by Kat Falls
Inside, the century-old building had been stripped to its bones — exposed brick, old timber, and metal pipes. Hagen had turned the front section into a casual dining area with comfy chairs clustered around low tables, all scavenged from abandoned buildings. A three-sided bar made from reclaimed window shutters took up the center of the space, and behind that was the so-called casino — really just a roulette wheel, craps table, and a smattering of card tables. The whole building could fit into a corner of the Moline train station, which functioned as the compound’s town hall, marketplace, and cafeteria all rolled into one. But, because our social club was smaller, it made for a cozy alternative to the racket of the station.
My dad went to check on the kitchen staff as they prepped for a busy night. Jia, Trader, and Sage pivoted on their barstools, thin legs dangling, as they pestered the bartender for glasses of carbonated water. They’d all been adopted by Moline families, yet the kids liked working as food runners and table bussers. They liked the hubbub and music and how my dad paid them in meals.
“Ev’s here!” Jia yelled at my elbow and leapt from her stool. She flew through the open door and into the center square, where a jeep pulled up with Everson behind the wheel, Bearly at his side, and two more line guards in back. He’d come every evening since the night the lionesses arrived at the compound on foot.
“Hey, punk.” Everson climbed out of the jeep and swung Jia up for a hug. He hardly had time to set her back on her feet before a certain lioness charged past me and ran straight into his arms.
Mahari slid her golden-furred arms around his neck, looking as fierce as ever in a red halter dress that hugged her curves. As they locked lips, Jia dipped a hand into Everson’s pocket.
“Bearly!” I shouted as she swung out the jeep.
She twisted to follow my frantic pointing to Jia, who’d slipped behind the wheel. Bearly dove across the seats just as the jeep’s engine roared to life. She knocked Jia’s right hand off the gearshift while prying the key fob from her left.
Watching Bearly wrestle with a determined orphan was funny, but not as funny as the leaping exit made by the two backseat guards. They hit the ground and skittered away from the rocking vehicle. The guard on the left looked so alarmed that — my laugh fizzled in my throat and I blinked, certain my eyes had it wrong. I stumbled toward the line guard with the satiny dark skin and springing curls. Anna! Here. On the wrong side of the wall.
“Annapolis Brown,” I cried and dashed for her.
She bounced with excitement. “Surprise!”
And then we were screaming and hugging in front of the club’s open windows. The people inside turned in their seats to stare at us and then, threat assessed, returned to their conversations. I pulled back to gape at her gray fatigues. “I can’t believe you’re a line guard.”
“I’m not,” she said with a laugh.
“She’s a peace offering,” the other guard informed me as she rounded the jeep. On closer inspection, she wasn’t a line guard either, despite the head-to-toe body armor. Director Spurling gave a small shrug and added, “Or a hostess gift. Take your pick.”
Hopefully that meant she wasn’t here to arrest me for posting another video.
“I’m here for the whole week,” Anna explained. “On Arsenal. As her intern.” She tipped her head toward Spurling.
“Why are you here?” I asked Spurling.
Before she could answer, my dad limped outside. He took in our little group with interest. “You made it across the river, Director Spurling.”
Guess her line guard attire hadn’t fooled him. “Did you come to talk about your census idea?” I asked.
She nodded. “Among other things.”
Everson spoke up then while keeping one arm draped around Mahari’s waist. “Director Spurling worked with the State Department to renegotiate Titan’s contract. We’ll still secure the quarantine line, but without the bloodshed, and we’ll oversee relief missions.”
I turned a stunned look on him. “Relief missions?”
“Distributing the antigen throughout the zone. Pro bono,” he added casually — like the for-free part should go without saying. As it should.
Mahari shook off Everson’s one-armed embrace and glared. “You think we’re going to let line guards take over the zone? Think again, human.”
Everson shot Spurling a sidelong look. “Told you.”
“You did,” she agreed and turned to Mahari. “And that is why the president signed an executive order yesterday, making the Feral Zone a US territory. You’ll need to set up a governing body for the zone as a whole and appoint someone to act as a liaison with the West. That way your people can coordinate the relief missions with Titan.”
Everson held out a hand to Mahari. “Know anyone who’d make a good ambassador?” he asked.
She entwined her fingers with his. “Ambassador is a step down from queen,” she informed him.
“True,” he agreed, tugging her close. “But you’ll get to negotiate with officials from the West and scare the spit out of them — all for the good of the zone.”
Mahari’s eyes gleamed. “I’d like that,” she purred.
His lips twitched. “I figured.”
The two of them strolled away then, before I could ask Everson how his mother was doing. The stress of her arrest and exposure to the outdoors pushed her germaphobia to a delusional level. In custody, Chairman Prejean had a complete mental breakdown and got carted off to a psychiatric facility — a place she wouldn’t be leaving anytime soon. According to Everson, she’d been judged too “mentally unfit” to stand trial.
Spurling told Anna to take a break while she toured the compound with my dad, so we settled into a corner of the dining area and caught up. But Anna was having a hard time staying focused — not that I blamed her. Watching her flinch and suppress gasps over the manimals in the club reminded me how shocked I’d been when I’d first arrived in Moline. My dad’s stories hadn’t prepared me for the sight of a real live chimpacabra any more than my video had prepared Anna for Sid playing the piano in the corner or the waiter infected with badger. Some things you just had to see for yourself.
Now she was staring past me toward the open door, lips parted. “Oh my,” she drawled.
The atmosphere in the room changed, became charged, and without turning I knew Rafe had finally made it home. I twisted in my seat and there he was, leaning against the doorjamb, his eyes shockingly blue in the dim light. Even bluer: the stick that hung on a cord around his neck. A Ferae test like those that everyone in the Chicago court had been forced to wear, putting their health status on full display. A red test stick meant the person had Ferae. Electric blue meant —
“You tested clear!” I gasped and got to my feet, only then realizing that a small part of me had believed he might be the one person resistant to the antigen.
“Yep.” He dropped his duffle by the bar and strolled closer. “And not a single side effect.”
If Rafe was cured, then his ban on kissing had just reached its expiration date. Meaning, we could. Finally. All I had to do was throw myself into his arms and press my mouth to his. And I would … if I was a lioness and not standing in the middle of Mack’s Place with dozens of witnesses, including Anna. He was the wild boy who lived in a castle, right out of my bedtime stories. Our first kiss should be special. Of course, looking the way he did and living on his own in the zone for so many years, Rafe had probably kissed dozens of girls. A kiss would be nothing to him. Just a prelude to —
“Silky,” he called softly as if coaxing me down from a tree. “Where’d you go?”
“N-nowhere,” I stammered. “I just —”
“It’s not a trick,” he said, lifting the blue test stick. “If that’s what you’re thinking, I don’t blame you. First time we met, I was stealing medicine off Arsenal. You’ve seen me lie, and I’m guessing you know I’ll scam, cheat, and fight dirty if it’ll buy me another day on this earth. But you also gotta know, I’ll never lie to you
. It’s the real deal, I swear.” He let the test stick fall from his fingers. “But I took a blood test too. That’s even more accurate, right?”
I nodded quickly, eyes prickling.
“Then there you go. Science doesn’t lie.” He held out his arms as if offering himself up for inspection — just like he’d done the day we met on Arsenal. “I’m as good as new.”
“No,” I said softly. “You’re better.”
“I knew he’d be fun,” said a voice from behind us. We turned to find Director Spurling watching us, a corner of her mouth quirked up. “I was rooting for you,” she told Rafe.
“Thanks,” he said and then frowned. “Who’re you?”
“This is Director Spurling from the Department of Biohazard Defense.” As I made the introduction, Anna popped up so fast, I had to laugh. “And this is my best friend —”
“Anna,” Rafe said, surprising Anna and me. He smirked. “I remember everything you say, silky. And a few things you don’t say — with words, at least.” His attention slid past me to where my dad stood, not smiling. Rafe shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. “Hey, Mack.”
“Did you see?” I asked quickly, pointing to the blue stick dangling against Rafe’s chest. “He’s cured.”
“Functionally cured,” my dad corrected, using the language that Everson had drummed into our heads last night when he’d announced that all the manimals in Moline had tested clear for Ferae.
“So, Lane,” Spurling cut in, “have I mentioned that your second video, like the first, went viral?”
“It did?” I asked warily.
“Yes. But this one seems to have done what it was supposed to. It humanized the people living over here. All of them.”
“Really?” A smile pulled at my lips. “That’s wonderful.”
“The girl who ended the quarantine …” Rafe said with amazement, then turned to my father. “How’d you know?”
My dad took my hand and squeezed it. “I had a feeling,” he said. “And if not you, then someone in your generation was going to find a way out of this mess. I’m proud it was you.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Spurling cut in. “Until we treat the sick, vaccinate the well, and contain the diseased animals, the quarantine will stay in place, and it’s going to be harder than ever to maintain. Now that people know the zone isn’t one giant graveyard, they’ll want to start searching for their missing relatives — as in, right now. They’re not going to wait for the quarantine to lift. And since no one thinks it’s a good idea to pump more money into the line patrol, I proposed that we legalize fetching.”
“How will that stop people from trying to break quarantine?” I asked. If I learned that my mom was still alive and living across the river, nothing would stop me from trying to find her. The answer came to me then. “Instead of fetching things left behind, you’ll fetch people.”
“Just their names and locations for now,” Spurling said. “If the government offers a legal way to get the information they want, people will take it. And that, Delaney, is what I came to ask your father: if he’d consider a job as a government-sanctioned fetch.”
I turned to my dad. “And you said …”
“That my fetching days are behind me,” he said ruefully, tapping his leg with his cane. “But I did say that I know two people who might be interested in running the operation from this side of the wall.”
He looked from me to Rafe, and I remembered that sense of awe I felt seeing Aaron and Carmen reunited — especially knowing that I’d helped make it happen.
“How’re you going to pay us?” Rafe asked Director Spurling.
“You figure that out,” she told us, “and tell me your price tomorrow.”
“You’re coming back to Moline?” I asked.
“Come to Arsenal,” she instructed. “I’ll be staying there for awhile to oversee its transition to a government facility — lab and all.”
Everson stepped into the club then. After greeting Rafe and congratulating him on his blue test stick, he turned to Director Spurling. “It’s getting dark, Director. We should head back to base … unless you want to spend the night in Moline,” he added hopefully.
She cut him a look. “Not tonight, Mr. Cruz. Find Bearly and start the jeep.”
As Anna and I hugged good-bye, she whispered, “I want a boy with tiger blood.”
Over her shoulder, I saw Rafe smirk. Next time I met up with Anna, I’d tell her about manimal supersenses. I waved as she headed out the door with Everson.
Spurling was right behind them when she glanced back. “I’ll see you two tomorrow?”
Rafe and I met eyes and smiled in agreement. “You will,” I told her.
“I’ve never had a partner before,” Rafe commented as we watched her go. Without thinking, we found each other’s hands, only to drop them again when my dad gave us a questioning look from behind his wire-rimmed glasses.
“We — uh —” I said, my cheeks growing hot. “We’re together.”
Beside me, Rafe seemed to brace for my dad’s reaction, which ended up being no more than an unconcerned nod.
Rafe frowned. “What? You predicted this too?”
“Let’s just say, I’m not surprised,” my dad said as his eyes lit with laughter.
He had only himself to blame since he’d been telling each of us about the other through stories for years. “We’re going to go check out your new sign now that’s it’s getting dark,” I told him.
Taking up Rafe’s hand once more, I led him toward the stairs.
“The sign’s outside,” my dad called after us. “Where’re you going?”
“The roof,” I said over my shoulder. “For a bird’s-eye view.”
Two staircases later, Rafe and I stepped onto the flat expanse of the club’s roof. Someday, Hagen hoped to turn it into a rooftop garden, but for now it offered a view of the river and not much else. I propped open the door with a cinder block to buy myself a minute as my eyes adjusted to the darkness. Rafe, with the advantage of night vision, strolled toward the parapet, navigating around rain barrels and solar generators. He put a boot on the edge and leaned over. “Cool sign.”
I joined him, more amazed at the glowing island in the middle of the river. From here, the lights on Arsenal made the base look like a summer carnival, while on the far bank, the Titan wall disappeared in the darkness. Maybe someday it would disappear for good.
“So how will it work?” Rafe asked, turning to me. “The client gives us a name and the last place their relative was seen and we go looking for him? You know the chances of finding those people are zero to zilch.” His grin flashed white in the darkness. “I’m all in.”
Of course he’d throw himself into the business of fetching people wholeheartedly. He knew what was at stake. He knew how quickly time slipped away from the infected and how a single day could mean the difference between sane and feral. Rafe also knew what it felt like to learn that a loved one had been alive all along and that knowledge had been kept from you. Of course he wanted to reunite family members.
“I think we should work backward,” I said, hugging myself against the cool night air. “Visit as many compounds as we can and get the names of everyone living in the area and where they’re originally from. That’ll give us a master list to work off.”
Rafe’s hand came up, cradling my chin. His fingers warm on my skin. “We? You can be the contact person. You don’t have to leave Moline.”
“I want to explore the zone with you.” I kept my tone low-key even though I was excited at the idea of venturing into uncharted territory and of spending the time with him. “We’re partners. I’ll have your back.”
“No, silky,” Rafe said, pulling me in close. “You have all of me.”
His fingers tightened and suddenly he was kissing me. Soft and slow at first, lips barely touching, as if to give me the chance to change my mind. Moonlight bounced off his eyes and made them flash hollow-green as they stared into my own, checking m
y reaction. The intensity of his look and the warmth pouring off him sent a wave of fire through me. I wanted more. Needed more.
I rolled onto my toes, pushed my fingers through his hair, raking his scalp with my nails, and took our kiss from sweet to serious. Rafe froze, and then his arms tightened and he molded me to him. We fit with stunning perfection. Inhaling his scent — sweat and pine and woodsmoke — I finally got it. I got why people loved old-fashioned kissing, despite the germs. Our bodies defied the boundaries of science and flowed together like two rivers joining.
Rafe drew back and brushed a finger across my lips. “What are you smiling at?”
“I’m smiling?”
“You are.”
“Well,” I said, conceding, “I guess because as far as happily-ever-afters go, I lucked out.”
“You’re not about to say ‘the end,’ are you?” he teased. “Because it isn’t. Not for us.”
“Not even close,” I agreed.
It’s finally done. Whew, and then some. I don’t know why it took me so long to finish this particular book. Not that I’ve ever been a fast writer. I’m a backtracker and an overthinker and, for the first time, a worrier. I got frozen while writing this one and I can’t explain why. I just did. And that is why I’m so very grateful to the people who cheered me on even as I kept tripping myself up.
Here is an incomplete list of those I’d like to thank:
My brilliant agent, Josh Adams, with a shout-out to his business partner and wife, the fabulous Tracey Schatvet Adams. You took me on when I was an unknown quantity and have given me support and sage advice every step of the way. Thank you!
Next, the silver lining to having taken so long to write Undaunted is that I got to work with two amazing editors: Nick Eliopulos and Orlando Dos Reis. Thank you both for your encouraging words and spot-on story notes. Specifically, I thank Nick for helping me figure out how to launch the story in an exciting way (hopefully!) and Orlando for making my manuscript shine and for “strengthening the connective narrative tissue between Books 1 and 2.” (Loved the concept and your notes that helped me accomplish it.)