bottle. “Whoa,” she whispered when she
saw the effect.
Inside the bottle, the flare burned
with a reddish-orange glow. It could . . .
maybe . . . pass for the crystal. If anyone
was dumb enough to be fooled, the
zombies were.
“Remy, are you ready?” Wyatt asked.
“Marck, the sling. I have to get on the
roof. Otherwise it won’t go far enough.”
“You can’t do that,” she said,
grabbing his arm. “They’ll knock you
off.”
“Stand on the seat,” Ian suggested.
“Put your head and shoulders out the
window. We’ll leverage you.”
Wyatt gave a short nod. Then he
turned to Remy. “Pull out the crystal,” he
said. “You have to show it to them
again. They sense it somehow—”
He was cut off as the truck was lifted
high again. Remy held her breath, her
heart in her throat as Wyatt and Ian
lunged to the side to weight it back
down.
“I understand,” she said when the
truck stopped rocking. “Ready?”
She pulled out the crystal and Wyatt
climbed out the window. She and Ian
each grabbed a leg and she pressed the
hot crystal into Wyatt’s palm. He wasn’t
expecting her to give it to him, but he
took it, holding it high. As the zombies
fell silent again, he replaced it with the
glowing bottle in his hand and showed
the fake crystal only briefly as he
slipped the real crystal back into her
hand. The zombies were getting restless
again, and from below, she watched as
he fitted the bottle into the cloth sling Ian
had made.
Holding onto one muscular thigh—
and trying not to think about the fact that
she was—Remy felt Wyatt’s body move
as he swung it around once, twice, and
then the snap as he whipped it, sending it
flying.
The orange glowing object arced
through the air, over the watching heads
of the zombies, and deep into the woods.
The monsters screamed and stumbled
over each other as they turned to lumber
after it.
Remy didn’t have more than a
moment of relief before she was being
manhandled from the truck and onto the
ground. “Run,” Wyatt breathed in her
ear. “Northeast. Take Dantès.”
She hesitated, but he gave her a
fierce look and a little shove. “Go! I’m
right behind you, but I’m going to try and
hold them off a little longer.”
Dantès was there, butting her with his
nose urgently. He, at least, was ready.
“But—”
“Go, Remy. You’ve got to take that
crystal to Envy. We can’t let the
Strangers get it. Whatever you do, get to
Envy.”
Remy gave Wyatt one last look as Ian
jumped out of the truck. At least there
were two of them.
Then she turned and ran.
D
antès kept pace with her, bounding
over cropped-up pieces of concrete and
dodging
bushes
and
rusted
out
mailboxes. The moans from the zombies
faded as she ran as fast and as hard as
she could, going uphill whenever there
was a choice to do so.
But even as she ran, Remy wondered
how Wyatt would find her again. And
Ian.
She paused once, out of breath, the
stitch in her side making further
movement unbearable. Leaning against
an old signpost, gasping for air, she
listened
for
the
sounds
of
her
companions
crashing
through
the
wilderness behind her. But the only
noise she heard besides her own
breathing was Dantès, who was panting
next to her, and the low hoot of an owl.
Bending, she patted her dog, looking
and feeling around as well as she could
for the blood seeping from his wounds.
Nothing; just the heaving of his rib cage
from the first run he’d had in two days.
She smiled in spite of the moment.
Dantès was never happier than when he
was running or chasing something.
Remy knew she should start moving
again, but she waited for a little longer,
straining to listen for Wyatt or Ian. As
she did, she looked around for possible
shelter. Through the trees and skeletons
of buildings, she could see the faint
lightening of the sky in the east. Dawn
wasn’t far off, and the zombies would
seek shelter before the sun came up.
She was standing in a wooded area
threaded with ivy and other vines. Low
growing bushes dotted the space and a
long, one-story structure stood nearby,
across an expanse of what might have
been a concrete parking lot. There was
little glass in its windows on which the
moonlight shone. Not a good place to
hide from zombies, but as it was nearing
dawn, she might be able to stay here for
a while. Give Dantès a chance to rest
too.
And wait for Wyatt to catch up.
If he did.
Remy started toward the building. In
the faulty light, she could see some metal
lettering still clinging to the outside:
ACKS ELEM SCH L.
The nearest door was rusted closed,
so instead of wasting time trying to open
it, she knocked the remaining fragments
of glass from the nearest window and
hoisted Dantès up. It was a low window,
and using the leverage of his paws on the
edge, she was able to get him inside
with little trouble. They were used to
working together like this. Once he was
inside, she gave him the command to
stay.
She paused, listening once more.
Then, just as she was about to follow her
pet inside, she saw the glint of moonlight
on a familiar metal shape. A chill zipped
down her spine and she gave Dantès the
“quiet” command as she vaulted through
the window. Once inside and safely in
the dark room, she looked back out at the
gleaming steel.
A Humvee.
The
shape
and
size
was
unmistakable, and even the brief glance
told her the vehicle wasn’t an old, rusted
out truck. It looked as new and intact as
the one she and Ian had driven around in.
Ian.
An uncomfortable feeling turned in
the pit of her stomach, and she bit her
lip. She couldn’t be more than five or six
miles from the camp she’d shared with
Wyatt—and where she’d found Ian’s old
boots. Could the truck belong to Ian?
Or did it belong to someone else,
who might be lurking about . . . or
sleeping in this very building? Remy
reached automatically to the back of her
jeans for her gun.
It wasn’t there
. As her
belly dropped with a sickening thud, she
realized she hadn’t been wearing it when
Wyatt dragged her out of the truck.
No.
Oh, no.
No weapon. No pack. Nothing. She
had nothing.
Nervous and unsettled, she glanced at
Dantès. He seemed only calm and
curious, watching her for a command,
but clearly ready to explore their
surroundings. His ease relaxed her a
little and she released him so he could
sniff around the area while she
considered the situation.
There was the possibility that the
Humvee was abandoned. It happened
more often than one might expect. That
sparked a flare of excitement in her. She
could get to Envy more safely and
quickly if, miraculously, she could steal
the truck. Even if its owner was sleeping
in the building, she’d have the chance to
drive it off. That would more than make
up for not having her gun.
Because of the way the bounty
hunters and Strangers used the Humvees,
many of the vehicles had no keys, or if
they had them, the keys were left inside.
Instead, there was a hidden compartment
with a switch that started the truck so
that any of them could utilize a vehicle
as needed. This came in handy, she’d
learned when traveling with the bounty
hunters, in the case of quick getaways or
if otherwise attacked. They didn’t want
to be sharing or losing the keys to their
escape.
All of which meant that if she could
get to the truck unseen, she could steal it.
Now Remy had a different reason to
listen and wait. But she’d been here for
at least ten minutes and had heard no
other human sounds. Seen no other
movement—not even from Wyatt, who
said he’d be right behind her.
A prickle of unease slipped over her
shoulders. What if he and Ian hadn’t
made it away from the zombies? She slid
her hand over the pocket of her jeans to
feel the crystal—the lure that surely had
drawn the mob of zombies to them, and
would call them to come for her again as
soon as the sun set tomorrow.
Her heart stopped when she realized
her pocket was empty.
The crystal was gone.
R
emy frantically searched all her
pockets, but the crystal was gone.
Her heart thudding, nausea roiling up,
threatening to choke her, she sagged
against the wall. It was impossible for
the crystal to have fallen from her pocket
while she was running. The pocket was
too deep.
Which meant someone had taken it.
Wyatt.
It had to be him; he must have done it
when he pulled her out of the truck,
practically shoving her off into the
woods. Ian hadn’t been close enough,
and he didn’t even know she had the
crystal until she showed it to the
zombies. Had he?
Remy closed her eyes. She’d trusted
Wyatt. Why had she trusted him? How
could she have been so stupid? Fury
mingled with the sick feeling deep in her
belly.
Dantès butted his head against her
hand as if to ask what was wrong. She
wanted to tell him he’d been taken in by
a thief and a liar, that the man he’d
cheated on her with wasn’t worthy of his
affection.
She’d actually begun to soften toward
him, especially after learning about his
wife and children. And—hell, admit it—
after that kiss. No wonder he told her it
wasn’t going to happen again. He
probably planned this all along. After
all, he was the one who told her to find
somewhere else to put the crystal.
And she’d listened to him. She’d
made a necklacelike belt so she could
still wear the stone beneath her shirt,
around her waist, while providing for
easy removal if it began to burn again.
But he
gave
it
back
to you.
Twice.
Remy shook her head. It didn’t make
any sense. Why would he give it back if
he really wanted to keep it? Even with
her gun, she knew she’d be no match for
him if he wanted to steal the crystal.
But he hasn’t shown up yet. If he
was really following you, he’d be here
by now.
She wanted to bang her head against
the wall. She wanted to cry. For twenty
years she’d protected that crystal, given
up her life for it—and now it was gone.
Now what? Should she go back and try
to find him or keep going on to Envy?
But should she go to Envy if his friends
were there?
At least the zombies will be after
him now, not me.
That was small comfort.
She opened her eyes. The best option
was the Humvee. She drew in a deep
breath and, after warring with herself,
commanded Dantès to sit and stay
quietly. Then she climbed back out the
window, still silent and wary. If she
could get the vehicle, maybe she’d be
able to backtrack and find Wyatt. The
landmark of the tall signpost would help
her find the old truck rig again, and it
was beginning to get light in the east.
A
cyclone
of
thoughts
and
possibilities—not to mention fantasies
of inflicting torture and pain on Wyatt—
flooded her mind as she made her way