving up seems so much easier than fighting. I’m tempted to just close my eyes and sleep.

Stop the tram, Jessie. You have to stop it.

Stephen’s free now. He stands up and rubs his wrists. I can’t move. I can only watch him.

“We should be just about under the wall by now,” he says. “You’re feeling the full effect of the EM barrier. Frankly, I’m surprised you’re still conscious. But you don’t have that much time left.”

Why? I gasp.

I know my mouth isn’t working. I know I’ve said nothing, and yet he answers anyway:

“Can’t have you leaving now, can we? Not when we’re so close. It would be a disaster if you were to get back out into the real world. A real disaster.”

I’m helpless to act as he draws a syringe from the medical bag. It’s filled with a shiny green fluid. He cradles it in his hands like it’s precious cargo.

What are you going to do with that?

“Don’t you worry your little head off,” he says. He reaches down and drags me away from the engineer’s compartment. “It’ll all be over soon enough.”

Yes, please, I beg. Make this agony go away. I just want it to go away.

But it won’t. It stays like a stubborn stain. It spreads through me, finding fertile ground and growing into something so much larger. And just as I think I’m about to pass out, something inside of me snaps. Pain explodes inside my head. I scream.

Then it’s gone, all of it, blissfully gone. The pain and pressure recede out of my body so quickly and so utterly that it leaves me breathless. In their place is an emptiness so vast that I can do nothing to stop myself from plunging headlong into it.

Chapter 2

“Citizens are advised to remain indoors,” the recording blared from the government-mandated speaker on our living room wall. The same message for the past three hours, over and over again. “This is not a drill. Do not go outside. Do not answer your door unless you are instructed to do so by the military.”

Eric pulled me away from the window, snapping at me that I was going to get us killed standing there like that.

“I thought the outbreak was far away?” I said.

“How do you know that?”

“It’s in Washington. That’s like hundreds of miles away.”

“I didn’t see anything on Media saying where it was.”

He was right about that. There hadn’t been a thing about the outbreak on the official Media Stream. No announcements, no coverage. But I’d learned how to hack into the black streams, where it wasn’t hard to find news that wasn’t filtered or adulterated by Government.

“Let me go.”

“Then stay away from the window.”

“God,” I cried, yanking my arm free. I rubbed where he’d grabbed me. “Why do you have to be so paranoid all the time?”

“Jessie, be quiet!”

“You be quiet, Mister Scaredy Cat-I’m-afraid-of-a-zombie-wombie.”

He shook his head and began to pace, all the while moaning as if he were one of the stupid undead that we were supposed to be so scared of.

“Is it because of Dad you’re such a freak?”

“You shut up about Dad!” he screamed.

“Eric,” Mom whispered. “Please. She’s only nine. She’s just a little girl. She’s scared.”

“I’m not scared, Mom.”

“Well, you should be!” Eric shouted. “And for the last time, Jessie, get away from the window!”

“My name’s Jessica, not Jessie!”

“Please stop,” Mom begged.

“How long do we have to stay inside?”

“As long as the police say we have to, honey.”

“Not the police,” Eric corrected her. “The military.”

She reached for her glass. There was no more condensation on the outside, just a wet ring on the coffee table; the ice had long since melted away. She lifted it to her lips and grimaced at the sharpness of the alcohol. Sober for three months — the longest stretch I could remember — and all it took was news of another outbreak to drive her back to drinking.

“When is Grandpa coming home?” I asked. “Won’t he be arrested for being outside?”

“Grandpa is safe. Don’t worry. He’s helping the police. He knows what to do.”

“Damn well better know,” Eric muttered. “This is all his fault.”

“Watch your language, young man.”

“I’m twenty, Mom. I’m not a kid anymore.”

She got up and left the room. I watched her slip away like a ghost through the walls, ignoring Eric as he glowered at me.

“You shouldn’t say it’s Grandpa’s fault,” I told him.

“And you don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“He’s family.”

“Yeah, well, so was Dad.”

Chapter 3

The memory of the scare eight years ago sweeps from my mind just as completely as the agony that triggered its resurrection.

Actually, sweep properly describe it. It’s like the mental connection that dredged it up was severed. And just like that, I’m back in the real world. Back on the tram.

I blink a few times, wondering what the hell just happened. Have I died? Have I... come back?

Stephen’s still holding the syringe. Did he inject me with it when I was out? He steps over my body and proceeds down the aisle.

Where are you going with that?

He pauses, as if he’d heard me. But then he turns toward Kelly. He lifts the syringe to eye level and taps it. A thin stream of the liquid arcs out and splatters onto the floor. He nods and directs the needle toward Kelly’s exposed neck.

“No!” I scream.

Stephen jerks around, surprise on his face.

I jump to my feet, amazed that I’m actually able to move. The heavy-headedness is gone. So is the nausea. My body feels light. My thoughts are suddenly clear. “Get away from him!”

“Jess?” Kelly says, lifting his head.

Stephen reacts just a split second too slowly. He pulls back, but Kelly knocks the syringe from his hand. It lands on the floor on the other side of the aisle and rolls beneath a seat. Stephen punches Kelly in the face, knocking him back. Then he turns and lunges for the syringe.

“Stop him!” I shout. The tram rounds a bend and I fall. “Don’t let him get that syringe!”

Kelly tries to grab Stephen, but he’s already out of reach. He’s down on his knees and reaching under the seat. Kelly grabs his ankle and pulls him out.

The car swerves again. This time I land against Tanya’s legs. She’s convulsing. Spittle froths from her lips, and blood leaks from her ears. She looks like she’s dying.

Jake’s on the floor unconscious. His body rocks in time with the tram’s motion. His cheek lies submerged in a shallow puddle of his own vomit. Ash is out, too. She sags ever deeper in her seat. Her head bounces against the cushion like a ragdoll’s. She’s deathly pale.

I scamper forward, crawling over Jake’s sprawled legs. The train shakes and rattles and creaks. It feels like we’re moving faster now.

Kelly and Stephen are wrestling. Stephen sits up. He raises an arm and brings it down again. I hear the impact and Kelly’s grunt. He plants a hand on Stephen’s face and tries to push him off.

I can’t stop and help Kelly. I have to get to the controls. I need to turn us around. We need to head back to Long Island. If we don’t, we’re all going to die.

I find Reggie lying prone on the floor, his body wedged against the door. His face is frozen in a mask of agony. His arm is extended, as if he’d tried to reach something.

I step over him, but my toe catches on his shirt. I tumble into the car.

Kelly shouts. There’s a loud smack, followed by another grunt. “Stop!” he bellows. “Don’t!”

I lurch back to my feet and lean over and shove the control lever up. But it won’t budge. It’s locked into position. I can’t see how to unlock it. I can’t stop the tram!

I spin around, and something about Reggie’s awkward position clicks. I look up and see the emergency brake near the ceiling. It’s a red handle mounted inside a recess, which is outlined with black and yellow tape.

He was trying to stop the tram when he passed out.

I reach up.

“Oh, no you don’t!” Stephen barks.

He shoves me away. The tram continues onward.

He spins me around and hurls me against the control panel. Pain explodes in my hip. He grabs the collar of the coveralls and bends me back. Then he shoves me back down against the panel. The control lever stabs me in the belly.

“Have to stop—” I pant.

“Nope,” Stephen grunts into my ear.

He yanks me upright again, one hand still on my collar, the other in my hair. He presses his body against mine, trapping me against the console. I have no leverage. My hands are trapped under me. He plants an elbow on my back and puts all of his body weight on me. All my hapkido training, and I can’t do a damn thing. I’m helpless.

“Kelly!”

“Your boyfriend can’t help you now, sweetie!”

He wrenches my head around so I can see him. Out of the corner of my eye I see the syringe.

“Why aren’t you out like the others?” he pants. His breath is hot against my cheek. He clutches the needle in his fist. It’s inches from my eyes. From this close, the contents appear white. “Maybe I should stick this damn thing into your eardrum. The pain alone would drive you insane.”

“Fuck... you,” I grunt.

He knees me between my legs, and I scream out in pain.

“I warned them this could happen. I told them right after I saw your numbers. I told them there was a high risk your neurosynthetic synapses would collapse, yet they refused to believe me. But, hey, that’s okay. It’s not the end of the world. Maybe for you and your stupid friends, but not for me. I’ve can still salvage something out of this mess.”

The syringe moves out my view.

I don’t know what comes over me then — panic, maybe, or terror — but all those years of hapkido conditioning finally pay off. I lift my right foot and kick back. There’s almost no space between us, but my heel rakes down Stephen’s shin. He howls, but it’s not enough for him to release me. He forces me back against the console and pulls my hair again. My scalp burns. And then there’s a sharp pain in the side of my neck. It spreads down my back like burning hot oil.

“Stop fighting,” he grunts.

In final desperation, I manage to free my arms from under me. I twist around and grab one of his. He tries to resist, which is exactly what I knew he’d do. So I push, step, and yank down. He yelps in surprise, stumbles back, and slams against the back wall of the compartment. His head hits hard, and he slumps to his knees.

I reach for my neck, but the syringe is gone. Then, just as the tram makes another lazy roll, I lunge for the brake. My feet tangle in Stephen’s, and I crash to the floor of the compartment.

We both get back up at the same time. He jumps at me; I grab his wrist against and pull while lifting my knee. I catch him just below the ribcage, knocking the breath from his lungs. “What did you give me?” I scream.

He staggers backward a couple steps, but lands against the wall and manages to stay on his feet.

He’s much stronger and more resilient than I had expected. He lunges again and this time expects my grab. He evades it and shoves me back against the console.

“Let me go!”

He slams a fist against the back of my head. My forehead ricochets off the panel, blinding me for a moment. I kick back again, not expecting the same move to work twice. I hear something snap and he’s suddenly gone. He crumples to the floor, screaming and clutching his leg. He rolls away, and I spot the syringe beneath him.

It’s empty.

“What did you inject into me?” I shriek.

He writhes in agony on the floor and doesn’t answer.

I yank the emergency brake out and push up, and I get a faceful of wall for my efforts when the tram screeches to a stop.

“Too late,” he grunts, still grabbing his leg. By the way he rubs his shin, I know it’s not broken, which is too bad. “You’re too late to save the others. They’re already dead.”

“We’ll see about that,” I growl. I spin around, find the control lever and shove. Pain shoots up my arm.

But the lever still doesn’t budge.

Chapter 4

“What the hell did you inject into me?” I growl. I reach up with my good hand and feel around for the puncture wound. My fingertips come away smeared with blood.

Stephen just stares at me with this smug look on his face.

“We’re not going anywhere until you tell me.”

“Looks like we’re not going anywhere anyway.”

“Answer her,” Kelly hisses. He wrenches Stephen’s arm higher up his back. “What was in that syringe?”

“Syringe? I’m having a hard time remembering.”

“I’ll break your goddamn arm!”

Stephen grunts, but still refuses to tell us.

“One way or another,” I say, leaning in close and shoving the empty syringe into his face, “you’re going to tell me what the fuck was in this. Was it that alpha crap? Is it some kind of virus? Is it the Zulu virus? Is it what they gave to Mabel?”

Surprise flickers in his eyes.

“You didn’t think I knew about that, did you? How could you do that to her?”

“What do you know about that?” he cautiously asks.

“Did you infect me?”

Kelly grabs his hair. “What was in it?”

His face goes blank again. “Does it matter? Whatever it was, it’s too late to do anything about it now. And knowing the truth won’t do you a bit of good.”

“Tell us anyway,” Kelly orders.

“Okay, let’s say it was the Alpha. What’re you gonna do about it? If it’s in you, it’s already too late. There’s no antidote.” He grins. “The virus spreads to every cell in your body, where it lies dormant, waiting for you to die.”

“Why? Why would you create such a thing?”

“Why not? We’re already dead. Or, should I say, undead. The government guarantees it. They’ve legislated it. You think they don’t own us until we’re dead, but you’re wrong about that. They already own us.”

“We’ll see if you think any differently once we get out of here.”

“If,” he corrects. “Every minute you sit here is another minute closer to death for your friends.” He smirks. “What happens then is anyone’s guess.”

Kelly slams his fist into Stephen’s face, then finishes binding him up again. He uses the IV tubing I’d used to cinch up my coveralls. Stephen regains consciousness, but doesn’t resist. He just sits there with this stupid, knowing smirk on his face, taunting us. I’m frankly surprised at how much restraint Kelly shows. If it was me, and Stephen had just injected Kelly with some unknown, potentially infectious virus, I’d gut him using nothing but my bare hands and then laugh as he bled out onto the floor.

“Let me have a look,” Kelly insists. He leans in and gently moves my hair out of the way. “I don’t see a puncture wound. And this blood... it’s from an older scrape. The scab’s just been torn off. I don’t see anything new.”

“I felt the needle going in.”

I run my fingertips over my skin, but it all hurts. My skin hurts everywhere I touch.

“You’re shaking.”

The shock is beginning to set in. Or maybe it’s something else, something... worse. It’s the infection taking hold from whatever he put into me.

Kelly shows me the syringe. “A needle this large would leave a clear mark at the injection site. I don’t see anything.”

I push him away. “It doesn’t matter. Asshole was right. We have to go back now. Our friends are dying and all I can think about is me.”

Kelly turns reluctantly toward the control panel. He gives the throttle an experimental push, but nothing happens.

“I already tried that.”

Kelly flips a couple switches and turns a few dials. All he manages to do is to turn off the blinking emergency lights, which is a relief, and to get the main lights back on.

“Damn it,” he mutters. I can tell he’s frustrated but trying not to show it. “Why don’t you go check on the others? I’ll keep working on this.”

Stephen tracks me with his eyes the moment I enter the passenger compartment. I have to fight the urge to plant a front kick straight into his face. Only my training and the memory of Nurse Mabel keep me from losing control.

“You could just leave,” he says. “You and your boyfriend. Just leave them and go.”

“Shut the fuck up.”

“If you start walking now, you should reach the other end in a couple hours. There won’t be anyone there, not yet. They won’t know what’s happened.”

“You said we couldn’t leave.”

“They can’t leave. But now that your body has rejected the new implant, the failsafe won’t work on you. And I may have wrongly lumped Mr Sandoval in with the rest of your group. He never had his implant upgraded, so he’s never been bound to this place like you are. Or rather, were.”

“You think I would just leave my friends to die?”

“They’d leave you in a heartbeat, Miss Daniels. They’re the ones who are going to be your downfall.”

The words startle me, echoing almost exactly the sentiment Grandpa had expressed to me just a week ago. “Shut up,” I snarl. “Just shut the fuck up.”

I reach Reggie first. He’s sprawled out where Kelly had dragged him out of the way after tying Stephen up. There’s a bump on his forehead, probably from when he fell after losing consciousness. His breathing sounds like the agonized wheezes of the terminally ill.

Jake’s even worse. His arms and legs twitch like he’s being electrocuted. I turn him onto his side, worried he might choke on his tongue. It’s about the only thing I know for seizures. That, and to move the person away from furniture so they won’t hurt themselves.

Ash has slipped all the way off her seat and onto the floor. I roll her onto her side, just like I did with Jake. Next to her is Tanya. She appears about the same as Reggie.

Then there’s Micah. He’s still strapped into the wheelchair. He doesn’t appear to be in any distress, but he’s been unconscious throughout the entire ordeal. I don’t know if that means anything.

“Everyone okay?” Kelly asks, when I rejoin him in the engineer’s compartment.

“They don’t seem to be getting any worse, but we don’t know what kind of damage this is doing to their brains. The longer we sit here, the more likely it becomes permanent.”

“Well, I’ve tried everything.”

“We have to move.”

I start checking the drawers and cabinets.

“You’re not going to find anything there to get this damn car started moving again,” Kelly says.

I find a flashlight, but my heart sinks when it doesn’t turn on. “Batteries are dead.”

“Why do you need that?”

I toss the useless thing to the floor in disgust. “Tunnel’s dark in places.”

“You’re suggesting we walk?”

“Stephen suggested it.” I don’t tell him that his actual suggestion was to abandon our friends.

Kelly frowns. “And you agree?”

“We have to take them back, Kel. They’ll die if we don’t.”

“According to him.”

“And I believe it.”

He scowls. “Okay. How do you propose we do that? There’s two of us and five of them. We have only one wheelchair. Plus, you’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re limping. And you can barely even use your hand!”

“I’m fine!”

I recoil when he reaches up to touch my forehead. “Are you checking to see if I have a fever?”

“You look a bit pale.”

“Don’t touch me! I’m fine! And by the way, you’re wrong. There’s three of us who can walk. Stephen can carry someone.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“I don’t either. But he can push the wheelchair. We’ll just have to take two trips.”

He takes in deep breath, nods. “I don’t like it, but okay. Who first?”

“I’d say Reggie, but Micah’s already in the chair, and even though he doesn’t look as bad off, it might just be the sedatives masking any symptoms. Jake’s the worst of the bunch. If you can carry him, I’ll carry Ash.”

“You’re not carrying anyone, not limping around like that. And your wrist is probably sprained.”

“Micah and Jake then,” I say. “Maybe we can carry two in the wheelchair on the next run.”

He hands me the working flashlight he fishes out of his backpack, followed by the pistol. “Careful, it’s loaded.”

“You found more bullets?”

“I had a lot of time on my hands when I was waiting for Jake to show up.”

I check. There’s three rounds in the magazine, one in the chamber. Four bullets total. I make sure Stephen knows this. I tell him I’d happily put every single round into his head.

Kelly reaches up and punches the button for the emergency door release. They hiss and slide open.

“Listen to me,” I tell Stephen, “you get your wish. We’re going back. But you’re coming with us, and you’re going to do what we tell you to do or else.”

“Or else you’ll kill me? You’re not a murderer.”

“You’d be wrong about that.”

Stephen’s expression doesn’t change. He thinks I’m bluffing.

“She’s not joking.”

“Neither of you have what it takes to kill,” he says. “Not in real life.”

“You really don’t want to test that theory,” Kelly snarls.

“Get up,” I tell him. “We’re leaving.”

“And it only took you ten minutes to figure that out.”

“Fuck you. You’re pushing the wheelchair. As soon as we get back to a safe distance, we’ll come back for the rest.”

“It’d sure be easier for you to just leave without them. Your friends are probably already brain dead.”

I jam the business end of the pistol under his chin. “They damn well better not be.”

He stares at me for a long few seconds, then nods. “Will you at least untie me? Can’t hardly push with my wrists bound like this.”

“You had better figure out a way.”

I tell Kelly to hobble Stephen’s feet. “Give him enough slack so he can walk, but not enough to run.”

That smirk on Stephen’s face never falters. He just sits there and stares at us. It’s unnerving, like he knows something. Like it’s all futile. But what choice do I have? If we keep going forward, I risk killing the others. And it’s got to be miles to the other end. With the tram out of commission, it could take us half a day just to make one trip, and who knows what’ll be waiting for us when we get there. No, our best option for now is to head back, regroup, hunker down where they can’t get to us, and wait until everyone’s healthy. Then try again.

Because I can’t keep doing this by myself. I need all of them to help me fight.

Chapter 5

Kelly manages to hoist Jake over his shoulder, and the effort it takes makes me wonder how long he’ll be able to walk like that. He’s not strong like Reggie is, and he’s not athletic like me, but he’s not weak, either. Also, he hasn’t suffered physically like the rest of us have. I just hope it’s enough to get us back to safety.

“He reeks,” Kelly complains. He puffs out his cheeks and makes a face. “He’s covered in puke.”

Really? I want to say. I’ve been injected with some kind of experimental virus that’ll turn me into a zombie the moment I die, and you’re worried about puke?

A little regurgitated food is the least of my worries.

I’m still barefoot, since the boys hadn’t been able to find my shoes back in the terminal. Reggie believes they were blown off my feet during the explosion and couldn’t be recovered. Kelly suggests I try on Tanya’s or Ashley’s shoes, since neither of them will be walking. I know I’ll never fit into Ash’s fancy Nikes — well, they’re not so fancy anymore — so I check Tanya’s. She’s nearly my height and build. They’re sensible walking shoes, cheap and ubiquitous. The soles are worn, and the laces are frayed. Working class shoes. I find them a bit tight and curse my oversized clown feet, but they’re better than possibly stepping on something sharp or nasty out here in the dark.

Lacing them up, I find myself missing my old shoes. They were nothing special, just drab gray no-name sneakers, far older than I’d like to admit, sun-bleached and hand-washed too many times. I’d even restitched them a half dozen times. I used to hate the things, but now I wish I had them back. Tanya’s shoes no longer have any arch support to speak of.

Once we’re on the ground, Stephen balks. “The handles are too far apart,” he complains. “I’m going to need more slack, if I’m going to push.”

Kelly grabs a handful of his hair and jerks him around. “Then try pulling instead, because you’re not getting any slack.”

Stephen chuckles, which infuriates Kelly. He gives his hair a vicious twist, bringing Stephen to his knees. He stops trying to push our buttons after that.

I follow along behind him and aim the pistol at his head. I tell him to knock off the stupid noises and to keep moving if he knows what’s good for him. As far as I’m concerned, the guy’s got nothing to gripe about. In fact, he’s lucky I haven’t put a bullet in his head already. To be honest, I’m not sure why I haven’t. I tell myself it’s because I don’t want to waste a round, but I get this nagging suspicion we’re going to need him, despite his constant lying and scheming. We just need to be smarter than he is.

“Not sure how long I can keep this up,” he mutters.

“You want to carry instead?” Kelly snaps.

Stephen looks like he’s about to say something, but he apparently reconsiders the wisdom of doing so, because he suddenly drops it. His face goes slack and he keeps quiet for the rest of the march. He trips once and lands hard enough that I expect him to start complaining again. But he gets right back up and resumes pulling Micah.

“Pushing would be easier,” I advise.

He takes several more steps, ignoring me. But then he swings the chair around and starts to push. Unsurprisingly, he does just fine with his hands bound the way they are.

We fall into the rhythm of our steps. I count tunnel sections as they appear out of the gloom. Some are lit, others not; there’s no rhyme or reason to which ones. The stretches of darkness are sometimes short, sometimes interminably long. There aren’t any doors or offshoots. With every step, every breath, every heartbeat, I wonder whether we’ve gone far enough. How will we know?

The gun is a ponderous weight in my injured right hand. My wrist aches and I can feel it stiffening. Finally, I give up and lower it to my side. I know I’m getting lazy, and every so often Kelly will look back to see how we’re doing. I’ll bring the gun up again and rest it in the crook of my other elbow.

Stephen doesn’t seem to notice or care what I do. He just keeps pushing. He seems fully resigned to his fate for now.

Kelly makes it a lot farther than I expect before he starts to drag. He falls behind us. Every so often he asks me how I’m feeling and if I need a break. Is he worried about me because of the injection? Other than my wrist and knee, I’m fine. I don’t feel feverish or weak.

We’ve walked about an hour — maybe a mile — when Jake regains consciousness. I take it as a good sign that the effects aren’t just weakening, but are reversible, at least partially. The shivers have quieted and he starts mumbling. It’s all gibberish at first, incoherent sounds rather than words. A few minutes later his eyes pop open. I ask him a question, but he doesn’t respond.

We keep walking.

Five minutes later, he tells Kelly to put him down. His words are slurred, but it’s clear he’s at least partially aware of what’s happening.

Kelly’s happy to oblige. He sets him down on his feet, and heaves a sigh of relief. Jake stumbles backward, and Kelly has to catch him and prop him up.

“Seems as good a place as any for a rest,” I decide.

We all sit, save Stephen, who remains standing behind Micah’s wheelchair. He ignores me when I advise him to rest. Jake’s recovery is progressing quickly. But just as I think we’re out of the woods, he starts retching again. The episode lasts for several minutes.

When he stops, he groans and lies down. He wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and says, “I’m okay. Really.”

He does look better. He even chuckles a bit, aware of how much of a mess he’s made of himself. “Last time I was that sick was when Uncle Joe took me to Syracuse and we ate sushi from a convenience store.”

Kelly shakes his head and grumbles something.

“What?” I ask.

“I said I’m glad you find this funny,” he snaps. He gets up and stomps off.

“Don’t go too far,” I yell.

“Just going to take a leak.”

I’m grateful for the opportunity to rest. My joints ache, and my feet hurt from the unfamiliar shoes. I keep my complaints to myself, though.

Jake sits up and rests his back against the cement wall. Kelly returns a few minutes later.

“Should we keep going,” he asks, “or is this far enough?”

“Keep going?”Jake asks, raising his head. “Where are we? And where are the others?”

“You remember getting on the tram?” I ask. He nods. “Well, we’re still in the tunnel.”

“Did it break down?”

“No. We’re heading back to Long Island.”

He stares blankly at me. “I think you meant we’re heading away from Long Island.”

“There’s been a problem, a glitch with our— your implant. We have to go back.”

“What kind of problem?”

“We don’t know yet.”

His face twists, and I worry he might start puking again. “I remember having a headache. Felt like my head was going to explode.”

“Stephen says there’s some sort of failsafe device embedded in the new implants. It triggers if we try to leave.”

“Triggers what?”

I echo the question, louder this time. But Stephen continues to ignore us.

“What’s wrong with him?” Jake asks.

“Other than he’s an asshole?” Kelly mutters.

“All we know is that if we hadn’t stopped when we did, you and the others might’ve died.”

“Me and the others? But not... not you?”

I shake my head. “It happened back there. My body rejected the implant. I think it was something about the new materials in them.”

“Lucky you.”

“Not so lucky. Implant rejections are supposed to fatal.”

“But it wasn’t. And what about Kelly?”

“He never got the new implant.”

“Maybe it’s that medicine you take,” Jake says, “that immunity booster. Maybe it made your body reject it.”

“Or protected you somehow afterward,” Kelly offers.

I pull the inhaler out of my pocket.

Jake snatches it from my hand, and over my protests starts to peel the label off.

“What are you doing?” I cry. “Stop that!”

“ArcBio,” he mutters, thrusting the inhaler into my face. “Figures.”

I snatch it back and shove it into my pocket. “Figures how?”

“Just that it’s Arc,” Jake grunts.

“Yeah, so what?” Kelly demands. “Arc runs one of the biggest biotech companies in the world. They’ve got their hands in everything, every tech space imaginable.”

Yeah, I think to myself. And everyone.

We leave instructions with Jake to sit tight and to keep an eye on Micah. I can’t tell if either of them is still in any danger. Micah still hasn’t shown any symptoms, and he’s still unconscious.

“If you need light, use your Link. We’ll be back with the others as soon as we can.”

Jake nods weakly. “Be really nice if you could bring me back something for my head,” he says, wincing. “It’s really pounding.”

“You’re alive,” Kelly says. “You could show some gratitude.”

He lifts Micah out of the wheelchair and props him up next to Jake. Then he spins the chair around and hands it back to Stephen.

“I’ll take it,” I say. “It’ll be faster.” I hand Kelly the pistol and flashlight, and we set off back into the darkened tunnel.

Kelly prods Stephen to walk faster, and he does without arguing.

“Just don’t shoot him,” I say. “Not yet, anyway. We still need him to push Reggie.”

Other than that, no one speaks. The only sounds breaking the silence are the chuff chuff of our footsteps on the concrete floor and the ping of water droplets leaking through the ceiling.

* * *

IT TAKES US ONLY TWENTY minutes to return to the tram. I quickly maneuver the chair over next to Reggie after checking that he’s still breathing. Kelly hands me the gun and instructs Stephen to help him get Reggie situated. “Hurry up!” he snaps, although it doesn’t get him to move any quicker. “Lift on three. One... two... three... Damn it! What are you, stupid? Lift! You really want me to kick your ass?”

I brace the chair to keep it from rolling. When they’ve got Reggie in and I set his feet onto the rests, I suggest we try and sit Ash on his lap.

“You and I can switch off pushing. Stephen can carry Tanya.”

“Good idea. But you should eat something first, Jess. You’re shaking like a leaf.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“We’re not leaving till you eat something.”

I know why he’s so focused on me, despite the ongoing risk to Reggie, Ash, and Tanya. I suspect he’s focusing on my appetite, on whether I still have one, as if it might offer him some insight into what’s happening with the rest of my body.

He touches my forehead, then his own for comparison. We’re both from the exertion. “At least drink some water.”

He walks over to the cart. The Insta-Meals have grown cold, but when he unseals one, the smell makes my stomach grumble. He hands it to me, then takes another for himself. “Six left. And you don’t get one,” he tells Stephen.

I can’t remember the last meal I ate. I wolf it down so we can get moving again. Kelly tosses his empty tray away, then lifts Ashley onto Reg’s lap. He’s still shaking from carrying Jake. Once she’s strapped securely on, he gets Tanya onto Stephen’s back. She’s dead weight, and Stephen offers little assistance. Kelly binds her wrists and ankles around him  with bandages. Stephen staggers a bit, but he doesn’t drop her.

We switch off pushing the overburdened wheelchair. The front wheels keep wanting to flip sideways, but it’s still easier than carrying a body. Five minutes in, I glance over at Stephen. Sweat’s pouring down his face. He doesn’t say a word.

“You okay over there?” I ask. Kelly scowls, and I tell him I don’t want him to drop her.

“He won’t, not if he knows what’s good for him.”

I shine the light at Stephen’s face. He winces and turns away. Sweat drips from his nose and chin.

“He’s no use to us if he has a heart attack.”

“You’re more worried about him than you were for me.”

“I have more faith in you.”

That seems to satisfy him. But the truth of the matter is, I had been worried. I’d also been feeling a bit resentful. I guess I’ll need more time to forgive him for selling us out to Arc, even though I know he really had no other choice.

Chapter 6

We return to Jake and Micah nearly two and a half hours after leaving them. As soon as Jake sees our flashlight he comes running back to meet us. He appears fully recovered. “Took you guys long enough,” he shouts.

“Looks like somebody’s feeling better,” Kelly mutters. “How about offering to help instead of just complaining, Pukeboy?”

I’d laugh at the look on Jake’s face, but I’m just too tired from helping Ashley walk.

She’d started to recover about a quarter mile back. She can walk, but she’s far from stable. I’ve got her arm slung over my shoulder and am supporting most of her weight as she staggers along. The muscles in my side and back burn and my arms feel like jelly. I’m practically swimming in sweat underneath my coveralls.

Kelly’s in even worse shape, as he’s doing the same for Reggie. That’s a hundred and eighty pounds of solid muscle dragging down Kelly’s lanky frame. Tanya’s still out of it, though. Stephen’s pushing her in the wheelchair, the only one of us not sweating. He knows it, too, since he’s done nothing to draw extra attention to himself. He just keeps plodding along without a word.

“Let me take Ashley,” Jake offers.

I wave him off. We’re so close now that I want to finish this. Giving up now would be like admitting defeat. I need this win.

“Take the gun,” I tell him. He hesitates, then reaches over and gingerly pulls it free from my waistband. Kelly eyes him warily. Had the circumstances been different, I might find his reaction amusing, or even charming. Right now, I’m too tired for such pettiness.

“You sure you don’t want me to take her?”

“Damn it, Jake! I said I got her. Go help Kelly!”

Thirty feet. That’s as far as I have to go before I can set her down and rest.

“I tried pinging you guys,” he says, keeping pace alongside us. “You were taking so long. But I think my Link’s fried. It keeps giving me this blank screen.”

“It’s not fried, Pukeboy,” Kelly grumbles. “It’s because we’re too close to the wall. The EM’s messing with it.”

“Okay, geez. And would you stop calling me that?”

“Sure... Pukeboy.”

“How’s Micah?” I ask.

“Still out. No change.”

He’s lying on his back, snoring like a baby. I lower Ashley down next to him. She crumples with a moan. Her eyelids flutter open, but she doesn’t come fully to. Kelly drops Reggie next to her with an explosive exhale.

I check Micah’s IV bag. I’d hung it on an old electrical bracket protruding from the wall. When we left, it was still half full. I’d had the drip clamped off, but it’s now completely dry.

“Did you touch this, Jake?” I ask, panicking that he’s overdosed on the sedative. I check for a pulse. It’s a bit slow, but strong.

Jake shakes his head. “All I did was hang it.”

“Well, obviously that wasn’t—”

“Hey!” Kelly shouts. “Hey, asshole!”

I look up just in time to see Stephen disappearing down the tunnel. He’s still pushing Tanya in the wheelchair.

“Hey, stop! Where are you going?” Kelly calls. “Stop!”

“Stephen?” I yell. “We’re resting now! Let me deal with this, Kel.”

I run over and get in front of him. The chair bumps into my shins. Only then does he stop.

“What the hell, Stephen?” I wave my hand in front of his face. It’s completely blank, not a trace of emotion on it. No sign of strain. It’s like he’s in the same trance Tanya was earlier.

Kelly grabs his collar and shakes him.

“I said I’d take care of this, Kel!” I hiss.

Stephen blinks once, but his expression never changes.

“When we tell you to stop, you stop, you idiot. Do you understand?”

“Kelly!”

“I said, do you understand?”

Stephen slowly nods.

“Then get back there!”

I don’t know if this is some sort of act on Stephen’s part. It feels all too familiar. And troubling.

“What up with him?” Jake asks. “It’s like he’s—”

“None of your business!” Kelly snaps.

“I just thought—”

“We’re all freaking exhausted from carrying people, Jake. We haven’t been sitting on our asses for the past two hours!”

“Hey!”

“Kelly? It’s okay.”

He ignores me and orders Jake to go back and keep an eye on Ash and Reg.

“Leave him alone, Kel. He doesn’t deserve this.”

Kelly stares at me, then sniffs and walks off.

“What’s his problem?” Jake asks.

“Nothing,” I grumble. “Just drop it.”

“He can be a real jerk sometimes.”

“I said drop it.”

I’m getting real tired of always being in the middle of their petty rivalries.

* * *

“HOW MUCH FURTHER?” Ashley says. It’s the first thing out of her mouth since we started up again nearly two hours ago. The first coherent thing, anyway. Other than that and Micah starting to mumble in his sleep, there hasn’t been much talk at all.

The tunnel amplifies the sounds of our footsteps and breathing. The darkness only heightens my sense of impending doom. I listen for signs that the man and woman we left behind have freed themselves and are coming to get us.

Or that Nurse Mabel has gotten out.

Or that we’re being followed from behind.

But I hear nothing to suggest we’re anything but alone in the tunnel.

“My feet are sore.”

I scowl at her, even though I know she can’t see me in the gloom. Kelly’s up ahead with the flashlight and all we have is the glow from our Links to keep the shadows at bay. Hell, I can barely even make out Stephen and he’s right next to me pushing Micah. I can hear him, though, the dry wheeze of his exhales and the occasional squeaks coming from the chair.

Reggie and Jake bring up the rear. They’ve got Tanya slung between them. She’s finally regained consciousness, but she’s still useless.

I know I’m responsible for her being in this situation. I and no one else. If I hadn’t used her Link to try and ping Kelly that day he came back here, Arc wouldn’t have misinterpreted it as proof of a connection to our group. Or maybe that’s just the convenient excuse they came up with to rationalize their decision once they realized they needed to replace him when he escaped from their thugs. They could’ve used Jake, but he didn’t fit the bill.

Just a chance meeting on a bus, and now a complete stranger’s life is in my hands.

If she’d just found a different seat, she’d be back home right now, safely bingeing on Survivalist and ogling their latest Player phenom. Instead, she’s here, and they’ve done something to her. I worry they’ve damaged her permanently somehow. I worry that they’ve done the same to Micah.

I worry about all the unknown things they’ve done to each and every one of us.

I reach up and touch the back of my neck again, feeling the half-healed incision there. Then I slide my fingers over to the side, to where Stephen injected me. I’m feeling better since eating. At least the shakes are gone.

“Can we please rest for a minute?” Ashley whines. “I can’t go any farther.”

Really? I want to ask her. What does she have to complain about? At least she’s wearing shoes— brand new expensive ones, at that. I’m back to being barefoot since returning Tanya’s. They were doing more harm than good anyway. Thankfully, the floor of the tunnel is flat and smooth and mostly free of debris. Or maybe it’s because my feet are now covered in a thick enough layer of grease and grime that I probably wouldn’t even feel it, even if I did manage to step on something sharp.

“Stuffy,” Ash says. “So hot in here.”

When I don’t respond, she tries Kelly. But he gives her no sympathy, either.

When the others aren’t looking, I slip the inhaler from my pocket and take a hit. I hear my grandfather’s words again: You’re special, Jessie. You need that medicine so you won’t get sick. It’s probably nothing but water, but I think of it as armor.

Until I remember that it’s from Arc. And then wonder.

Every ten minutes or so, Kelly drops back to ask me how I’m feeling. He touches my forehead like a doting mother. Not that I would know what that’s like. He shines his Link in my face and checks my eyes. He’s worried, too, but the concern on his face diminishes with each assessment.

I don’t know why he thinks it means anything. If I’ve got the virus and it’s dormant. Nothing’s going to happen to me until I’m dead.

We’ll have to tell the others.

Eventually.

Maybe.

“Why aren’t we questioning this asshole,” Reggie suddenly demands. “Seems to me he can explain what happened to us back there.”

“We told you already.”

“You said it was something in our new implants. You didn’t say what. Or how it works.”

“I doubt he’ll talk, but you’re welcome to try,” I say.

“Hey, asshole,” he shouts. His voice echoes off the walls. “You can make this easier on yourself if you’d just talk to us.”

Stephen doesn’t answer.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!”

“Reg, please,” I say. Every time he shouts, I think about who might be hiding out there in the darkness, just waiting for us.

“Who gives a crap about him anyway?” Jake mutters.

“I do,” Reggie snaps. “I care that he knows shit and we don’t have a freaking clue.”

“Save your energy,” I suggest. “He won’t answer right now. But he will, soon enough.”

I hear Micah in my head, saying in his best movie German accent: Ve haf vays of making you talk. I miss him and his ability to make light of everything just when we need it.

“Your yelling isn’t helping my headache,” Jake complains.

Still with the damn headache. I don’t feel sorry for him right now. Just like with Ash. I’m exhausted. I’m frustrated. I’m angry. There’s no room for sympathy right now.

But mostly I’m drowning in guilt. Each and every one of us played a role in getting us here, including myself. But when I tried to get us out, I failed.

As we near the tunnel opening, Kelly and Reggie offer to scout ahead. They tell us to stay behind and remain hidden in the tunnel until they give us the all-clear signal. They return ten minutes later and report that the baggage claim area where we’d left the two Arc employees is completely empty.

Reggie tosses their bindings to the ground in disgust. “Question is, where’d they go?”

“If it were me, first place I’d go is upstairs to check on Mabel,” Kelly says. He gives me a knowing look.

“Then they’ll be in for quite the surprise,” Reggie says.

“I’m sure they’d be expecting something like that,” I say.

“You don’t have to feel guilty for—”

“I’m not feeling guilty!”

“Well, you should! I warned you,” Jake grumbles. “I said we shouldn’t leave them here like that. Bet it took them less than five minutes to free themselves.”

“Somebody tell him to shut up,” Kelly whispers.

Jake starts to pace. “What if they contacted someone on the outside?”

“How?” Kelly asks. “It’s a completely separate Stream, different towers.”

“It’s Arc,” Jake reasons. “Don’t you think they’d have figured out how to keep in contact across the wall?”

Kelly concedes the point. We all know it’s probably wishful thinking to believe Arc’s people suffer from the same technical restrictions that we do.

“Well, we know they didn’t try to go back out through the tunnel,” Kelly says. “And as far as we know, this is the only remaining way in or out of LI.”

“That’s a big assumption.”

“Yeah,” Ashley agrees. “What about Volunteers? And equipment? They must have a way to get them in and out more efficiently than the tram.”

Nobody offers an answer.

Kelly turns to Jake. “Fine then. What do you think we should do? We obviously can’t leave.”

“Well, we can’t stay here, either.”

“So, we wander around the island until someone comes to get us?”

“And why would they come looking for us here?”

“No,” I say. “Our best option is to get Stephen to tell us how to defeat this failsafe mechanism.”

“And how do you suggest we do that?”

“However we can.”

“Torture? Are you serious?”

I expect Jake to offer himself up for the job, but he doesn’t.

“We need a place to hole up,” I continue. “Someplace where Micah can recover. We need time to get to full strength again. Or at least most of the way there.”

“I agree,” Reggie says.

“All right. Then the first stop is back upstairs to take care of those two. And we’ll gather anything useful we can find to take with us.”

“You mean kill them?” Jake asks.

“No one’s killing anybody,” Kelly says. “Not if we can help it.”

“They’re more valuable to us alive,” I say. “Maybe one of them will be more willing to answer questions than Stephen.”

“I like Jessie’s plan,” Reggie says. “I vote that she be in charge.”

I don’t know why he says that. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want Kelly to be in charge. If he keeps sniping at everyone like he is, I’m not sure I want him to be in charge either.

Jake looks stricken by the suggestion. He looks like he wants to protest, but I stop him before he has the chance. “I’m not in charge,” I assert.

“No, Reggie’s right,” Kelly says. “You’re the most levelheaded of us all right now.”

Right now.

What he means is that without Micah, we’re all lost and floundering. Micah’s who we’d normally look to for leadership, particularly under difficult circumstances. But now that he’s out of commission, I’ve somehow assumed the mantle from him. Maybe it’s because I was the one who managed to escape and rescue everyone. Any one of them would’ve done the same in my place.

But if you ask everyone who they definitely not follow, Jake’s name would make the top of that list, followed by Ashley. She’s too hotheaded. Then Reggie. No one takes him seriously.

And Kelly?

He’s never really wanted the weight of that responsibility. He’s already got enough of it at home.

“All right,” I decide. “The first thing we need to do is block this doorway. There’s a guy supposed to come this afternoon to watch whatever experiment they were planning. Once he realizes the tram isn’t where it’s supposed to be, they’ll start figuring out that something’s wrong.”

“If they haven’t already,” Jake unnecessarily reminds us.

“That’s why we need to block it now, in case they’re already on their way. If and when they come for us, this obstacle will buy us some time. But it also needs to be quickly removable by us, because the moment we figure out how to get rid of the failsafe, it’s our only escape.”

“How much time do you think we’ll need?”

“Worst case scenario, couple of days,” I say. “Hopefully by then Micah’ll be able to make it on his own.”

I see the doubtful looks on their faces. It’s a lot longer than they’d expected to be trapped here.

“The second thing we need to do is hack into those servers upstairs and see what they’re about. If this failsafe thing is script, then they probably hold the key. Ash, you up for a little hacking?”

“I— I think so. Maybe.”

“Anything else?” Jake asks.

“Yeah.” I step in front of Stephen. His gaze remains unfocused, but I know he’s listening. “We also need to be prepared to do what’s necessary to get the information we need. I don’t care what it takes. We’re getting the hell out of this place.”

I hold Stephen’s gaze. I study his eyes. But absolutely nothing in his expression changes.

It’s like he’s withdrawn to a place where nothing and no one can touch him.

Chapter 7

“Done,” Reggie says, standing back to inspect his handiwork. “What do you think?”

“That should hold them,” Jake agrees, although he doesn’t look quite as certain. “At least for a while.”

We’ve just spent the last half-hour moving luggage carts and anything else we can find in front of the doors to block them.

“They’ll still be able to get through it, though,” Jake adds. “A couple hand grenades, maybe, or—”

“And the whole building comes down,” Reggie counters. “All we need is to buy ourselves time, as Jessie says. We’ll be gone long before they can to us.”

“How long do you think it’ll take for us to dismantle it?” I ask. “For when we’re ready to leave.”

“Two, three minutes at the most,” Reggie answers. “We just have to push those two rows of carts to the side.”

“Nevertheless, we should post someone down here at all times to keep watch. Two would be better. One can run up and warn us if anything happens.”

“Or we could clear out of here now,” Ashley offers.

“And go where?” Reggie asks.

“I don’t know. Anywhere that’s not here. I’d feel a lot better if we weren’t so close. I feel... trapped.”

“We’re staying here until Micah’s better. Or until we know how to bypass the failsafe. If they won’t tell us, then our next best option is to check out those servers.”

“Assuming they’re even connected to us,” Jake gripes.

“It’d be an awfully big coincidence if they weren’t. Anyway, with Ash on the job, we’ll know soon enough.”

“Then enough of the jibbering and the jabbering,” Reggie says. He gestures at Ashley’s and Kelly’s backpacks. They’ve just returned from scavenging for food, and all four packs look full. “I’m starving. All that Insta-Meal did was remind me how good food can taste.”

“Those things are disgusting.”

“But disgusting in an oh-so-yummy way.”

“Well, Kelly was right about there not being that much worth eating,” Ashley says. “But this should keep us going for a couple days, if necessary.” She digs around in her pack. “Found some pickled olives and canned maraschino cherries from the bars. Kelly found peanuts, but they didn’t smell right, so we left them. Oh, and beer. Lots of beer. And booze.” She lifts out two large bottles of clear liquid. “Might as well enjoy ourselves if we’re going to be stuck here.”

“I think we’d better stay off the alcohol,” I tell them.

“Party pooper,” Ashley says. But the others nod, and she doesn’t argue. Everyone but Jake is more than familiar with my mom’s drinking problem. And as for my own history with alcohol, Kelly’s the only one who knows the most embarrassing details. It’s one reason I barely ever touch the stuff anymore.

“Leave everything in the packs for now,” I say. “It might come in handy. We’ll take stock once we get upstairs.”

“I might need a shot before then,” Ashley says, and shudders. She’s not thrilled with going back up there. None of us is.

“Keep a sharp eye out,” I instruct everyone as we head up. “And no more talking until we figure out if Novak and that man are still here. I want to catch them by surprise.”

“Still got the cardkey?” Kelly asks.

I hold it up.

“Reggie, can you grab Micah? Kelly, take Stephen. And you two, help Tanya. Make sure she doesn’t—

run into any walls

—wander off.”

“And what about you?” Jake asks.

I grab the four full backpacks and somehow manage to shoulder them, even though they’re heavy and my wrist still aches. “Anymore questions? Good. Then let’s go.”

We proceed cautiously, senses on high alert. A full ten minutes go by before we reach the international terminal. So far, we see and hear nothing disturbing.

Minutes later, we’re gathered around the TSA security door leading to where we’d been held. I place my ear against the cool metal panel and listen. It’s quiet.

Too quiet.

I can’t quite put my finger on it, but I sense something’s wrong.

Kelly places an ear against the door, then snaps his fingers. “Genny’s off.”

“The generator?”

“Yes, Jake, the generator,” Reggie says. “Could it have run out of fuel?”

Kelly shakes his head and says there was plenty. He thinks for a few seconds. “It’s possible they turned it off to unlock the doors.”

“They don’t have their own keys?”

“They didn’t in the past. That nurse always had to let them in. I think it was for security reasons.”

“So much for security, if the locks disengage when there’s no power.”

He shrugs. “I don’t make the rules. It’s a fire marshal thing. No power, no locked doors. Can’t have people stuck inside rooms if there’s ever an emergency.”

“Wish we’d known that before,” Reggie grumbles. He rubs his shoulder. “Would’ve made it a lot easier rescuing Micah.”

“How so?” Kelly asks.

“Long story,” I say, but now I’m worried. If he’s right, then no power means no locked doors between us and Mabel.

The silence on the other side suddenly feels a lot more threatening. I check the time on my Link. It’s now been almost six hours since we ran into the man and the woman downstairs and escaped on the tram. I’m almost certain they would’ve come straight here after getting themselves free. Anything could’ve happened since then. They might be dead. They might have killed Mabel a second time. They could have set her free expecting that we’d return.

“Could be a trap,” Reggie suggests.

“Only one way to find out,” Kelly says, reaching for the handle.

“I’ll do it,” I say.

“No, Jess. I’ll—”

“Kelly, please. I’m already...”

“Already what?” Reggie asks. “Jess? You’re already what?”

“Nothing. Just back off, give me some room.”

I place my ear against the door again. I still don’t hear anything, but that doesn’t mean very much. The doors are thick. This one’s made of metal.

I close my eyes and concentrate. After a moment I think I can hear the faintest sound, a whisper. It could be Zombie Mabel pawing on her door inside her room toward the other end of the hall. It might just be the distant sound of the waves of the East River on the shore coming through the ground. Or it could be something else.

scritch scritch

A mouse in the ceiling.

Sparrows in the vents.

My own heart trying to claw its way out of my chest.

“Hey,” Kelly whispers, startling me. He kneels down beside me.

“I told you to stay put.”

“Just thought you should know. I checked the genny. There’s fuel, like I suspected. They turned it off. Want me to turn it back on?”

So, they were here.

I think for a minute, then shake my head. I don’t need the added noise of the generator masking any sounds right now.

“Okay, we do this together.” He gives me that look that says it’s not up for discussion. “Ready?” He grabs the handle with both hands and twists it. The springs inside the latch catch and release. At my signal, he slowly pulls the heavy door free. It makes a crackling sound as it separates from the foam padding inside the frame.

The crack widens, and a soft puff of air caresses our cheeks.

“Ugh!” he says, gagging at the thick, coppery smell. It’s reminiscent of brackish water and rotting meat. He releases the handle to cover his mouth and nose. The door starts to swing shut.

Just as I reach to stop it from clicking shut, something slams against the other side, knocking us both back. I land on my back and kick out with both feet to prevent the door from opening any wider. “Kelly! I can’t hold it!” I shout.

With each attempt to come through, whatever’s inside that hallway succeeds in shoving me back another inch.

Kelly scrambles back to his feet and throws his body against the door. It shudders beneath the continuing assault.

“Reggie! Jake!” I scream. I spin around to add my shoulder to his. “We need you! Help us hold the door! Quick!”

An arm reaches through the opening and swipes the air. It’s covered in blood. And bits of hair. It’s a man’s arm.

“Reggie, push! Kelly, go back and restart that generator. We need to lock this thing! Now!”

Jake crawls beneath Kelly to take his place. Reggie reaches over him and pushes. Kelly slips out the side and hurries off.

“Give me a little space,” I tell the boys.

“What’re you going to do?”

“We can’t close the door with that arm sticking out!”

I reach down, but the moment I pull away from the door, another arm reaches through.

“There’s two of them?” Jake screeches.

“Probably all three. Push!”

I recognize Mabel’s chubby fingers. They nearly snatch a handful of my hair before retreating again.

“Hurry up!” Jake screams. “Kelly!”

Our shouting only enrages them. They lunge at the door, and we lose precious inches. I stomp on the man’s hand, expecting it to also pull back. But my foot squelches across the flaccid flesh, and my ankle twists.

“Jessie!”

I scramble back to my feet and spy the arm again. It hasn’t moved. I grab the wrist and pull it out of the way.

“How the hell can they be so freaking strong!” Reggie cries.

The door slams shut. But Jake’s wedged against the handle, preventing it from latching, and it pops open again.

“Christ! They’re going to fucking warp it!”

“Hurry up, Kelly!” I scream.

“I’m trying!” I hear him shout in the distance. “Shit! I can’t see where the starter is. Who’s got the flashlight?”

“Use your Link!”

“It’s in my backpack!”

“I’ve got the light,” Reggie shouts back. “Hold on a sec.”

“No! Don’t you dare let go!” I scream.

Kelly comes running back. “Where is it? Give it to me.”

“Back pocket— oof! Shit, they’re like goddamn battering rams in there! Back pocket, Kelly! Hurry!”

Kelly runs off again. I throw my weight back against the door and manage to get it almost all the way shut. I push against Jake’s belly to release the handle, but he’s pushing too hard back. “Ashley!” I scream. “Go find something to defend ourselves with!”

“There’s a machete in my pack,” I hear Kelly shout.

Jake yanks the pistol from my waistband. “Just shoot them through the door!”

“Give me that back! It’s a metal door, you idiot!”

“Through the opening! Shoot them through the opening!”

“You can’t shoot blind! And we can’t waste the bullets! Now put that down and push!”

“Screw that, Jessie. We need to save ourselves!”

Ashley runs over with the machete in her hand. It’s one of Eppy’s, the army surplus store run by Jake’s uncle. Kelly must’ve brought it with him when he came the second time.

“Just hold onto it, babe,” Reggie says, grunting. “Let’s see if Kelly can get the generator going again.”

“Who’s watching the others?” I say. “Ashley? Who’s watching Stephen?”

“Shit!” Ashley exclaims, and runs off again.

“Leave the machete!”

The moans inside the hallway grow more urgent. Mabel reaches through again. She doesn’t seem to care if her arm caught crushed. The door rattles again from another blow. I worry it’s going to come off its hinges.

“Kelly!”

“He’s gone,” Ash shouts.

“Kelly’s gone?”

“No, Stephen’s gone. Oh, god, it’s my fault! I was supposed to watch him!”

“Never mind that, Ash. Get back here with that machete!”

“Screw that,” Jake shouts. “I’m using the gun!” He steps away from the door just as it takes another beating. Both Reggie and I stagger back.

“Jake!”

“Get out of the way!”

“Get back here, Jake!” I scream, as our feet yield another inch. Another slam nearly knocks us on our asses. “Goddamn it, Ja—”

Mabel explodes through the door just as the generator starts. The lights flicker on, and I get a glimpse of the horror inside before the door swings shut again. Mabel spins and grabs Reggie’s arm. She’s incredibly fast, far more than just hours before. And worse than anything we’d encountered in Long Island City.

I don’t see the other two.

Reggie screams and tries to shake her off of him. The door clicks shut, locking us out here with her.

Mabel opens her mouth. She seems to relish the moment as she bends down to bite Reggie. She aims for the soft part of his neck below his chin.

Chapter 8

There’s a flash and the concussive report of the gunshot. A red puff of mist appears behind Mabel, painting a burgundy starburst on the door through which she just emerged. Her body jolts, but the impact of the bullet and the damage it does to her barely slow her down.

Reggie backpedals as fast as he can, inadvertently dragging her with him.

There’s a second blast. I feel the heat as the bullet passes my face. It misses me, but it also misses her.

“Shop shooting!”

“Get her off of me!” Reggie screams. He kicks out to dislodge her and his heel connects with her chin, knocking it out of joint and turning her visage into some sort of horror movie monster. But this isn’t a movie. It’s real life. “Help me!”

Jake fires a third time. Mabel slumps to one side, collapsing like a building partially demolished. Half of her right thigh vanishes, leaving a shattered mass of plastinated meat and sinew. Yet she still clutches to Reggie.

“Goddamn it, Jake! Stop shooting,” I scream. “You’re going to hit one of us!”

But he doesn’t even hear me. He lifts the pistol again and takes aim.

There’s a blur, a flashing silver arc and the sound of metal slicing through the air. Mabel and Reggie tumble in opposite directions. Reggie quickly scrambles away, waving his arm frantically and slapping at the stub of Mabel’s hand still attached to it. “Get it off! Get it off!” he screams.

I spin and kick out at Jake, directing my foot at his elbow. The pistol goes flying out of his hand.

“Why did you—”

Another scream keeps him from finishing.

Ashley drops the machete. Blood spatters. She turns to run away as Mabel redirects her attention to her.

“Don’t, Ashley! Don’t run!”

Mabel spins toward me and lunges. How she’s capable of standing with one leg half-shredded defies all reason. She staggers forward, waving her arm stump and gnashing her teeth. I duck away as she tries to grab me, and her momentum knocks her off her feet. But she gets right back up and takes another clumsy step. Gore oozes from her arm, from her leg, from the hole in her chest. She tries to smack her misaligned jaw, but it clicks, and the teeth don’t meet up properly. It doesn’t stop her from trying to bite.

“What do we do?” Reggie asks.

She swipes at me. Fingers that look like they could tear flesh from bone rake the air. An ungodly sound full of hunger and dark desire emerges from deep within her throat.

Jake and I stumble into each other in our haste to get out of her way. He pirouettes, plants a hand on the floor, and manages to stay on his feet. But my ankle twists under me and I go down.

Mabel’s on me in an instant. She jams her stump into the hollow between my left shoulder and chest. I can feel the ends of the exposed bones grinding into me, tearing at my flesh through my coveralls. She opens her mouth, and her teeth are scarlet nightmares. Her tongue flicks out. It seems to have a life of its own, pulsing like some sort of alien parasite emerging from its egg sac.

“Use the machete!” Reggie screams.

I reach up to grab a handful of her smock and shove her away. Instead, my hand sinks through the wound in her chest. I’m up to my elbow inside of her, and yet she bears down on me, undaunted. She extends her neck and opens her mouth again. Her jaw snaps back into place. Blood and saliva drip onto my cheek. She arches her spine. I plant my palm against the back of her ribcage and hope it doesn’t break through. I can feel her cold, wet lungs squish around my arm. There’s no trace of body heat left, not even here.

Her breath is fetid. I can smell her first victims, the newer, fresher blood layered over the rotten stench of her last undigested meal as a living person. I don’t know how much longer I can hold her away.

But then her body jerks to the side. Liquid sprays my face. The pressure against my hand releases for a moment. I wrench my arm free of her chest while shoving her away with the other.

But she’s not dead.

Reggie steps into view again, brandishing the man’s dismembered arm. He swings and hits her square in the face this time, spraying more of the clotted blood in a wide arc.

“Jessie! Get out of there,” Kelly shouts.

Mabel spins around at the sound of his voice. There’s nothing in her eyes, no trace of anything anymore. They’re dead and useless now, the dead silver cataract eyes of a rotting fish left out in the sun on a hot beach. She hunts for Kelly, her face pinching, as if she’s sniffing the air.

“Over here!” Reggie shouts.

She spins toward him.

“That’s it, bitch! Come get your arm back.”

“Don’t piss her off, Reg,” Kelly warns.

It’s such a ridiculous comment that I bark out a hysterical laugh. Mabel lunges toward me. I roll to the side.

“Use the machete, Jessie!”

I realize it’s in my hand. I recall tripping on it and must’ve grabbed it reflexively. I scramble to my feet and swing it around to defend myself.

She pulls herself upright, a mangled mess of a corpse that simply refuses to obey the laws of nature.

“I killed you once already, you bitch,” I snarl. “You should’ve stayed dead!”

“Hey!” Reggie shouts. Mabel wrenches her head around toward him. “Over here!”

“Get that column between you and her,” I hiss. “To your left, Reg!”

He turns in the wrong direction.

“Your other left!”

“That’s my right!”

He starts edging toward the column, but Mabel’s focus is back on me.

“Goddamn it, bitch!” Reggie shouts. “Come at me!”

She doesn’t listen. She’s locked onto me now. In those dead eyes of hers, I imagine what hell must look like.

Reggie prods her with the arm. She ignores him. He swings again and this time it smacks into the side of her face. Quick as a wink, she spins on him and nearly manages to catch his wrist.

“Shit!” he yelps, ducking just out of reach. He edges toward the column. “Goddamn thing was expecting me to do that! She was luring me in!”

I don’t have time to debate such nonsense with him at the moment. Instead, I take the opportunity of the distraction to slip around behind her. Keeping in her blind spot, I silently move up behind her. The handle of the machete is slick with blood. I clasp it in both hands, assessing its heft and balance, gauging my ability to keep it in my grip.

Reggie edges around the column, drawing Mabel toward him. “You better do something quick, guys!” he growls. “I really don’t like this game!”

I raise the machete. Mabel lurches after Reg. She’s deceptively clumsy and unbelievably capable.

He appears around the other side of the column.

“Reggie!”

Mabel spins toward Ashley’s shout just as I’m bringing the machete down. The distraction defeats my attempt to decapitate her. I miss her neck entirely. The blade slices a deep gouge into her shoulder. A chunk of arm muscle rolls off and slaps to the floor. I swing again in desperation. Blood and gore burble from a fresh gash in her neck. But it still doesn’t stop her.

How can she still have so much blood inside of her? How can she possibly still be... alive?

I bring the blade around for a third swing. This time, the machete pings off the column and snaps in two.

Pain shoots up my arm, the same one I’d injured stopping the tram. I drop the broken machete and stumble away. She follows.

“Hey!” Reggie yells. He heaves the stump of the arm at her. It bounces off her head, and she turns, tracking it to the floor. Reggie grabs the broken machete, and in one smooth motion, swings it up at her.

It rakes across her back and through her neck, embedding itself into the base of her skull. She tries to turn. Reggie thrusts forward against it, both hands on the handle, and twists. Mabel takes another step, falters, then begins to collapse. She hits the floor in stages, knees striking first, then hip, then her torso. Her momentum carries her to the left. Her head rolls to the right.

Nobody says anything at first. We stand in shock, waiting for her to get back up. Then Kelly’s by my side, pulling me to my feet.

“Don’t touch me!” I scream. “I’m covered in blood!”

The half-digested remains of the Insta-Meal come pouring out of me. It’s bright red.

Ashley screams. Even Kelly jumps back.

“Cherries,” I manage to gasp, tasting the sickly sweet liquid of the half-digested maraschinos for the second time today. “I knew I was going to regret eating those.”

“I warned you,” Reggie agrees. He laughs nervously. “I told you it was a bad idea.”

Typical Reg.

“Just one thing,” I say, as I stagger to my feet. “Anyone who calls me Pukegirl is going to regret it.”

* * *

AFTER THE INITIAL SHOCK of the assault passes. I make my way over to the security door.

“Don’t open it,” Kelly says.

I twist the handle and pull, but now that the power’s back on, the lock’s reengaged.

I slip the cardkey from my pocket and slide it into the slot. The light turns green. Kelly braces.

I already know what I’m going to find. I’d caught a glimpse of it when Mabel came barreling through the door. The stump of the man’s arm was a clue. He’s dead, like really dead. Dead and dismembered. He’s not coming back. Mabel’s rage when he opened her door must’ve been simply staggering.

As for the woman, I’m not certain, but the amount of blood in the hallway couldn’t have come from just one person.

“Not yet,” Reggie says, stopping me. “We need to find Stephen.”

“Um, guys,” Ashley says. She points toward the empty ticketing lobby.

There’s a figure silhouetted by the front windows. It’s just a shadow, but something about it tells me it’s him.

“What the hell is he doing?” Reg asks. “Hey, asshole!”

Stephen begins to turn. But before he can finish, he collapses to the floor.

Chapter 9

“I say we shoot him,” Jake says.

“You don’t get to speak,” Reggie tells him. “Especially about shooting, you trigger-happy freak.”

Jake opens his mouth to reply. Reg doesn’t have to say anything to make him reconsider, just straighten his spine a little.

I kneel down beside Stephen, ignoring Kelly’s warning hiss. Stephen’s sitting with his back against a column. He appears dazed and doesn’t remember how he got to the windows. He flinches when I snap my fingers in his face.

“He’s screwing with us,” Jake says, “making us think he’s psycho.”

“He is psycho, Jake,” Reggie retorts.

“It’s all an act,” Kelly agrees.

“Why the hell would he pretend any of this?” I demand.

“To throw us off our guard.”

“We were already off our guard.”

“Then so he won’t have to answer our questions.”

“Why not just run when he had the chance? He could be long gone by now.”

“Where’s he going to run to?” Reggie asks. “Look at Kelly. He was stuck here for days!”

“I was here because you guys were all here, you bozo!” Kelly says. “I wasn’t just going to leave you.”

“Anyway, there’s nowhere out there to go,” Jake insists. “You said it yourself, Jessie.”

“But there’s also nothing keeping him from walking out through the tunnel,” Kelly counters. “Right now, no one’s watching it.”

“There’s nothing keeping you from walking through it, either,” Jake snaps. “You and Jessie both.”

“I can think of four reasons why we don’t,” I tell him. “No, five.”

“I still think he’s pretending,” Jake says. “He’s messing with our minds, getting under our skin. He’s dangerous. You need to shoot him.”

“He might be getting under your skin,” Reggie snaps, “but you’re seriously getting under mine.”

“Geez, what’s your problem? I’ve never done anything to you.”

“You want to know what my problem is? Jessie told you back there not to shoot. Not only did you keep shooting, you nearly took my freaking head off!”

“I had that zombie dead to rights! One more shot and—”

“One more shot and we’d be completely out of bullets, Jake,” I whisper. “Now that’s enough. Both of you shut the hell up and let me think.”

“You can’t tell me what—”

“Enough!”

Everyone stops, but the silence I ask for doesn’t last.

“What the hell good is a bullet if you don’t use it?” Jake mutters.

“What the hell good is a bullet if it doesn’t hit the target?” Reggie replies. “Or worse, it hits one of us?”

“All right. Calm down, both of you,” Kelly quietly says. “Jake, give me back that pistol before you hurt somebody.”

“I don’t have it.”

“Where the hell is it?”

“How should I know? Jessie knocked it out of my hand.”

The blood on my skin is drying, pinching it. My overalls are stiff with it. I need it off me now. I need to scrub it off with a wire brush. But first, Stephen.

I say his name. He doesn’t respond. I follow his gaze out through the dark glass. A dozen years of soot and dust and acid rain and who knows what else have dulled the view. With the early afternoon sun behind us, there’s no direct light coming in. The view could be a photograph, old and faded and static. A moment in time captured forever.

“What the hell is he staring at?”

“I don’t see anything out there,” Reggie says.

I snap my fingers in front of Stephen’s face. He blinks again but still doesn’t respond.

“Jake,” I say. “Go find that pistol and bring it back.”

He’s more than happy to. Maybe he thinks I’m actually going to use it to shoot Stephen. After he leaves, I lean over again and say in a loud voice directly in Stephen’s ear, “Can you hear me?” The words echo through the terminal.

“Don’t get so damn close to him, Jess. Please.”

“Stephen! Answer me!”

He slowly raises his eyes toward me. They remain unfocused.

“Could it be these new implants? Maybe he got one, too, and it’s glitching.”

I shrug. I simply don’t know.

“Or maybe he got the same stuff that was in that syringe,” Kelly suggests.

I’m touching my neck before I realize it. I still haven’t shown any symptoms of having been injected with anything infectious. But then again, I’m not dying, either. And neither is he.

“No, that’s not what this is.”

“What syringe?” Reggie asks. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Not now, Reg.”

But Kelly can’t seem to drop the issue. “If that nurse got injected so she’d reanimate, maybe he did, too. They both work for Arc.”

“She did it for the money,” I say. “For her family. Now, why would someone do something so selfish?”

Kelly purses his lips.

“I don’t know what’s going on with him, but whatever it is, it’s not right. He’s burning up. Skin’s like an oven.”

Kelly reaches out and checks my forehead for the hundredth time. I push his hand away. “I’m fine.”

Reggie watches us, his face pinching in concern. He waits for an explanation, but we don’t give him one.

I may have said I’m fine, but I’m actually not. Whatever’s happening inside Stephen, taking him over, something like it is happening to me. Except my infection is in my soul. The germ that’s trying to take over isn’t engineered from bits and pieces of ancient viruses and synthetic genes. It’s constructed from guilt and fear and an overwhelming sense of responsibility that began long before we came here. My grandfather started all this. It’s in my blood.

“Got it,” Jake announces, returning with the gun. “Have you decided what to do with him? Or are we just going to keep standing around here while he keeps screwing with us?”

Kelly snatches the pistol from Jake’s hand. “Turns out he’s not screwing with us. He’s got a fever. He may be infected.”

“So, we definitely should shoot him.”

“We are not going to shoot this man!” I growl. “Not... Not yet. We need him.”

But if he reanimates...

“Jess.” Kelly reaches out, but he stops short of touching my arm. I’m covered in gore. “Jake’s right. Maybe we don’t shoot him, but we can’t be so cavalier about keeping him around either. And the more we focus on him, the less we’re focused on us.  We’ve got to find out what happened to that woman. And there’s Micah to take care of.”

“She’s dead,” I mutter. I don’t know how I can be so certain, but I am. “Stephen’s the only one left who can tell us how to bypass the failsafe. If we get rid of him, we may never figure out how to get everyone out of here. He’s the key.”

“Okay, but do you at least agree he’s dangerous, Jess?” Kelly asks. “He needs to be isolated. We need to have minimal exposure to him.”

I know just the place, but the thought of using it makes me sick to my stomach.

Jake makes a disgusted sound. “Just kill him now. We’re wasting our time.”

“If he so much as blinks like a zombie, I’ll take care of him myself,” I say.

“Really? And how’re you going to do that?”

Kelly lifts the pistol, but I shake my head.

“There’s another way, isn’t there, Stephen?” I say. Just the idea of using Arc’s own torture device makes me want to puke, but I need him to understand what he’s in for. He needs to know that if he doesn’t help us, his fate will be far worse than ours.

I study his face, but nothing registers on it.

“And if he infects one of us?” Jake asks. “You going to do the same to each of us?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” Kelly demands.

“If he’s infected, he could bite any one of us. She’s say don’t worry about it, that it’s all taken care of. Do you believe that?”

“Of course I believe it.”

“What if he bites you, and you turn? Do you think she’ll be able to do the same to you?”

“He’s not going to bite anyone.”

“Answer the question.”

“We all need to be ready to do what’s necessary,” I mumble.

“And if he bites Jessie?” he asks, Kelly. “You going to be able to put her down?”

Kelly gawps, and in this moment I hate Jake more than I have ever hated anybody else for putting him on the spot like this.

“You really are a sick puppy,” Kelly says. “But yes, I’ll do what’s necessary.” He tries to sound confident, but his voice wavers.

“I doubt it.”

“Do you have what it takes?”

Jake locks eyes with me. “I’d do it in a heartbeat.”

“Easy words coming from you when there’s no real imminent danger. Personally, I think you’ll choke.”

Jake’s face hardens. He pivots on his heels and stomps off.

“Where are you going?”

“Downstairs. Someone’s got to keep watch.”

“Hey!” I shout at his back. “I made a promise to bring everyone home. That’s one promise you can take to the bank!”

“We’ll see!”

“Christ.” Reggie exhales. “Kid’s all over the map. But he’s got a valid point. Are we ready to pull the trigger on any one of us?”

“Let’s just make sure it never comes to that,” I reply.

PART TWO

Everything Can Change in an Instant

Chapter 10

After tying Stephen up so he can’t wander off again, Kelly, Reg and I head across the terminal and back to the security door. We give Mabel’s corpse a long, hard stare, but it’s pretty clear she’s really dead this time. She won’t be reanimating.

I fully expect to find two bodies inside, dead and too torn up to come back. From the carnage I’d glimpsed earlier, it seems like a more than reasonable assumption.

Kelly’s not so sure. All we have is the man’s arm, so the most we know for certain is that Mabel got to him. “That still leaves her unaccounted for.”

I swallow what feels like a brick stuck in my throat, then insert the cardkey. The light blinks green. Once more, Kelly wraps his fingers around the handle, staying my hand. “We don’t have to do this.”

“Maybe we should, you know, bang on it first,” Reggie suggests, “get them riled up.”

“Why the hell would we want to rile them up for?”

“I’m just saying, then we’ll know for sure.”

“They’re in there, Reg. We just need to know in what shape.” I squeeze the grip of the handgun and nod at Kelly. He’s wielding the broken machete in his left hand. They’re not the greatest weapons in the world, but they’re better than nothing. And they’re a hell of a lot better than the stump of the man’s arm Reggie used to pummel Mabel. Plus, we’re mentally better prepared for what could come through that door.

“Please,” Reggie says.

Kelly rolls his eyes. “Fine.” He taps the handle of the machete against the panel.

We wait. Nothing happens.

“Louder?” Reggie suggests.

“No.” I unlock the door again and Kelly cracks it open as quietly as he can. He braces his foot against the bottom, in case something else tries to break through. We listen for several interminable seconds. Nothing moves. Nothing makes a sound. He inches it open a little more, just enough so that we can peek inside. The lights are off. We can’t see a thing, so we’re just as blind as before.

“Well,” Kelly whispers, so quietly that I can barely hear him, “We know nothing’s moving in the hallway.”

“Are those sensors heat-sensitive or movement?”

“Movement.” He slowly pulls the door open a few more inches. Then a foot. Then two. I reach in and wave my arm through the opening. The lights snap on.

There’s blood everywhere, pooled on the floor, splattered all over the walls. Even the ceiling hasn’t been spared. I glance down. The base of the door is covered in bloody handprints. Bits and pieces of flesh and bone and fabric are strewn all about. A pile of body parts litters the floor outside the room where I’d been held. Several more smaller heaps lead to the doorway we’re standing in. The slaughter appears to have been concentrated at these two points.

“Holy mother of...” Reggie says.

“Reminds me of those Wall Street suicide attacks we sometimes see on Media,” Kelly whispers. “The ones conducted by the SSC militias.”

A gristly realization comes over me. This could’ve been me, back there after I’d initially killed Mabel. She was a lot slower then, not as vicious. In fact, it could’ve been any of us. But then I realize something else: This is all my fault. I caused this. I left her here, and then I invited Arc’s people to go looking for her. I wanted her to attack them. I wanted them to die, I just didn’t want to be the one doing the killing.

Their blood is on my hands, not just figuratively, but literally.

“What the fuck kind of zombie steroids did they give her?” Reggie wonders. “Even on Survivalist the Players don’t do this kind of damage.

“The Players on Survivalist don’t have uninfected people to eat,” Kelly reminds him.

But I can tell from the look in his eyes that he knows this is way beyond normal behavior. The scenes he’d referenced earlier, the SSC attacks in the financial district in New York, they had used the undead using the same military technology my brother had used when he was in the Marines. One of their methods was to stuff their abdominal cavities with explosives, and then detonate them remotely after infiltrating their targets. The carnage from those attacks looked a lot like this, except Mabel wasn’t armed with anything but her hands and teeth.

I lean my head against the doorframe and squeeze my eyes shut. I wish I could just make it all go away. I wish I could go back and redo all my choices. I sent them up here. My friends all know it. They might know why I did it, but they’ll never understand how I could. How can they ever trust me again?

Kelly places a hand on my shoulder. I can feel myself shaking beneath it. “This isn’t on you, Jessie,” he lies. “They brought this down on themselves.”

“I could’ve warned them.”

“They were going to do something far worse to you. It’s self defense. You’re just trying to survive.”

But this isn’t survival, it’s retribution, and he knows it.

Reggie steps into the hallway and carefully makes his way down it, stepping on the few clear spots left on the floor. “Looks like they were attacked as soon as they opened the door. Tore them both up something good.”

“Good thing, too,” Kelly says. “Or we’d have a much bigger problem to deal with— three IUs instead of one.”

But now I’m not so sure about Novak. There’s a lot of blood. And some of the fabric is from the woman’s jacket. So where are the corpses? There’s a lot of bits and pieces, but not enough for two bodies.

“Here’s how I see it playing out,” Reggie says. “They get to her room and open the door. She’s waiting for them. She attacks the woman first, bites her. The man tries to run, and she takes off after him. The woman doesn’t die right away. She’s infected but still alive. So, what does she do?”

“She tries to get away.”

“Except the only way out is through that door, and Mabel’s enjoying an all-you-can-eat buffet right in front of it.”

I study the blood trails again with a new eye. Did she try to get inside one of the other rooms? Maybe she’s still here. She might not even be dead yet, not yet turned. If she’s still alive, it would explain why we got no response when we knocked.

“We need to check—”

Jake strides in right then and yelps when he nearly slips and falls on the blood.

“Jesus, Jake,” Reggie cries. “I thought you were down—”

But Jake spins around and stumbles back out the way he came in. He barely makes it before he’s sick.

“Pukeboy strikes again,” Reggie mutters. “It’s a good name for him.”

Kelly nudges at a pile of body parts with his shoe. A piece that looks like a giant black ball of wet yarn detaches and rolls off. It doesn’t get very far, as it’s still tethered to a larger mass by a ropy tendon. A single disgorged eyeball peers at us through a matt of blood and hair. The rest of the face is missing.

“Is that the man or the woman?”

It’s impossible to tell, and nothing about the torso offers any clue.

“We need to know if this is one body or two,” I say. “We’re not safe until we know for sure what happened to both of them.”

“You want to inventory parts?”

“Yes.”

Tweezing apart the pieces with the broken machete, the boys eventually decide it’s only a single complement of limbs— or limb pieces, anyway. Even then, there’s far too much missing.

“That was one hungry, hungry hippo,” Reggie says.

Kelly begins checking the rooms. He cocks his head at each door and listens. The only open rooms are the one Mabel had used for her makeshift quarters and the server room, which no longer has a door. The pieces of it are still stacked up against the wall just inside.

“Is he always this thorough?” Reggie asks.

I don’t reply. I don’t have anything to compare it with.

After Kelly finishes the preliminary circuit, he returns to the beginning. “Now comes the hard part, “ he says. “Checking inside.”

“Wake me up when it starts getting easier again,” Reggie says.

* * *

ALL OF THE ROOMS ARE empty.

“Something’s weird,” Kelly says.

“What is?”

“Where are their personal Links?”

“Think maybe Nurse Bitch ate them?” Reggie asks.

We’re standing inside my old room. Reggie’s gaze flicks between the dried-up blood on the floor and the dark smears on the wall where I’d trapped Mabel against the bed last night. Old blood, not new. Her blood, not mine or anyone else’s.

The IV stand still dangles from the broken drywall by its base, and I wonder how it’s even possible that it happened just a few hours ago. This time yesterday I was in bed, barely conscious and unaware of where I was, an IV dripping into my neck, and a damn rubber hose stuck inside my—

I can feel my blood pressure rising.

“Jess? You okay there?”

Reggie’s staring at me.

“We need to warn the others about Novak,” Kelly says.

“Jake’s definitely going to freak out.”

Someone screams outside the room.

“What now?”

“I’m infected!” Jake yells.

“You were saying?” Kelly says, as we rush for the door.

Ashley’s out there, shouting at Jake to calm down.

“What the hell is going on?” Kelly demands.

Jake points at his face. “He spit on me! Stephen spit on me! I’m infected. I’m infected!”

“Damn it, Jake,” Reggie says under his breath. “You scared the crap out of us!”

“I’m infected!”

“You’re not infected.”

I turn to Ashley, hoping for an explanation.

“Don’t look at me,” she snaps. “I’m not responsible for him.

“No, but you are responsible for keeping an eye on Stephen. We’ve already lost him once. Who’s watching him now?”

Chapter 11

I immediately feel bad for snapping at her. But seriously, she and Jake need to get their shit together. Jake’s freaking out because Stephen spit on him, while I’m absolutely drenched in Mabel’s blood. And Ashley’s biggest worry is that we find fault in her? What the hell does she expect, that she’ll come out of all this smelling like roses?

As I had promised I would do, I strap Stephen to the table with the guillotine in INTERVIEW 1. It goes a long way towards appeasing Jake. I don’t like having to use such draconian measures, but it actually solves multiple problems at once.

I expect him to struggle, but he doesn’t. He just lays there staring at the ceiling, as if the blade dangling over his head isn’t real.

“You’re not going to use the lunette?” Jake asks.

“The what?”

He reaches over and lowers the block that locks Stephen’s head into place.

“That’s a bit excessive, don’t you think?”

“No.”

“How do you even know what that crap is called?” Reggie wonders.

He shrugs. “I just do.”

“You’re whacked. I mean, seriously. In the head.”

Jake seems to take it as a compliment, because he immediately launches into a lecture about how the ancient contraption works. As if it’s not already obvious to everyone. He talks about the various levers, tracing their path from the device, up through the tiles of the dropped ceiling, and into the adjacent room, where the release switch is located. It just seems evil to me that someone can stand there on the other side of the safety glass, no fear of personal harm if things go wrong in here, and push a button to kill someone, the very same someone they put into that situation in the first place. A life snuffed out just so easily. A death stolen. A resurrection denied. I never liked it when Eric was doing it for the Marines, but at least then there was some ostensibly higher moral or national security purpose. Here, it’s at the whim of some giant corporation conducting illegal experiments.

I scan the shiny torture device, and a shudder passes through me. I want to remove the lunette from Stephen’s neck. I want to take him out of it and destroy the damn thing. I’m afraid I might find it too easy to use.

“What kind of monster would create such a thing?” Kelly wonders.

“Someone who would kidnap a bunch of teenagers for profit,” I reply.

Jake sniffs derisively. “It’s actually very elegant. Certainly more efficient than a shot to the head if something goes wrong. Just pull the switch and, voila! No fuss, no muss.”

“Sick,” Reggie mutters. He taps his finger against Jake’s skull. “In the head.”

After we exit the room, I make sure it stays locked. I’m stingy with the cardkey, entrusting it only to Kelly. I don’t want Jake to have access. He might decide we’d be better off just getting rid of Stephen, leaving us to figure out the failsafe thing on our own. Even Ashley believes I’m foolish for keeping him alive.

“That shithead injected you with something,” she tells me. “He was trying to inject Kelly, too. He doesn’t deserve to live.”

The memory returns— Stephen’s struggles on the tram, first with Kelly, then with me; the syringe in his hand. The green — no, white — solution inside the syringe.

It was green.

In my memory, the liquid is green. So why do I always see white right before he injects me with it? I feel so confused.

And clearly I’m not the only one. Half the time Kelly acts like he’s worried about me. He checks up on me to see if I’m showing any symptoms. The rest of the time he acts like there’s no way Stephen injected me. He insists there’s no puncture wound. Is it wishful thinking? Is he lying to keep me from freaking out?

I just can’t figure out what he’s thinking.

Reggie helps Ash get Micah settled back into one of the beds, then they leave to see if they can find us some water so we can wash up. I warn them to be careful. “Keep an eye out for the woman. And IUs.”

They return a half hour later. “We found a door to the outside,” they report. “There’s some kind of tank behind one of the maintenance trailers. It’s filled with rainwater. Not the cleanest stuff. Kind of smells oily. But it’ll do.”

The walls of the container are covered an inch thick in slimy green algae and the surface is carpeted with mosquito larvae and a soapy grayish-green sludge. Kelly skims it off as best as he can before dumping in a couple gallons of bleach we tote down from the storage closet. Then I climb in to wash the gore off. I don’t care about the slime or the mosquitoes. I scrub until my skin is raw and even the dirt under my nails disappears.

Once we’re all cleaned up, Kelly and Jake return downstairs to guard the tram entrance. They’re an odd team, but I think Kelly volunteers because he wants to keep an eye on him.

Micah regains consciousness a couple hours later.

“What time is it?” he asks, bleary eyed. “Am I late for school?”

“Classes don’t start for another week and a half,” I tell him. But this only makes him more agitated.

Was it just a week ago that we’d sat around lamenting the inevitable trauma that would be inflicted upon us our first day of school? Now there’s nothing I’d be happier to do on this hot August day than to sit in an overheated, overcrowded classroom and be bored to half death by teachers who wished even more they could be somewhere else.

“Where are we?”

I limit how much information I give him. How do you tell someone in such a delicate mental and physical state that he’s stuck on an island full of zombies, with people intent on adding him to their numbers? How do you explain you’ve just dumped a decapitated IU with a gaping hole in her chest and a bunch of other body parts covered in human teeth marks into the room right next door? How do you explain that we’ve been kidnapped by the largest, most reputable company in the world as part of some new profit enterprise?

“You’re in a sort of hospital. You were... hurt.”

“How?”

“Accident.”

“My car?”

“Fine.”

He seems satisfied with that. It’ll suffice for now. Maybe later, when he’s stronger, I’ll give him the details.

Reggie and I take turns making sure he stays in bed. He gets disoriented easily and protests. But he’s weak and puts up little resistance.

A couple hours later, Kelly returns from his vigil with a bottle of antibiotics he’d retrieved from the medical cart on the abandoned tram. After chastising him for venturing back into the tunnel by himself and leaving us vulnerable, I tell him that the pills won’t do any of us any good against a virus.

“We’ve all got cuts and scrapes,” he says. “Taking them won’t hurt.” He divvies them up between the six of us. Reggie and Ash pocket theirs. I do the same. Jake swallows his right away, in spite of the fact he’s got no cuts whatsoever.

“While I was there, I figured out what was wrong with the tram,” he says. “The emergency brake needed to be manually disengaged. There’s a safety mechanism to keep it from rolling, probably in case someone’s on the track. Wish we’d known about it before. I brought it back.”

He reaches into a pocket. “I also pulled the fuse from the control panel. Pulled them from all the trams, in fact. Just in case. They’re not moving without us. Hid the other fuses down there where we can get to them in a hurry when the time comes.”

Fuses are old tech, just like my brother’s jeep and Micah’s car, so a bit mysterious to me. It continues to surprise me that Kelly knows so much more about such things. More than I ever knew he did, anyway.

“One of us should go back to the mainland,” I say, reconsidering our plan. “We could get help.”

“From who? The police? I was thinking the same thing. But Arc owns them. We don’t know who we can trust.”

“Eric.”

If he notices that I don’t add my grandfather’s name to the list, he doesn’t point that out. My grandfather’s a tough man to get along with, and I seriously doubt he’d sell us out to Arc. But then again, I never thought Kelly would either. And everyone knows he’s got a history with the company.

“Maybe Eric,” Kelly concedes. “But I’m not so sure he’d be enough.”

“We can’t do this on our own.”

He stands up. “You should get some rest.”

“We need to come up with a better plan.”

“We already have a good one. Ash is working on the servers. We’re guarding downstairs and up here. Micah’s recovering. You’ve barely slept the last twenty-four hours. You have to rest.”

What I have to do is get us all off the island.

I promise him I’ll try sleep, but when he leaves, I sit back down beside Micah’s bed. I’m too wired to do anything but worry.

It alarms me how much weight Micah’s lost. He looks so frail and defenseless. His skin is sallow. Dark crescents shadow his eyes. He’s been a close member of our group since his family defected from Texas just over a year ago. And yet he’s never really been a part of us, instead always somehow... separate, more a binding force within which we had crystallized.

I don’t remember how it happened. He was just there one day, and we’d accepted him in as if we’d always known he was the one we were waiting for. As if we’d been waiting for someone like him to come in and help us reach our fullest potential. And he’d slipped right into that role as if he had known it, too. None of the rest of us had wanted the job. We were all followers. And we’d willingly followed.

There was never any resentment among us before him, no competition to be the alpha. Afterwards, however, that’s when the jockeying for position began. To me and Ash, it was just background noise for the most part. The boys were just finding their positions, settling into the matrix of our group. Micah helped us achieve far more than we ever could have without him. It was his passion and willingness to push boundaries that enthralled us. He allowed us to take risks. He was more intelligent, more capable, more...

Well, he was just more than the rest of us individually. Or even combined. And with him, we were more, too.

But that’s all changed now. The only way I can explain it is like when you look at a beautiful painting and realize what you’re experiencing is about as close to perfection as you’ll ever get. You don’t appreciate it until it’s suddenly marred.

I carefully remove the IV needle from his arm and throw the setup away. The bag was empty anyway, and there isn’t another to replace it. He doesn’t wake.

I leave his urinary catheter in for now.

Chapter 12

“I know you’re out there, Kelly,” I shout. “You coming in or not?”

It’s the next morning, shortly before ten. After a long, restless night, I’d finally managed to get a little sleep. I’d covered the midnight-to-three watch downstairs, then come back and sat with Micah until six. I finally crashed hard and woke just as hard around nine. But I’ve been too exhausted, both physically and mentally, to actually get up.

The lock on my door beeps, and it opens. He sticks his head around the frame. “How’d you know it was me?”

I hold up Micah’s tablet. “Been tracking you.”

He comes in and flops down next to me. “Keeping tabs on me, eh?” he says. I know he’s trying for lightness, but he’s not much of an actor, and I can sense the same weariness in him that I feel. There are circles under his eyes, and a week’s worth of unshaved whiskers doesn’t improve the look. “Not even married yet, and you’ve already got me on a short leash.”

I cringe at the all-too-obvious bait. I wish he’d just let it go for now. I mean, I love the boy dearly, but even before our lives got so much more complicated, filled with secret experiments and kidnappings and fights with the undead, the idea of marriage would’ve seemed ludicrous. We’re seventeen, for chrissake. And yeah, maybe he’s got the mental outlook of a twenty-five-year-old, but I don’t. I can barely keep my own shit together.

A month ago, I would’ve given him an unequivocal no. Besides being grossly unfair to him, there’s a hundred million reasons why not.

Today, there’s a million and one.

And yet, right this very moment, I want nothing more. I’d say yes in a heartbeat if it meant making all of this bullshit disappear. I’d happily spend the rest of my life with him, if I didn’t have to worry about a damn thing ever again. But it doesn’t work that way, and fantasizing about it only makes things worse. So, yeah, I really wish he’d stop bringing it up.

“I just checked on Micah,” he says. “He’s sound asleep.”

“Glad one of us can sleep. He needs it.”

“You planning on getting up soon?”

I’d been scouring the tablet, hoping to find something — anything — that might help us figure how to break the failsafe. I’d stumbled across the tracking script Micah had built before we came here the first time. It was buried deep inside what can only be described as an organizational system without any sort of logical structure. It’s either utter brilliance or utter chaos. How Micah finds anything on this thing — or his Link, for that matter, since it’s just as untidy — is beyond my puny mental ability to comprehend.

The tracker script is actually of little use now, since all of our old L.I.N.C. implants save Kelly’s have since been replaced, and the new identifiers haven’t been recoded so that the script can connect with the implants while they’re still in their latent state. This differs with how the Arc communicates with the implants after death, when the identifiers unlock and become fully accessible to the ArcWare codex.

“I’ve been trying to find the hack that Micah and Ashley came up with after you came back here. I thought it might give us a way to access the implants themselves, maybe allow Ashley to create a firewall or something against this failsafe thing. But without the identifiers, it’s hopeless.”

“You’re talking about reconfiguring the firmware? Is that even possible?”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t find the hack. I know it was on here, because he showed it to me right before we...”

“Before you came back?”

“Yeah. But this thing’s a mess. I can’t find anything. We really need Micah, but I don’t want to stress him out.”

“Maybe Ashley knows.”

“She’s busy trying to access the servers in the other room.”

“You still think they’re connected to us, to the failsafe?”

“Why else would they be here? Or we here with them? They’ve got to be Arc’s equipment, and they’ve got to be part of the experiments they were doing on us.”

He stands up, offering his hand to help me out of bed. But once I’m standing, he doesn’t release me. Instead, he wraps his arms around my waist and holds me tight. It feels awkward, stiff. Or maybe it’s me who’s stiff.

After some hesitation, I try to relax, to yield into him. I think he can sense it and he relaxes, too.

“I’ve missed you,” he says.

I can feel his heart pounding against my chest. I pull away only slightly to look at his face. He’s only a couple inches taller, and he lowers his chin until our noses touch. Desire overwhelms me.

Pounding on the door breaks the spell. “Jessie!” Reggie shouts. “Hey, you in there!”

Kelly looks disappointed. He gives me a quick, dry peck on the forehead, then turns and uses the cardkey to let him in. :”What is it?” he asks impatiently.

“I think we got it!” Reggie replies. “I think we might actually have caught a goddamn break!”

Chapter 13

I follow Reggie to the server room and find Ashley sitting on the floor, legs crossed under her and her Link on her lap. When she looks up, her face brightens. “You’ve got it!” she exclaims, and gestures for the tablet. “Gimme gimme! I’ve been looking for that. I was afraid we’d lost it.”

“What’s going on?”

She hurriedly connects some cables to the tablet and scrolls through a bunch of screens, muttering a few curses and complaining how she can never find anything on it because Micah has no sense of organization.

Finally, she holds it up for us to see. Code streams across the screen.

“They’re Arc’s machines, all right, just as you suspected.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m seeing signatures of their code all over the place. I recognize it from when we hacked into The Game. But it’s strange. It’s not the only thing coming through here. It actually looks like thousands of individual data streams from all over the place passing through these machines, maybe forty or fifty thousand at any given moment. And some of the code is... I’ve never seen it before. It doesn’t look anything like the Arc codex.”

I lean over to look, but it’s scrolling by too quickly. How she could possibly see individual streams in all that mess is beyond me. “So, these are data nodes? What does that mean?”

“It means— that is, I think it means we’re looking at raw script coming from The Game. Or some part of it, anyway.”

“Haven’t we already got a hack for it? How does this help us?”

She shakes her head. “This isn’t the base codex we’re looking at. In fact, I still haven’t located the root files yet. It might be that these servers parcel the raw data and transmit it to Arc Entertainment headquarters for final processing. But, it’s definitely coming out of Gameland.”

“I still don’t see—”

“I know. I just wanted to show you because it proves it’s definitely Arc. The part you’re going to want to see is this.”

She swipes the screen blank, then taps it a few times and a schematic pops up with several red dots overlaid on a faint outline of shapes.

“Micah’s tracker script? But what’re all those dots?”

“It looks like his tracker, but it’s not his script, not entirely. Someone got a hold of it and modified it. I pulled it off the server.”

“How’d it get there?” I ask. I glance at Kelly, but he stands there stone-faced.

“No idea. But these dots here?” she says. “They’re us, our new implants. Most of us, anyway. Kelly’s missing, obviously, because he’s still got his old implant.”

“So, Micah’s script tracks the old implants, and—”

“And this one tracks the new implants.”

I reach up and touch the scab on the back of my neck. I may have rejected mine, but it’s still communicating its status with the codex, which means it’s still functioning and latent. That could explain why it didn’t kill me when my body rejected it.

Ashley expands a section of the schematic and the dots separate and gain alphanumeric labels. They’re not the usual format for identifiers, but a completely different set of designations altogether. “This cluster here is the three of us, you, me, and Reg. And this one over here... That’s Tanya.” She drags that screen to the side. “And this one’s Jake, downstairs in baggage claim.”

“Well, at least we know he’s doing his job,” I murmur. “Although it doesn’t tell us if he’s awake or not.”

Kelly points to a different part of the screen. “And what’re those?”

“This one’s Stephen.”

“So, he’s got the new implant, just like us. And Arc’s tracking him, too.”

“Tracking all of them. This signal’s our dead nurse.” Like mine, Mabel’s implant is still active and communicating with the Stream. It’s just that there’s no body for it to control.

“Damn it,” I say. “I should’ve realized she’d gotten the new implant, too, when she didn’t show up on Micah’s tracker after dying.”

Ashley expands the screen and Mabel’s dot resolves into two. They’re just on top of each other. Two new identifier codes pop up. “The second one has to be the man. I’m assuming his implant’s probably in her stomach.”

“This means we can use it to find—”

“Our missing woman,” Ashley finishes for me. “Exactly. Unfortunately — or fortunately for us, depending on how you look at it — she’s nowhere in the airport that I can see. In fact, she’s nowhere nearby. She’s just gone.”

“But to where?”

Ashley shrugs. She might find this development fortunate, but I’m now more worried than ever.

“She’s not in the tunnel,” Kelly says. “We would’ve seen her coming back.”

“She might’ve taken a different way back to the mainland. In fact, I think we have to assume she did and that she’s with Arc. They’re probably putting together a team to get us right now.”

“Another way on or off the island,” I say. “That’s also good news and bad news for us.”

“Well, with this,” Ash says, waggling the tablet gleefully, “we can see if anyone else is nearby.” She taps the screen with a flourish, and the tablet beeps. “We got tricks, too.”

“What’d you do?”

“I just sent our new identifier codes to our Links. Once we update Micah’s tracker script, we’ll be able to keep track of each other at a glance... and anyone else with either the old or new implants.”

I stare at the dots on the tablet screen. There should be one more. “Where’s Micah?”

Ash shakes her head. “Yeah, I was going to mention that. He’s not on either script.”

“I don’t understand.”

Reggie holds up Micah’s Link. “I can see him on this.”

“Right. But his tablet can’t seem to find him, whether with his script or Arc’s. It’s weird.”

“He did tell that checkpoint guard his implant was glitchy,” Kelly recalls. “That might explain the discrepancy.”

Ashley shrugs.

“Why didn’t Arc replace his implant, then?” I wonder.

“Maybe because he was so badly hurt?”

“Maybe.”

“So... the failsafe shouldn’t affect him then, either.”

“It’s possible. We just didn’t know it because he was already unconscious.”

“But wait, there’s more!” Ash goes on. She swipes the screen again and points. “See this bit of code here? And this one here?”

I nod, even though I have no idea what she’s trying to point out.

“I’ve found several dozen of these unique streams in the servers communications logs. They’re the ones I said where the language was quite distinct from either the tracking scripts or The Game’s codex. I’ve certainly never seen this kind of syntax before. It’s simple, but odd.”

“Any idea what they are?”

“Each of these scripts is less than fourteen thousand bits. They’re tiny. Moreover, they’re ninety-nine percent identical to each other.”

“Only fourteen thousand? That’s almost—”

“Like a virus?” Ash says. “That’s what I thought, too. And can you guess what the one percent difference between them is?”

“Our identifiers.”

“Bingo.”

“The failsafe?”

She takes in a deep breath. “Unfortunately, no.”

“You’re killing me.”

“I’m getting there. You see, these scripts repeat on a point-two millisecond interval.”

“Like a beacon.”

“More like a ping, making sure our implants are within communication range of a tower. Our Link devices do something similar. When a tower detects that it’s losing a feedback ping, it relays to your Link the addresses of nearby towers, sort of like a handshake protocol. That way, you’re always connected to the strongest signal. These are status scripts.”

“But you’ve found the failsafe script, right? Please tell me you’ve found it.”

“I went back and checked yesterday’s logs, where I found a different set of scripts. Their transmissions coincided exactly with when these status scripts stopped. When we were in the tunnel. These new scripts also had our identifiers. They’re the failsafe, and I think they were triggered to transmit when we went under the wall.”

“So, as long as we stay away from the wall, we’re good.”

“Yup. And do you know whose identifiers I didn’t find in the failsafe scripts?”

“Novak’s. Stephen’s.”

“Boy, you’re on a roll today, Jessie.”

“So, how do we defeat it? Do we hack the script and delete or alter the identifiers?”

“That might work. But there’s a problem with that. Arc’s got to be monitoring those streams, and they’ll know the moment the identifiers change. And what’s to keep them from changing them back?”

“We delete the scripts then.”

“And they reinstall them.

“Can we shut the servers down, block their transmission?”

“You read my mind, girl.”

“The moment we do that, Arc’s going to know,” Kelly warns. “You know they’re monitoring status. If this is a main pipeline between them and The Game, shutting it down will hit them where it hurts the most: the bank account. No Game, no Survivalist. No Survivalist, no advertising. We hit them, they’re bound to hit us back even harder.”

“Screw them,” I say.

“You really want to piss off Arc?”

“I want to destroy them.”

“Okay,” Ash says, rubbing her hands together gleefully. “Then we not only have to shut them down, we have to prevent them from resurrecting them.”

“But we don’t do anything until we’re ready to go. And we do it so they can’t just figure out an easy workaround. We need to be long gone, back on the mainland, before they have any chance of fixing or replacing them. And after we go to that authorities. That means we need Micah as strong as possible.”

“So, not today?” Reggie says.

“Keep working on this, Ash. I want to be absolutely certain this is where the failsafe scripts call home. Here and nowhere else. And see what else you can find on these servers. Maybe we can reconfigure those sub-streams to hide what we’re doing to buy us some time.”

“And what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to pay our guest a little visit.”

Chapter 14

Kelly follows me to my room. “We should skedaddle tonight. And I’m worried even that might be too late.”

“You think they’ll be coming for us so soon?”

“It’s been over twenty-four hours. They’re not just going to sit back and forget about us.”

“They don’t think we can leave. Also, they can track us anywhere on the Stream. They’re not going to panic respond. They’ll take their time planning their next move.”

“You’re willing to bet your life on that hunch?”

“I’m not willing to bet Micah’s. He’s still too unstable. According to his medLink, he had serious internal injuries. He was clearly too unstable to replace his implant.”

“That’s a guess. And anyway, that’s all the more reason to get back sooner rather than later. He needs to be in a hospital.”

“And what if Ashley’s wrong? What if we try shutting the servers down and it doesn’t work? Another failed try could kill them this time. We need to be absolutely certain. Those root files are the key.”

“Then as soon as she does—”

“Then we’ll discuss leaving.”

He’s clearly not happy about this, but I don’t have the patience for it. I try to step past him to get to INTERVIEW 1, but he stops me again. “And what about that girl, Tanya?” he asks.

“What about her?”

“We don’t know a thing about her. We can’t trust her. She could be a spy.”

“She’s not a spy. They did something to her when they put in her new implant. I think she might be brain damaged.”

“Then she needs a hospital, too. Let the doctors figure it out before it becomes irreversible.”

“Yeah, I agree. As soon as Ash gets the information she needs.”

“Is that all?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, are you sure you’re not hoping Ashley finds more on those servers?”

“Like proof of what Arc’s doing? Of course I am. We need to take Arc down.”

“Damn it, Jess. Forget about that! The sooner we can hightail it out of here, the better off we’ll be.”

“You’re beginning to sound like Micah.”

“Meaning?”

“Skedaddle. Hightail. You don’t use those words.”

“You’re changing the subject.”

I give a cardboard box on the floor a frustrated kick, and it flies into the corner, spilling out a couple dozen rock-hard granola bars. “Yes, I am changing the subject, Kelly, because I don’t want to talk about it. We have a plan. We leave when the time is right.”

“Okay. Okay. Sorry.”

“Are we done?”

He plucks the Vlassic jar off the pile of food, digs a couple fingers into the opening, and fishes out a decade-old pickle. It’s gray-green and limp and probably tasteless, which will make it the perfect complement to the stale Cool Ranch Doritos he chooses next.

Reggie had located several cases of assorted snacks in one of the upstairs restaurants, and for a while we were celebrating the find like he’d procured steak and potatoes. The Cheetos were the first to go, naturally. They were the only things that still had some flavor and texture left to them after being expired nearly a dozen years.

“Nice lunch,” I say. The pickle doesn’t look very appetizing.

Green juice runs down his arm. He gives the pickle a cautious sniff, then takes a bite. “It’s actually not bad.”

We’ve been eating canned and bottled and processed packaged foods for a day and already I’m starting to have fantasies about fresh fruit and vegetables and home cooked meals. I’d even woken up from my short sleep this morning with the taste of Eric’s meatloaf on my tongue. It’s not something I normally look forward to having at home, but I’d found myself wishing I had a big slab of it and some of his lumpy gravy. I could even smell his fresh-baked French bread. My stomach grumbled so loudly that I was sure everyone in the building heard it.

I knew I was smelling something as I laid there, but then I came to realize that it wasn’t meatloaf and bread, but the rancid aroma of dried up blood and entrails. A week ago I would’ve puked at the thought, but the strongest reaction it seemed to elicit was another long and loud stomach growl.

Kelly cracks open a warm beer and swirls it. He holds the bottle up to the light and watches the solids that settled out of it spin around before downing half of the bottle in one gulp. He lets out a long burp.

“Pig.”

“Better a pig than a sitting duck.”

“Okay, I get it. You’ve made your point.”

“I’d rather you hear it from me than someone else.”

“Who?” I ask.

“Jake’s itching to leave, too. He’s worried something big is going to happen soon.”

“He’s always worried. He needs to get over himself.”

“Can’t say I disagree with that, but I also think he’s right this time.”

“Reggie and Ash are working as fast as they can, getting us solid, workable information. Meanwhile, you and Jake are making decisions based on... intuition?”

“And what are you basing your decisions on, Jess?”

He puts his hand on my arm. I know he means it to be warm and reassuring. Instinctively, I want it to be. I want him to wrap me up and protect me. And yet it feels patronizing. The whole idea of us together is like a memory now, a habit or a craving I’m starting to lose. And that scares me.

I pull away.

“Kelly...”

“No, you’re right,” he says. I can hear the hurt in his voice. “You have a plan.”

He turns to go.

“We’ll leave as soon as Ash is certain,” I shout after him.

Chapter 15

I can’t face Stephen right now. I’m too agitated. I sit in my room for the next two hours and stew.

Kelly checks in to see how I’m doing. His palms are red and blistered from mopping the floors. I tell him he should get some rest.

“I’ll rest when I’m dead.”

“If that’s supposed to be funny, it’s not.”

He leaves, and soon I hear him washing the walls. It feels like he’s trying to make a point, like he thinks my delaying means we’re going to be here a while.

I find Reggie in Micah’s room. He’s sitting in the chair and struggling to stay awake. When he sees me, he rubs his hands on his face and sits up.

“What’re you doing in here?” I ask.

“Had to take a break from Ash,” he says. “She’s... grumpy.”

I know she can get a bit out of sorts. And if things aren’t going her way, she can be downright nasty.

“You probably don’t realize it, but she can be a total bitch sometimes.”

“Why would you think that?”

“You two being besties and all. But I see the dark side of her other people don’t.”

I smirk. “Is that any way to talk about our dear sweet princess?”

He snorts. “Well, to be fair, she said she needed a break from me, too.”

“You can be a little too much sometimes. Where is she now?”

“Last I saw her she was in with that chick.”

“Tanya. She has a name.”

“Right. I just forgot.”

“Well, she’s probably a better listener than you right now.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, she won’t try to offer advice. I should just learn to keep my damn mouth shut sometimes.”

“There’s your first mistake, thinking she takes advice. The second is not realizing you should keep your mouth shut all the time.”

“You know me better than that, Jess.”

“Right. So, other than that, how is she doing?”

“Still a space case.”

“Not Tanya. Ash.”

“Yeah, that’s who I meant.” His face reddens. “Don’t tell her I sad that.” He sighs and adds, “I think she’s depressed. To be honest, so am I.”

“We all are. But we need to move on those servers.”

“A person can only look at that shit for so long before they go buggy. Even Ash needs a break every once in a while. I don’t know how Micah does it.”

“He gets off on it. Has he woken up at all?”

“Yeah, once. Asked for some juice. Otherwise, brah’s been out the whole afternoon. He’s been snoring like a log.”

“Logs don’t snore. I think the saying is snoring like a dog. Or sawing logs. Something like that, anyway. If you want, I’ll take over sitting with him.”

He steps over to the door before turning. “I was thinking I’d go up and see if I can break into that Safari World upstairs. I think I saw some rifles hung up on the back wall.”

“They’re props, Reg. Last place you’ll find guns is an airport. That’s like finding a condom dispenser in the bathroom at St. Andrews Cathedral.”

He laughs. “Then maybe one of those long fishing knives with the serrated edges. Or a compound bow. They’re cool, right? I mean, chicks dig bows, right?” He pretends to draw an arrow and notch it. When he lets it go, I realize I must be even more tired than I realize, because I actually turn to see where the imaginary arrow ends up.

“Where we’re going, Reg, we won’t need it. Besides, if they catch you with that kind of contraband at one of the checkpoints, they’ll knock a year off your LSC, maybe two. But you know what we could use? Fresh clothes. Just nothing with a camouflage pattern.”

He gives the old filthy, torn jeans I’d put back on after my “bath” yesterday a nod. For a top, I’m wearing a white tee shirt off the rack of one of the airport shops. It’s already got brown smears on it from brushing up against the walls in the hallway.

“Will do,” he says.

“And see if they’ve got any better shoes than these,” I add, kicking off the rubber clogs he’d also gotten at the same shop as the tee. They’re so dry-rotted that they’re already cracking. “Size eights.”

He whistles. “Okay, Bigfoot.”

“Hey!”

“I just figured since Ash is a size six and all—”

“Yeah, because all girls have the same size feet, Reg. I’m surprised you even know a detail like Ashley’s shoe size. Most normal guys don’t have a clue about that kind of stuff.”

“I’m not normal.”

“You can say that again.”

“Yeah, well, the truth is, I actually didn’t know Ashley’s shoes size until we broke into the ‘Hello Kitty’ shop this morning so Ash could replace her Nikes.”

“What’s wrong with them?”

“They’re filthy.”

I roll my eyes.

“She was looking at these obnoxious pink things. But wouldn’t you know it? Not a size six in the place.”

“You hid them?”

“Not saying I did. Not saying I didn’t.”

“Well, I wouldn’t blame you,” I tell him. “How can you face the undead if you’re wearing hot pink shoes with a smiling cartoon cat on them?”

“If you’ve got a nine-inch gutting knife, you can pretty much wear anything you like. But to be honest, it’s not the undead I’m worried about.”

That sobers me up.

“We’ll get out of this, Jess. You’ll get us out of this.”

I give him a strained smile. My chest tightens and I want to cry. But I can’t. Not even when I think about my family— my stupid, psychotic brother, Eric, and my stupid, alcoholic mother, and my stupid, overbearing grandfather. I want nothing more right now than to be at home with them.

“I’ll try, Reg.”

He nods. “Okay then.”

I stare at the empty doorway, wondering again for the millionth time how it fell to me to lead this group. I never asked for it. I didn’t want it. I just did what needed to be done. But if the only other person willing to step up is Jake, then how can I say no? He’s likely to get us killed.

Who’s to say I won’t?

I sit and procrastinate with Micah. There’s a pile of paperback books on the floor, rescued from one of the newsstands upstairs. Real paper with printed words, not the kind where the pages flip on their own and the words zip by and are hot-linked to dictionary definitions or videos on the Government Stream, or Arc ads like the ones on Media.

I reach down and pull the book off the top of the stack. It’s an Emma Pattingsley thriller, Cutting Ties. Seems strangely relevant.

I open it and read the first line:

Nothing stoked Chicago Special Crimes Detective Norma Galveston’s fire more than a good old fashioned murder. Nothing, that is, save a man with slow hands.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I groan.

Before I know it, I’m asleep.

Chapter 16

I snap awake the moment I sense movement next to me. Before I even realize what I’m doing, I’m on my feet, swatting away the imaginary threats that had tormented me in my dreams. There’s a weak chuckle, and someone tells me to relax.

I spin around, disoriented. Micah’s in bed, but he’s sitting up. He reaches behind him to reposition his pillow, and his face twists in pain. “You were dreaming. You know you smack your lips when you sleep? And drool. It’s kind of cute.”

“What?”

My heart’s drumming around inside my chest. I take in a deep breath and try to calm down.

“I was worried you were having a nightmare.”

I was. It’s already fading. I remember bits and pieces of it, like being strapped to the table in INTERVIEW 1. The blade was coming down on my neck, falling fast, yet taking forever. I sure did a lot of thinking while waiting for my head to separate from my body. Maybe it’s true about time expanding right before you’re about to die.

I also remember craning my neck around and seeing a figure approaching the mirrored glass in the adjacent room. It was just a silhouette at first, stepping out of the darkness and into the light. And just before the ice-cold blade slices into me, his face comes into view. In that instant, everything changes. Suddenly, everything becomes clear.

But of course it’s too late for me to do anything about.

Micah lifts a shaky hand from his lap, grunting with effort. I hurry over, ready to help him with the cup of apple juice on the table next to him. But he waves it away, and instead rubs his palm on his cheek. It makes a dry, raspy sound.

“You need a shave.” My voice shakes. My heart’s still racing, and I haven’t yet caught my breath. The dream’s almost gone now. That’s all it was, a dream, nothing more. I give him a smile. “Glad to see you’re awake and sitting up. Nice to have you back. I mean, you are back, aren’t you? How are you feeling?”

He glances around at the room, checks his arms and the old bruises on them, now just jaundiced shadows of their former selves. I can see he’s trying to understand, to remember what happened. I can see it in his body language, how he’s arguing with the voice inside his head and refusing to accept that this is real. He’s really at home and it’s almost time for school. If he could just wake up...

I know the feeling.

But the truth is all around us. It’s undeniable.

“Okay,” he croaks. “Talk to me.”

I check the time on my Link. It’s Saturday evening, more than a week since we first attempted to break into LI. Five days since the bombs nearly killed us. Thirty-six plus hours since we tried to escape. It seems forever ago. This place just doesn’t seem to want to let us go.

“What do you remember?” I ask. “The last thing?”

He gives me a blank look. He spends the next couple of minutes opening his mouth, trying to speak, then saying nothing. His face twists from the effort of remembering. “Where are we? What happened to me? I feel like shit. Was there... an accident or something? Is my car—”

I chuckle. “You asked about that the last time, too.”

“I did? I don’t remember.”

“Your car’s fine, as far as I know. Stop worrying about it.”

“But there was an accident?”

“Yes. Of sorts. You were badly hurt.”

He leans his head back and groans. “Yeah, I guessed that. I just wish—”

“Don’t force it. It’ll come back when you’re ready.”

“I’d rather you just told me.”

“I will. But I want to give you time to come up with it on your own.”

He lifts an arm and sniffs. “Pew! I could use a shower. And I’m starving. How long since I’ve eaten anything? Could really go for some hot and spicy chicken from Golden Dragon.”

I grin. Yeah, he’s back. Same old Micah. Maybe not all the way back — that may never happen, considering the trauma he sustained — but enough that I can see his old self peeking through. I knew I missed him, I just hadn’t realized how much.

“You fly, I’ll buy,” he proposes, cocking open one eye.

“Good luck with that.”

“Anything. I’ll even eat their stinky fried rice.”

“Tell you what. How about a classic Red Bull and some twelve-year-old beef jerky?”

He doesn’t seem to make the connection. “Sure. Give me a double order of both.”

“Just pretend it’s Golden Dragon’s spicy chicken.”

“Right.” He studies me, waiting. I know he’s hoping I’ll dish out more details, but my intuition keeps sending me warning flares, signaling me to hold back. I don’t want him to relapse again.

He raises his arm. The skin’s dry. He flexes his fingers and winces.

“Where’s the bathroom?” he asks. “I feel like it’s been a week since I peed.”

“Pretty much has been. On your own, anyway.”

“What the...?” He reaches beneath the sheet. “What the fuck?”

Again, I know exactly how he feels— humiliated, furious. “We’ll get it out as soon as you’re back on your feet.”

“But...”

I imagine that if it was Reggie in Micah’s place, he’d probably make some crude joke about the length of his tube.

“Can’t have you peeing the bed.”

He gives it a tug, and I can see the moment the switch gets flipped inside his head. “No!” he says, his voice rising in dismay. “I want this out of me now. Seriously, Jess, you go tell the nurse right the fuck now to take it out. I don’t need this shit inside of me!”

“Okay, okay. Just... calm down.”

“I will not calm down! Get the goddamn nurse!”

“There is no nurse, Micah.”

“What?”

“Look, I’ll explain everything. In time. And we’ll get the catheter out. But first, let me get you something to eat.”

“Fuck food! Take this fucking—”

“Micah. Stop.”

I get him to eat half a Slim Jim and a few stale crackers. He finishes another box of juice, then waves the rest off. “Okay. I’ve eaten. Can you please just get someone to take this damn thing out of me? I need to pee.”

“Okay, we’ll get it out now, but it’s going to have to be me. There’s no one else. Or you can do it yourself.”

“I don’t... You can’t...” He stammers a bit, then tells me he’ll do it himself.

“You know how?”

“Of course I don’t fucking know how!”

I give him a fresh syringe from the supplies Kelly brought back from the medical cart on the tram and instruct him on how to remove the catheter. When he’s ready, I close the curtain to give him some privacy.

The next few minutes are a graduate level course on grunts, hisses, and curse, plus a few strongly worded recommendations for the person who put the catheter in him. I don’t tell him she’s already dead.

“How’re you doing in there?”

“How the fuck do you think I’m doing? I’ve got a freaking— Jesus Christ, this thing’s long. What the hell are they trying to do, tap my tonsils with it?”

“Can I come back in?”

“What do I do with it?”

“I’ll take it.”

“Seriously? It’s... dripping.”

I’ve had my arm up to the elbow squishing around inside a dead woman’s chest, so a little pee isn’t going to make me squeamish. Of course, I don’t tell him any of that. I just open up the plastic trash bag and he drops it in.

“Still feel like I have to pee.”

“Yeah, I know. It’ll feel like that for a while. And when you do go, it’ll burn.”

He swings his legs over the side of the bed. I tell him to take it easy.

“Where are my clothes?”

I shake my head. “They didn’t make it.”

So he clutches the sheet around him and tries to stand. More grunts and hisses ensue, and when he lets go of the bed and tries to take a step, he yelps and falls back. “How far was that? Felt like a marathon.”

“It’s a start. You want something more to eat?”

“I want to know what happened to me. Where are we? Where are the doctors and nurses?” He stares at the wall for a moment. “Were there computers in here before? I remember computers.”

“The room next door. We decided to move you.”

“Why the hell was I in a room with computers?” He frowns and turns toward the deep part of the room. “And there was someone else, another bed.”

I spend the next half hour or so giving him the basics, answering his questions. I study his reactions to make sure I’m not overwhelming him. He just seems so... fragile. I tell him again that we were all in an accident, that we’re all alive and recovering, but I don’t give him the specifics. “You were hurt the worst, but it looks like you’ll be just fine, as long as you don’t overdo it.”

His face pinches as he tries to remember. Then his eyes widen. “There was water, all around us. We were in a boat.”

I nod.

“It was a rental. We were in... East Harlem?”

Another nod. It’s coming back to him a lot quicker than I’d expected. I can see he’s getting agitated, so I tell him he needs to rest.

“No. I remember. We were waiting for Kelly and Jake. I remember... the planes.” He bolts upright, and his face pales. “Bombs. They bombed us. How did we...?”

“Someone rescued us. Sent us to the hospital, New York Medical.”

The strain on his face intensifies. “This isn’t NYMC.”

“No. But listen, you’re exhausted. No more talk until after you’ve slept.”

“I am tired,” he admits.

“Then rest. It’s very important.”

He closes his eyes, and within seconds he’s snoring.

Chapter 17

“Help!”

I tumble out of my cot and race into the hallway. The cry comes again from Micah’s room.

I find Reggie already there. He’s pulling Jake off the bed. “Stop it!” he shouts.

“What the hell is going—”

“Get off of me,” Jake bellows. He tries to bat Reggie’s hands off of him. Micah’s on the bottom of the pile, struggling. He’s the one calling for help.

“Jake!” I scream. “Both of you get off of Micah! What the hell are you doing?”

Reggie takes an elbow to the chin. He staggers back a couple steps, then reaches forward and lifts Jake by the waist of his pants and flings him to the floor like he’s a bag of dirty laundry.

Micah falls out of bed and scampers over to the wall. He doesn’t seem to be aware of the fact that he’s completely naked. He continues to thrash and kick, as if he believes he’s still being attacked.

Jake tries to stand up, but Reggie pushes him back with a warning to stay down. I yell at them to stop, but they don’t hear me. Ashley rushes into the room. She sees the chaos, then spots Micah. She bends down to calm him, and he pushes her into the wall. She ends up on the floor in a daze.

Reggie bleats out her name, and he’s by her side in an instant. She waves him off. “It was an accident. He didn’t mean it.” A bruise is already starting to form on her cheek.

“Everyone calm down!” I shout.

But nobody listens. Jake tackles Reggie in the back, shoving him onto the bed and knocking it into Micah. I pull Ash out of the way and into the hallway before she gets hurt again.

“You son of a bitch,” Reggie snarls at Jake. “Teach you to sucker punch me like that!”

“Stop!” I scream. “ALL OF YOU STOP IT RIGHT NOW!”

“Tell him!” Jake yells. “He attacked me first!”

“You were attacking Micah!”

“He was freaking out! That’s what I was trying to tell you! I was trying to—”

I pull on Reggie. He’s too heavy for me to lift off of Jake, but he yields and stands up.

Jake follows. His face is bright red. Everything about him, from his fists to his face, screams pent up rage.

Micah’s still on the floor, curled up in the corner as if he’s terrified. He rocks back and forth with his fingers laced behind his head and his elbows squeezed together. He’s trying to speak, but it’s coming out nonsense.

“Everyone just needs to calm down,” I tell them.

“I was calm,” Jake declares. He points at Micah. “He’s the one who needed calming!”

“Because you were attacking him!”

“He was dreaming. I tried to wake him up, but he started kicking and punching, so I—”

“You’re not supposed to wake up someone who’s dreaming!”

“Stop, please,” I beg.

I bend down to check on Micah. “Hey. You okay?”

I turn to Reg. “Can you help me get him back in bed?”

He gets Micah’s arms and lifts, but Micah refuses to stand. He’s dead weight, a tight ball of quivering muscle and bone. We finally wrestle him back onto the bed. Reggie tries to cover him up with the sheet, but Micah starts freaking out again. His body goes completely rigid. The bed sheet goes flying.

“What the hell is wrong with him?” Jake demands.

“Why don’t you leave?” Reggie demands. He glares at Jake, but I get the feeling he’s talking to all of us.

“Is he going to be okay?” Ashley asks from the doorway. She’s clutching at the frame, trembling. There’s now a thin line of blood trickling from a small cut in her hairline above her left eyebrow. “What’s happening to him?”

“Jesus, Ash. You’re hurt.”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Reggie says. “Let Jessie take care of that.”

“I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s wrong with Micah.”

“We don’t know, sweetie,” I say.

Micah still hasn’t said a coherent word, and he doesn’t seem to recognize any of us. Or even that we’re here.

“Hand me that sheet,” Reggie says. “Not you,” he snaps at Jake. “You stay away from us.”

“I was trying to help,” Jake gripes. “He was thrashing about. I thought he might hurt himself.”

“So you decided to use your body to restrain him?”

“What else was I supposed to do? I thought he was going to fall out of bed.”

“Maybe call someone else in here to help?” Ashley suggests.

“Why were you even in here?” Reggie wants to know. “You’re supposed to be downstairs watching the tunnel.”

“Reg, please. Stop screaming,” I say.

“What, I’m not allowed to be here?” Jake cries. “What the hell is it with you guys? Why are you all treating me like this?”

“Like what?”

“Like some kind of pariah!”

“What do fish have to do with anything?”

“Not piranha, Reg,” I say.

“Yeah, stupid.”

“Hey!” Ashley yells at Jake. “Stop it!”

“You all hate me!”

“We don’t hate—”

“Yes, you do! Just because I’m not like you doesn’t mean I deserve this!”

“First of all, you—”

“Reggie,” I hiss. “That’s enough!”

Reggie waves a meaty finger in Jake’s face. He wants to say something, but he keeps it to himself.

“Look,” Jake says, “I’m sorry about what happened in the tunnel. I didn’t plan or want to get left behind. And I’m sorry you all had to come back for me and got stuck here. I’m sorry you all got hurt. How many times do I have to say it? I am sorry!”

“You think we’re going to let you off the hook that easy?” Reggie demands. “Not a freaking chance.”

“Damn it, Reggie. I said enough. Both of you! Whatever this is, put it aside. We need to work together.”

Reggie and Jake glower at each other.

I turn to Jake. “What were you doing in here in the first place? Who’s watching the tram tunnel?”

“Kelly’s down there. He gave me a break. I was in the hallway going to get something to eat when I heard Micah call out. I thought he needed something, so I came in. He was standing over against the wall there. I knew something was wrong, because he was... you know, naked. And he was shaking.”

“You just said he was in bed freaking out. Which is it?”

“He was. I mean—”

“And what happened next?” I prod.

“I asked him where he was trying to go, and he said he had to go to the bathroom.”

“He said that? He was awake and said he needed to use the bathroom when you came in?”

“He wasn’t awake.”

“How do you know?”

“Because he was...”

“What?”

“Going to the bathroom. On the floor. He was sleepwalking. Or... sleep peeing.”

“Bullshit.”

“It’s a thing! I know, because I used to do it when I was little.”

“Well, that explains a lot,” Reggie grumbles.

“Stop, Reg.”

“I cleaned it up and got him back in bed. That’s when he started freaking out.”

“What, just out of the blue he freaks out?” Reggie asks. “You must’ve said or done something to—”

“Why won’t you believe me?” he cries. He storms out before anyone can say anything else.

“It’s not his fault, Jess,” Ashley finally says. She touches her eyebrow. I can tell it hurts. It’s starting to swell now. She’ll be lucky if she doesn’t get a black eye. “He’s doing the best he can, just like the rest of us are. He’s just a kid, for god’s sake.”

“We’re all kids, Ash! I mean, my god, he’s your age, for crying out loud! You’re not going around causing problems.”

“Or maybe he’s not the problem, Jessie!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I mean maybe you’re putting a lot of pressure on everyone but yourself!”

This stops me dead in my tracks.

“Listen,” Reggie quietly says, “we’re all tired. We all want to leave. We’re all tense. And we’re all trying our best, even Jessie.”

“But what if our best isn’t good enough?” Ashley wails.

“Is there something you’re not telling me?” I ask.

“Maybe we should just shut the servers down right now. Just cut off all the sub-streams and get out of here. Micah’s clearly healthy enough to survive the journey. We get back and take him straight to the hospital and—”

“And what if we’re wrong?” I ask. “What if shutting them down doesn’t work?”

“Why would you even think that, Jessie?”

“It just seems too easy.”

“And sometimes you make things harder than they need to be! Yesterday, you were certain this would work. Now you’re not?”

“If we’re wrong, and we flip the switch and something bad happens, what then? One or more of us could die.”

“Why are you so worried about it? You and Kelly are going to be fine either way.”

“I don’t see it that way. We’re all in this together.”

“Maybe you should just leave, get on with your lives.”

“Yeah, I don’t like that plan,” Reggie says.

I look over and Micah’s eyes are open and focused. He seems aware. I wonder how much he’s heard.

“What do you need to be absolutely certain, Ash?”

“Time. I need time.”

“Then take it.”

“We don’t have time!” Reggie cries. “We’ve already been here a day and half. They’re going to be coming for us!”

“And we’ll know, Reg. Between the new tracker and the blocked doors, they’re not going to take us by surprise.”

“I think you’re wrong.”

“Well, you put me in charge, Reg. Remember? I’m not going to take any chances if it means one or more of us gets killed.”

“Keeping us here is going to get us all killed.”

“A few more hours,” I tell him.

“I can’t,” Ashley complains.

“A few more hours?” Reggie sputters. “Fine. Whatever we’ve got then will just have to be good enough.”

“Go get some rest.”

“If we’re not gone by nightfall,” he growls, “I’m taking the damn tram and leaving, with or without you people. I don’t give a crap anymore. I just can’t take another day here.”

He stomps out, leaving me and Ashley alone with Micah.

“I tried, Ash.”

She nods. “I guess I better figure out those scripts.”

Chapter 18

Monday morning arrives all too soon. Reggie hasn’t followed through on his threat to leave, but I feel if we don’t leave today, I’ll definitely have a mutiny on my hands. For better or worse, today’s the day. At best, Ashley’s only sixty percent certain this is going to work. It’s far less than I’d prefer, but I keep it to myself.

I check on Micah. He’s still asleep; no more strange episodes like last night’s. Reggie was supposed to be sitting with him, but he’s nowhere in sight, and I have a brief panic attack. But Ashley’s still in the server room, and I know he would never leave her behind, no matter what he might have said.

Instead, I find Kelly in Reggie’s place. He’s crashed in the chair next to the bed, snoring almost in sync with Micah.

I leave them alone and hurry out to the outer hallway and the bathrooms. The smell hits me the moment I open the door. Without water, we can’t flush. I try for a good ten minutes, but I can’t pee. I’m feeling too anxious. I can’t decide if I need to cry or scream or laugh.

I’ve been avoiding Stephen, avoiding coming to some decision about what to do with him. I’ve been checking in on him visually through the window in OBSERVATION 1, but this time, upon passing INTERVIEW 1, I go in.

He turns to me and the corner of his mouth curls up in a sneer.

“Thought you’d all left without me.”

“Shut the hell up.”

“So, still trying to figure out my failsafe, eh?”

“Nope.”

“Gave up already? That’s too bad.”

“I came in here to tell you we’re leaving. We figured out how to disable your stupid failsafe.”

His face reveals nothing.

“Just thought I’d give you one last chance to come clean. You know, before the police come and take you away. How many years do you reckon they’ll tack on to your LSC? Better yet, how much time do you think you’ve got left?”

He nods, thoughtfully. “What else is there to tell you, if you’ve already figured out how to defeat my scripts?”

“What did you inject into me? What was in that syringe?”

“Nothing.”

“Don’t you fucking lie to me!”

“You want the truth? How’s this: Whatever you’re attempting to do, it won’t work. In fact, it’ll probably kill your friends. Almost certainly, actually.”

“Once we shut down the servers, your damn failsafe script won’t work.”

I study his face, searching for any reaction. I think I see a flicker in his eyes, but it’s uninterpretable.

“Go ahead then. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“Everything you’ve told us is a lie.”

“I never lied to you. I’m not lying now.”

“Says the pathological liar.”

He shrugs and doesn’t push the issue. He just stares at me.

“God! Fine, tell me why it won’t work.”

“Wouldn’t it be more rewarding if you figure it out yourselves?”

I circle the table and come to a stop behind his head. The uprights frame his body. I give the contraption a rattling shake and he flinches and pales. “Or you could just tell me.”

He coughs. “Don’t suppose I could get some water. Throat’s a bit sore.”

“It’s about to get a whole lot sorer if you don’t start talking right now.” I give the guillotine a more vigorous shake, and my heart skips a beat when I think the blade might actually fall.

“I really have to go to the bathroom.”

“Stop procrastinating. Tell me now, because once I walk through that door, I won’t come back.”

He says nothing.

I finish my circuit and head for the door. “You can lie in your own piss, for all I care.”

As the door shuts behind me, I hear him say, “You’ll be back.”

* * *

WHEN I GET TO MICAH’S room, it’s as if my prayers have been answered. He’s awake and alert. Most importantly, he’s calm. I knock Kelly’s chair with my foot, and he jumps up in surprise. “Way to keep watch, Kel.”

“Just closed my eyes for a second, I promise.”

“Can you go find everyone? We need to talk.”

“About?”

“It’s time to leave.”

“Finally.” He hurries out.

“Do you remember anything from last night?” I ask Micah.

“Last night?” He frowns.

“We had to wrestle you back into bed.”

His eyes widen. “No.”

“Okay, do you remember anything we said?”

The frown deepens. “The last thing I remember is us sitting at home tracking Kelly and Jake on my tablet. I’m assuming it worked, because Kelly’s here and... Did we rescue Jake?”

I nod. “He’s with us here.”

“And where is here exactly? What happened? Why am I so sore all over?”

“You honestly don’t remember? I told you the other day.”

“No.” He starts to shake his head. “I feel like there’s this fog inside my head. It comes and goes. I’m trying to see through it, but everything’s just vague shapes and notions. The stuff farther off is clear. It’s all the near stuff I just can’t seem to make out.”

“Perhaps it’s for the best for now. It’s a lot to process.”

“Okay...”

“All you need to know is that we’re leaving soon. We’ll tell you the rest once were back home and safe.”

“We’re not safe now?”

I purse my lips.

He gives the room another scan, his expression growing more worried by the second. He sniffs the air, but thanks to Kelly, the scent of blood and gore are gone, replaced by bleach. It actually does smell a little like a hospital.

“Are we back on the island?”

I don’t answer. But I don’t need to. He can tell from my face that we are.

“How?”

“I promise, we’ll tell you everything soon. It’s a long story, and we’ve got a lot to do to get ready to leave.”

“And where are we leaving from?”

“LaGuardia Airport.”

He blinks a few times in astonishment.

“Do you feel strong enough to stand? And walk?”

“Stand, yes. Walk, depends on how far I guess.”

“Not far. Just down a couple sets of stairs. Do you need to... use the bathroom?”

He shakes his head.

“I’ll have Reggie come in if you need help getting dressed. We got you some new clothes. Your old ones were ruined.”

I toss him the rugged cargo pants and work shirt that Reggie and Ashley found in his size at the outdoor store upstairs. Micah makes a face, but doesn’t complain. He prefers sweatpants and tee shirts, and typically shuns anything that even suggests he might have a life out in the real world.

When I return with Reg, Micah’s got the pants on, but he’s gasping for air like he’s just run sprints.

“Kind of feel like I do need to pee,” he says.

“Just means the plumbing’s back to normal,” I remark. “You had a catheter in for a few days. You do remember that, don’t you?”

He shakes his head. I see him wince, and he reaches up to the back of his neck. “What’s the bandage for?”

“I think they might’ve tried to replace your implant.”

“What? Why?”

“Don’t worry. They didn’t.”

When the boys return from the bathroom, Micah settles heavily into a chair for a rest. I bring him some water, which he gulps down. He eagerly accepts the package of Slim Jims I offer next. His hands shake as he tries to open the package. I have to help him.

When he’s downed two in a row and had another bottle of water, he asks if we know where his Link might be.

As Reggie pulls it out of his back pocket, it slips from his grip. Before it hits the floor, Micah snatches it out of midair.

“Guess you’re feeling better,” I say.

“Reflexes,” he says.

I’m glad, but also worried. His physical recovery is progressing remarkably quickly, far faster than I could’ve hoped for. It’s his mental recovery that’s got me concerned. He keeps making advances, but then he regresses again.

I pull Reggie out into the hallway and ask how he did on his trip to the bathroom.

“Couldn’t go. But he’ll be strong enough to walk downstairs, with help. Not much farther, I’m afraid.”

“That’s all we need. He can sit once we’re on the tram.”

“Yeah, about that,” Ashley says, exiting the server room. Her eyes are bloodshot, and her hair’s a mess. She looks exhausted. “That’s not going to work.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean we can’t leave.”

Chapter 19

“What do you mean we can’t leave?” I demand. “What’s the problem?”

“I’ve been analyzing these sub-streams, the ones with our identifier codes in them.”

“The pings or the failsafe scripts?”

“The failsafes.”

“What about them?”

“Remember how I told you I hadn’t located the root files? Well, I’ve scoured the entire database, and now I’m certain. They’re not there.”

“There has to be root files to run the script. Or are they self-contained? Maybe they’re just more like viruses than we thought.”

“No, they’re too small to run on their own. There’s nothing executable in those scripts, just information. They’re nothing without the root files.”

“Could they be using the ArcWare codex? Maybe they’re parasitizing off The Game’s programming.”

“I mean, that’s possible, but unlikely, given how different the script language is with the codex. But that’s the thing. Even if they were somehow able to communicate with the codex, there aren’t any root files for the codex on these servers, either.”

“Are you saying the executable files reside somewhere else?”

She nods.

“In our implants?” I ask, hopefully.

She winces. “Maybe.” She doesn’t seem so sure.

“Okay, so we can’t touch the root files. We can still knock out the failsafe scripts themselves by shutting the servers down. Destroying them will have the same effect. Won’t it?”

“It might.”

“We won’t get another chance at this. The moment we shut these servers down, Arc is going to go ballistic.”

“I know. But I’ve been giving it some thought. What if there was a way to test it first? You know, before we fully commit.”

“Wouldn’t they still know?”

“Probably. But there’s much less of a chance if I test just one of the streams.”

“Obliterating one script will still leave a hole in their main stream. They’ll notice that just as easily as five.”

“Not if I dub in a copy of one of the other sub-streams to take its place.”

“A duplicate? We don’t know what effect doubling up might have on us.”

“True, but—”

“Why not put in a fake identifier?”

“They’d definitely notice that, especially since there wouldn’t be a pingback.”

“Okay, then whose?”

“Mabel’s. We dub hers in place of one of ours. If there’s a bad effect, it won’t matter. It’s not like we can kill her again.”

“Or resurrect her. Yes,” I say, growing excited. “It might just work.”

“But if you can dub it in for one of ours,” Reggie asks, “then why not dub it in for all of them?”

“I think they’d notice that. I mean, they still might if we mess with just one copy, but—”

“But it’s a lot less likely,” I finish. “Okay. Who do you have in mind?”

“Reggie?”

“Sure.”

“You sure about that?” I ask.

He nods. “Kelly can go with me on the tram. We’ll go only far enough into the tunnel to make sure we know this works.”

“The moment you start showing any symptoms—”

“If I do,” he says, “then we’ll turn around. And if I don’t, then you all need to be ready to leave the instant we get back.”

Ashley nods and starts swiping through the screens on Micah’s tablet.

“No, wait” I say, reconsidering. “On second thought, let’s use Jake instead.”

“Why him?”

“He’s been complaining about us not trusting him, not including him.”

“Or is it because you think this is risky?” Reggie asks.

“Of course it’s risky. I’d volunteer myself, except it wouldn’t prove anything.”

Ashley takes a deep breath. “Aren’t you worried Jake’ll think he’s the lab rat?”

“I’ll just have to sell it. I’ll tell him I wanted Reggie wanted to go, but then I chose him instead.”

“You chose him over me? He’ll eat that right up.”

* * *

I TELL KELLY WHAT WE’RE planning. He seems skeptical, and wonders if we’ve already wasted too much time. “This is going to take hours to verify.”

“One, maybe. Two at the most. We need to be sure it works.”

“All right. If you think it’s necessary. I’ve always trusted your instinct.”

“No, you haven’t.”

He looks hurt.

“Well, you shouldn’t.”

“And you should have more confidence in yourself, Jess. I know you’re doing what you think is best for all of us.”

“But am I?”

“I’ll ping you as soon as we get on the tram. Let Ash know. She mustn’t swap out the identifier scripts until then. I’ll take him as far as we went the other day.”

“You shouldn’t even have to go that far, Kelly. But either way, you get back here as soon as you know one way or the other. And if Jake starts showing even the slightest symptom — headache, nausea, sleepiness — then you turn right around.”

“Let’s hope it won’t come to that.”

I know he’s trying to be optimistic, but there’s a grim look in his eye. I think he secretly doesn’t believe this will work.

He doesn’t understand that I need it to.

Chapter 20

“Jess? Psst, you here?”

“Reggie?”

He appears out of the gloom.

“What’re you doing down here?” I ask.

“She’s awake. That girl, she’s awake.

I’ve been sitting down here on one of the baggage carousels since I sent Kelly and Jake off. It’s been only twenty minutes, and I want to feel optimistic, but a sense of foreboding hovers over me.

“What girl? You mean Tanya?”

“Yeah, her,” he says. “She just snapped out of it all of a sudden, whatever fog she was in. One second she was there, staring at the wall, just like always. The next, she’s asking for food. It was weird, like someone flipped a switch in her head.”

“Where is she now?”

“Ash is with her.”

I check my Link. Still no word from Kelly. But then again, he’d be out of signal range by now. It’s good news that he didn’t return right away, but the longer he’s gone, the more worried I get.

“Why is Ash with her? She’s supposed to be watching the streams.”

“She was. Or is. I got Tanya some cookies and juice, then headed down to tell you. You know Ash can multitask, right?”

“And Tanya can sit tight. This is more important than making sure she’s not hungry.”

“Yeah, well, she’s asking for you.”

“Me? By name?”

“No, the ‘skinny girl who’s in charge’ is what she said.”

“Damn it.”

“No one’s going to come through here while Kelly’s in the tunnel. And he’ll ping the first chance he gets.”

I reluctantly head back upstairs with Reggie.

We find Tanya back in her room, sitting on the edge of her bed. Ashley’s with her, the tablet in one hand, a bag of Doritos in the other. Tanya reaches in and grabs a handful and shovels the chips into her mouth.

“It was so strange,” she says, talking with her mouth full. Bits and pieces of stale chips spray from her mouth. “It wasn’t like I was asleep. I mean, I was, like, sort of aware of stuff happening around me. Like I was in a trance. Hypnotized.”

Four or five empty chip bags litter the bed, along with a couple cans of soda and coffee. She takes a swig from another can in her hand and croons about how good everything tastes. “I am so totally starving! I haven’t eaten in, like, whole days.” She roots around in the bag and comes up empty. “Is there anymore?”

“You might want to slow down,” I advise. “You’ll make yourself sick. Or at least eat something a little more nutritious.”

Although lately nutritious is relative.

Ashley rolls her eyes and murmurs something about me being the house mother. It’s this old thing between us. She says I’m like the female version of Kelly, which is why we’re so good for each other.

Tanya turns around, and her eyes widen in surprise. “I knew it was you!” she exclaims. “I mean, I could see you, and I recognized you, but my mind was, like, ‘I know her.’ Except I couldn’t place—” She gasps and starts choking.

“Ash, aren’t you supposed to be watching—”

“I remember what you and those boys did to that woman!” Tanya exclaims.

“What woman?” Reggie asks.

“I saw all of you! You killed her!”

“What you saw was us killing a zombie.”

Tanya’s gaze flicks between me and Ashley and Reg. She looks genuinely confused. She even leans away from Ashley. “You’re joking, right? I mean, is this... Are we in a simulation?”

“No. No simulation. This is real life.”

“You... killed...”

“A zombie. That’s right. But don’t worry. We’re not going to hurt you. I promise you that. None of us here is, anyway. But you are in danger. We all are. There are people out there who want to hurt us very badly.”

“You’re joking, right?”

“No, we’re not joking. We’re working on a plan to get away from here and get back home again.”

I turn my attention back to Ashley. “Any word on our experiment?”

She holds up the tablet. “So far, so good.”

“And who’s watching the servers?”

“I am. I’m mirroring the transmission logs.”

“I’d rather you kept an eye on them directly.”

She frowns, but she gets up and walks out.

“Okay then, Tanya, I’m here.”

“I knew I recognized you.”

“Yes, I know. Can you tell me what else you remember about how you got here and what was done to you?”

“Why should I trust you?”

“Because we’re in this together. These people were going to kill us, so anything you can tell us could be helpful.”

“Easy, Jess. You’re scaring her,” Reggie warns.

“I’m not scaring her anymore than she already is. This is important.”

“I’m just saying.”

I sigh. “Can you go back downstairs and watch the tunnel? Kelly and Jake should be on their way back by now.”

Worry pinches his face. He gives me the same look Ashley did, but he obeys. “Sure. No problemo.”

After he’s gone, I ask Tanya again to tell me what she remembers.

“I was telling— Ashley? Is that her name? I always liked that name. And she’s so pretty. She could definitely be a model. Or a movie star.”

“You were telling her?”

“I was telling Ashley that the only other person I remember seeing for sure before all this was that woman, the one you... The one you killed.”

“There was a different woman. Novak. And two men. One of them’s named Stephen. Do you remember them?”

She frowns. “No. It’s all jumbled. And bits and pieces. I feel like I’ve been drugged.”

“That woman you remember. She was a nurse. She worked for Arc, and they were doing experiments on us. The nurse — Mabel was her name — they injected her with a new form of the Reanimation virus. She turned into a zombie.”

I leave out the part where I was the one who killed her in the first place, before she reanimated.

“After we got back here from trying to escape the first time, she attacked us.”

Tanya shakes her head. “This is all too confusing. She wasn’t a nurse. And she was alive.”

“Well, she died, and came back.”

“Are we in Gameland? Are we dead, too?”

“No, we’re not dead! We’re not in a simulation, and it’s not VR. We’re on Long Island, but in a part outside of Gameland. They brought us here to do experiments on us.”

“I don’t understand then. How can there be undead if we’re not in Gameland?”

“Because they’re injecting people with the virus!” I say in exasperation. “We somehow got caught up in it.”

She shakes her head again. “No. I know what this is. It’s an audition, isn’t it?” She brightens up. “It’s a pilot for a new show!”

“Audition?”

“Yes. That woman said I was auditioning for a new show and this is it! It’s a spinoff of Survivalist. And we’re going to be on it!”

Now I remember. Tanya had mentioned to me the day we met on the bus coming back from Hartford that she was an aspiring actress, the day I’d borrowed her Link to ping Kelly. She’d also mentioned her day job. It was with Arc, but what the heck was it?

I wrack my brain. Some sort of office worker in one of their satellite offices, I think. But she was only keeping the job, despite the long commute to and from New York, because she thought it’d get her foot in the door of Arc Entertainment.

And now she was in— foot, leg, body... and brain. I doubt this is what she had envisioned.

“I’m sorry to tell you she lied. It’s not for a show. We’re not auditioning.” I pause, realizing that both of those things I’m denying are actually, in a sense, exactly what’s happening to us. Arc’s prepping us for entry into the biggest show in New Merica. “We’re prisoners and unless we can get out of here soon, things are going to get a whole lot worse for us.”

She blinks a few times, confused. She looks almost disappointed. After a moment she crumples the empty bag and reaches for her soda. “These are so much better ice cold. Just, you know, FYI.”

“Just FYI,” I grunt, “we’re in the middle of a crisis, and I need you to be serious.”

“You don’t have to yell.”

“I’m sorry. But I need you to remember.”

“That woman,” she says, hesitantly. “You said her name was Mabel? She told me it was... Trixie, I think. Yeah. I remember thinking she didn’t look like a Trixie. Anyway, she came in right in the middle of my reading. Just totally messed me up.”

“Reading?”

“For a part on this new show. My boss got me the audition, even gave me the day off because it was spur of the moment. Anyway, I remember thinking, ‘How rude is that?’ I was really channeling the character, and it got me all flustered so that I flubbed my lines. I thought for sure I’d lost the part.”

“Then what happened?”

“I was standing there like an idiot. The woman walked straight over to the casting director and flashed her Link. The next thing I knew, she was telling me she was a talent scout for Survivalist, and that I was exactly what they were looking for. So, off we went in her car. It was real fancy, like a small limousine. It had dark windows and a little refrigerator in the back seat. She gave me some champagne. But now that I think about it, I think there was something in it, because things got really weird after that. I remember asking her where we were going. She said Arc’s headquarters, but we ended up getting out at some yucky looking warehouses and went down into the basement.”

“I think it might’ve been the other end of the tunnel under the river. Foxhurst. That’s how they brought you here.”

“Yes, Foxhurst! So, she wasn’t from Arc?”

“Oh, she was from Arc all right, but she wasn’t a talent scout.”

Tanya winces.

“What?” I ask.

“I just remembered that she punched me in the face.” She touches her cheek.

I do better with people than with machines. That’s what Mabel had claimed. Guess that was a lie, too. What kind of nurse lures women into basements and sucker punches them?

The kind of person who’s willing to sell another person to Arc as a Volunteer.

And the kind of person willing even to sell herself.

“What else do you remember?”

“In the car, she kept asking me questions about someone named Kelly. I told her I didn’t know chick named Kelly. You see, I thought she was talking about a woman, but it turns out it was a guy. But no matter what I said, she wouldn’t believe me.”

I check my Link to see if he’s tried to ping. Forty minutes have passed since they left. Assuming everything goes as hoped — and it’s starting to look like it is — they should be back in another twenty.

“She said I did know him because I tried to ping him recently. She showed me the record on my Link. I didn’t even know how his contact information got on there.”

“It’s my fault. Kelly’s my boyfriend.”

“You? You planted it on my Link?”

“No, of course not! I had no idea any of this was going to happen. If I had, I never would have asked to borrow your Link. You just got caught up in something bad, just like we did.”

She gives me a doubtful look. I can see her wanting to believe. But once burned, twice shy, as they say.

“You’re just an innocent victim here,” I assure her. “We all are.”

“I remember being on a train. Everything after that is too blurry to make any sense. They’re like just flashes and images and far away sounds. Like I was underwater for a long time and trying to see and hear things going on above the surface. The next thing I remember clearly was waking up in here this morning.”

“What were some of the blurry things you remember?”

She cringes. “I don’t like to think about it.”

“You’re safe now. They can’t hurt us.”

“There was another room. I was lying down, facing up. There was this... this thing above me.” She shivers. “I don’t know what it was. Something shiny. Metal. I couldn’t move. I think they had tied me down. I could hear people, but I couldn’t see anyone in the room with me. There was a window in the wall above my head. It was dark outside, but I could sense that there were people out there looking in.”

I try not to show my surprise. At some point, they had her in INTERVIEW 1.

“What did they do?”

“That woman, Trixie, or Mabel, she came in and gave me a shot of something. I don’t know what it was, except that I saw it was in this big syringe. It was some kind of green liquid, and it burned going in, except that I was freezing afterward for a long time.”

“Green?”

She nods.

This startles me so much that my knees nearly buckle.

“Did it have a name? Did they call it something?”

She frowns in concentration. “The woman said something strange.” She taps her forehead and thinks. “It was one of those old-timey words. Gothic, I think. Or gotham. Graphic. I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

“Not alpha?”

“Alpha? Like alpha male? No, I’d definitely remember if it was that.”

“What happened after that?”

“She left me alone for a while.”

“How long?”

“It felt like days. Sometimes I could hear people talking. Most of the time it was really quiet. A couple times I heard screaming. It scared me. I thought it might be me doing the screaming, but after a while I was sure it wasn’t.”

I wonder who it was. Me? Ash? One of the guys?

“She finally took me out and put me into a regular bed for a while. I thought I might be getting sick a few times. My body was achy all over, and I could hardly breathe or even move. Then she brought me back to that same room again and did something else. It was different, because I was on my stomach this time. I wanted to tell her to stop, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed. After that, things got really strange.”

“Strange, how?”

“Like I was on drugs or something. Zoners. I only ever did them once, and I didn’t like it at all. But that’s how I felt, like I was detached from my body. I was looking through my own eyes and hearing through my own ears, but it was like I wasn’t in control anymore.”

I nod. She just described pretty much every street drug known to man. Zoners just happened to be the latest craze hitting our town. It was all over in my high school.

She shakes her head, frowning. “No, that’s not right. I was in my body, but it was like someone else was there, too, pushing me out. They had control, not me. All I could do was watch. Does that make any sense?”

“None of this makes sense, Tanya. But that doesn’t mean it wasn’t real.”

“After a while, they put me in a different room. It was freezing in there. And there was someone else in the other bed. I was still paralyzed. And I kept having these strange thoughts, hearing things, you know? Like I was listening to someone talking inside my head. The strange thing was, they were sometimes there. But when they weren’t, I felt like I could almost control my body again.”

My Link pings before I can say anything. It’s Reggie. I tell Tanya to hold on, and I connect. “How’d it go?” I ask.

“It’s been an hour.”

“They’re not back yet?”

“No.”

Worry envelops me. I disconnect and pocket my Link.

“Stay here,” I tell her.

“Where are you going?”

“Don’t go anywhere!” I shout over my shoulder, and I careen out of the room.

Chapter 21

I insert the cardkey into the electronic lock for INTERVIEW 1, turn the handle, and promptly smash my face into the door because it doesn’t open. When I try again, I notice the card doesn’t slide all the way into the slot. Someone’s intentionally jammed the lock by shoving paper into it. And there’s no way I’m getting it out.

Someone either doesn’t want me going in there, or they don’t want him coming out.

I hurry over to OBSERVATION 1 and am surprised when the key works. After getting inside, I lift one of the chairs off the floor and heave it against the glass. It cracks on the first blow but doesn’t shatter. It takes me several more attempts before I make a hole big enough to climb through.

“Arc’s activating implants before we’re dead, aren’t they?” I demand.

Stephen eyes me stoically. No surprise at all that I’ve just broken in. No reaction to my question.

“Answer me!”

“I told you you’d be back.”

“These new implants,” I scream, pointing to the back on my head. “Tell me about them right now! How are they different from the old ones?”

“Why should I tell—?”

I kick the table, shaking it. The contraption rattles over him.

“I’ll tell you what you want to know,” he casually says. “But first, you tell me what you know about Eugene Halliwell.”

The comment completely throws me for a loop. I blink stupidly, trying to process what he’s saying.

“Who?” I ask.

“Don’t be coy, Miss Daniels. You know who I’m talking about.”

“Of course I know who Halliwell is! He killed my father! Everyone knows that!”

“What’s your current relationship with him?”

“I don’t have any relationship with him!”

“We found his identification card in your possession.”

I reach reflexively to my back pocket, where I’d stashed the laminated ID card I’d picked up off Micah’s floor the day we drove down to East Harlem. I had intended to ask Micah why his parents had an ID card for the man who killed my father was in their house, but the opportunity never arose. But the card isn’t there. It was in my old jeans.

“I think you’ll find it among Mrs Downs’ possessions.”

Out in the hallway, I hear Tanya’s voice calling for me. Ashley responds. They’re knocking on doors, looking for me.

“No,” I say, flatly. “This isn’t a negotiation. You’re going to answer my questions, not the other way around. And you’re going to do it now, or else.”

“Or else what?”

I set my hand on one of the guillotine blade’s uprights. The metal is cold, and yet it feels alive somehow. It feels electric.

“The implants,” I repeat. I give the contraption a shake, and the blade clangs loosely.

He doesn’t flinch this time. He’s learned since I last threatened to use the device that I won’t follow through. I’ve also broken my vow to leave him in here to rot. He doesn’t think I’m serious.

“The new implants,” I snarl. “They bypass government safety requirements, don’t they? Arc is testing what happens if they can activate them without killing us.”

He doesn’t answer.

He’s been lying here for two days now, and he stinks of body odor and old urine. His breath is rancid. But the one thing smell I’d hoped to detect, fear, is absent. He just gives me that same smug smirk.

“I don’t need you,” I grunt. “Lie here and starve for all I care.” I turn to leave.

“Okay, yes.”

I stop. “Yes, what?”

“There’s a project addressing how we can activate implants in living people without killing them.”

“Why?” I step back over. “Why, goddamn it?”

He mutters something. I bend down over him. “Why not?” he says, louder this time.

“Tanya?”

“She was the first. Considered most dispensable, and she was already healthy. Trial run was a few days ago. It was successful... initially. So they prepped the rest of you. The others looked good. But you...”

“I what?”

“I warned them not to push too hard too fast. I told them there was a possibility of rejection failure. Your body wasn’t ready for it. You had trauma to the upper spinal column, and there was still too much inflammation. But they wouldn’t listen to me. They wouldn’t even wait one more day. You’re very lucky your rejection didn’t kill you.”

I move to the head of the table. My heart is galloping in my chest. I’m in shock that they’re trying to take control of us, operate us like were Players while we’re still alive. It’s the most unspeakable betrayal by Arc I have ever seen, and every New Merican’s greatest fear since the implant mandate went into effect.

Government has worked very hard in the past decade to build public trust in the implants, assuring us that antemortem activation will never be tolerated. They mandated it into the design by forcing Arc to manufacture them in such a way that activation automatically triggers a strong physiological response in the living body, resulting in implant rejection. Of course, what they hadn’t expected was for the response cascade to be so catastrophic; fatality rates are nearly one hundred percent. It’s also why the whole activation process is tightly regulated and monitored, and why it’s all done by the codex’s AI, not actual humans. No human is supposed to be able to activate an implant antemortem, whether inadvertently or maliciously.

Of course, no one actually believes that.

So why do we willingly put these things in our heads? It’s not because of Government assurances. Nor is it the added benefits of being able to quickly connect to the Stream in a very personal and individualized way. It’s always been because living in a world where there is no rapid, effective, automatic, and widespread response to outbreaks, is unthinkable. If everyone is implanted, any outbreak can be stopped in its tracks.

And now Arc is secretly experimenting with new materials to bypass the rejection response.

I want to reach over and throttle Stephen. I want pull the trigger in OBSERVATION 1 and release the blade. But killing him won’t solve anything. If there’s a head to be severed, it’s Arc’s.

“How did you figure it out?” he asks.

He must already know the answer. I should’ve realized it myself sooner. Tanya’s catatonic state was all the clue necessary to make the connections. Not only did they test activate her implant, they actually took control of her body for a prolonged period of time.

I was in my body, but it was like someone else was there, too, pushing me out. They had control, not me. All I could do was watch.

And the sudden way she’d snapped back out of it. As Reggie said, it was like someone had flipped a switch. Which is exactly what had happened. Whoever had control of her finally handed her back the reins.

It explains why they’ve left us alone. They’ve had plenty of time to intervene, had they wanted to. They just haven’t wanted to.

“They’re spying on us, aren’t they? They’ve been watching and listening to everything we say and do through Tanya’s eyes and ears. Every single observation she’s made has been recorded, digitized and sent straight to Arc.”

“And why do you think they stopped? It’s not because their experiment worked.”

“They’re coming for us.”

“So why are you wasting your time on me?”

I balk. We have to go now. But Kelly and Jake still aren’t back.

“You’re coming with us,” I decide.

“No.”

“Like I said, it’s not a negotiation.” I step toward the door. I’ll need assistance removing his bindings. I stop when I hear a heavy metallic click and the twang of a spring being released. I spin around in time to see the blade over Stephen’s head drop heavily an inch before clanging to a stop.

“What did you do?” I demand.

“If you take one more step, I’m gone.”

He shows me his palm. There’s a thin metal cable running across it. It bends around the edge of the table and disappears underneath, where it had been concealed.

“It’s called a déclic. Your resident guillotine expert, Mr Espinosa, could probably explain to you what it is and what it does. But in the interest of time, I’ll tell you myself. It’s an extra trigger.”

“Let go of it.”

“Oh, I don’t think you want me to do that. You see, I’ve activated it. This trigger is of the type called a deadman’s switch. As long as I keep tension on it, the blade I’ve released stays put. Not even the remote trigger in the other room can defeat it. But if I let go, then the blade falls.”

“You’ll die.”

“Of course, that’s the point. If I let go, I’ll die. If I fall asleep, I’ll die. If I relax — even just a little — then zip, say goodbye to me... and to your last chance of escaping the island.”

“It doesn’t matter. We’ve figured out how to defeat your failsafe.”

“I think you know you haven’t.”

I glance at my Link. Kelly’s now been gone far too long. If they’d succeeded, they would’ve been back already. He would’ve pinged.

“You’ve failed. Your only option is to run.”

“Then you’re coming with us.”

“No. You’re going to release my bindings right now, and I’m going to walk out of here on my own.”

“Or I could just leave.”

“Then you’ll never leave the island.”

“At least I’ll know you’ll be dead.”

“Better dead than something else.”

“And if I let you go?”

“I’ll negotiate on your behalf. Maybe they don’t need all of you.”

I hesitate.

“I won’t be able to hold this up much longer, Miss Daniels. That blade is very heavy.”

“You know something? I don’t care. Let go.”

“But you do care. Even if you could save just one of them, you’d try. There may even be a chance you could save them all.”

My Link pings right then, and I nearly drop it in surprise.

Stephen’s arm shakes from the strain. He doesn’t tell me not to answer. I raise the Link to my chin and connect.

“What is it?”

“It worked, Jessie!” Reggie cries. “Your plan worked!”

There’s a flicker of surprise in Stephen’s eyes. I want to smile. I want to gloat. We beat him. And Stephen’s backed himself into a corner he can’t escape out of.

“They’re back?” I exclaim. Relief washes over me.

“Not yet.”

“Then... how do you know?”

He pulls his Link away from his face and rotates it around. The image blurs before focusing on what appears to be a transit map. It’s a tangle of different colored lines on a black board, and at the end of one of them is a single blinking light.

“I broke into the main control room,” he reports, returning to the screen. “I was worried when they didn’t come back on time. I waited the ten minutes you said, then I got antsy.” He points the Link at the map, and his hand appears on the screen, a finger pointing at the blinking light. “That’s the tram. We’re here at the other end, LGA2. They went the whole way. They’re in Foxhurst.”

“No, that’s not what I told them to do.”

“I know, but maybe they figured they’d better make sure.”

Alarm bells are ringing inside my head. Kelly wouldn’t go off script like this, not after we both agreed to the plan. And the timeline.

“I’ve already pinged Ash the good news,” he says. “She’s prepping to shut the servers down. The moment Kel and Jake return, we’re out of here.”

“So why the hell aren’t they returning?”

Reggie turns toward the map. “They will. Any minute now.”

“You know they won’t,” Stephen quietly says. “If they’re at Foxhurst, your friend Mister Espinosa is already dead.”

“Who are you talking to?” Reggie asks.

“Look, Reg, I have to go. Get back up here now.”

“But what about Kelly and Jake?”

“Now, please.” I disconnect and turn back to Stephen.

“If Miss Evans shuts those servers down, she and the rest of your friends will die,” he tells me. “They won’t even have to leave the airport.”

“You’re lying. It’s your last pathetic attempt to get me to play your little game. But you know you’ve just lost. You have no more hold over us. Your stupid little gambit didn’t pay off. In fact,” I say, stepping forward and reaching for the cable in his hand.

“No! Stop!”

For the first time, I see fear in his eyes.

“Don’t!”

The tendons in his wrist stand out from the tension in the cable. His knuckles are white from the strain. He may be lying about the function of the device, but he’s not lying about the effort it’s taking to hold it taut.

And he genuinely looks frightened.

“Let me go, and I’ll help you,” he pants. “I promise.”

And in that concession, I know I’ve gained the upper hand.

“You’ll be lucky if you can hold that up another five minutes,” I say. “I know I’ve at least that much time to spare.”

I glance at my Link and watch the seconds scroll by.

His hand twitches. He says nothing. We’re now engaged in a game of chicken, and each of us believes the other’s life is the one on the line.

“Four.”

The effort’s starting to show on his face. A bead of sweat forms on his brow. I wait it quiver, then drip down the side of his face.

“You let me die, you’ll never get—”

“Three.”

The guillotine creaks. He’s breathing heavier now.

“You’re making a mistake.”

“Sounds like you’re the one who made the mistake. You overplayed your hand. Kelly and Jake were right: you are a psychopath. And... two.”

The cable twangs. The blade rattles in its track.

“I can’t...”

I ignore him. I silently count in my head: ...seven... six... five... four... three... two...

“One minute,” I say. “Maybe I’m wrong, but I think you’ll be able to let go of that cable and nothing will happen. If I’m wrong, well, I’ll still be alive.”

I turn toward the door. I wait for him to release the cable. I insert the key. He grunts, and I half expect him to concede. I turn the handle. On my Link, the timer reaches zero.

I pull the door and—

It flies open and Kelly stumbles in, throwing me onto my heels. He’s bleeding and his face is smudged. He looks around in desperation.

Before I have a chance to say anything, there’s a loud snap behind me, and the sound of the heavy blade falling in its track.

PART THREE

Promises Kept

Chapter 22

Kelly lunges at Stephen, swinging his backpack in a wide arc. It wraps around the nearer upright, catching the descending blade just before it slides into the top half of the lunette. There’s a loud thunk and the entire contraption shudders.

After what seems like forever, Stephen lets out a shuddering exhale. The guillotine blade slips an inch, and he yelps. The cable holding the heavy steel blade twangs.

“Kelly?” I exclaim. “What the— What are you doing here?”

He turns to me. There’s a long scrape down his arm and the I♥NY shirt he got from one of gift shops upstairs is torn and filthy. It’s a sentiment I most certainly have not been endorsing lately.

“How can you—”

He waves me silent, then braces his shoulder against the face of the guillotine blade to try and stop it from slipping any farther. Just two inches separate it and Stephen’s carotid artery. “We need to get him out,” he says. “Hurry, Jess. We need him.”

“I thought you and Ja—”

“It didn’t work! Now please, I can’t hold this. It’s very heavy.”

I push myself off of the floor, and let the door swing shut. Just before it latches, Ashley bursts through it.

“Jess? Kelly’s looking for—” She sees him and stops. Tanya appears behind her. Her eyes widen when she see the guillotine.

“Ash, quick, cut him loose!” Kelly pleads. “All of you! Hurry!”

My fingers might as well be made of wood, for all the good they are to me at the moment. I try to loosen the bindings, but they can’t seem to figure out the straps. Ashley moves to help, all the while demanding to know what happened and why we’re releasing Stephen. She gets his other hand free, then both of his legs.

Tanya remains frozen in the doorway, a terrified look on her face.

“We can’t remove the lunette until we get the blade raised,” Kelly says. He presses his shoulder even harder against it and tests its sharpness with a finger. It’s not sharp enough to cut him, but it’s still too heavy to lift from beneath without injury. “There must be a mechanism somewhere around here to raise it.”

“Tanya!” I shout. I’m still fumbling with the arm restraints. “We need help here!”

“I don’t know what to do,” she whimpers.

Kelly gives me a puzzled look. I shake my head. There’s no time to explain her sudden recovery to him right now.

“There should be a lever,” Stephen croaks. He angles a thumb towards his head. “Left upright. There. See it?”

Tanya steps over and nods, but she doesn’t reach for it.”

“Pull it down.”

“No. I can’t.”

“Pull it down!” Kelly snaps. “Hurry!”

“Wait!” I shout. I don’t trust Stephen. I can’t take believe he says or does anymore.

“There’s no time!” Kelly shouts. “Pull it! PULL IT!”

Tanya grabs the handle with both hands and leans back. The blade starts to rise, but then her fingers slip. The lever snaps sharply back into the frame, and the blade drops an inch closer to Stephen’s neck. Kelly yelps. Tanya stumbles backward. Her shoes crunch on the shattered glass from the one-way window.

The terror on Stephen’s face tells me all I need to know. Whatever he thought he was doing, whatever he thought he could make me do with his reckless threat to sacrifice himself, I know he genuinely didn’t want to die.

I leave his last binding in place and step over to take Tanya’s place. I grip the handle and yank it down as hard as I can. The blade ratchets up a few inches and notches into place.

“Again!” Kelly yells.

“I know!”

The second pull is considerably harder than the first. The blade must weigh a hundred pounds. With each tug, the blade rises a little bit and grows incrementally harder. I keep at it until the top edge snaps into the groove along the bottom edge of the crossbar. There’s a click and it locks into place.

“Don’t let go,” Kelly says. He’s already unlocking the lunette. He lifts the upper half and swings it away. “Pull him out,” he instructs Ash.

“I can’t get his other hand untied.”

“Just sit him up!”

Stephen rolls off the table on his own. He’s visibly shaken. His face is as white as a sheet. And he’s soiled himself.

“Finish untying him,” Kelly says. He backs away from the table and sags to the floor, shaking.

“What the hell is going on?” I demand. I carefully release the lever, half expecting the blade to fall again. But it’s locked to the upper crossbar. “Kelly? What happened to you? And why are we saving him?”

“It didn’t work,” he pants. “Substituting the identifier code scripts didn’t work.”

“But I don’t understand. Reggie said you made it all the way to Foxhurst. And how did you get back so quickly? Why are you bleeding?”

I crouch down and touch the scrapes on his face, but he brushes my hands away. “We didn’t even make it as far as we did last time before Jake started getting sick again.”

“But the tram—”

He cuts me off. “It was the root files, wasn’t it?” he asks Stephen. “Ashley searched every square bit on those machines and couldn’t find them. They’re not there because the scripts don’t run on the servers. The servers are only a relay for the failsafe programs.”

“I warned you,” Stephen coughs. He gets shakily to get to his feet. The metal table creaks beneath his weight. The blade rattles, and we all catch our breath. “I told you it wouldn’t work.”

“But I just spoke with Reggie a few minutes ago,” I say. “Where is he? Where’s Jake?”

“Reggie’s tending to him. He was even sicker this time, and he’s recovering slower.”

“But he said the tram—”

“Jess, please. There’s no time. We need to move. They’re coming. Arc’s coming!”

I turn to Ashley. “Did you shut them down? The servers, did you to shut them down?”

“No. I was waiting when Kelly showed up and told me not to. Then he went looking for you.”

Kelly gets up and heads for the door. I step in front to block him. His arms are clammy from sweat and covered in dried blood. He smells like dirt and burnt motor oil.

“There’s no time to explain, Jess.” He brushes past me and tries to open the door, but it’s locked. He spots the broken window and takes a step toward it before realizing he can’t get out that way, either. “Jessie, please, we have to get out of here now. I’m begging you.”

“And go where? How can we leave if it didn’t work?”

“Arc knows everything we’ve been doing.

“I know. Tanya’s been spying for them.”

“I have not!”

“I think you’d better listen to your boyfriend,” Stephen says. “I warned they’d be coming, too.”

“And where are we supposed to go?” I demand. I don’t know why I’m asking him, so I turn to Kelly. “Where? There’s nowhere to go.”

“Well, there’s a whole wide island out there,” Stephen suggests.

“What good is running?” I cry. “They can track us!”

“Sure, but it doesn’t mean you have to make it easy.”

Kelly grabs Stephen by the shirt and shakes him. “Yeah, well, you’re coming with us.”

“I’d prefer not to.”

“They’re using him to spy on us, too,” I tell Kelly. “Both of them, him and Tanya. When he zoned out the other day—”

“Why do you keep saying that? I’m not a spy! I don’t even know this guy!” Tanya wails. “Why would you say something like that?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Kelly says. “We have to run, and hopefully we can stay out of their clutches long enough to figure out how to get these damn scripts out of our heads. But I don’t think we can do it without him.”

“And what makes you think I would even agree to help you, Mr Corben?”

“You said you would.”

“Before you left me to die.”

“Well, you’re not dead, are you? But you will be if you don’t. Now you know what I’m capable to doing.”

“You think I’m afraid to die?”

“Yes,” I answer. “I saw the look on your face. You never believed I’d call your bluff.”

Stephen doesn’t respond right away. His face twists, as if there were more than one person inside of his head struggling to take control. None of them is Arc; they’re all him.

Finally, he shrugs and nods. “Okay. But you have to do what I tell you to do.”

Chapter 23

The heat and humidity hit us the moment Reggie pushes through the security door to the underground shuttle area and we step outside for the second time in a week. The temperature underneath the overhang has to be in the mid-eighties already, and there’s not a whisper of a breeze. But it’s not until we step out into the direct sunlight and cross Central Terminal Drive that we realize just how hot the air is. It’s not just breathtaking, it literally rips the breath from our lungs.

We hurry past the old Marriott Hotel, its windows filmed with dust and hard water stains. Our warped and filmy reflections mock us like ghosts, and we can’t helped but imagine the coolness taunting us within. With sighs of relief, we plunge into the shade of the parking garage. The air is still stuffy and stale, but at least we’re out of the direct sunlight.

“Should’ve grabbed us some safari hats,” Reggie grumbles. “And sunglasses.” As low as he speaks, his voice still carries through the garage. “And lighter clothes and—”

“Shush,” Ashley tells him.

“We’ll just have to stay under cover whenever we can,” Kelly whispers. “But we can’t sacrifice speed for comfort.”

We cautiously eyeball the parked cars and wonder aloud if any of them still work, even though we all know the batteries will all be dead. I’m shocked at the number and variety there are here. The outbreak thirteen years ago happened so quickly and with so little warning that there wouldn’t have been time for people to retrieve them from whatever place they’d gone off to— vacations, funerals, business trips, weddings. They were the lucky ones, away to some other part of the world while their homes and families here fell victim, first to the scourge, then to the military. The abandoned vehicles sit like mute reminders of the hundreds of thousands of lives that were uprooted or lost when the undead took over the island.

“Raccoons,” Micah croaks. It’s the first thing he’s spoken since early this morning. Even when we were packing him up into the wheelchair and rushing him through the terminal, he didn’t say a thing.

But now he pushes himself out of the chair. He ignores our pleas to get back in. He hobbles over to the nearest vehicle, a van, and he wipes a finger across the quarter inch-thick layer of brownish-gray dirt coating the back window. It’s on everything, including the hood of the adjacent car, which is where he’d spotted the raccoon’s miniature hand prints. He glances into the window, then up into the darkness above his head. “I think there’s bats here.”

“Great,” Ashley groans.

Micah refuses to get back into the wheelchair and insists he’ll walk like the rest of us.

“Anyone know where we’re going?” Tanya asks. “And why can’t we just drive? It’d be a lot easier than walking.”

“Not an option,” Kelly remarks.

“We might get lucky and find one that works,” Reggie says. “Might have to jump a battery, but—”

“How? How exactly will we jump it? Anyway, it’s too much noise. You want every IU within a half mile coming after us?”

“There’s no zombies on this part of the island,” Tanya counters. “They’re all dead.”

“There are,” I tell her. Even after seeing us dispatch Mabel, she still can’t believe it. Although, Mabel was a special case; she wasn’t a victim of the outbreak. But even after the others nod and confirm it, she remains skeptical.

“Okay,” she says. “But wouldn’t it be better to be in a car being chased by zombies than to be captured by Arc again? In Survivalist, they—”

“We’re not on Survivalist,” Kelly grunts. “This is not The Game, so there’s no rules, no extra lives, no do-overs. The zombies that are out there? They have no implants. No one’s controlling them. They only know one thing, and that’s to eat. Us.”

Tanya’s lips disappear into a pout. “You don’t have to shout.”

“I’m not shouting. As for finding a car that still works, even if we could, it’d take way too long to get it jumpstarted.”

“Like anyone here knows how to jumpstart a car anyway,” I say.

“You don’t think I know? I know how to do a lot of things.”

“Why are you being so pissy about everything? Ever since you got back from the tram, you’ve been like this.”

“Ever since we found you,” Ashley grumbles.

“I found you.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m just stressed,” he grumbles. He checks his Link. “We really need to put some distance between us and this place. Can we speed it up back there?”

Jake still hasn’t fully recovered from his second encounter with the EM. He’s able to walk, but he’s sluggish. Tanya goes back to help him. Any aftereffects from her takeover by Arc are all but gone now. Everything suggests they’ve completely disconnected from her. But does that mean her implant’s gone completely latent? I can’t help wondering if maybe they’re still capable of receiving data, whether from her implant’s ocular nerve processor or her auditory connection.

“What if Arc has cars?” Ashley asks.

“I don’t think they will. They prohibited their people from using them.”

“That was before,” I counter. “I think they’ll be a little more motivated than their surveyors were.”

“Well, if they do, then we’ll just have to deal with it,” Kelly snaps.

We reach the end of the garage and pause. We’re already sweating, and the heat rolling off the road ahead is a sure sign that things are going to get a lot worse real quick. We haven’t even left the airport grounds, and we’re exhausted, on edge, and sniping at each other. How are we possibly going to last long enough to get safely back home?

The road swings to the left, widening from four lanes to eight and dropping several feet, where it’s flooded by the brackish flood waters of Flushing Bay. From our slight elevation, we can see how many of the runways have sunk beneath the rising sea. Even though there’s the wall between them and river, water’s seeped in. Maybe there are grates underneath. Or maybe it’s coming in through the sewage system. The wall wasn’t built to keep the water out. It was built to keep the undead in.

The hulking tube of a rusty, moss-covered commuter jet bobs above the surface of the swamp. One side is partially caved in from the relentless battering of years of storm surge. Levees were built when the ocean levels started rising some thirty-odd years ago, but they were washed away by the tides and tidal waves that hit our shores before the wall went up.

To the right is one of the old highways. It’s now empty along its entire length, save for a few stranded vehicles. Ivy now covers some of them.

Reggie’s out in front. He shoves Stephen into the sunlight, who stumbles but catches himself. “Which way, asshole?” Reggie growls.

Stephen turns to glare at Reggie, but his attitude quickly improves when he finds himself staring down the business end of the fireplace poker that Reggie had swiped from a bar in the terminal. Whatever he was going to say remains unspoken.

“Just in case you forgot,” Reggie adds, poking the steel tip into Stephen’s chest, “you survive only as long as we survive.”

“Back off,” Kelly says.

“Oh, are we on his side now?”

Ashley places a hand on Reggie’s arm, both to calm and protect him. Thankfully, Kelly gets the hint lets it slide.

“You okay?” I ask Micah. His face is twisted in concentration. And confusion. It’s becoming an almost permanent expression, and I worry that maybe the trauma he incurred during the explosion — or maybe the aborted attempt to replace his implant — might’ve done more damage than I’d imagined. My concerns deepen when I catch Stephen giving him a smug look, as if he knows the truth. I’m almost tempted to grab Reggie’s poker and slam it into his face.

Tanya and Jake finally catch up to us at the edge of the sidewalk. She’s got her hand on his arm, guiding him. It’s a stark reminder of how much has changed in just the past twenty-four hours. He leans a little on her for support. If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was milking her attention.

“You’re going to have to keep up,” Kelly warns him.

“Remind me again why we’re bringing him?” Reggie wonders aloud. “Piece of trash asshole.”

“I didn’t come back to this island just to abandon him.”

“I meant the other asshole— Stephen.”

“Because he’s going to tell us how we’re going to get off the island once and for all.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

“Also, he gives us leverage.”

“Well, I wouldn’t be so sure about—”

“No one asked you!” Kelly shouts.

“Brah, chill.”

He’s not the only one perturbed by Kelly’s behavior lately. This terseness is completely out of character. Then there’s the abrupt power grab. Suddenly he’s dictating everything, making decisions for all of us?

I don’t mind that it’s not me making the decisions anymore. The responsibility’s exhausting. I just wish he’d tell us what the hell happened to him and Jake down there in the tunnel.

“So, what is it?” Kelly asks Stephen. “Which way’s our best chance of getting out of this?”

“You expect him to give you a straight answer?” Reggie asks.

“He lies, he dies.”

Stephen points. “East.”

“First off, that’s south, you idiot,” Reggie growls. “See that big bright spot in the sky over there?” He points in a direction nearly perpendicular from Stephen’s aim. “That thing there is called the sun. We learned about it in kindergarten. It rises in the east. Or maybe you were sick that day.”

“And we can’t go the way you’re pointing, Mr Casey,” Stephen replies. “Unless you can walk on water. But east is where you need to go, so south is how you get there.”

“Wait a minute,” I say. “Why east? What’s there?”

“More space to roam,” he replies, expansively.

“They’re tracking us, asshole,” Kelly reminds him. “We need more than space between us and Arc. We need time and a solution.”

“I can’t give you more time,” Stephen replies. “But I do have a solution to your implant problem, and it entails going where I say you need to go.”

“How about you give us this solution now?” Reggie snarls.

“Look, you got me for leverage. But I’ve got leverage, too: information.” He shrugs. “Frankly, I don’t care if you win or lose, or whether my bosses catch you or not. I’ve got nothing to gain either way. So I’ll get you where you need to go to give you a sporting chance. The rest is up to you. Of course, that depends on whether you can manage to stop griping at each other and start working together before they catch up with you.”

“And you’ll give us the solution when we get there?”

“If we get there. But sure. After that, it’s up to you.”

Reggie looks up at the sky and groans. “It’s always fucking mind games with this asshole. He says we need to go east, but he points south. He says he’ll take us to find the solution, but then he says it’s up to us once we get there. Why are we even listening to this guy? I vote we go in the complete opposite direction he says we should.”

“I don’t know if he’s lying to us or not,” Kelly says. “What I do know is that we can’t go straight east, and we can’t go north because of the wall. If we go west, we’ll eventually be forced back down to Long Island City, and I’d rather avoid that area. So that leaves south. So, no matter what Stephen said, where he pointed is really our only option.”

“He’s right about one thing at least,” Ashley adds. “We need to stop fighting with each other.”

I find the whole thing ironic. At first, I was the lone voice arguing to save Stephen. Everyone else, even Kelly, said he’d drag us down with him. Now it’s Kelly making the same argument, while I’m worried we’re making a mistake. It just seems like the two of us can never agree on anything anymore.

Kelly gives us another few seconds, and when no one else says anything, he checks Micah’s tablet one more time, then steps off the curb and out into the sunlight.

He sets off at a brisk pace. We have no choice but to follow him. It doesn’t take long before we’re all miserable from the heat and humidity. None of us is used to it or the exertion. We’re all young, but we’re still physically and emotionally weakened from the events of the past week and a half. Kelly has suffered the least of us, yet he’s also the one pushing us the hardest.

If he doesn’t realize soon how close we are to breaking, he’s going to have the very rebellion I’d tried to avoid on his hands, even with Stephen’s admonition still ringing in our ears.

* * *

IT DOESN’T TAKE LONG before Jake’s lagging behind again. Tanya sticks with him, gently urging him on. I don’t know why she’s chosen to attach herself to him. Maybe she senses that he’s the outsider in our group, just like she is. I don’t really care why, as long as it keeps him away from Kelly and Reg.

I fall back and tell them they need to keep up. Jake scowls, and Tanya gives me a sour look. She hasn’t forgiven me for my part in her involvement.

The road rises to an overpass, but before we start the climb, Kelly directs us onto the shoulder and into the shadows underneath. The shade feels wonderful. We take a moment to catch our breath and drink some water.

We’ve about to set off again when he freezes. Slowly, he raises a finger to his lips and points back beneath the overpass. “Movement,” he whispers.

I strain to see, but nothing catches my eye. The others shake their heads, too. We step warily out onto the shoulder. Then, without warning, the shoulder-high grass all around us explodes with noise and movement. We have a fraction of a heartbeat before we realize we’re surrounded. Tanya screams and stumbles backward, covering her face. But the threat is already past us before we can even register its true nature. The herd of deer bound off into the distance, leaving us shaken but unharmed.

“Shit!” I gasp. I can barely hear myself over the pounding of the blood in my head. Kelly shakes his head grimly and waves us forward. Ashley lets out a few nervous titters. I spin around to check on Reggie, and I realize we’re already missing a person.

“Where’s Stephen?”

“Right here,” he says, stepping around a concrete column. I don’t know if he was attempting to hide from the deer or from us, but I’m impressed with how quickly he’d reacted. Kelly and I exchange glances, and I know he’s thinking the same thing I am. We all need to be more careful, more alert.

“Stay in sight,” Kelly tells him.

We move on, still trying to catch our breath. The encounter hasn’t just given us a boost of adrenaline, but a greater sense of urgency. We move at a brisker pace. Even Micah appears to have benefitted from the boost of energy.

A few minutes later we reach the Grand Central Parkway, and it’s nothing but miles of exposed blacktop ahead of us.

“Everyone, get another drink,” Kelly instructs.

When we’re ready, he steps out onto the ramp and begins to climb. We head due south on the mercilessly hot asphalt, straight toward the heart of the hundred-mile-long island and home to a hundred thousand undead.

Chapter 24

We walk for another hour or so, stopping only minimally for quick rest breaks. Everyone is moving faster now, keeping tighter together. Talk is minimal, both to save energy and because the reality of our situation is starting to hit home. We’re exposed and vulnerable out here, not just to Arc, but to the undead, although we’ve seen no evidence of either yet. Micah’s tracker using the new script shows no other signals for miles around, although we’re well aware that Arc could be masking identifiers somehow or simply using a different format. But I can’t help wondering if this is just another part of their game, letting us run, watching what we do. It sure feels like we’ve leveled up. And if real life is anything like a game, then things are about to get a whole lot more intense real soon.

Being blind to where the IUs might be doesn’t change how we proceed. We know they’re out there. Maybe they’re hiding to keep out of the brutal heat and sunlight. It took a while for them to figure out we were on the island the day we first broke in, so if we keep moving, maybe by the time they figure out we’re here we’ll have already passed them by.

I still don’t think Tanya really appreciates that there are still undead here after so many years. But to her credit, she sticks close and stays quiet.

Ninety minutes in and we’ve finally gotten into a rhythm, and we find a good compromise between the fastest and slowest among us. Micah’s doing surprisingly well. His recovery in just the past twenty-four hours is nothing less than remarkable. But I can tell a lot of it is pure grit and determination. He’s too proud to let it show he’s struggling.

After two hours without incident, my patience finally wears thin. I need to know what happened back there in the tunnel. We all deserve an explanation. So I break an extended silence to ask him.

At first he looks like he’s not ready to talk, but I think he realizes he’ll have to eventually. It’s been relatively smooth sailing so far, so maybe he can afford to let down his guard a little. I’d ask Jake, but he was either unconscious or delirious for most of the experiment.

Kelly wipes the sweat from his face. “Everything started off okay,” he says. “We got down to the tram. Everything was cool. I replaced the fuse and checked that we had power. Ashley pinged to tell us things were ready on her end and we headed out. We took it slowly. I wanted to monitor Jake’s mental status, so I kept him talking.”

Jake’s face twists, like maybe he thinks Kelly’s accusing him of something but can’t quite figure out what.

“It was just random stuff at first,” Kelly continues. “We were actually getting along just fine. Then the subject changed.” And now Kelly has that same odd look on his face, too.

“What happened?”

“Things got a little... heated.”

“Jesus, Kelly. What did you do?”

“It wasn’t me, Jess.”

“Jake?”

Jake remains silent.

“He started asking about our engagement. I told him to mind his own business.”

I suck in a sharp breath. The last thing I’d expect — or want — the two boys to talk about is me.

“We’re not engaged.”

Kelly doesn’t respond.

“Okay, so why bring that up now?”

“Because he wouldn’t stop pushing. I asked him to change the subject. I tried, Jess, really. Finally, I just had to throw him out of the control room.”

“You were supposed to keep an eye on him.”

“I know. It’s just... I couldn’t handle it. I made him go and sit in the passenger compartment. I was still watching him and nothing was happening. I turned my back for a second to check the controls, and when I turned back around, he was on the floor having a seizure. We’d gone maybe a quarter mile by then. I immediately stopped the tram.”

“You used me as a guinea pig!”

Reggie scowls. “Is that what all this moping is about? Man, get over it already.”

“I could’ve died!”

“It was my decision,” I say. “No one else’s.”

“Oh, gee, thanks,” Jake snaps. “Guess I judged you wrong.”

“You’ve judged all of us wrong,” Kelly says. “You never know when to stop.”

“You all hate me.”

“We don’t hate you, Jake.”

“You don’t like me, either.”

“We’re trying.”

“No, you’re not!”

“You know something?” I exclaim. “We just can’t win with you. I wanted you to feel like you were a part of our escape plan. You’ve been complaining we never include you in anything, that we’ve been pushing you aside. I was sure this would work.”

“She was sure,” Reggie tells him. “She thought it was a good plan.”

“In fact, my first thought was that Reggie should be the one.”

“Oh, so I wasn’t even your first choice.”

“Christ, Jake, do you even hear yourself?” Reggie asks.

“Look, Jake,” I say, urging everyone to quiet down, “if I had thought for a moment that it wouldn’t—”

“You were hoping it would fail.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“Never mind him, Jess,” Kelly says. “You were right. We’ll never do right in his mind, no matter how hard we try.”

“Sure, never mind me. I’m just a nobody, just some throwaway character to help fill out your stupid game.”

“It’s called an NPC,” Reggie explains. “Non-playing character, except in your case it’s naggy petulant... character.”

“That’s not helping, Reg.”

“I’m the guy you sacrifice so your little entourage gets to stay intact.”

“Sacrifice?” Kelly says. “Seriously?”

“Damn it, who blabbed about the volcano?” Reggie jokes. “Now that he’s onto us, guess we’ll have to find someone else to sacrifice.”

“Stop, Reg,” I growl.

“I’d say Stephen, but he’s kind of old to be a virgin. I mean, you are a virgin, Jake, aren’t you? We can only sacrifice virgins to the Great and Almighty God Popocatepetl.”

“Reggie, please. Now’s not the time for teasing.”

“Now’s exactly the time. We’re the ones who’ve made all the sacrifices, not him.”

“Just go on, Kelly. What happened after you stopped the tram?”

“I ran in to check on Jake. I was leaning over him, trying to keep him from hurting himself, and my back was to the aisle. Suddenly, I felt someone run past me, and the door to the engineer’s compartment slammed shut.”

“What the fuck?”

“Someone was there?”

“It was that woman, Novak.”

“I told you we should’ve killed her when we had the chance,” Jake grumbles.

“How is that possible?” I ask. “We didn’t see her on the tracker.”

“She was probably hiding out in the tunnel.”

“How did she get in past us? How’d she get past the barrier?”

“The only thing I can figure is she got in when I went to bring the tram back.”

“She was in there the whole time?”

“Must’ve been. She either got on board  somewhere in the tunnel, or she hid herself in the second passenger compartment as we were getting the tram ready to go.”

“I told you the other day we should keep looking for her,” Jake gripes. “She was the only one we couldn’t account for.”

“We thought Mabel had—”

“What? Eaten her? You knew that wasn’t possible right from the start, you just didn’t want to face the truth. You were lazy. How could she eat her whole body, including her skull? And then what happened to her implant? God, you people are so bad at this, it’s amazing they think you’re worth kidnapping.”

“Hey!” Reggie shouts.

“Not so loud,” I hiss.

“Well, it’s not like there’s a manual for any of this. We’re winging it.”

“At least I don’t pass myself off as some king of genius.”

“Hey, you’re the so-called survival expert!”

“Then maybe you should listen more to what I have to say, instead of just dismissing me because you don’t think I’m as good as you.”

“You choked! Multiple times!”

“Kelly, stop, please. Jake, you’re right,” I say. “We need to listen better. But we did look for Novak in all the expected places. If we couldn’t see her on the tracker, where else were we supposed to search? That’s also why we kept watch down at the tunnel. We did everything we could without putting ourselves in more danger.”

“And I should’ve checked the second passenger car,” Kelly admits. “That’s on me.”

“Seems to me there were two of you down there,” Reggie says, giving Jake a pointed look.

I’m about to respond, when Micah suddenly collapses. Reggie’s on him in a flash, sitting him up, asking if he’s okay. Micah waves him off and insists he just tripped, but even I can see he’s wiped out. We’re all tired, but he’s barely got enough strength to be on his feet, much less in a forced march.

“Should we stop?” I ask.

“No,” Kelly replies. “We need to keep moving.”

Micah nods. “We need to get as much distance between us and LaGuardia as possible. I don’t care what the tracker says.”

“I want to know what happened next,” Ash says, prodding Kelly. “How did you get back?”

“I could see Novak in the engineer’s compartment. She was messing with the controls. I couldn’t get in because she’d locked the door, and Jake was in a bad way. The next thing I knew, we were moving again. Except we weren’t going back, she was taking us deeper into the tunnel. Jake was getting worse by the second. If I didn’t act soon, I thought he’d die. So I grabbed him and jumped from the car. That’s how I got all banged up. I carried him most of the way back.”

“That’s twice now, by my count,” Reggie says.

The scrapes on Kelly’s arms and head had already stopped bleeding by the time he showed up in Stephen’s room. He’s limping slightly, and I realize for the first time that the stain on his pants, which I’d earlier thought was just dirt and grease, is blood. It’s still wet, and it’s spreading.

“Your leg, Kelly. You’re bleeding.”

“It’s nothing. We’ll bandage it when we get there.”

“And where is that, exactly?” Ashley asks.

When he doesn’t answer, she looks at me. I shrug.

“How come you’re all cut up, and there’s not a mark on Jake?” Reggie asks.

“He mostly landed on top of me.”

“Don’t expect any thanks from me,” Jake says bitterly.

“Unbelievable,” Reggie says.

“So, that’s why it took you so long to get back,” I say. “You had to walk. We thought you’d taken the tram all the way to Foxhurst.”

“You should’ve known I wouldn’t do that. That wasn’t what we agreed on.”

“I know, I just thought...”

“You thought I’d go off-script? You know me better than that.”

“Maybe I don’t.”

He sighs. “I tried pinging you guys to warn you, but there was no stream connection.”

“So why didn’t she stop when you jumped?”

“My guess is she either didn’t realize we were off the tram, or she didn’t care. She was probably more concerned about getting to Foxhurst.”

“She could’ve walked there any number of times over the past couple of days.”

“Which is why I think she cared more about the tram than us.”

“And why you’re worried they’re coming.”

“In force,” Kelly concludes.

Nobody says anything for a while after that. We push on in silence, and only the soft whisper of the hot breeze and the scuffs of our shoes on the road break the quiet. My ears are tuned to the slightest sound, so I spend a lot of my time and attention anxiously checking around us. But for the moment, we truly are alone. Not even the zombies are stupid enough to be out in this heat.

* * *

AT SOME POINT, WE REALIZE we need better weapons and supplies. So, whenever we see a promising structure close to the road, a couple of us hurry down to it while the rest keep watch. Reggie’s still got the broken machete, as well as his fishing knife. He’s given his fireplace poker to Ash. I’ve got our pistol with the single bullet left in it. More guns would be welcome. Even more knives.

But we find most of the doors locked, and nobody thinks it’s a good idea to start breaking in out of fear of making too much noise and wasting too much time. The few places we do get into yield very little of use: a broom handle, a tire iron, a hammer...

And no food and water.

The gun’s a comfortable weight tucked into the waist of my jeans. I’m grateful for it, since it’s saved us a couple times now. I’d rather have it — and a full clip — rather than a tire iron. It’s greatest disadvantage is the noise it makes. But it’s not the undead we might be forced to use it on.

At Kelly’s signal, we take the ramp leading to the Long Island Expressway. The sun is no longer to our side, but directly in front of us, although it’s risen considerably by now, so the glare isn’t as blinding as it might otherwise be.

One of the first signs we pass is for Flushing Meadows Corona Park. There’s no park anymore. It’s all swampland now. The skeletons of dozens of dead trees, their roots drowned in brackish water, stand like ancient sentinels. Yet life flourishes here. The moss adorning the trees’ naked limbs is astonishingly lush. The fen gives off a warm organic smell, not of death, but of growth. And one small hillock is populated by a flock of egrets. They rise as one, lazily flapping their oversized wings, and taking ponderous flight. We watch in wonder as they slowly circle, then dive toward the shallows near a reef comprised of old amusement park rides. After gliding gracefully to a stop, they do their silly knock-kneed march, dip their beaks into the water, and feed.

“It’s beautiful,” Tanya whispers. “Like paradise.”

No one disagrees. It hurts my chest to see something so serene, so peaceful, and to know that it exists only because of the violence that came before it. But it’s not gone; it’s still down there, lurking just beneath the surface. It’s just waiting for us to wake it.

We cross the Van Wyck Expressway a few minutes later and enter Pomonok. It’s barely ten o’clock in the morning, and we’re fading quickly from the heat.

“This is craziness, brah,” Reggie says, panting. He flaps his shirt, but it’s so humid that I know he won’t get any relief. “It is just too freaking hot. We have to get out of this sun.”

A flooded road parallels the highway, threading its way through a residential area like a Venetian canal. Beyond it, over the swampy canopy, the apocalyptic outlines of the old town of Queens rise up. The shade cast by those trees looks inviting.

“We can see better from up here,” Kelly says. “It’s safer. And it’s faster going.”

They’re reasonable points, and nobody offers up any argument. Up here, we can see in nearly every direction. But down there on the secondary roads, every abandoned car, every building, tree, house, and dumpster isn’t just another obstacle to get around, but a potential hiding place for an IU.

So, despite the torment, we take our chances atop the LI Expressway. Wherever it is Stephen is leading us, it damn well better be worth it.

Chapter 25

We’re well into the fourth hour when we stop for a break beneath a highway sign announcing the exit ramp for the Clearview Expressway, just a quarter mile farther up the road. After that, the next major mile marker is the Cross Island Parkway.

At some point in the past, something had smashed into the sign’s upright, crimping the pole several feet off the ground. Reggie surmises that it must’ve been an army tank. We’d heard rumors that they were deployed during the outbreak, although it could also have happened years later, when the military occupied the island. The weakened sign must’ve recently collapsed, leaving it blocking nearly two entire lanes.

“Pull up some shade, folks,” Kelly announces, and we respond with welcome groans.

Soon, we’re passing around plastic containers of fruit and tins of tuna.

“How far do you think we’ve come?” I ask.

“Close to seven miles,” Kelly says.

Seven miles in more than four hours isn’t a very good pace.

I pull him away from the others for my next question. “Any idea how much farther Stephen’s planning on taking us?”

Kelly glances over at him and his scowl deepens. “I think I have an idea. But I’d rather not share it right now.”

I know he’s talking about not sharing his thoughts with the others. He’d tell me if I asked. But I don’t, because if it’s what I’m thinking, then I’d rather he not say.

After we’ve eaten and drunk our fill, no one moves. We’re still exhausted. And no one wants to head back out into that heat. I take the opportunity to inventory the supplies in my backpack.

“We’re going to have to think about food and water soon,” I tell Kelly.

He nods. “We also need to think about where we’re going to spend the afternoon.”

“Just the afternoon?”

“It’s going to be insanely hot in a few hours, so yes. It should start cooling off around dinnertime. We can set off again after then.”

“You want to walk at night?”

“No, just for few hours before sunset. We’ll hole up again before it gets dark.”

Ashley sidles over. “I’ve been giving that some thought.” Her voice is gravelly. Everyone’s throat is dry, but I worry she’s becoming dehydrated. Her lips are cracked and actually bleeding in one spot. She worries the cut with her tongue.

“About what?” Kelly asks.

“About where to stay.”

She removes the string tying her hair up to keep the sun off her scalp and lets it cascade down over her shoulders. Normally, her hair blazes like it’s on fire. Now, it’s lifeless and drab. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it so greasy and unkempt.

“We know their tracker can’t see us in the tunnels, right?”

“Most likely, no.”

“Well, we couldn’t see Novak. So, what if we find someplace underground to stay?”

“It’d have to be pretty deep to block the signal,” I muse. “There aren’t any old subway tunnels on the island. Would a sewer be deep enough?”

She looks to Kelly, who shakes his head. “Doubt it.”

I’m actually relieved that sewers are off the table. The thought of spending the night in one does not enthrall me. And it’s not because of the darkness or the stink — if it still does smell — or even the rats.

“How about the basement of some building? Maybe the vault of a bank? They have thick walls.”

Stephen tut-tuts us. He’s spoken very little since we left the airport, and no one has tried to engage him in conversation. I’ve been keeping my eye on him, but so far I haven’t seen any suggestion his implant has been activated. “You’ll soon find out you don’t want to do that.”

“And why’s that?” Ashley demands.

He points smugly at the back of his head. “Remember? Failsafe?”

“I thought that only kicked in when we came close to the EM barrier.”

“You still don’t get it, do you? It has nothing to do with the EM. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Well, why don’t you explain it to us then?”

“And spoil the fun of watching you figure it out on your own?”

Kelly steps over to him, bristling. He looks like he wants to grab Stephen and throttle him for being such an asshole. But then he seems to reconsider and instead offers him another water packet. Stephen gives it a suspicious look. “Take it. Maybe it’ll lubricate those lips.”

Reggie scowls and mutters something about needing to ration.

“You know what they did back there is wrong,” Kelly tells Stephen. “What they’re still doing. It’s not too late to make things right.”

Stephen doesn’t seem to know how to respond. I can see him doing the calculations in his head, checking all the angles, weighing the possible permutations. Kelly doesn’t even try to hide that he’s trying to entice Stephen to help us. I doubt it’ll work. In fact, I worry Stephen will find some way to exploit it for his own advantage. My worries aren’t unfounded. From the very beginning, both he and Arc have run circles around us at every turn. They’re just a lot more sophisticated at this game than we are.

“Kelly,” I warn.

He ignores me. “You’re not a bad person,” he says. “You don’t want this on your conscience.”

It’s almost laughable. None of us, including Kelly, believes for a second Stephen’s anything but a psychopath. But there’s the thing about psychopaths: they can’t resist showing off.

“It’s like the deadman’s switch on the guillotine,” he brags. “In fact, I modeled the failsafe program after the déclic concept. It’s actually kind of genius, if you ask me.”

Reggie groans. “Arrogant much?”

“You coded the failsafe?” Kelly asks.

“I provided the specs. I don’t write script,” he says, contemptuously.

“So, you had access to our Links and identifiers? The firmware?”

“Of course. I needed full access to—”

Reggie jumps up. “What the hell? You’ve been inside our heads?”

“Not now, Reggie,” Kelly snaps.

“But he—”

“I said back off!”

“Where’s that gun? I’m gonna put a bullet in the bastard’s head right now!”

“Keep your voice down!” Kelly hisses. “Like it or not, we need Stephen. He holds all the cards right now, so we need to listen to what he has to say.”

If Reggie figures out Kelly’s playing Stephen, he doesn’t let on. He continues to gripe, but he eventually does back down.

“Who helped you with the script writing?” Kelly asks.

“The Coder.”

“What coder? Does this person have a name? Have you met them?”

Stephen snorts. “No. Nobody has. He works remotely.”

“So, it’s a guy?”

Stephen shrugs. “Assume so. Can’t be sure. He — or she — uses a voice distortion device. But if I were to guess, it’s a guy.”

“Because girls can’t write script?” Ashley demands.

I think back to the conversation between that mysterious man and Nurse Mabel I’d overheard the night of my escape. She’d mentioned something about a coder. I squeeze my eyes shut and recall exactly what they’d said. I know she’d mentioned something about fiddling around with the script herself, because the coder they were using was unavailable.

My subconscious must make the leap before I’m even aware I’m thinking it, because a second later I realize I’m staring at Micah.

He’s not the coder. He wouldn’t do that to us.

Would he?

I shake my head. Why would I even go there? What am I thinking? He’s one of us.

So is Kelly, and it didn’t stop him from selling us out.

But what would Micah’s motivation be?

“Okay, so how exactly does it work?” Kelly asks.

Stephen doesn’t answer. Apparently, he’s given us what he thinks a packet of water is worth.

Kelly throws him a package of stale Oreos, and Stephen lets them bounce off his chest and onto the ground. If he’s like the rest of us, he should be famished. Yet he acts like he couldn’t care less about the cookies. Kelly’s going to have to do much better than that.

He steps over and picks up the package and hands it to Stephen.

“Help us out here,” he says. “We can help you, too.”

Stephen snorts. He uses his teeth to open the package and tips a cookie into his mouth. “Fine,” he says, past a mouthful of crumbly Oreo and hardened filling. “But implant-to-brain electrophysiology is a college level course. You won’t understand a lot of the details.”

“Dumb it down for us.”

“Okay, let’s start with latency then. Your implant interfaces almost exclusively with your cerebellum, right? That’s the part that coordinates motor functions, and it’s why the whole remote control system works. But it also makes connections to parts of your cerebrum, which is the center for higher cognitive functions.”

“Why would it need to do that? There’s no need for higher functions,” Kelly says.

“Because the implant uses electrical signals from the cerebrum to remain in latency mode. It’s an active suppressor mechanism of sorts. That’s why when you die, when those signals fade, the implant transitions from latency to fully functional.”

“We already know all this, you dick,” Reggie snaps. “It’s basic neuroleptic physiotechnology. They teach us that in ninth grade science class, not college. He didn’t ask you how the implants interface with the brain, he asked you how the failsafe works.”

Stephen shrugs. “You may have learned it, but most people never really understand the technology.”

“We’re not most people.”

“No, you aren’t. Most people don’t break into a Forbidden Zone just for kicks.”

“That doesn’t give anyone any excuse to—”

“Enough,” Kelly says. “Reggie, please.” He turns to Stephen. “Just tell us about the failsafe. Assume we know more than most college freshmen.”

“The failsafe script overwrites the implant’s firmware to render it independent of cerebral input. So, instead of being suppressed by signals from the cerebrum, it receives them from an external source. As long as the signal can be received, the implant remains actively dormant.”

“That’s self-contradictory. You can’t be active and dormant.”

“Implant latency is a legal description, not a technical one. According to Arc and the government, as long as the implants aren’t capable of overriding motor functions, they’re considered functionally dormant. They’re still on, of course. They have to monitor your life status. It’s just that the part allowing Operator control isn’t engaged.”

“So they’ve been lying to us all these years.”

“Not lying, just not... telling you the whole truth.”

“Okay, so the implants are active. The script we found on the servers is the suppressor?”

“No. It’s just the afterimage of the signal being transmitted. A digital record, if you will. It’s not the suppressor script itself. That piece of programming wizardry is stored and transmitted to the towers from a different location.”

“So, overwriting the LaGuardia servers or shutting them down—”

“Does absolutely nothing,” Stephen tells Ashley. “It’s like erasing fingerprints at a crime scene. It doesn’t change the fact that the crime was committed.”

“So, you admit our new implants are crime scenes,” Reggie says. “Got it.”

“As long as your new implant receives this external transmission, nothing happens. The implants remain latent. But if the signal gets cut off — whether through interference from the EM barrier or signal blockage from the transmission towers by, say, being in an underground vault — the implant thinks you’ve died and begins to activate.”

“So, we couldn’t even leave the island if it were possible, because we need those transmissions,” Ashley says.

“Exactly.”

“What happens when the implant activates?” Tanya asks.

“There’s a physiological cascade in the brain that occurs, beginning with the triggering of a tachykinin storm. Tachykinins are these neuropeptides that control pain sensation within the brain. They also induce nausea and vomiting and affect consciousness.”

“They’re hormones?” Kelly asks.

“No. Hormones are released into the blood. These remain in the nervous system, but they do trigger the release of other hormones resulting in what’s called a death cascade throughout the body. In the brain, sudden increases in these neuropeptides can induce coma-like states. Bioaccumulation of too much tachykinin over a prolonged period of time, say a day, can result in permanent damage and death.”

“So, what you’re saying,” Reggie growls. He walks over to Stephen, his fists clenched. “What you’re doing is tricking the implant into thinking the cerebrum has died when it hasn’t, which tricks the brain into killing the body?”

“No, we’ve rewired the implant to require an external source of suppression. Weren’t you listening?”

“So, why didn’t we die?” Jake asks.

“Mostly because of leakiness of the signal in the tunnels. If you’d continued farther, left the towers farther behind, that signal would eventually have stopped reaching your implants altogether. Then the damage would likely have been irreversible.”

“You son of a bitch!”

Kelly puts himself between Stephen and Reggie, but Reggie easily shoves him aside.

“Stop it!” Kelly hisses. “Reggie! Back off.”

Reggie swipes the cookie package from Stephen’s hand and gives him a violent shake. “I’m going to do some irreversible damage right now!”

Ashley and I run over and try to pry Reggie’s hands off Stephen, but he’s too strong.

“Goddamn sonofabitch!” he bellows.

Kelly jumps on top, and his extra weight forces us all to the ground. Reggie lifts his arm and slams his fist into Stephen’s face.

“Stop it!” Kelly cries. “Reggie!”

“I’m gonna kill him!”

“He made the failsafe, Reg. He’s the only one who can tell us how to defeat it.”

“He’ll never do it!”

“He definitely won’t if he’s dead, Reg. We’ll be stuck here forever!”

This finally grabs his attention. He lowers his fist, but he doesn’t let go of Stephen’s shirt. He glowers at the man for several seconds. Then he abruptly stands up, dislodging the three of us from his back like we’re nothing.

“You will get this out of our heads,” he growls. “Or I will make sure you never leave this island, either.” He turns around and stalks off toward the far end of the shade. Along the way, he plucks a chunk of broken asphalt from the road and hurls it of the side of the highway.

“That man’s crazy,” Stephen says, sitting up. He wipes blood from his lip and curses.

But no one’s listening to him complain. Our attention is on the odd way Reggie suddenly freezes.

The rock comes down with a soft thunk a hundred yards away. Right into the middle of an approaching horde of undead.

Chapter 26

“Run!”

Tanya screams as the undead bulldoze their way through a fence already overburdened with ivy and begin to tackle the berm below us. I sprint over to the other side of the highway, and they’re there, too, emerging out of every conceivable hiding spot and hole.

“We have to get out of here!” Jake yells.

“Shut up!” Kelly shouts, nearly as loudly.

“Little too late for whispering,” Stephen says. “They already know we’re here.”

Jake grabs Tanya’s arm and begins to drag her around the road sign. I help Micah, who’s not moving so quickly. By the time we’ve all reassembled, the first IUs are scrambling over the guardrails behind us. They’re still moving clumsily, but we know from past experience that it won’t be long before they limber up.

“Go!” Micah pants, pushing me away from him. Kelly tugs my arm and urges me to run.

“Micah needs help.”

Kelly takes another look at the approaching horde, then he grabs Micah’s other arm. With us flanking him, the three of us run as fast as Micah can manage. But they soon appear on the road ahead, as well.

The stench of their bare feet on the asphalt assails my nose, stinging my nostrils and burning my eyes. It smells like burning rubber. The virus does this to their flesh, renders the oils into something like plastic. Reggie calls it weatherproofing. The technical term is plastination. Our teachers say it’s why they don’t rot like corpses normally do. The undead have figured out a way not to biodegrade.

There’s no escape behind us, the few openings ahead are closing.

“Run faster,” Kelly pants.

Tanya’s out in front, zigzagging between zombies like a pinball off the bumpers in one of Reggie’s old arcade games as she tries to find a clear path through them. She’s still screaming, which is drawing even more to us. Jake’s doing his best to quiet her down, but his own shouts aren’t helping.

“Those two are going to get us all killed,” Kelly grunts.

“It’s not the dying part I’m worried about,” I reply.

Stephen’s not far behind Jake and Tanya, following in their wake. Jake stumbles and nearly falls. He finally gathers his feet under him again and catches up to Tanya. He slaps a hand to her shoulder, and she shrieks with fright. Only when she collapses to the ground and wraps herself up into a ball does she stop. But of course, every zombie within a three mile radius has already zeroed in on us.

The sounds of the undead now fill the new quiet— the stiff creaks and groans of their plastinated muscles, bones popping in and out of joints gone dry, the moaning and hissing of air as it passes across their desiccated vocal cords. They’re not actual utterances but a facsimile of those sounds created by the accordioning of their abdominal muscles when they move and forcing the air to pass into and out of their desiccated lungs. They may be as intentional as a creaky door on a windy night, but it doesn’t make them any less terrifying.

“Get up!” Jake pleads. “Tanya, get up!” He grabs an arm and tries to yank her to her feet, but she’s too contracted with terror. Without slowing, Reggie reaches down and sweeps her up by her other arm. It nearly yanks Jake out of his shoes.

“Jessie!” Kelly yelps. “Look out!”

There’s a blur, and a body steps into my path. As I spin away, my initial thought isn’t, Oh, shit! Where’d it come from? It’s, Who the hell wears flannel in ninety-degree heat?

I instinctively grab the IU’s wrist and give it a twist, all without breaking stride or letting go of Micah. Master Rupert’s voice reminds me to use my enemy’s momentum against him, and that’s exactly what I do.

The zombie flips, and I have to let it go or else I’ll get pulled down with it. There’s a sickening crunch as the IU’s head strikes the pavement.

“Jesus,” Kelly grunts. “That’s just wrong.”

“Don’t stop and stare!” I say. My wrist hurts again, reminding me it’s only been a few days since I sprained it on the tram when I pulled the emergency brake.

Micah’s trying his best to run. He’s as pale as a ghost and gulping for air. I catch Kelly’s eye, but he doesn’t say anything. At the rate we’re going, Micah won’t last very long like this. He’s still too injured and weak. And now I wish we hadn’t let him talk us into leaving the wheelchair behind, because we won’t last much longer either if we have to keep carrying him.

Reggie and Ash do a fair job of clearing a path for us, and after another few hundred more yards, the IUs begin to thin out. Both Tanya and Jake have stopped screaming, which helps. But the real reason the zoms are falling back is that we’re on an incline and it’s getting steeper. It’s slowing down the ones trailing us. Also the slopes on either side of the road are nearly impossible to climb. The grass is slicker, the gravel looser. But we have to climb the incline, too.

Kelly’s limp worsens. I can feel it in the way Micah’s body lurches against me.

“How’s your thigh?” I ask.

“Okay. Don’t talk,” he grunts.

The cramp in my side starts off as little more than an ember. It quickly flares into a raging inferno. Breathing is becoming an exercise in will power. It feels like someone has poured hot ash down my throat and into my lungs.

“Don’t know...” Micah pants, “how much farther I... can go.”

“I said don’t talk.”

We break through the last cluster of undead, then start up the final stretch of the incline.

The others have already reached the top, some fifty or so yards ahead of us. They wait to make sure we’re clear, then they disappear over the other side. I pray they don’t return. Seeing them coming back would mean our way ahead has been cut off.

“Okay, okay,” Kelly hisses. He clutches his side with his free hand. He checks behind us, then asks to switch places.

We’ve opened up a large enough gap that we don’t have to run anymore. Even slowing to a brisk walk feels like heaven.

“Fucking Reggie,” Kelly growls. “Couldn’t shut up.”

“Don’t blame him. Tanya was the one screaming.”

“He was the one shouting first. He’s always got to—”

“Kelly, please.”

He doesn’t press the issue, but I can tell he won’t drop it, either. First chance we get, he’ll bring up Reggie’s role in drawing the IUs out of their holes. Frankly, we’ve got much bigger problems than assigning blame.

We trudge up the grade. My legs feel like lead, and I know it’s because the adrenaline of first seeing the horde has dissipated. My muscles burn. I’m dripping sweat, and the air is too humid to get any relief.

We finally reach the top and have our first glimpse of the other side. It seems the hill has helped us in another way. Not only has it slowed down the undead behind us, but it’s also blocked any noise we’ve made from reaching past it. There’s not IU in sight.

But of course they’re down there. We know they are. They just don’t know we’re here, too. And we need to keep it that way. We need to stay quiet and not give them any reason to come out.

The rest of the gang are waiting for us some fifty feet ahead, halfway down the slope. Reggie starts to jog back. After a moment, Jake follows. Without a word, they take Micah and begin the descent. Kelly limps after them, gasping.

I take one last look back. The dead are still coming after us, plodding slowly but steadily up the incline. After their initial clumsiness, they appear to have adjusted and are now moving more quickly.

“Come on,” Kelly says, and taps me on the arm.

My muscles are already starting to stiffen up. My feet feel swollen inside these new shoes. I’ve got blisters, and it feels like some of them are open and bleeding.

“That might be a good place to take a rest,” Kelly says. He points down the road, where a faded Burger King sign reaches above the tree canopy a quarter mile away. “Lots of open ground around it. If we hurry, we can probably get there without being seen.”

No one reminds him that zombies can’t see, not in the traditional sense.

“I hope the drive-thru’s open,” Reggie grunts. “Just give me a dozen cold drinks. To go.”

“I meant what’s next to it,” Kelly says.

“What?”

“The sporting goods store.”

“Good call, brah.”

“We can’t stop now,” Jake says. “Those things are right behind us. We have to keep moving.”

“We can’t keep going,” Kelly says. “Micah needs rest.”

“We all do,” I add.

“But they’re coming!”

“After a few hours, they’ll wander off again.”

“And I could use some new clothes,” Reggie says. “Mine are soaked through and stink. Plus, they’ll probably have some decent weapons. Maybe a crossbow. And ammo for that pistol.”

“And food,” I say. “Energy bars, electrolytes.”

“None of that’s going to do us any good if Arc catches us,” Jake says.

“Yeah, well, let them come. They’ll first have to make it through them,” Kelly says, gesturing behind us.

“Speaking of Arc,” Reggie says. He stops and looks around, worry pinching his face. “Anyone see Stephen?”

Chapter 27

Kelly’s off and running toward the crest of the overpass before I can stop him. I give chase. There’s no way I’m letting him be up there alone. He moves fast despite his limp.

We reach the top at the same time and scan all around us. Stephen’s nowhere to be seen.

“He’s gone, Kelly. Come on. We have to go!”

He makes a strangled sound in his throat. He glances back down at the others, and I know what he’s thinking. How can we go on now? How are we supposed to get off the island without Stephen?

“Kelly, please. We need to go.”

“We need him.”

“He’s probably dead, Kel.”

“He’s not dead, and you know it. He took off the first chance he got.”

“It’s not his first chance, Kel. Why would he choose now, of all times? We’ve come pretty far. And he doesn’t stand a chance out here alone. It doesn’t make sense.”

“He’s probably halfway back to LaGuardia by now.”

It’s an exaggeration, and he knows it, but he’s clearly too frustrated to think clearly.

“Either way,” I say, “there’s nothing we can do about it. We know where we have to go and what we have to do. We have to keep going. Now. They’re coming.”

At last, he shakes his head. “Alright.” He takes one last look down at the undead, then turns back.

“Now what’re we going to do?” Jake demands, when we return.

Kelly marches past him without a word. I glare at Jake and shake my head as a warning not to say anything more. He naturally misinterprets my intent.

“It’s not my fault he’s gone!”

“Will you just shut up,” Reggie hisses.

Kelly spins around. “Just like you should’ve shut up back there!” he whispers at Reg. “You’re the reason they found us!”

I push Kelly away and tell him to keep walking.

“Jake’s got a point,” Ash says in a low voice. “Without him, how’re we going to get rid of the failsafe? We don’t even know where he was taking us.”

I stop. Kelly continues to limp off. “Maybe not,” I confide.

Reggie grabs my arm. “What do you mean, Jess?” I try to pull free, but he holds on tight. “This is bullshit. What does Kelly know? Did Stephen tell him something?”

“Nothing he hasn’t told the rest of us. We just haven’t been listening to the clues.”

“What clues?”

“First things first,” I say, finally succeeding in shrugging his hand off my arm. “We need to clear out of here before those IUs reach the top of the rise. Then we need to hunker down for a while out of the sun, or else we’re all going to pass out.”

“Damn it, Jessie! Why are you two shutting us out like this?”

“We’re not. We’re doing the best we can to keep things together, just like you.”

“Just tell us!”

But I won’t. I know it’ll cause even more trouble if I do. We need to get inside first.

Jake grumbles that he doesn’t like this. “Since those two got back together again, it’s been all about them. They think they’re better than the rest of us because they’re not stuck here like we are. That doesn’t give them the right to boss us around. If you ask me—”

“Get the fuck away from me, Pukeboy,” Reggie snarls.

“Oh, so you like being—”

“Would you just shut the hell up?”

“Hey, you were the one shooting your mouth off back there. You’re the one that caused that scene in the first place!”

I hear scuffling and a grunt. Before I can turn, Ashley has already separated them. “You boys, behave! Reggie, Jake, it’s not worth it.”

I notice she didn’t defend me and Kelly against Jake’s assertion about us thinking we’re better than the rest of the group. Neither did Reggie. Is that how they see us now? Do they think we’re not taking this as seriously as they are because there’s no failsafe script keeping us here on the island? The fact that we’re still here should tell them all they need to know. We’re doing this for them!

Kelly’s limp is getting real bad, and by the time we’ve caught up with him, he’s clearly in a lot of pain. His face is ashy, and the strain of putting one foot in front of the other shows.

“What happened?” Ashley asks. I don’t know if it’s genuine concern for him or for herself.

“He cut his leg when he jumped off the tram,” I reply. “It’s bleeding again.”

“It might be infected.”

I don’t tell her it’s too soon for that to be a worry. I’m more concerned that the damage is deeper than he’s saying.

“He needs a hospital.”

I roll my eyes. Of course he needs hospital. We all do, especially Micah. That’s why we have to find a place soon. We need to get out of the sun. We need to rest and rehydrate. And I need to bandage that wound.

“Serves him right,” Jake mumbles. I turn to respond, but the dirty look Tanya gives him shuts him up. She finally seems to be growing tired of his whining, too.

I almost want to hug her. I’m relieved that she’s doing as well as she is. But she’s still a liability, still just as unprepared and unfit for all this as he is. I hope she continues to pair up with Jake, though. It’s helped distract him at times and gives his constant neediness a new outlet. I dread what’ll happen if she drops him.

Reggie’s still half-carrying, half-dragging Micah. He moves efficiently and soon catches up with Kelly. He mutters something in passing and points to a narrow animal trail leading from the shoulder of the road down to the parking lot for the sports store. It’s a straight shot, and probably the quickest way there without having to find the next exit or break in the fence. But it’s narrow, and the brush along either side of the path is dense. Just the kind of cover IUs might like to hide in.

Kelly shakes his head and gestures farther up the road.

So we keep walking, heading for what appears to be an exit at the junction with the Douglaston Parkway. But when we get there, there’s no off-ramp.

We gather in the shade of the overpass to discuss whether to keep going or backtrack. The Douglaston curves over our heads and back around to the right, leading straight to the sporting goods store. About sixty feet of loose brush separates us from the parking lot, plus the chain link fence.

“Well?”

“I say we go back and try that path,” Reggie says.

Ashley shakes her head. “I didn’t like the looks of it.”

Reggie sighs, but doesn’t argue.

“We could try going through here,” Kelly says. He bends down to look beneath the brush. “It looks clear.”

“Not as clear as back there.”

“And I don’t see a hole in that fence,” I say.

“There’s a gap at the bottom where the runoff has cut a dike. Looks big enough for us. Even Reg.”

“That’s questionable.”

“One person should hold it up while the rest squeeze through.”

“Who’s going to do that?”

“Oh, for god’s sake!” Jake snaps. “Just decide already.”

“You wanted to be more involved,” Reggie counters. “How about you take charge?”

“Both of you, keep it down!” I hiss. “After what we just went through, you think you’d learn.”

Before anyone can stop him, Jake is off and wading through the brush. It’s thick in places, yet he deftly sidesteps the worst of it. He looks like he’s spent a lot of time doing this sort of trailblazing.

When he reaches the fence, he beckons us to come. The metal rattles when he pulls the bottom edge up.

No one moves. It seems none of us is willing to take the risk of being first on the other side. Or perhaps we don’t trust him. Even Tanya’s reluctant to leave the safety of the group.

“Come on, guys!” Jake whispers. He looks like he’s starting to regret his decision.

We all hear it at the same time, a soft fluttering of movement in the rafters overhead. My skin literally prickles and my vision tunnels. A pigeon erupts out of the darkness and flies away. I feel as if my heart is trying to exit my body through my throat.

“Go, Jess,” Kelly says.

“No. Take Micah. I’ll bring up the rear.”

“But—”

I show him the pistol, and he nods understanding.

After Micah crawls through, Kelly quickly follows and takes up a defensive position. Ashley and Tanya follow. “You should go next,” Reggie tells me.

“You worried about me getting stuck out here alone? Or are you worried about Jake?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’m not leaving anyone behind this time,” I tell him. “I’m coming last. Now go.”

“Okay, sister. See you on the other side.” Then he’s loping across open ground, crashing through the brush more than following the same winding path the others took. He hands Jake his backpack, signals he’s ready, and shimmies underneath. Jake strains to hold it up high enough so that he doesn’t get caught. The moment he’s clear, Reggie signals for me to follow.

Suddenly, the distance between the fence and the overpass seems like miles. I wipe my sweaty palms on my jeans. I’m just about to go when I hear another sound above me. Dirt and pebbles cascade down from the rafters. I’m off like a rocket, tearing along the path, half tripping on exposed roots. Jake’s eyes widen as he watches me, and for a split second I’m sure he’s going to slip beneath the fence himself and leave me stranded. And so, despite my earlier promise to Reggie not to let anyone else be last this time, I don’t wait. I dive underneath, sliding in the dirt.

But I’m too slow. I’m only partway through when I realize it’s got me! It’s got a hold of my shirt! I can feel it raking its claws along my back.

“Jesus! Hold on!” Jake hisses. “You’re caught up on the wire.”

I can feel him tugging at my waist, yanking my pants. Then he tells me I’m free.

Someone jerks me to my feet. And by the time I’ve recovered, Jake’s nearly through himself with Kelly holding the bottom edge of fence up for him.

The bushes along the path behind us rustle with movement, and I wait for whatever’s hiding to reveal itself.

But it’s just the wind. Nothing follows after me. I’d panicked for nothing.

Chapter 28

“Ho-lee crap, you should’ve seen the look on your face!” Reggie says. “It was fucking precious. Wish I’d had my Link out and recorded it.”

“Yeah, go ahead and laugh,” I say. “That was not funny.” I swing my pack at him, but he dodges around a light post.

“You’re right, Jess. It wasn’t funny. It was freaking hilarious!”

I give him the finger. It wouldn’t be so bad if he were the only one teasing me, but Ash is off to the side trying not to laugh. Even Kelly seems amused. He tells Reg to knock it off, but he doesn’t sound like he means it. “We need to get serious.”

And they all start laughing again.

“Shut up, you guys.”

Kelly leans in. “Aw, come on, Jess. It was kind of funny.”

“Better check your ladypants,” Reggie says.

I scowl at him.

“Not even a little pee?” he pushes. “No leakage at all?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“I mean, you were like, ‘Waaah! Get da fug outta my way! I’m coming through!’ ”

“That doesn’t even sound like me.”

“No, no,” he says, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re right. It was actually more like, ‘Aieee! Cowabunga!’ ”

“I didn’t say that!” I shout.

Everyone stops and looks nervously around. It’s suddenly very quiet. But the only sounds that greet our ears are the low whine of the breeze through the trees and the raucous buzz of the cicadas in them.

“You guys need to shush,” Ashley scolds. She tries to look all stern but sympathetic at the same time, and all it does it twist her face into something that isn’t quite either of those things. Before I can control myself, a bubble of laughter burps out of me, and everyone starts all over again, although much more restrained this time around. A lot of the tension I’ve been holding in for the last several days leaves my body. It feels good to laugh.

“You know I have never said ‘cowabunga’ in my entire life,” I mutter. “Except for now.”

“Maybe it was ‘yippee kaiyay.’ ”

I roll my eyes. “You seriously need to stop watching those old movies of yours. They’re rotting your brain.”

“Thus making me less of a target to the undead.”

“Yeah, that’s not how it works.”

“Don’t listen to them,” Jake says, slipping over to my side. “They’re jerks.”

“They’re not jerks,” I say. He doesn’t realize that this is how we interact with each other. Every single one of us has at one time or another felt the brunt of the group’s collective teasing. And we’ve all partaken with equal zeal when we’re not the target. But once it’s over, it’s over, and there are no hard feelings. It’s like getting rid of all the junk code in a hack. What you get afterwards is a lot more streamlined and works better together.

“You notice I wasn’t laughing? I’d never laugh at you like that.”

And that’s the problem. It’s why Jake doesn’t get us.

“It’s okay, really.”

“Well, if you even get tired of it, we’re here for you, me and Tanya.”

And there it is, this on-again off-again act that sets my teeth on edge. He knows I’m with Kelly. Why is he trying to drive a wedge between us?

“They’re just blowing off steam.”

“By being mean?”

“It’s not mean.”

“Looks mean to me.”

“I guess you would know about that,” I say, starting to lose patience.

“What’s that mean?”

“Nothing. Look, Jake, I just...  Just give it a rest. Okay? Just for once, take a hint and let it go.”

“I’m just—”

“No, you’re not! You’re always— You’re... You’re just too much sometimes.”

* * *

THE FRONT DOORS TO the sports store are locked, of course. Reggie wipes away some of the dust from the window and looks inside. “I see a lot of... I don’t know, uniforms and crap. Lots of the old collectible stuff— football and hockey jerseys. Not much equipment.”

“Collectible and illegal,” Jake grumbles. He still hasn’t learned when to shut up.

“Illegal or not,” Kelly says, “we all need fresh new clothes. And they’re bound to have food and bottled water inside.”

“I am so tired of packaged crap. Right now I’d love a big, fat, juicy turkey drumstick.”

“It’s only been a few days, Reg.”

“With gravy,” Ashley adds.

“You’re not helping.”

“And mashed potatoes,” I offer.

Kelly peeks around the corner of the building before waving us to follow. “Keep your eyes peeled,” he warns. “Hopefully, there’s an open door in back.”

We all take the hint that fun time’s over. No more joking around.

There are potential hiding places all around us. Each of us makes a mental note of them, as well as any routes of escape we might need in case we’re set upon again. If there’s one thing we’ve learned since coming here, it’s that the stuff they taught us in our Physiology and Behavior of Reanimates class in school is either grossly incomplete or criminally inaccurate. Take, for example, the fact that IUs avoid the sun by hiding. That was never really emphasized. We all grew up believing they wandered around all the time, day or night, looking for opportunities to spread the virus.

The other thing they never told us is how their brains turn into powder after a while. That was a shocking discovery. The first time I blew the head off of one back in Long Island City, I thought I’d exploded a sack of flour. I still have nightmares about it. What if that powder is, like, spores or something?

I glance anxiously back the way we’ve come. Nothing moves, even on the overpass. It seems the undead have given up chasing us. Maybe it’s too hot for them. Or too bright. Or maybe they’ve lost their appetite.

Doubt it.

Which raises an interesting — and important — question. How long do they remember? What happens when they forget what they’re chasing after? Do they go back to the same hiding spot as before? What if one goes back and finds another zombie in its place? Do they fight?”

I’m about to turn back when something near the top of the road catches my eye. It’s just the tiniest impression of movement. I squint, but the scene is distorted by the heat coming off the asphalt.

“Jess, you coming?”

I watch a few more seconds, but whatever I thought I’d seen, it’s either gone now or it never existed.

We find a loading dock around back. There’s a panel door beside it marked STAFF ONLY. Reggie looks through the small window and reports it’s too dark to see anything inside. We try the knob but it’s locked, just like all the other doors.

“Suggestions? Because we can try—” Kelly says, when he’s interrupted by a squeal of metal on metal.

“What the hell, man?” Ashley’s whispers.

Jake’s crouched beside the rolling cargo door, frozen in the process of pulling it up. He’s managed to lift it up a couple inches.

“I thought we might be able to get in through here,” he says, sheepishly.

“Yeah, after you announce to every goddamn IU in the region that we’re here.”

“I didn’t know. Should I let it down?”

“Wait.” Kelly steps over. “Okay, very slowly, see if it’ll go any higher.”

Jake inches it up. He moves at a glacial pace, yet it still makes far more noise than we like. Everyone’s ready to run if necessary.

After several long, heart-pounding minutes, he manages to lift it about ten inches before Kelly tells him to stop. He props the door open with a cinderblock retrieved from an old flowerbed in the store’s outdoor lunch area. Jake gets down onto his stomach and peers underneath. He brushes away a chunk of dead leaves and garbage that have blown up against the door over the years. “It’s too dark inside. I can’t see anything.”

“Be careful,” Tanya says. “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“Jake’s got an admirer,” Reggie softly croons.

Jake’s face flushes redder than the sun has already turned it.

“If you people weren’t so mean to him,” Tanya says. She doesn’t finish the thought.

Ashley tells Reggie to stop being a dick.

“I’m not being a dick.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Just keep it down,” I warn everyone.

“Who’s volunteering to go in?” Kelly asks.

No one steps up.

“Fine,” Jake says. “I’m down here already.”

“Be careful, Jake,” Tanya says, clutching her hands to her belly.

My hero, Reggie silently mouths to Ash.

“Give me five minutes to do a quick check. I’ll see if I can open one of the doors from the inside. Without breaking any glass.”

“About time he took some initiative,” Kelly murmurs as he steps past me. He says it quietly, so I know it’s meant only for me. He’s got a point, but he’s also wrong. Jake took the initiative back there at the fence, too, and no one acknowledged it.

“I think we should stop with the constant badgering,” I tell him. “That goes for all of us. You, too, Reg.”

“Hey, she’s doing it, too,” Reggie says of Ash.

“Thanks for throwing me under the bus.”

Two minutes pass. Then four, and Jake doesn’t reappear.

“Taking his own damn time,” Reggie mutters.

Six minutes comes and goes.

Then seven.

“What the hell is he doing?”

Nine minutes after entering, Jake pops his head out through the side door. “All clear,” he announces.

“You were supposed to let us in first.”

“I changed my mind.”

After helping Kelly lower the bay door again, I’m the last one inside.

“Red Bull?” Ashley asks, the moment I’m in. She places something in my hand, only I can’t see it because my eyes haven’t adjusted to the dim light.

“Figures that’d be the first thing you find,” I reply, but I gratefully accept it. I dust it off on my shirt and pop the top. I’m so thirsty that I chug the whole thing without taking a breath. It’s going to give me a banger of a head rush in about ten minutes, but I don’t care.

After we’ve drunk our fill of plastic-tasting bottled water and flavored energy drinks, we stuff our brand new backpacks with energy bars and packaged nuts. While the others go shopping for clothes and weapons, I sit with Kelly on a workout bench so I can help him clean and bandage his leg.

“Seems like a lifetime ago the last time you helped me take my pants off,” he jokes.

It does seem like that.

I pull his head to me and we kiss. It’s a quick one, taking him by surprise. He leans in for another, and suddenly I don’t want to let him go. My need for him is almost overwhelming, but so is the sudden and unexpected rush of homesickness. Intimacy in such a terrifying place seems wrong.

I have to wet his pants down to peel them off the crusty wound. He lies back, covering his face so I can’t see him wince. He curses under his breath.

“Damn, Kel. This doesn’t look good.”

The gash is roughly four inches long and probably at least a half inch deep. I can’t really tell for sure because it’s puckered up.

“Don’t sugarcoat it.”

“Why didn’t you say something?”

He sits up to inspect it.

“Just put a bandage on it. I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not fine. You need stitches.”

He presses his thumbs to either side of the cut and hisses in pain. Fresh blood oozes out. “See, it’s mostly stopped.”

“I’m more worried about what I can’t see.”

“Pour some water on it,” he says.

I rinse until the wound is clean. He white knuckles the edge of the bench and doesn’t utter anything louder than a grunt.

“What do you want me to do?”

“Check my pack,” he tells me. “The medical bag from the tram is in there.” He blots it dry with a golf towel, then picks at the few remaining bits of scab. I slap his hand away.

I don’t find any sutures, which is probably for the best anyway, since my sewing abilities are about as good as a drunk attempting a field sobriety test. But I do find some skin-closure tape and antibiotic ointment. I do my best to bring the edges together. It’s still going to scar. I finish with a fat bandage.

“No skinny jeans for you for a while.”

“Least of my worries,” he says. His face is white and damp with sweat. “Anything in there for pain?”

I shake my head, but I do find a bottle of aspirin at the checkout. “It’s only expired seven years.”

“Better triple the dosage then,” he tells me. He smiles thinly and breaks the seal on the package. He shakes a half dozen into his palm and swallows them whole.

“Wimp,” I tease. I know it must hurt pretty bad.

“We can’t all be Reg.”

I start to clean up the mess, and he tells me to leave it. “No one cares.” I know he’s right, yet I still feel like I have to do it. It’s irrational, but I also don’t want to leave evidence for Arc to find.

“So, how about we go shopping now?” he suggests.

He picks out a pair of loose workout pants and an old-style New York Giants jersey, white with blue and red lettering. I don’t understand the boys’ obsession with football. It’s not like they have any memories of watching the games live. I think Reggie’s dad might have recordings, but I’ve never seen them watching the games.

“Pretty bright. They’ll see you coming a mile away.”

He grins and reverses it. The other side is dark blue with white numbers. “Good for daytime and nighttime. I also found this,” he says, holding up a baseball bat. “It’s autographed by Tom Seever.”

“Tom who?”

“Beats the hell out of me. Or rather, it’ll beat the hell out of the undead.”

“It’s not the IUs I’m worried about, Kel. It’s Arc.”

“That’s why I got you this.” He hands me a golf club. “Golf is probably more their speed, the rich bastards.”

“Seriously?”

“It’s light but packs a powerful punch. I mean, I’m assuming it does, since it’s called Big Bertha.”

“It has a name?”

Kelly laughs. “Big Bertha for Badass Jessie. Check out the price tag.”

I whistle.

“And that’s just one club.”

“When do you think we should tell the others where we’re going?” I ask.

This sobers Kelly up. He gathers his backpack and baseball bat. I can see him considering his options. “When the time is right,” he says. Then he walks off, signaling the end of that conversation for now.

We find the crew on the other side of the store, relaxing on exercise mats in the yoga section. Micah’s already sound asleep and snoring.

“We’ve decided we’re not leaving,” Ashley asserts. She’s sitting cross-legged and is massaging her feet. “Not until we get some rest.”

“We have to keep moving.”

“There’s nothing on the tracker yet. We’re miles ahead of Arc.”

“That doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“It’s non-negotiable,” Reggie says. “We need the rest. You’re overruled.”

Kelly checks the time on his Link. “It’s a little after three o’clock now. If we take an hour, we’ll still have a good five hours of daylight.”

Everyone groans. “No one’s got another five hours of walking in them,” I say.

“I know. But we can at least get in two or three. I want to be as far from this place and holed up somewhere at least two hours before dark.”

“For the night, right?” Tanya asks. “We’re not walking at night, are we?”

Kelly hesitates before replying, “No, no walking at night.” He digs through his backpack. “I’ll set a timer on my Link to ping us in an hour.”

“I’ll do it,” Ashley says. “Already got mine out.”

“Should someone keep guard?” I ask.

Reggie cracks an eyelid. “It’s just for an hour, Jess. And I set up booby traps around the doors. If anyone — or anything tries to come in — we’ll hear them. You know, because of the booby traps.”

“You just like saying booby,” Ash jokes.

“Booby has a nice ring to it.” He pinches his thumb and forefinger. “Usually about so big.”

Everyone groans.

“Also,” he adds, reaching into his backpack and pulling something out. It glints in the meager light filtering in from the dusty front windows. “Anyone tries to get in, they get to meet Isabelle. I call her Izzy for short.”

“You already have a knife.”

“Lost it somewhere.”

I’m guessing it was probably back there where he attacked Stephen.

Izzy’s even larger than his first knife. She— it looks deadly in his hand. Too bad the man holding it also happens to be wearing a goofy Anaheim hockey jersey with a silly duck mascot on the front. I can’t decide if he went for the oversized shirt because it’s comical or because it was the only thing he could find that fit.

“What is it with guys naming their weapons?” I ask.

“It’s when they sleep with them that you should start to worry,” Ashley says.

“Just be careful with that thing,” Jake says. “Don’t go stabbing anyone in the dark.”

“Hey, watch what you say about Izzy. She’s very sensitive.”

I lower myself to the floor. My muscles are already stiffening up, and the aches and pains from all my various injuries are starting to blend into one whole-body bruise. I drop my head to the mat, and I’m out like a light.

* * *

SOMETHING’S FALLING.

It sounds like cans of food. Cans of food are falling somewhere, but I can’t figure out where. I run around, and I’m lost, and I can’t find those cans.

I remember the little convenience story in Long Island City. The loose shelf. The mouse-eaten labels. I know it’s a memory, and I know I’m asleep and remembering all this while in the middle of a dream dreaming about falling cans. But the noise isn’t in my dream. That’s why I can’t find it. I have to wake up first.

I’m aware of all this, and yet I can’t wake. I hover in that in-between space between consciousness and sleep. There’s an interminable moment when I know I have to wake because something strange is happening around me, but I can’t. Moving is impossible. Breathing, too.

I want to scream.

I’d been dreaming of our escape from Long Island. Specifically, the return dive through the Midtown tunnel. I was stuck at that mound of storm debris, except this time it wasn’t Jake stranded on the wrong side, but me. My rebreather cartridge was fully depleted. I was suffocating and trying to find a way through.

Then things started falling. I tried making a hole, and pieces started falling off, hitting the floor of the tunnel far below. The tunnel was a mile high, a mile wide, and everything was collapsing. Ceiling tiles and light fixtures, too. Soon, the whole East River would come down and crush me.

And it all sounded like cans.

Empty cans.

Jessie? Hey, Jess, wake up.

I jolt and sit upright, sucking in air. Someone’s holding onto me, shushing me. It’s pitch dark. Somewhere nearby there’s the rustle of clothing. Rapid footsteps. There’s another crash and someone curses.

“Jess?”

“Ash?”

“What the fuck is going on, Jess?”

I’m already on my feet. She’s trying to pull me back down.

“Why the hell is it so dark?” I whisper.

“It’s night.”

I shake my head. How could it be night? We just fell asleep.

“I can’t see a damn thing,” I say. I pull out my Link for light. I groan when I see that it’s well after midnight.

“Shut it off!” Ashley whispers.

More footsteps, then another crash and more cursing, muffled this time.

“Kelly? Reggie?”

A beam of light penetrates the darkness.

“Get that out of my eyes!” Kelly snaps, shielding his face.

“Where did you go?” Jake asks. He swings the beam past Kelly. It sweeps past Reggie before swinging back to the figure between them.

“Stephen?”

He’s covered in blood.

Chapter 29

“Careful,” Kelly warns. “And I told you to turn off that damn flashlight, Jake! You’re lighting us up like a damn beacon.”

Stephen’s arm is torn up. It looks like someone dragged him across a gravel lot. The scrape is matted with dirt and bits of leaves and grass. When he turns, I see the back of his shirt is shredded and soaked through.

“He’s been bitten!” Jake yelps. “Get him out of here! He’s infected!”

“It’s a scrape,” Kelly hisses. “Calm down.”

“He’s been bit!”

“I said be quiet. It’s not a bite.”

He gestures for Reggie to take Stephen to the dressing room. “We can use the flashlights in there. Ash, see if you can find something to block the opening. A blanket or a tarp maybe. Last thing we need is to draw the attention of anyone outside.”

“Why me? Why not Jake? Or, god forbid, Jessie?”

“Can you just for once do something without screwing it up?”

“Kelly!” I exclaim.

“She had one simple task, Jessie, to set the alarm for an hour. And because she couldn’t get that right, this happens.”

I know he’s right. We relied on her to wake us up after a brief nap. Setting an alarm is a simple task, so what happened? The only thing I can think is that she didn’t want to leave so soon. None of us did. We’re all exhausted. But with Arc on our heels, that act of selfishness could cost us everything.

“You realize that light alone won’t draw the dead,” Stephen says. He grunts when Reggie yanks him toward the dressing rooms. “Take it easy, man.”

“You were the one trying to break in here.”

“I was looking for you!”

“Just move it.”

“Watch it! That side’s sore, too.”

“Like I give a crap.”

“You should. I’m your only ticket out of this place. Or have you already forgotten?”

“Fuck you and your ticket. We have our own plan.”

I follow after them. I need to know what happened. “Where did you go?” I ask. “How did you find us?”

“Give him some room,” Kelly says, nudging me to the side. Even in the gloom I can tell from the look in his eyes and the tone in his voice that he worried. Despite what he just told Jake, does he think Stephen might actually be infected?

“Kel?”

“Let’s take care of his bleeding first,” he says. “There’ll be time for questions after.”

“Okay. What do you want me to do?”

His glances over at the windows at the front of the store. “Just keep an eye out. Double check that all the doors are locked. If he managed to find us, I imagine others can, too.”

“Arc?”

He hesitates before answering. “Right now they’re the least of our worries.”

I check the doors and restack Reggie’s rudimentary alarm system of cans. I guess I should be thankful for it, since it worked exactly as planned. I only wish we hadn’t needed it. Then I go over to the front windows and stare out into the pitch darkness. It’s that dead time of night when the rest of the world is asleep— at least in places where people still do sleep. Do the undead?

I can’t see very much at all. It’s totally dark out there. There are no street lights, and no starlight, either. The sky is covered by the clouds, only the slightest suggestion offers proof of the moon high above. I search for any sign of movement, particularly the glow of Links or flashlights. But nothing pierces that impenetrable sea of darkness.

Somewhere in the depths of the store, I hear people talking. There’s Ashley’s gravelly alto and Reggie’s soothing bass, but the words are too quiet to make out. Every once in a while, I hear Stephen yelp, followed by the murmur of Kelly’s voice.

I’m leaning against the jamb, half asleep again, when the sky lights up, startling me awake. Seconds later the low rumble of thunder rolls over us. I can’t tell if it’s dry lightning, as often happens during the summer nights here, or whether to expect rain. I push myself off the wall and wait.

A minute later, the clouds light up again. This time, my eyes are focused straight ahead, and my heart nearly stops as the thunder crashes all around us.

“They’re here,” I urgently whisper, drawing Kelly away from the rest of the group.

“Arc?”

“No. IUs. They’re everywhere outside.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment.

“Tell everyone to keep quiet,” he advises. “And to stay away from the windows. Looks like we’re stuck here for the night whether we like it or not.”

Chapter 30

“I already told you,” Stephen says. “I ran, just like everyone else.”

He and Kelly are inside the dressing room. The rest of us, save Micah, are clustered just outside, listening in.

“I ran in the same direction as you guys did. Got to the top of the road, and the next thing I know, I’m sliding on my back down the gravel off to one side. That’s how this happened.”

“Why would you get so close to the edge? Everyone else stayed in the middle of the road,” Kelly says.

“Well, it certainly wasn’t planned,” Stephen snaps. “I went to see how close they were.”

“You’re saying you tripped over the guardrail? I find that hard to believe.”

“I didn’t trip. And I certainly didn’t go voluntarily.”

“Someone pushed you?”

Stephen doesn’t answer.

“Well, were you pushed or not? Because no one here would do that. We all know we need you to get out of here.”

“It doesn’t sound like that to me. Mister Casey seems convinced you already have a plan that doesn’t require me.”

“He’s just mouthing off. No one pushed you.”

“Maybe... I mean, it was chaotic. One moment we’re all standing close together, then next everyone’s running, trying to get away.”

I want to point out the inconsistency in his story. He just said he was standing with everyone else, but a few minutes ago he told Kelly he went over to the edge to see if there were more IUs coming.

“I ended up right in the middle of a whole bunch of them.”

I realize I’ve been unintentionally staring at Jake. He scowls at me and grumbles, “It wasn’t me.”

The thing is, I know he didn’t do it, because he and Tanya had been out in front right from the start. They were the ones screaming bloody murder. I remember seeing Stephen behind them. And Micah and Kelly were with me.

Which leaves Reggie and Ash.

It can’t be a coincidence that Stephen’s description of what happened matches Kelly’s when he went over the handrail down in Manhattan. I’m surprised Kelly doesn’t pick up on this. Same exact M.O.

Except what could Reggie’s intent be this time around? Another joke? Or was he really trying to get rid of Stephen? Does he really believe we already have a plan to do this on our own, like he said?

I doubt it.

“Asshole’s lying,” Reggie whispers. “No one deliberately pushed him. Why would we?”

Stephen lets out a yelp, followed by a string of curses. “You’re ripping my skin off.”

“I’m trying to clean you up,” Kelly says. “You’ve got gravel embedded in your back. At least that part of your story rings true.”

He raises his voice a little, directing his next words to those of us waiting outside the dressing room: “Who’s out there?”

“What do you need?” I ask.

“Jess, can you get us some water? And a bunch of towels and some bandages. And see if you can find anything in the first aid kit to help me pick out these stones. Tweezers or something would be great.”

“You want to waste good drinking water on this piece of trash?” Reggie grumbles.

So far, he’s not really making the case to eliminate himself as the pusher.

I gather the requested supplies and a smaller version of the same Anaheim Ducks jersey Reggie is wearing to replace Stephen’s torn shirt and slip them underneath the tarp. For the next hour, Kelly works in near total silence. Whether he believes Stephen or not, he’s done questioning him for now.

The others get bored and return to their yoga mats. I fall asleep sitting up with my back against the wall. I wake when I feel the tarp curtain tugging open behind me. Kelly and Stephen emerge. From the change in the quality of light coming in through the front window, it looks like dawn’s coming.

Kelly’s bound Stephen’s hands with the laces removed from a pair of boxing gloves. Reggie appears wearing a different hockey jersey, as if he can’t stand the idea of being seen supporting the same long defunct team as Stephen.

Kelly gestures toward our sleeping mats and suggests everyone get some rest while we can, since we’ll be leaving at daybreak.

“I have some questions I’d like to ask him,” Jake announces.

“Not now.”

“First, how the heck did you avoid getting bit?”

“I said to give it a rest,” Kelly snaps.

“I escaped by crawling into a storm drain.”

“I’d also like to know how you found us.”

I’ve been wondering the same things. I thought I’d had the answer for this second question. I know I’d seen something on the crest of the hill right before we broke into the store. If it was him, he could easily have seen us. But if he crawled into a storm drain, he’d still have been in it at that point.

“And lastly,” Jake continues. “Why did you come back?”

“Yes, why did you come back?” Reggie asks. “You could’ve taken off, waited for your people to come and extract you. Why come back to us knowing we’d just tie you up again? Unless...”

“I’m not helping them find you. I have no way of communicating with them.”

Except you do, I realize. All they have to do is to tap into your head. Or Tanya’s.

I’ve kept my eye on her specifically for this reason, but I haven’t noticed her phase out like that since snapping out of it this morning, but it doesn’t mean it hasn’t happened.

“And why should we believe you?” Reggie asks.

“Look, you’re wrong to think I tried to run away,” Stephen insists. “If I’d wanted to, I could’ve gotten away from you kids any number of times.”

“Kids,” Jake sputters. “That’s a lot of condescension coming from a guy just a few years older than us.”

“And whose hands are tied up,” Ashley adds.

“I wouldn’t have attempted what you did.”

“You wouldn’t have gotten one-tenth as far as we did,” Reggie says.

“No, I would have realized ten seconds in how stupid it was.”

“Alright, everyone. Stop.”

“You all think what you want about my intentions. It’s useless to try and convince you otherwise.”

“Because you’re a liar!”

“Keep it down, Jake.”

“I’m not lying, Mr Esposito. As your Mr Corben said back there at the airport, we need each other. I recognize and accept this. You obviously need me if you’re ever going to get my script out of your heads, and I need you if I’m going to survive the undead long enough to get off the island.”

“You survived just fine on your own back there,” Kelly says.

“A little luck only goes so far. But things are about to get a lot harder. And that means you’re all going to be asked to make tougher decisions. Adult decisions.”

“Like what, remembering to pay our water bill?”

“Like what happens if one of you gets infected. I know one of you already has it in them to kill.”

He avoids my gaze just as pointedly as he’d held it earlier, with the same effect.

“Why are we even wasting our time with this loser?” Reggie demands. “All he does is talk in circles and riddles and makes vague threats. I haven’t heard a single useful thing out of him.”

“I’ve told you more than enough,” Stephen says. “If you haven’t figured it out by now, then you either haven’t been listening, or you’re stupider than I thought.”

Reggie doesn’t take the bait. He’s heard the dumb comments all his life. “Oh, we’ve been listening alright. We know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Reg,” Ashley says. She gives him a quick little shake of the head.

“No, he sits there all smug and thinks we’re clueless. We’re not. That little sleight-of-hand trick about going south ‘but it’s really east’? It’s not because there’s more island to hide out in here. If it was, we’d stop right now. As long as Arc has their tracker, you could drop us anywhere in New Merica and they’d know instantly where we are. We all know what’s east. We’re not dumb. And that thing about one of us having to kill another? You’re just trying to get us not trust each other. Basic Art of War psychology: divide and conquer.”

“What’s east?” Jake asks.

We all turn to him and stare. Has he seriously not figured it out yet?

“Gameland,” Tanya whispers.

“What? Why?” he asks, his voice cracking.

“It’s where the main servers are housed,” Kelly says.

“Inside Gameland?”

“There’s a place called Jayne’s Hill. That’s where they’re located, am I right?” Kelly asks Stephen.

He nods.

“Right smack in the center of the arcade.”

“But no! We can’t go there!”

“We have to. That’s where the failsafe root files live.”

“Congratulations,” Stephen says. “Bravo. Slow clap. You really were paying attention and you figured it all out. Except you’ve figured out nothing. How are you going to get inside?”

“We’ll find a way. We’ll climb over.”

“Good luck with that.”

“But why are they kept there?” Jake asks.

“Safest place they could be,” Kelly says. “Firewalled like you’ve never seen.”

“It’s also the highest point on the island,” Stephen adds. He can’t resist. “So it’s safe from rising sea levels. But mostly because it’s the safest place you could put something  you wanted to protect from the rest of humanity.”

“So this is just another twisted part of the game for you,” Reggie growls. “New level, new challenge.”

“How do we get in?” Jake asks.

“You think I’m going to tell you that just yet?”

“Why the hell would you willingly take us there?” I ask. “Why would you come inside with us? It’s suicide.”

“Why the hell would you and Kelly?” Jake directs at me. “You two can leave anytime.”

“We have to go,” Kelly says. “The servers are deep underground.”

“So?”

“So it means you, Ashley, and Reggie can’t go in to shut them down. Only Jessie, Micah, and I can. And Micah’s questionable.”

I nod. “Kelly and I are your best shot of getting out of here.”

Chapter 31

“Bicycles.”

“You’re crazy,” Jake counters.

“Why not?” Reggie asks. “They’re quiet and efficient. We’ll move a lot faster.”

“What about Micah?” I ask.

“I can ride. Sure beats walking, anyway.”

“Like hell you can.”

“You can stop mothering me. I’m okay, really.”

“I think he means smothering,” Reggie whispers.

“Alright, then what about Stephen? How’s he going to ride with his hands and legs tied up?”

“Do I need to remind you that I came back voluntarily?” Stephen says. “That should count for something.”

“What do you have against bikes?” Reggie asks me.

I look out into the dingy gray day. The clouds are low and oppressive, still threatening rain. The wind blows a few sprinkles against the window. The occasional ray of sunlight manages to spike through the clouds before being vanquished by the turbulent weather. In the battle between light and shadow, darkness seems to be winning.

I know we can move a lot faster on bikes, but it’s not the moving faster away from things that bothers me, it’s the moving faster towards. I feel like we’re rushing into this too fast. Now that it’s actually been said out loud where we’re going, I’m having a hard time accepting what we’re about to attempt. This is a whole new level of craziness.

The parking lot that was filled with the undead just a few hours ago is now empty. There’s no trace they were ever there. And that scares the hell out of me, too. We now know for sure they’re out there, everywhere, and in large numbers. All day yesterday we walked among them without really appreciating it. I know it shouldn’t surprise me anymore, not after yesterday. I guess I’d been thinking of what happened to us in Long Island City as a fluke, as if every IU this side of the wall was concentrated there, and that there’d be a lot fewer elsewhere.

“Okay, then where are we going to get bicycles?” Jake asks.

“There’s a toy store on the other side of the parking lot.”

“I’m not riding anything with training wheels.”

“Now you’re just being silly.”

“I’m not being—”

“It’s a good idea,” Kelly says, cutting him off. “Bikes are fast. And they’re quiet. Does everyone know how to ride?”

“Really, brah?” Reggie says. “Who doesn’t know how to ride a bike?”

I almost expect Tanya to raise her hand. For some reason she strikes me as someone who never learned. But I’m wrong.

“Fine,” I say, “but if we’re going to untie Stephen, then he doesn’t get to carry anything useful, just our extra clothes. Nothing essential, no food or water, and definitely no weapons. Pack it tight and heavy and strap it on securely so he can’t easily ditch it. And he rides in front, so we can keep an eye on him.”

“Looks like your fearless leader has returned,” Stephen says.

“Oh, and also,” Reggie says, “shut the fuck up.”

“So now we just need to break into the toy store,” Jake says.

“Easy peasy.”

Jake gives Reggie a doubtful look. “You’re joking, right? Everything’s been locked up so far.”

“Since you have the magic touch when it comes to doors, you can help me scout.”

Jake doesn’t seem to know how to respond to this. For all his bluster and complaining, when someone actually hands him a chance to take responsibility, he balks.

“Chicken?”

“No,” he says, and jogs after Reggie. They exit out the service entrance in the back of the store, then reappear in the front parking lot a few minutes later. We watch them jog toward the toy store a hundred yards away, stealthily avoiding abandoned cars and other places where an IU might hide.

“Fingers crossed, right?” Kelly says. He looks worried. “Bikes will help us make up for the time we lost yesterday.”

Reggie skirts along the edge of the lot, crouching beside a low cinderblock wall. Jake trails him by a dozen feet. They’re heading straight toward a gray van. Rust defines the edges of the door, and one of the tires is flat and sitting on the rim. As I watch, the shadows underneath the van seem to move. I grab Kelly’s arm, and when he sees my alarm, he tells me to relax. “Reggie knows what he’s doing.”

When I look again, the shadows are just shadows. I’m imagining things.

Reggie slows to a walk. He turns and, although I know he can’t see us, he gives us a thumbs up. Then he says something to Jake. Together, they start past the van.

And then I see it again, that fleeting suggestion that there’s something in the shadows under the van.

Kelly tenses up beside me.

Suddenly, a piece of the darkness detaches itself and strikes out at Reggie’s feet. He stumbles several steps, and sprawls out onto his stomach.

We both gasp, but almost immediately Kelly starts to laugh.

“It’s just a cat. Christ. It’s just a cat.”

The animal streaks off across the pavement. It doesn’t go very far, taking refuge under a nearby car. I can see it there, crouched, its sides heaving. Jake helps Reggie up. They exchange a few words. Reggie’s face is red. He looks both relieved and embarrassed. He shrugs Jake’s hand off his arm and turns stiffly toward the toy store.

“Bet he’s regretting coming up with this idea now,” Kelly says.

Seconds later, they’re out of sight around the corner of the building, and now all we can do is wait and pray.

I’m about to go back to gather up my backpack when Ashley shows up with it and a few others already packed and ready to go. She’s done a good job, but they’re a lot heavier than I had expected, and I immediately wonder if she actually thinks we’re going to be needing so much. Assuming we’re able to secure enough bicycles, we should reach the Gameland wall long before noon. And if we get through it as quickly as Stephen alludes, we’ll be at Jayne’s Hill just a few hours after that.

“I see Jake,” Kelly says, nudging my side. “He’s signaling us to come over.”

“That was quick.”

Kelly lifts his backpack with a grunt. “What the hell’s in these things?”

“Water, I’m guessing.” I can hear it sloshing around.

“Does she really think we each need this much?”

“If it’s as hot as it was yesterday, then yes.”

When we’re all ready, Kelly unlocks the front door for the first time. We dash out one by one. Once more, I choose to bring up the rear.

We pass the car the cat disappeared beneath. I can’t resist taking a quick peek, even though I know it’s long gone by now. The weight of the pack shifts on my shoulders as I lean down, and I nearly lose my balance. Everyone turns when they hear my feet scuff the pavement.

“Oh my god!” Ashley gasps. She points toward me.

“Don’t stop!” Kelly urges me. “Jessie, just keep going!”

But of course I have to see what they see. I step past the car, and there’s the cat. Or what’s left of it. It’s just the body; the head’s gone. A trail of blood leads from the carcass to the car. Its guts are already attracting flies.

Kelly yanks on the strap of my backpack. “Don’t look,” he whispers.

Thunder rumbles ominously, and something wet hits my cheeks. And I think that even the sky is crying. But who are its tears for? The dead cat? For us?

Or is it crying for the undead thing hiding in the shadows, whose hunger never dies?

* * *

THEY HAD GOTTEN IN through a bathroom window. Reggie had managed to pry it open by chipping at the dry caulk holding the panes in the frame with his knife. He’d stacked the glass neatly to the side. Or maybe it was Jake. Ever since the day we broke onto the island, he’s been sensitive about the sound of breaking glass.

There are more than enough bikes to outfit us all, which helps erase the shock and despair of seeing the half-eaten cat just outside. Kelly even wheels over an adult bike with training wheels for Jake and tries to make a lighthearted joke. I wait for Jake’s usual overreaction, but he surprises me by laughing. “You got me,” he says. And for the first time I dare to hope that maybe they’ve finally gotten past their animosity toward each other.

“Tires need pumping,” Reggie says. “But otherwise we’re good to go.”

A half hour later, we’re back on the road. The weather has taken a turn for the worse. The wind swirls, battering us from all sides, and it’s starting to rain. The battle above us still hasn’t been decided, as rays of sunlight continue to break through all around. More than once, we catch a glimpse of a rainbow. I silently pray the sunshine will ultimately prevail. Even though the heat and humidity will be intolerable, I’d prefer that over the darkness and the undead. The gloomier it gets, the more likely it’ll be that they climb back out of their hiding places. I just hope we make it to the wall without encountering any major issues.

But that’s the thing about hope, isn’t it? In a place like this, it’s nothing but an illusion, a distraction from the realities of life, like some useless side trek that ends up costing you everything in your toolbox and sapping all your life points. Before long, the clouds seal over completely, swallowing the last sunbeam. The sky darkens, the rain turns from spits to a shower, and the shower becomes a downpour.

A terrifying twilight descends.

Yet we keep riding. We have to put distance between us and Arc. We have to close the distance between us and the wall. We keep riding because if we stop, we might not start again. We keep going because there’s nothing else we can do.

And just as I’d feared, the undead begin to emerge from their holes.

Chapter 32

Micah’s the first to spot one. I’ve been riding by his side, making sure he’s doing okay. I can see the strain on his face grow as he tries valiantly to keep up with the pace Kelly’s set for us. It’s aggressive but not grueling. Except it’s killing Micah.

He slaps my arm and points off to the right.

Since we’re bringing up the rear, no one else notices the IU. It’s just the one, a solitary figure standing motionless several hundred yards off the side of the road. Its skin is the color of dirt and mud, and the tattered remnants of clothes still draped over its gaunt frame have been leeched of color.

It’s too slow and too far away to be any threat, so I stare at it more out of fascination than anxiety. It knows we’re here, as it swivels its hollow gaze in our direction. And when it opens its blackened lips, its teeth are coffee brown.

“We should tell the others,” Micah pants.

He’s right, of course. Where there’s one, there’s bound to be more. So I pedal harder to catch up to Reggie and Ash.

“We just passed a zom.”

Ashley’s eyes widen. She nearly crashes into Reggie as she turns to look.

“Christ, Ash!” Reggie says. “Eyes forward.”

“It was just the one,” I say. “Wasn’t even very close. Just thought you should know.”

“As long as they stay far away, I’m fine,” she says. The wind tries to shred her words. She leans forward to keep her face out of the rain.

I notify Tanya and Jake next. She gives me a baleful look. I can’t tell if it’s just the rain and wind, or if she still refuses to accept her circumstances.

“Just one? That’s nothing,” Jake says, with a bit too much forced bravado. He’d probably now describe yesterday’s numbers as legion. Objectively, there were probably no more than fifty.

“Yeah, but it’s getting darker,” I say. “There’s bound to be more soon. I think I’ll ask Kelly if maybe we should stop and ride out the storm somewhere.”

Jake grimaces up at the sky. “I feel like we’re making good progress.”

“Won’t matter how much distance we put between us and Arc if we run straight into a wall of zombies.”

“There’s no wall of zombies.”

“Maybe she’s right, Jacob,” Tanya says. Another gust buffets us, and she swerves into my path.

Jacob?

“Then do whatever you want,” he snaps.

Tanya’s face falls.

“I’ll ride up and see what Kelly thinks.” I have to nearly shout to be heard above the wind.

“Sure, let’s all just do what Kelly says.”

I start to lean into the wind, then pull back. “Listen, Jake. No one’s ignoring you. You just need to stop... I don’t know, stop trying so hard all the time. It’s not a competition. We’re all just trying to survive.”

“Yeah, thanks for the pep talk.”

“I’m trying to—”

“You wanna know what’s bugging me?” he shouts. “It’s that I thought you were my friend. I mean, after what happened back in Long Island City, I thought we were...”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“I told you things, private things. I opened up to you, and you just...” He shakes his head and turns away.

Incredible. Does he actually think we had some sort of weird connection?

“What do you want me to say?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Jake?”

“Just go.”

I shake my head. Now I’m really starting to feel bad for hoping Tanya stays with Jake.

“You should have come back for me,” he shouts after me. “You, not your boyfriend. It should have been you.”

“I did come back,” I shout over my shoulder.

“Only because you had no choice.”

No choice?

I slow once more so that I don’t have to yell so much. I let him pull up beside me, and I say, “You really have a lot of growing up to do. Stop being such a baby.” Then I pull away again. If he responds, I don’t hear it.

Kelly and Stephen are just passing the exit sign for Jericho. It’s a significant mile marker for us, since it means the Gameland wall is now only three or four miles away. Maybe we should just power ahead without stopping.

The wind whips the trees, stripping leaves and casting them onto the already slick surface of the road. The tall grass growing on the shoulders heaves and rolls like waves on a restless sea. There are no undead standing within that chop.

But they’re out there. Now I spot one, standing in the rain farther out. I can hear Jake’s and Tanya’s faint shouts, calling it out. But it pays us no heed. Instead, as if on cue, it leans its head back and opens its mouth. It looks like its drinking in the rain.

I spy another doing the same thing.

Then a third.

This one’s closer, and it lowers its head and gazes at us as we pass.

We’ve always been taught that they don’t see. Those dead, soulless eyes are completely useless to them. And yet, how else can you explain how they follow our transit with such uncanny precision? Hearing? The jury’s out on that. Maybe they can hear the hiss our tires make on the wet surface of the road. Or maybe they can feel our presence like snakes do, through vibrations in their bones.

They make no immediate move toward the road. The signal hasn’t reached what rudimentary brain they must still have that we’re food. Or maybe the rain masks our smell. In any case, they’re still nothing to be concerned about. Just a few scattered undead. Just standing out in the rain.

Until they’re not.

The next ones I see are clearly moving toward the road, as if to intercept us. A bubble of concern stirs in my belly, but that’s all it is, a bubble. We’ll be long gone before they can reach us.

One out there under that tree.

Three more by the fence. Perhaps a bit closer, but still not—

“Look out!”

I whip my head around and catch a glimpse of Kelly’s back just before we crash. Our bikes tangle and down we go. My head slams into the pavement.

Tires skid around us. Bikes clatter to the pavement. Feet pound the ground. I try to shake off the daze. My ears ring. “Shit!” someone cries. “What the hell happened?”

“Come on, Jessie,” someone else says. “Get up.”

Hands grip me under my arms and try to pull me to my feet. Someone’s moaning. I know it’s not me.

“Kelly?” I say. My voice sounds strange. What just happened? Why would he stop in the middle of the road like that?

I’m on my feet, but my knees buckle. Reggie appears before me, waving his hand in my face. He lets go of me, and the weight of the backpack pulls me backwards. He catches me. I can see him shouting, but the words make no sense. I need to find Kelly. I think he’s hurt.

I try to raise my left arm, but it won’t respond. I look stupidly down at it, not understanding what I’m seeing. It just hangs there at my side, my hand pointing in the wrong direction. What the hell happened? What happened to my arm?

Someone spins me around. “Move!” Kelly yells. “Jessie! Move!”

He shoves me in the direction of some nearby apartments along a frontage road. The ground between it and the highway is clear. There was a fence once, but it appears to have been mowed down by a car ages ago. I wonder where the driver went and why they didn’t fix the fence or tow the car away.

“Run, Jessie!”

I take a step, still not understanding. My arm...

My arm is broken. It feels like it’s hanging on by a thread.

Jake and Tanya race past. They vault over the guard rail, abandoning their bicycles in the middle of the road.

“Jessie! What the hell is the matter with you?” Kelly screams. “Run!”

And then I hear it again, the moaning. It’s not Kelly, as I had thought. He’s okay. It’s the undead. They’re everywhere.

Chapter 33

They’re forming a cordon around us.

“Jess?” Kelly says. He grabs my shoulders and shakes me. I scream from the sudden searing pain, but it clears my mind of the fog.

“My arm,” I whimper.

He helps me out of the backpack and drops it in the middle of the road. “I think it’s dislocated. Can you run?”

Are you crazy?

I nod.

“This way.”

We head for an opening, and the moment my feet hit the wet grass, they slide out from under me. I land on my back and let out another scream of agony.

Someone lifts me and I’m thrown like a sack of potatoes across their shoulders. I hear Reggie’s voice telling me he’s got me. I try not to throw up on his back.

We reach the bottom of the berm, and I beg him to put me down. “I can run.” All the jostling is making me sicker.

He rolls me off of his shoulder. “Go!” he urges. “I’ll buy you time!”

Kelly leads me through the thick brush towards the gap in the fence. Jake’s standing on it, holding it flat against the ground. Micah and Tanya are already over it, running toward the apartment buildings. Everywhere I look, zombies are crawling out from beneath cars and out of dumpsters.

“Where’s Ash?” I shout.

“Don’t worry about her!” Kelly says. “Come on!”

I glance back and see Reggie slash an IU with his knife. Ashley steps into view wielding another baseball bat. She slams it into the head of another. As before, it’s like watching a bag of flour explode. The desiccated brain dust blooms for a moment, then begins to dissipate. The IU drops like a rock. I reach behind me with my good hand for the golf club, but it’s gone, back on the road with my abandoned backpack.

“Jess! Come on!”

Jake and Micah are clearing a path to the nearest apartment building. Jake’s a madman, swinging his hockey stick. It strikes the neck of dead woman and snaps in two. She falls. Micah’s one-arming another bat. It seems to be the weapon of choice, except that his is aluminum and lighter. It makes a hollow ping when it connects. The strike is weak, not hard enough to crack skulls, yet the IU falls.

Even Stephen is fighting. Since we wouldn’t allow him a weapon, he wades into the fray armed only with his own backpack. He knocks an IU off its feet. It gets right back up again and returns for more. Kelly sprints past it swinging his bat and striking it dead center in its face. This time, it doesn’t get up.

Reggie flies past me and vaults up the front steps to the nearest apartment. Without slowing down, he rams the door with his shoulder. He doesn’t expect it to open so readily, and he goes tumbling in. Before we can follow him, he’s running back out again.

“Go back!” he screams.

The doorway fills with walking corpses and waving arms. They crowd each other in their attempts to reach us.

“This way,” he shouts, angling toward the corner of the building. He slams into a pair of IUs dressed in black leather. They look like they’d once been a biker couple, but I can’t imagine how they managed to stay together all these years. They fall, and before they can get back up, Micah and Kelly have crushed their skulls.

Ashley heads to the next apartment over, but Reggie bellows at us to follow him. He points to a fire escape ladder on the side of the next complex.

“Go,” Kelly yells at me.

“Look out behind you!” I shout back.

He turns just as a female IU in a filthy pink tracksuit steps toward him with her arms outstretched. She smacks her lips, and I can just envision her being someone’s aunt leaning in for a kiss. Her clothes look remarkably well preserved, which is more than I can say about her moth-eaten hair. Kelly swings, but Soccer Zom steps deftly to the side.

“Fuckers are getting smarter!” he yelps. “And quicker!”

The sound of his voice drives her to attack. He swings again.

“Not that smart,” Reggie yells, as her head caves in. I notice there’s no powder this time. Was she one of the ones trapped inside the apartment Reggie opened? How terrible it must be to be locked up for a decade.

“Get to the fire escape!” Kelly tells me.

Stephen’s already climbing a stack of pallets to reach it. He grabs the bottom rung and pulls it down. For half a second I think he’s just going to save himself, but he steps off and beckons Ashley and Tanya over. He holds it down while they ascend.

“I hope IUs can’t climb,” I say, making my way to them. We already know from watching Survivalist that CUs can so everything their living Operators can make them do, plus a whole bunch more that shouldn’t be physically possible, but that’s because there are functioning brains coordinating their movements. IUs are pretty much a set of muscles, a mouth, and little more than a basal ganglia driven by the twin primal needs to feed and spread their contagion.

“Guess we’re about to find out!” Kelly says, swinging at another.

I reach the ladder just as Ashley disappears over the top. But then there’s a problem. When I try to grab the rungs, I can’t lift my left arm higher than my waist. And even if I could, I doubt it’d be able to hold any weight. The pain is just too great.

“Get behind me,” Reggie says, pulling me out of the way. He kneels down. “Wrap your good arm around my neck. Legs around my waist.”

I hug him as tight as I can, but my arm shakes from the effort.

He begins to climb.

“I can’t hold on. Reggie, I can’t!”

“You can, and you will!”

He climbs higher. The undead are all around us now. There are more than yesterday. There might even be a hundred.

“Hurry,” I tell him, and hold on for dear life. “I’m going to fall!”

“You’re... choking... me.”

But I can’t do anything about it.

Micah turns and heads for the ladder next, followed by Jake. That leaves only Kelly and Stephen.

“Faster,” I beg.

Reggie leans back, and I shriek in terror when I my slips. But he reaches behind us, grabs the waist of my jeans and flips me onto the roof. Ash and Tanya pull me to my feet and away from the ledge. Reggie’s already joined us by the time I turn.

Jake curls over the top next, followed almost immediately by Micah. I hurry over and lean out. Kelly’s still out on the road. Stephen mounts the ladder and starts to climb, but a stubborn IU grabs his ankle and won’t let go. He kicks at it, hurling curses with each thrust. Chunks of tissue tear away from its face and scalp. And yet it keeps right on coming.

“Kelly!”

He runs over and grabs the IU by the arm and swings it off Stephen. “Go,” he shouts, raising his bat. “Persistent little shit,” he grunts and strikes when it returns.

Stephen throws himself up the ladder, but his grip slips and he falls and lands hard on his back, crashing into the pallets and collapsing the heap. I hear the breath leave his lungs in an explosive exhale. He doesn’t move, stunned. A trio of IUs fall upon him. He screams. Kelly dispatches another, then reaches over and yanks one of the three away. He spins it around and slams it headlong into the side of the apartment building. It crumples to the ground, leaving a thick, black, goopy mess oozing down the bricks. He does the same for the second, then reaches for the third. It crouches and hisses at Kelly. Stephen levers a foot up and under it and shoves it off of him. Kelly crushes its skull before it can recover.

“Tom says hello!” he yells at it. He follows Stephen onto the ladder. An IU grabs his shoe, but he easily dislodges it. Then he’s out of reach, leaving the growing horde stranded below.

Reggie helps him onto the roof, lifting him over the ledge and swinging him around like a construction crane. It’s oddly reminiscent of his rescue of Kelly the day we went to check out the Midtown tunnel.

“Thanks,” Kelly says, giving him a grateful clap on the shoulder. There’s no trace of animosity between them, no hint of resentment for past disagreements.

“Sure thing, brah,” Reggie says. “But who the fuck is Tom?”

Chapter 34

Jake points at Stephen, his eyes wide with fear. “He’s bleeding! Somebody check him! Hurry!”

Everyone takes a step back.

“Show them!” Jake cries.

“It’s nothing,” Stephen replies. “I just opened up the scrapes on my back when I fell.”

“Turn around,” Kelly says.

“You people are seriously messed up.”

I march over to him, still clutching my bad arm against my side. “We need to check,” I say. “Take off your shirt.”

“I’m not—”

“Do it!”

His eyes are wild and jumpy, skipping from one of us to the other. I can’t tell if this is because of our narrow escape or if he’s trying to hide something. “I wasn’t bitten.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Oh, cut him some slack, Jess,” Ashley snaps. “He held the ladder down for us. He didn’t have to do that.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Jake demands.

“It’s just that you all nitpick every little thing about him. He deserves a little more consideration after everything’s he done.”

“Really?” Reggie says, incredulous. “After everything he’s done? Like put this damn piece of coding in our heads? Like lie to us? Like help Arc kidnap us?”

“He came back to help us.”

“He’s going to have to do a lot more before I cut this asshole any slack!”

“Just leave him alone for a minute, for chissake! We’re not going anywhere!”

“And we have nowhere to go if he turns!”

Stephen stomps off across the roof. Nobody tries to stop him. He walks right up to the edge, and I suck in my breath thinking he’s going to just keep right on going, walk right over.

The rain is loud up here, even though the storm has diminished a bit. It slaps off the gravel surface of the roof, sounding like crackling wood in a campfire. The drops ping off the sheet metal ductwork. Yet we can still hear the death moans of the IUs below us.

“Let him be for now,” Kelly grumbles. “But keep an eye on him.”

“You’re damn right I’ll keep an eye on him,” Jake grumbles.

Kelly leans over the edge. I assume he’s checking to make sure they’re not climbing up the ladder. Only after he’s satisfied that they can’t does he remember my shoulder and ask how I’m doing.

“Hurts bad,” I say. “I think I broke something. I can’t lift my arm.”

I flinch when he touches it. “Well, I don’t think it’s broken. It feels dislocated.”

“You’re not a doctor.”

“No, but I know what it feels like.” He turns to the group. “Anyone know how to pop a shoulder back into place?”

“Oh, hell no!” I say, backing away. “No one’s touching me!”

“It’s not good to leave it, Jess. You’ll stretch the ligaments. And there could be nerve or blood vessel damage.”

“Then you do it.”

He shakes his head. “I’ve only ever had it done to me.”

“When did you dislocate your shoulder?”

“Long time ago.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jake exclaims, and walks over. “You people waste more time talking. Come here.”

“You’re not touching her!”

And just like that, the Kelly-Jake Cold War heats back up.

“Have you ever done this?” I ask.

“In real life?”

“No, in your fantasies,” I say, before I realize how wrong those particular words are. “Of course in real life!”

“On a dummy,” he replies. “In survival training.”

“You trained how to reduce shoulder dislocations?” Kelly asks. “On mannequins?”

“Basic first aid. Splinting and bandaging, too. It’s technically very easy. You lift, rotate, and pull. Although, I don’t remember if it’s rotate outward or inward.”

“Screw that,” I say.

He shrugs. “Fine.”

“No, wait!”

“Jessie, he’s not—”

“Jake, okay. Please, I trust you.”

His back straightens. “Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, but I told you I’ve never done this in real life.”

“Yeah, well, look around you. You think any of us have done it at all? Not even in VR.”

“Okay.” He places a palm tentatively against my left shoulder, then grasps my elbow with the other. “Am I hurting you?”

I flinch. “No, this actually feels heavenly.” I wince again, but not because it hurts. I’ve really got to stop using suggestive words around him.

“Okay, I’m going to lift, pull, and rotate,” Jake says. “Just try to relax. Don’t resist.”

I feel like I’m going to be sick.

He starts to tug. At first the pain is tolerable, and I think this isn’t so bad. But then my shoulder locks up.

Jake immediately stops.

“Keep going!”

“But—”

“Do it!”

Jake pulls again. Once more, the pain flairs in my shoulder. It feels like someone’s sticking a red hot poker between the bones. My knees weaken. I feel faint. Jake yanks, and it’s like someone is twisting that poker around, gouging it into my chest. I’m about to collapse when there’s a sudden sickening pop. The fire is gone. It’s like someone took ice water and doused it.

“Well?”

I realize Kelly’s holding me up. The strength returns to my legs, but he doesn’t let me go.

“It’s okay,” I say shakily. There’s still a few smoldering embers swirling around in my shoulder, but I can deal with them. I slowly raise my arm and make a fist. The whole thing feels delicate, like the connections are still loose and will let go again if I try too much too soon.

“Can you raise it any higher?”

“I’d rather not.”

“You’re wincing.”

“It still hurts, but it’s a thousand times better. Thanks, Jake. You did a good job. Really.”

Reggie claps him on the back. “Good one, brah. I knew there was a good reason for bringing you along. Didn’t I say he’d come in handy?”

“Looks like the rain’s letting up a bit,” I say. I’m actually a little chilly. At least that’s what I tell myself is why I’m shaking. “The sky is starting to lighten.”

I can see the skepticism on their faces. If anything, the sky is darker than ever, but they’re all staring at me and it makes me uncomfortable.

“Sure,” Reggie says, agreeably. “If we’re lucky, these clouds’ll break up and the IUs will wander off again back to their homes.”

“They know we’re here,” Kelly gripes. “They’re not going to leave.”

“They don’t know anything, Kel. The only reason they’re sticking around is because people keep sticking their heads over the side and reminding them we’re up here.”

“Oh, so I’m not allowed to check?”

“Just saying, brah. Imagine you’re a zom down there. You’re just standing around going, ‘Now, what exactly did I come over here for? It must’ve slipped my mind.’ And then you look up and see this ugly grinning mug staring down at you with its big, fat, juicy brain. That’s probably what they see, like those old cartoons. Instead of a roast turkey, they see a big, fat brain on a platter. And you go, ‘Oh yeah, that’s right. It’s dinnertime.’ But you can’t remember how to climb, and then the turkeyhead-brain thing disappears and it all starts all over again for you.”

“Yeah, well, then tell Stephen to step away from the edge, too,” Kelly grumbles.

“And we need to stop making so much noise,” I add.

Kelly fashions a makeshift sling for me from a spare shirt from one of the other backpacks. At first, I refuse to wear it. I find Ash’s bat and pace the rooftop. My pants are shredded from the bike accident. I tear the legs off.

Everyone else settles in to wait.

The rain tapers off and eventually stops, but the clouds continue to hover over us, a dark and ominous presence. Thunder rumbles in the distance. Every so often, someone peeks over the edge to check. As the sun begins its downward arc, we resign ourselves to the growing likelihood that we’ll be spending the night on the roof, soaked to the bone, and hoping tomorrow dawns clear and bright, both in the skies above and on the ground below.

* * *

THE SUN ABRUPTLY MAKES a late appearance around three-thirty in the afternoon, breaking fiercely through the clouds. By four, it’s beating down on us with such intensity that it’s like it’s trying to make up for lost time. Steam rises from the drenched roof and off our damp clothes. With the humidity, it feels like we’ll never dry out. I find myself longing for the chill of the last hour as we swelter and wait.

At five, with the light starting to turn golden and the shadows beginning to creep out from beneath everything, Kelly reports that the IUs have wandered off again. “Not a single one in sight.”

I check the opposite fire escape, over by Stephen. He’s still sitting there by himself, crumpled in a ball. He appears to be asleep. The ground below is clear.

“Hey,” I say, nudging his foot. “We’re leaving. The IUs are gone. You need to get up and have something to eat and drink before we go.”

He pushes himself upright. His skin is pale, his hair matted by the rain. Where he’d been leaning, the ledge is stained red, and there’s a crimson puddle beneath him.

I think about telling him that we still need to check his wounds, but after this amount of time, it’s reasonable to assume he wasn’t infected. If he were, he’d have almost certainly turned by now. Still, he doesn’t look so well.

“You’ve lost a lot of blood. We really should rebandage your back and get you a new shirt.”

“There’s something you should know,” he murmurs. He gestures for me to bend down.

I glance over to the others. They’re watching with keen interest, waiting. Kelly stands with his bat in his hand, ready to run over should I need any help.

I crouch down. “What?”

He coughs weakly into his hand. He sounds phlegmy.

“There isn’t much time,” he says. “An hour, maybe two. I don’t know how much longer.”

I frown. “Before sunset?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“You’ve still got the gun, right?”

We lock eyes, and he doesn’t need to say another word.

Someone approaches behind me. The heaviness of their footsteps on the gravel roof tells me it’s one of the boys.

“What’s the hold up?” Kelly asks. “We need to go.”

I stand up and face him.

“What?” He gestures at Stephen. “You want to change his bandage first?”

I shake my head. “No. It won’t be necessary.”

“What do you mean? Looks like he’s still bleeding.”

“It’ll stop on its own soon enough.”

“Okay, but—”

“Where’s the gun?”

“The gun?” His eyes widen. “Oh. Oh, shit.”

Chapter 35

Jake raises the pistol and points it at Stephen.

“Put that away, Jake,” Kelly grunts.

“He’s infected! I told you he was infected, but no one wanted to believe me.”

“That’s because you’re the Boy Who Cried Infected,” Reggie says.

“But I was right this time, wasn’t I? And now you’ve let him come up here with us. We’re lucky he didn’t turn and infect everyone else already!”

“Give me the gun, Jake.”

“No, I’m doing what no one else has the guts to do.”

“Make rash decisions?” Reggie asks.

“Stop, Reg,” I say.

“We have to deal with this another way,” Kelly calmly tells Jake. “A gunshot will make too much noise. It’ll draw all those IUs straight back here.”

“I want to know how the hell you got my gun!” I demand. “When did you—”

“You lost it when you crashed,” Jake replies. His eyes never stray from Stephen. “I picked it up off the road.”

“Ash,” I warn, as she steps up behind him. I can tell from her face she’s planning to take the gun away from him. “Don’t—”

She lunges before I finish, hitting Jake square in the back. The pistol flies from his hands and bounces across the rooftop. Jake lands hard on all fours but immediately rolls, just like we’re trained to do in hapkido. In a flash, he’s on top of Ashley, pinning her to the rooftop.

Reggie and Kelly fall on him almost immediately. It doesn’t take long for them to pry him off. I head straight for the spot where the gun fell, but it’s not there.

“Looking for this?” Stephen says.

He’s got it pointed at me now. Everyone freezes. But then he flips the gun around and hands it to me grip-first. As soon as I take it, he places both hands on his knees and starts coughing.

“I don’t care how you do it,” he finally manages to say, “just don’t do it yet, not until....

“Until what?”

“Don’t wait,” Jake cries. “Do it now!”

He pushes Reggie and Kelly off of him, but he doesn’t try to make a move toward Stephen, not while I’ve got the gun.

“Alright,” I say, “everyone just calm down. Until what, Stephen? Until you’ve turned?”

“Why wait? He’s already a dead man,” Jake growls.

“Yes, we’ve already established that, Mr Espinosa.”

“Show us your bite,” Kelly says.

He shakes his head. “There is no bite. I told you that before. I wasn’t bitten.”

“Liar!”

“If there’s no bite, then how were you infected?”

“Same way Mrs Downs was.”

“Who?” Jake asks.

“Nurse Mabel,” I explain. “But she didn’t turn until after she died. You’re not dead, yet. And you’re not dying.”

“But I am. You see, the thing with the new variant is, it doesn’t need for you to die to activate. If there’s sufficient disease or bodily trauma already, the body’s inflammatory response activates the virus, which in turn accelerates the death cascade.”

“What kind of trauma?”

“Like blood loss,” he says. “Or perhaps a blow to the abdomen.” He glances pointedly in my direction when he says this. “Or the head. Even a sub-lethal blow might be sufficient to trigger activation.”

Is he telling me I didn’t kill Mabel?

“I’ve lost a lot of blood,” he says. “More importantly, my body’s mounted a massive inflammatory response. I can feel the infection building inside me, spreading. It’s irreversible. I still have time, but not much. And you’re still not where you need to go.”

“If you knew this could happen to you, why the hell would you allow yourself to be injected with this alpha thing?” Reggie demands.

“This... side effect never would’ve factored into my decision, even if I had known about it sooner. As it was, we only just discovered it recently. The team has since developed an agent to block the response, but I unfortunately no longer have access to it.”

“What kind of agent?”

“That syringe you saw me remove from the medical kit? The green liquid? It suppresses the Alpha. The day of my arrival, I was supposed to administer it to some of the test subjects prior to the demonstration.”

“You mean to us!” Reggie growls.

“Then why did you give it to me on the tram?” I ask.

“At that moment, my intention was to administer it to all of you, to ensure none of you would turn as a consequence of the failsafe. It would’ve been a terrible waste of time and expenditure and a lost opportunity for my employers. Unfortunately, in our struggle, the fluid in the syringe was ejected onto the floor.”

“But I saw white.”

“I can only surmise that in the heat of the moment you mistook the plunger to be the contents. I assure you, the syringe was empty.”

“Are you saying we’ve all been given this alpha thing?” Ashley asks.

“I don’t know who has. It was a double blind study. Some of you could have been given the Alpha. Or none of you. As I said, I intended to inject all of you with it on the tram as a prophylaxis against any Alpha being activated. Instead, Mr Corben was the only one who received a dose.”

“Kelly?”

“When we fought on the tram,” Kelly admits. “I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to worry about me. You were already close to panicking because you thought he’d injected you.”

“But he was never a prisoner,” I tell Stephen. “When would he have been given the alpha?”

“As I said, I had no idea who’d been given it. Or even when.”

“Something’s not right here,” Jake says. “I don’t believe a word he’s said. He’s done nothing but lie about everything.”

“I agree,” I say, and I point the pistol at his head. Stephen gives me a surprised look. Behind me, Ashley gasps. Jake murmurs for me to do it. Everyone else is silent, waiting to see if I’ve got what it takes. The fact that they don’t stop me tells me that they want me to do it.

“I told you you’d be faced with this dilemma before this is all over,” Stephen whispers. His throat bobs as he tries to swallow. “But once more I ask that you wait. It is absolutely imperative. To you. And to me.”

“To you?” I sneer. “As you said, you’re already a dead man. Why would it matter if I killed you now or later?”

“I think I understand,” Kelly says.

“Yes, I figured you might,” Stephen whispers. He collapses to his knees. No one moves to help him.

“Understand what?” Ashley says. “I don’t understand.”

Stephen sighs. “Do you know how much a lowly R and D scientist makes? It’s barely enough to feed my children.”

Children?

Hearing this rips me apart. This man, who had a part in subjecting us to the worst kinds of horrors imaginable, has a wife and children? How could he do this to us? How could he go home and face them at the end of the day? Only monsters can do that.

“Do they know what you do?” I ask.

He sniffs dismissively. “They couldn’t possibly understand.”

“Of course they wouldn’t understand!” I cry. Kelly urges me to keep quiet. But I’m livid. I’m furious over what he’s done to us. I’m furious at his betrayal of his own family. His kids— How old must they be? Not older than four or five, given his own age. Maybe as old as seven. In any case, far too young to understand. And his wife? Does she know? Imagine sharing a bed with this monster. It makes me want to puke. How could she marry someone like that?

Kelly carefully wraps his hands around the pistol and guides my hand down toward the rooftop. “We have to get to Gameland.”

“Just shoot the sonofabitch!” Jake cries.

“No. No one’s shooting anyone. No one’s killing anyone,” Kelly firmly replies. “Not yet.”

“You’re making a mistake!”

Reggie stops Jake as he makes a move toward Stephen and warns him to be quiet. “Speak another word about shooting or killing, and I will personally see to it that it’s you. Do you understand?”

“You won’t.”

“Don’t try me.”

He shoves Jake away and turns back to Stephen. “Start explaining for the dopey kids in the room. And make it quick.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, Mr Casey. You’re a lot smarter than you — and your colleagues — give you credit for. I think you understand perfectly well.”

“You volunteered.”

Stephen nods. “Yes.”

“How does that work?” Kelly asks. “What happens if you die before we get there?”

“Same thing as anyone else who dies: my implant activates and I immediately connect to a sub-stream. My identifier code gets added to the conscription list awaiting LSC assignment.”

“And if you’re inside Gameland?”

“Then I’m automatically classified as a Volunteer and am sold off to an Operator. Money changes hands, lots of money. I become part of The Game. But that’s not really what matters. What’s important — at least to me — is that my children no longer have to worry about money ever again. They get to eat and have good medicine.”

“Medicine?” I glance at Kelly, but his face is rigid, inscrutable.

“Yes, medicine.” Stephen gestures at me. “Take, for instance, your inhaler there, Miss Daniels. You didn’t think that was free, did you? Somebody paid for it at some point, and dearly, I would presume.”

I’d never thought about it before. I’d always just gotten a new inhaler in the mail whenever I needed it. Never even considered what it cost to buy it. Never once thought about who paid for it, or how.

“My... father?” I say.

“Yes,” he replies. “Your father.”

I run my fingers through my hair, overwhelmed by all of this. “Goddamn Arc,” I sob. “Goddamn those bastards. This is— I can’t...”

I reach halfheartedly for the gun in Kelly’s hand, but he pulls it away.

“So, the only reason you’re taking us to Gameland is for you. It has nothing to do with trying to help us.”

“Everything I’ve told you about the failsafe is true. You will find your solution there. But now you know why I returned. If I don’t make it there, if I die before I get inside, my sacrifice will have been made in vain.”

“And what happens to you when we destroy Gameland’s servers?”

“You can destroy the whole Stream for all I’ll care by then. I’ll already be sold into The Game and the money sent to my family. So, you see, you’re my ticket into Gameland, and I’m yours.”

“Tell us exactly how we disable the failsafe,” Kelly says. “Walk us through it.”

“I may be dying, but I’m no fool, Mister Corben.”

“It might be too late by then.”

“It definitely will be if we don’t get moving.”

“I don’t like any of this,” Ashley says. “This doesn’t feel right.”

“At least tell us how we get inside,” Kelly persists.

“Through one of the portals. It’s the only way.” His voice is growing faint. I fear the infection is moving quickly now. “I have an access script in my implant.”

“Then we cut it out of you,” Jake declares.

“That won’t end well for either of us,” Stephen replies.  His knee buckles as he tries to stand. “Do you really think it’s wise to delay any longer?”

Kelly glances over at us, then toward the fire escape.

“Are you serious?” Jake cries. “You’re not seriously buying this crap, are you? He’s infected! He’ll say anything.”

“Keep it down, Jake.”

“I don’t think we’ve got any choice,” I say. As much as I hate being manipulated like this — and I’m sure that’s what Stephen’s doing — we need to get to Gameland’s servers, and we can’t do it without getting through that wall. “He’s our only way in.”

“He’s lying!”

“I made a promise to get everyone off the island, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“Did you forget the other promise you made?” Jake counters.

“What other promise?”

“You said if any of us became infected, you’d do what was necessary.”

I glance at Stephen, then nod. “No, I haven’t forgotten.”

Chapter 36

“Why did you ask me about Halliwell?” I ask. “Stephen, please.”

He marches on without replying. His movements grow stiffer with each step he takes, his face more gaunt.

We’ve bound his hands again, although Jake had demanded we gag him to prevent him from biting or spitting. The others had concurred, as they now see his teeth being the greatest risk to us. But I overruled them. I need answers. I’m starting to worry it may already be too late to get them.

“Stephen?”

I keep my finger on the trigger of the gun. It rests in the crook of my elbow, nestled inside the sling. I don’t even have to exert any effort to hold it up. I bring it out every so often to remind him I’ve got it, although he’s too withdrawn to notice.

“Eugene Halliwell,” I say. “What’s so important about the man who killed my father?”

We’re out in front of everyone else. For being as sick as he is, and as quickly as he appears to be worsening, Stephen manages to maintain a decent pace. I guess he really does want to get there before he dies and his implant activates.

We’re less than a mile from Gameland, and I’m starting to get that feeling I get when I’m getting close to winning a level in Zpocalypto. I know things are quickly going to get a lot more difficult right. I fear he’ll die. I worry he won’t divulge what we need to know about the failsafe. I even feel like Arc may be closing in on us.

Our identifiers are still the only ones coming up on either of the two tracking scripts. Perhaps they’re waiting for us just on the other side of the wall. The tracker won’t allow us to see. On the screen, everything inside Gameland is blank, a big unknown.

“Stephen?”

At last, I get a response: “Yes, he killed your father,” he says. The effort triggers a fit of coughing. Kelly scurries up to us and warns us we need to keep quiet.

“How do you know this, Stephen?”

He says nothing.

“Please, I need to know.”

Drool falls from his lips. It’s tinged red. He coughs again, weakly. “He didn’t kill him.”

“He did or he didn’t? Which is it?”

“Both.”

“I don’t understand.”

He raises his eyes to the horizon and abruptly stops. I follow his gaze and get my first glimpse of the scorched black walls of Gameland. It’s shorter than I’d expected, shorter than the wall surrounding the island. Yet it’s somehow more imposing.

“Nearly there,” he whispers. He drops to his knees, almost too weak to stand. He’s shaking like a leaf on a tree.

“Let me help.”

“No,” he says, but he’s slow getting back up again, and before he’s on his feet the rest of the group have caught up to us. Again, he refuses assistance and presses on. He leans forward as he walks, as if the wall itself is pressing him back. All I can do is follow.

The wall looms larger as we approach. And finally we’ve reached it. Its surface is dark and smooth, having nearly no discernible texture. The late afternoon sun strikes it straight on, and yet it throws off barely any reflection. There’s very little sheen. And I don’t feel any heat coming off it.

“What the hell is it made of?”

“Titanium dalcron ester,” Stephen grunts. He sits on a stump and takes a drink of water. “It’s a polycarbonate-metal alloy, harder than titanium itself, weather-resistant, and electro-responsive.”

Against every impulse not to, I place my palm flat to the surface, then quickly draw it away. It’s neither hot, nor cold. It feels almost greasy, but there’s no residue left on my hand. And yet it’s anything but inert. In that brief moment of contact, something tangible had passed between us, something electric. No, it was something almost... organic, like it was alive.

Stephen chuckles weakly. “Yeah, you don’t want to do that. It’s most... unpleasant.” He offers no further explanation, and I don’t ask for one.

“Okay, so where’s this portal?” Kelly asks stepping up next to me.

Reggie, Ash, and Micah join us next, but Jake and Tanya have fallen behind again. Tanya doesn’t look well. She appears intoxicated and is leaning heavily on Jake. I fear Arc may be tapping into her implant again, holding her back. But when I ask her how she’s doing, she answers clearly. “I’m just suddenly really tired.”

I turn back to the wall and wonder if it’s affecting her differently than the rest of us. “Sit down and rest while we figure out how to get inside.”

“To be honest,” Ashley says, “I don’t feel so great either.”

“You’re just a bit dehydrated, babe,” Reggie says. “We all are.”

“Over here,” Kelly calls from a spot about twenty yards off to the right. “I’ve found something.”

He runs his fingertips over what appears to be a seam in the wall. When I get closer, I see he’s not actually touching it, perhaps avoiding the sensation I’d received moments before. The nearly invisible indentation forms the outline of a square roughly ten feet on edge, large enough to drive a truck through. He gets to the other side and leans in, squinting. “There’s writing here.”

Embossed directly into the surface of the wall are words declaring access is restricted.

“Not much of a warning if you have to stand right in front to read it,” he says.

“Why even have a warning?” Reggie wonders. “Ain’t no living people out here, and the dead don’t read.”

And yet, here we are.

Kelly gives the wall an experimental slap with the palm of his hand. It makes barely any sound.

I turn to Stephen. “Okay, how does this thing work?”

“Proximity,” he replies. “There’s some sort of near-field communication with the implant.”

“Well, then get your sorry ass over here,” Reggie tells him.

“Not until we’re all ready. I don’t know how long it’ll remain open.”

We wave Jake and Tanya over, and in just the few minutes that have passed, her appearance has worsened significantly. Jake’s practically carrying her full weight now.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with her,” he says.

“It’s the damn wall,” I say. “I can feel it, even without touching it.”

“I told you,” Ash says. “It makes my head itch.”

“The wall transmits in multiple EM frequencies,” Stephen says. “One messes with the implant, inducing a mild nociceptive stimulus at the sites of biological connection. Our brains interpret it as pain. Arc found that the effect acts as a natural deterrent to Players. To us, it’s just a mild irritant, but to them...” He shrugs.

“CUs don’t feel pain.”

“Not physical pain, no, but it does affect them on a primal level. More importantly, it affects their Operators, too. They feel the same kind of discomfort you’re all experiencing. You’ve probably noticed that you almost never see the wall in any Survivalist clips unless it’s from a distance. That’s because Operators learn to avoid bringing their Players too close.”

“So, you’re saying we’re less likely to encounter any CUs as long as we stick close to the wall?”

“Sure, but then you’ll never reach Jayne’s Hill if you do.”

“And then what do we do?”

“You’ll know—”

Stephen’s left knee collapses, and he crumples to the ground. Kelly and I help him up again. This time, he accepts the assistance without argument.

“Does he feel hot to you?” Kelly asks.

“Maybe a little.”

“Everyone... quickly. Gather together,” Kelly says.

This is it, I think. He’s close. And we still don’t know.

“After we’re inside,” Stephen says, “you must go on without me. Get to Jayne’s Hill. All you’ll need to do is destroy the servers. Then you’ll be free.”

“How do we get out again?”

“The portals will all open.”

Stephen clutches at his stomach and groans.

“Quickly,” he says. “Hold me up tight against the wall, my whole body.”

Kelly grabs him under the armpits and braces him. We wait a moment. Nothing happens. Then the humming sensation in my head abruptly stops.

The others notice the change, too.

And yet, still nothing happens.

“Well?” Reggie says. “This is a bit anticlimactic.”

“Did we break it?” Ashley asks.

“How the hell—”

But then there’s a hiss of air. The sound comes from somewhere deep inside the wall. It’s followed by a thump. Then, with an electrical crackle, the panel shifts suddenly inward several inches. Kelly and Stephen stumble after it. The panel shudders and comes to a rest in its new position.

“Okay...” Reggie says.

Before anyone can respond, the panel slides smoothly to the right and disappears into the wall.

“Now!” Kelly says, muscling Stephen into the recess. “Get inside, everyone! Hurry, before it closes again.”

Jake drags a nearly comatose Tanya in. The rest of us crowd around them. Every fiber of my being screams at me to turn around. Nothing about this feels right. And by the looks on the others’ faces, I know they sense it, too.

“This is some seriously fucked up shit,” Reggie mutters.

The panel slides shut, plunging us into pitch darkness.

Chapter 37

The humming sensation returns. It’s stronger inside the wall. I can feel it in my bones. And with each passing second it intensifies.

“What the hell was that?” Ashley whispers. Her voice sounds hollow, as if swallowed up by the darkness.

“What was what?”

“Someone moaned.”

“I didn’t—”

“Shh!”

“I don’t like this, guys,” Reggie frets. “What’s taking so long? Are we stuck?”

I raise my hand. I can’t see it at all. I waggle my fingers, even snap them. The sound is muted. I pull out my Link and try to wake it. It stays dark.

This time I hear it. I hear someone moan.

“Stephen? Kelly, are you with Stephen?”

“I lost him in the shuffle.”

“Stephen?”

“Hey!” Jake shouts. “What’s— Hey! Come on! What are you—”

“Jake? What’s happening?”

“What’s happening?” he cries. “Hey!”

I freeze in terror. Has Stephen died? Has he turned? What if the other side never opens and we’re trapped in here forever?

“Who’s got Stephen? Stephen? Answer me!”

There’s a sudden flurry of movement. Somebody shoves me, and I reel back and crash against the side of the chamber. There’s a shriek. I think it’s Ashley. I’m too disoriented to know where anyone is anymore.

“Ash?”

“Who’s that? Don’t touch me! Get away!”

“Stop!”

“Everyone stop!”

“Get away from me!”

“It’s Stephen!”

“Get me out of here!”

Without warning, the panel slides open again. We all rush to get out. I trip and hit the ground and roll. Behind me, the panel slides shut again. I jump to my feet, every nerve on fire.

“Where’s Stephen?” I cry.

I spin around and the first thing I see is Jake, crouched over Tanya. She’s collapsed.

“Here!” Reggie says. “He’s over here!”

I pull out the pistol.

“Ash!” Reggie says, and grabs her.

“We’re through!” she exclaims. “We made it! We’re in Gameland!”

I immediately realize she’s right, but my focus is on Stephen. He stands there, hands on his knees, panting. And when I call his name, he holds up a hand and nods. He’s still with us. He hasn’t turned.

I relax.

But now that the buzz of terror recedes, I realize that the effects of the wall are far more intense here than on the other side. The irritating buzzing sensation in the back of my head has become a chainsaw. Pressure builds behind my eyeballs. My skin is on fire. My joints feel like they’re being drawn apart.

“Someone help me,” Jake sobs. “I don’t know what’s happening!”

“What?”

“It’s Tanya. I think she’s having a seizure!”

“Keep it down,” Reggie growls. “Everyone, be quiet!”

I run over to them. Jake’s trying to hold her, but she’s writhing like she’s in terrible pain. She lets out groan, and I realize that it was her we’d heard inside the wall, not Stephen. But it’s not pain I see in her eyes, it’s almost like... ecstasy.

“What’s happening to her?” Jake cries.

“I don’t know. Give her some room.”

I start to crouch, and Kelly yanks me away. “Get away from her!” he hisses. “Everyone, back up! Give her some space!”

“She’s choking,” Jake says.

“That does not look like she’s choking,” Reggie says, throwing an arm out to protect Ash.

Tanya arches her back and moans again. Her eyes roll back in her head. A new noise spills from her lips, something halfway between choking and laughter. Her tongue pistons in and out of her mouth.

“What the hell is happening to her?” Ashley says. “Is she possessed?”

“Arc!” I exclaim.

She lets out another moan, and it’s so deep, so guttural, that it sends a shiver through me.

“Jesus shit!” Reggie whispers.

“Ahh God!” Jake exclaims. “Oh god, please no! What’s happening to her? Is she dying? Is it the alpha?”

“I don’t know! Get away from her!”

“I need to help her!”

Tanya screams, and her back arches so severely that I can’t imagine how her spine doesn’t snap. She flops over onto her stomach, twitches a few more times, then lies perfectly still.

“Jesus Fucking Christ,” Reggie whispers. “Is she dead?”

I see no movement at all.

He pulls out his knife, but he makes no move toward her. “Jessie? Put her out of her misery, Jessie.”

“Tanya?” I say. I take a step closer.

“Jess! Back away!”

“She’s dead, isn’t she?” Ashley whispers. “The wall killed her.”

“Shh!”

“Jessie, shoot her. You’ve got to do it now before—”

“I said be quiet, Reggie!”

“But she’s dead!”

“She can’t be dead,” Jake says, dropping to his knees beside her.

“Jake, don’t touch her! Get away from her!”

“No, you get away from her!”

“Kill her, Jessie.”

“No, look. She’s breathing.”

Her back lifts and sinks. The undead don’t breathe. She’s still alive.

“Tanya?” Jake says.

“Get away from her, asshole!” Reggie hisses. “She’s infected.”

“She’s not infected!” he wails. But he won’t touch her.

Kelly edges cautiously forward and nudges Tanya’s side with the toe of his boot. She doesn’t respond. He tries to pull Jake away, but he resists.

“I am really not liking any of this so far,” Ashley says, glancing nervously around. “Why the hell did we agree to come here?”

Tanya’s back continues to lift and fall. A gurgling sound comes from her throat.

“Tanya?” Jake says.

Get away from her, I silently urge.

“Tanya?”

“Jake, move.”

He looks up at me. His eyes are filled with tears. I lift the pistol slightly.

“No, Jessie. Please.”

“You made me promise. Now, move away from her, Jake.”

“She’s not dead.”

“No, but I think she’s turning.”

The pistol feels heavy in my hand. My injured wrist throbs. My shoulder burns. I try to lift it. Focus, Jessica. Focus down the barrel, I hear my grandfather instruct, just as he did all those years ago. Yes, Jessica. Forget all that new age karate crap your brother’s trying to make you learn. A shot to the head is far more efficient and certain. Two shots is better.

Better than getting scratched or bitten.

I raise my arm a little more. I squeeze my finger. The gun shakes. I have only one chance. I can’t miss.

Tanya’s back lifts and falls and lifts again. I wait for it to stop.

“Move, Jake.”

“Do it,” he whispers. He pushes away from her. “Please, just make this stop.”

Tanya’s fingers twitch. She begins to draw her arms beneath her, then her legs. She reminds me of a dying beetle, its body contracting in death. She plants her palms beneath her. Then she begins to push.

“Jessie?” Reggie says. “Anytime now.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jake sobs.

“Jessie? It’s now or never.”

Her arms tremble as she struggles to rise.

“Tanya?” I say. Please answer me.

Her head droops, as if it’s too heavy to lift. Everything so far has mirrored the way Nurse Mabel rose after resurrecting. But Mabel didn’t breathe. Tanya’s still breathing.

It’s muscle memory. She’s actually not breathing. Her dying brain hasn’t told her body to give up.

No! She’s breathing. She’s not dead. Not yet.

I silently beg her to look over at me. I need to see her face. I need to check her eyes. Is there anything in them, that telltale spark of life? Or are they flat and black, the dead blackness of eternity?

“Jessie... now.”

This time it’s Kelly.

“Everyone, back off!” I order. “You, too, Jake! Tanya, please. I need you to look at me. Damn it, look at me. Tanya!”

She freezes.

“I think she heard you,” Reggie whispers. “She heard her name.”

“Exactly. She heard her name. Tanya, please. You need to answer me. I don’t want to have to do this.”

“Damn it, Jessie. Just do it!”

“Shut up! Everyone just shut the fuck up!” I yell.

“Shoot her!”

“Please don’t.”

It doesn’t register at first that it’s Stephen speaking. When I realize it is, it’s not the actual words that stop me, but the timbre of his voice. There’s no weakness in it anymore, no gasping for breath. I throw a glance over my shoulder at him. He’s now standing fully erect, no signs of illness at all. No trembling or weakness. And in a flash I realize that it was all just another lie, this act of his. He’s not infected. He’s not dying. He never was.

“What the fuck?” Reggie whispers.

There’s a wildness in his eyes. It’s almost the same look of ecstasy we’d seen in Tanya’s moment ago. He’s watching her progress with keen expectation.

“What have you done?” I demand. “What have you done to her?”

“Well, not killed her, that’s for sure.”

I turn the gun on him, and his grin falters, but doesn’t quite slip fully away. He holds up a hand.

“Let me tell you people a little something about the Alpha and the Omega,” he says.

“Tanya!” I snarl. “What’s happening to her?”

“I’m getting to that. You see, just over a week ago, we injected Miss Saroyan with the Alpha. It’s the same injection Mabel Downs received, as I mentioned earlier.”

“The same you received.”

“Yes, about that...” He shrugs and gives me a wry grin. “The same Alpha young Mr Corben received.”

“Kelly? It wasn’t a suppressor?”

He chuckles. “You people are so desperate, you’ll believe anything.”

“You bastard!”

“Hear me out! You may just learn something.”

“Why, so you can tell us more lies?”

“I’m not lying now.”

“You’ve said that before.”

“Yes, well, this time I mean it. Now, the difference between Miss Saroyan’s treatment and Mrs Down’s is that the former also received an injection of the Omega.”

“Which is?” I demand.

“I’m getting to that,” he says, gesturing at Tanya.

She’s still on all fours, still breathing. Jake’s moved a few feet away from her. I can’t tell what he’s thinking. He looks terrified. But of what?

I jockey around so I can keep my eye — and the gun — on both of them.

“Like you, Miss Daniels,” Stephen says, “Miss Saroyan’s body nearly rejected her new implant. Her immune system had kicked into overdrive. We had to find a way to stop it, or else she’d—”

“Die,” I finish.

“Well, that was the fear, Miss Daniels. Until now, we’d assumed that death was the inevitable outcome of implant rejection. But you’ve clearly demonstrated that it doesn’t have to be. But that’s irrelevant. We managed to rescue Miss Saroyan’s implant. In fact, it appears to have annealed even more fully with her brain than we’ve ever seen before. It’s like they say, what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

“Stronger what?” I demand.

“Patience. You’re about to witness it.”

“No!” Jake shrieks. “What have you done to her? You’ve killed her! Why?” He lifts his hands, as if to beseech the heavens. “Why? Why?” he cries, and collapses over her.

“Um, Jake, I’d get away from her,” I warn.

He doesn’t move.

“Jake?”

“Don’t worry,” Stephen says. “He’ll move soon enough.”

I go over and stand behind him. “Jake, I really think you might want to give her some space.”

He still doesn’t respond. He just lies there, his body draped over hers, panting.

“Jake?”

I touch his shoulder, then gently pull him upright.

Ashley screams. It disorients me for a moment. I look around, expecting to see the undead, but as far as I can see, we’re alone. She points.

I look down, and that’s when I see the blood.

And the knife sticking out of Tanya’s back.

‡   ‡

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ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

My undying thanks to the devoted people of Brinestone Press for their keen eye and gentle but firm touch in helping me bring this story to life, for believing every step of the way that I could raise the dead.

To my devoted fans and followers on Twitter (http://twitter.com/saultanpepper), especially the zombie apocalypse junkies. Everything’s better with the #zombie hashtag.

My deepest gratitude goes to my family for their unflagging support. Without them, I would not be able to create worlds with such richness to them.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Saul Tanpepper is the speculative fiction pen name of Kenneth James Howe. A former combat medic and molecular biologist originally from Upstate New York, he now calls Northern California home.

If you are enjoying his ZPOCALYPTO series, then make sure to check out his other titles, including the post-apocalyptic series BUNKER 12 and the international thriller companion series THE FLENSE. All are available in digital and print form.

For more information about the author and his writings, please check out his website: http://www.tanpepperwrites.com and Facebook page at http://facebook.com/SWTanpepper.

Deadman’s Gambit

Episode 03 of ZPOCALYPTO

by Saul Tanpepper

Copyright © 2012, 2021 by Saul Tanpepper

All rights reserved.

Previous edition published Jul 1, 2012 as

Deadman’s Switch

Episode 3 of S.W. Tanpepper’s GAMELAND

by Brinestone Press, San Martin, CA 95046

Cover: Deranged Doctor Design

Copyright © 2021

PUBLISHER’S NOTE

THIS BOOK IS A WORK of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

LICENSE NOTES

Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise), without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book. The scanning, uploading, and distribution of this book via the Internet or via any other means without the permission of the publisher is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author’s rights is appreciated.

http://www.brinestonepress.com

Tanpepper, Saul (2021-06-15). Deadman’s Gambit (Episode 3 of the Zpocalypto series)

Tanpepper, Saul (2012-07-01). Deadman’s Switch (Episode 3 of S.W. Tanpepper’s Gameland series)

Brinestone Press Digital Edition

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