by Tracey Ward
“What about all these people, though? They have to have seen the Vashons crossing the water to get here.”
“Not if the Vashons did it right,” Trent disagrees.
“Judging by the way they’re handling that Risen crowd,” Vin says, glancing over his shoulder to watch the soldiers systematically mow down the advancing horde, “they did it right. They know what they’re doing.”
“So wait, we have a Vashon army of three hundred people, plus two hundred Colonist refugees?” I ask.
Trent shakes his head. “More than that. Sixty or so cannibals are here too.”
“The cannibals came with you?”
“After we heard the blast they got nervous. They came out of the tunnels.”
I glance around, noticing some whiter-than-white skin in the huge crowd. “Okay, but they aren’t all fighters.”
“No, but twenty or so are.”
“Twenty of them, maybe fifty fighters from my people, three hundred Vashons, and a weakened Colony defensive line,” Vin surmises before whistling happily. “We might be able to pull this off.”
“Oh, you’re in this now?” I ask him, disbelieving. “Since when?”
He frowns at me, feigning hurt. “Kitten, it’s for the greater good.”
“It’s for your good is what it is. You lost your Pod, now you want a shot at another one.”
“A bigger one,” he amends.
“You’ll get nothing if we don’t move on this right now,” Trent reminds us.
“You’re right. Where’s the head of these Vashons? We need to talk to him.”
“Her,” I correct.
Vin scowls. “A woman?”
“Not just any woman,” I tell him with a satisfied smile. “Persephone.”
It’s not easy to find her. The place is packed with confused, scared people milling around and looking suspiciously at one another. Getting them to fight together is going to be a nightmare—one we’ll need a miracle to make it out of—and I’m wishing for Ryan more than ever even as my stomach fills with dread every second I don’t see him.
But Cren promised me he’s alive, and even if it’s stupid and superstitious, I’m putting faith in that.
We finally find her back at Crenshaw’s hut, the wise old wizard standing beside her. She looks different than I remember. Her hair is pulled back fiercely in a tight, dark ponytail and her serious face has devolved into an angry scowl. I know we parted on decent terms, but as I look at her speaking to other Vashons, her hand resting comfortably on the gun at her hip, I’m suddenly worried.
“Is that your friend?” Vin asks.
I swallow hard before shaking my head. “Not a friend exactly.”
“That one is,” Trent says, waving.
Sam waves back from behind Alissa, his face breaking out into a broad smile when he sees us. He nudges Ali then points in our direction. Her eyes scan the crowd and when they fall on me, they narrow.
My hands start to sweat.
“About time you showed up.”
I look around me, unsure she’s talking to me.
“Yes, you,” she clarifies. “Where have you been? We show up to fight this war with you and you’re nowhere to be found.”
“Fight this war with me? You kicked us off the island!”
“Because we had to fight off the Colonist attack that you brought down on our heads,” she fires back.
I purse my lips, wanting to fight, but I don’t have a leg to stand on.
“So, where have you been?” she insists.
“We were getting more help.”
She points back the way we came. “You mean the shaking, terrified group of Colonists out there? Perfect. They’ll be a huge help.”
“There are others,” I insist, getting angry. “Fighters.”
“Really? Where?”
“They’re out there, mixed in with the Colonists.”
“And where did you scrounge them up from?”
“The sewers,” Trent tells her.
Her eyes go wide. “Cannibals?”
“Where else was I supposed to go?!” I shout.
“You’ve mixed flesh eaters in with our people? Unbelievable. Sam, go tell Alvarez now. We need to separate them immediately.”
“Wait, where will they go?”
Sam ignores me, taking off at a sprint.
“Not here,” Ali says firmly.
“You can’t kick them out. The outside is swarming with zombies.”
“Yeah, speaking of, what the hell? Do you people ever kill them?”
“All the time,” I reply defensively.
“Yeah, it shows.”
I don’t think I like her tone.
“We had them down to nearly nothing before a Colony collapsed and swarmed us again. And this new wave we’re seeing? You can thank Marlow for that mess.”
Ali grins darkly. “If I see Marlow, I won’t be thanking him. I’ll kill him.”
“Too late,” Vin deadpans.
Her eyebrows shoot high. “Really? He’s gone?”
Vin nods once.
“Well, one down. One to go.” She looks from Vin to Trent, her expression darkening. “Where’s the other guy?”
I cringe inwardly, looking away to hide it. “He’s missing.”
“You should find him. I like him better than this one. This one is trouble.”
I don’t have to look up to know she’s talking about Vin. Or to know he’s grinning at her.
“Come with me,” she says briskly.
She walks away without waiting to see if we follow.
Turns out Ali isn’t in charge. I don’t know why I’m surprised by that. She’s a nurse or a doctor—I’m not sure which—but she’s not a soldier. Not like most of these guys wandering around the forest are. They’ve contained the swarm of zombies that followed Trent, the Colonists, and the cannibals here. They’re already making piles of the bodies and lighting fires. It’s a method of mass disposal I haven’t seen in years—not since I was a kid and it seemed like the entire world was always on fire. The sky was constantly choked with black and gray smoke, the sun peeking through to find the ground scorched black from the constant pyres. We burned most of the living that way too, partially to be safe and partially because no one had time for burials. As the acrid smoke hits my lungs, I’m reminded of an important fact - while the fires burn the same whether the fuel is human or zombie, the smell is very, very different.
We pass Crenshaw at a workbench surrounded by bowls, powders, and what looks like wire or twine. Ali asks him if he wants to join us, but he stays behind to ‘work,’ whatever that means. Ali takes us deeper into the forest to a massive tent swarming with people. They’re running in and out of it, disappearing inside or into the trees. I feel anxious just seeing that level of activity. It throws me when Ali walks us casually inside.
There are tables set up around the room with one massive one in the middle. Guns rest on the outer tables, but on the inside are a bunch of maps and papers and I wonder if that’s what everyone else gathered when the world fell: maps and Old English novels.
“Alvarez,” Ali calls out.
An older man with tan skin, wrinkles around his mouth and eyes, and dark, graying hair looks up sharply. “Bishop,” he replies, his voice deep and calm.
“Who is Bishop?” I ask Ali.
“Me. It’s my last name,” she mumbles quietly. “He calls my husband Bishop too. Confusing as hell.”
“Only to you,” Alvarez replies with a smirk. “I know exactly who I’m talking to. Who have you brought me?”
“These are the people who came to our island. The ones who decided to overthrow the Colonies.”
Alvarez looks us over, his eyes lingering momentarily on Vin and his neck. “A Hive member was on our island? I’ll have words with Taylor about that.”
“No, he wasn’t with us. It was someone else,” I tell him.
“And where is he?”
I sigh, wishing I could just wear a sign that s
ays ‘I lost Ryan. I’m sorry.’
“He’s missing,” Ali says gently.
I can feel her looking at me. Feeling sorry for me.
I hate it.
“Maybe he’s in the throng of people that just flooded my camp,” Alvarez suggests gruffly.
“We need to talk about that. There are cannibals mixed in that group.”
He stands tall, glaring at all of us. Even Ali. “So Sam said.”
“What do you want to do about them?”
“Advise them to not to eat anyone.”
“Seriously.”
“I am serious. I don’t have time to deal with them and their dalliances. Tell ‘em to keep their hands and mouths to themselves. We have bigger fish to fry. Night will be coming soon.”
“What happens tonight?” Vin asks the older man.
He eyes him again, more thoroughly this time, before answering. “Tonight we attack.”
“The stadiums?” I ask.
“No, Tokyo.”
I frown. “Where is Tokyo?”
“He’s joking,” Ali tells me quietly. “Yes, the stadiums.”
“You don’t know where Tokyo is?” Trent asks me.
My cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Shut up! I was eight years old, okay? I didn’t make it through a lot of school.”
“I’ll teach you.”
“Wonderful. I can’t wait.”
“Can anyone you brought us be of any use?” Alvarez asks Trent.
Trent points to Vin. “He’s your man. I don’t have anything to do with them.”
“They belong to The Hive?”
“No,” Vin says firmly. “They belong to me.”
“They belong to themselves,” I mutter.
“You’re splitting hairs. They follow me.”
Alvarez nods. “Then I’ll need you to calm them down. They’re creating chaos in my camp. We’ll find them all shelter. Maybe in a building nearby. We’ll protect them, but those who can fight will need to join us tonight.”
“Agreed.”
“Good. Now if you two,” Alvarez says, pointing to me and Trent, “don’t have anything else to do, I’m putting you to work. I assume you know Crenshaw?”
I nod. “Yeah, of course.”
“Good. You’ll be working with him and his assistant. We need all the hands over there that we can get.”
Alissa takes us back to Crenshaw’s hut where we last saw him hunched over a table full of random. Vin goes with Alvarez, looking oddly at ease striding into the crowd next to the obvious head of the Vashons. It’s probably because of his ego, or maybe it’s because he was simply born to lead, but I’ve never seen Vin look so… right. This is bigger than The Hive. It’s bigger than the stables and being someone else’s servant, and as I watch him go I wonder if this isn’t where Vin was always meant to be.
He could be a great leader if he could stop stabbing everyone in the back.
“Bray!” Trent calls out happily, startling me.
A face I vaguely recognize looks up then smiles. “Trent!”
The guy runs to Trent but stops short. I think he was going to hug him before he remembered who he was dealing with. In the end, they awkwardly bump knuckles.
“Where’s Ryan?”
Where’s my sign?
“Taking care of some things,” Trent lies easily. “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for you guys! You and Ryan straight up disappeared. No one knew where you were and no one was looking.”
“You’re not supposed to.”
“I know,” Bray says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “But I wandered in here, just to see. This park was where I found Ryan last time so I gave it a shot. I ended up hanging by my ankle from a tree.”
I grin. “Crenshaw’s traps?”
“Yeah,” he chuckles, looking embarrassed. “He caught me. I don’t know what he was going to do with me but I told him I was sorry for trespassing on his turf and that I was looking for Ryan. He said he knew where he was but that I couldn’t go there. Not right now. I asked him if I could wait here and he said no, but I could learn. So this is where I’ve been for the last few days.”
“What’s he teaching you?” Trent asks.
Bray’s eyes light up with excitement. “Everything.”
What he’s been teaching him is explosives, which to a bored fifteen-year-old boy probably feels like everything.
“How does Crenshaw know how to do this stuff?” I whisper to Ali.
We’re standing at a table of our own where I’m helping her roll bandages. She’s set up shop beside Crenshaw for two reasons. One, she loves him; and two, with all kinds of bubbling, boiling concoctions, open flames, and sharp utensils in newbie hands, there are a lot of injuries at the explosives table.
“He’s not a real wizard, don’t ever tell him I said that, but he is kind of a magician. He’s into all things nature and if you mix the right combination, nature knows how to go ‘boom.’ Big time.”
“He must have taught Ryan,” I muse, thinking of the fight he had with Vin about the size of the clay.
“He taught Jordan too.”
“Your husband?”
Ali nods.
“Is that how he lost his hand?”
She freezes. In fact, everyone in earshot does too, and when I stop to think about why we’re all ice sculptures, it dawns on me that that was stupid. It was thoughtless, tactless, and rude. But here’s the problem with me—I never know that until the damage is already done.
“I’m sorry, I shou—”
“He lost his hand to a zombie bite,” Ali answers, cutting off my apology. “He was bitten while fighting one and he didn’t even think about it. He wanted to live more than anything so he cut his hand off to stop the spread of the virus.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah. So we took him to a town, one that had put up fences and locked out the zombies. They let us in but they almost killed him because he’d been bitten. A nurse helped me save him, but a doctor tried to kill him.”
“Westbrook?”
Ali nods, flexing her jaw once quickly as though relieving tension. “Westbrook. Jordan survived but that guy wouldn’t let it go. When I got pregnant he couldn’t take it anymore. He called my baby a half-demon. Then he started sending people in to kill anyone who didn’t agree with him, so we ran. That was the last we heard from him and his Colonies for years, but the threat was always there. We always wondered if he’d run out of room and come after us again. And what do you know? He did.”
“I’m sorry,” I say grudgingly, unable to look at her. “We screwed up. Because of us they think you were making a deal with Marlow to come at them. We didn’t know.”
She surprises me when she smiles at me faintly. She shocks me when she reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear in a gesture so motherly it makes me cringe. “You gave us a reason to finish this, once and for all. To put an end to the wondering and worrying of when he’ll come after us again. It’s a relief,” she laughs. “Thank you for that.”
I look away, pulling my hair out of her reach. “I don’t think anyone should be thanking me for anything.”
“Too late.”
I open my mouth to reply, but I never get the chance. The sun is fading, evening is coming, and suddenly in the peaceful green glen where Crenshaw has made his home, a cry rings out.
“Incoming!”
I look around anxiously, trying to find the source of the shout.
“What’s happening?”
Ali’s face is tight, her hands clamping down on the rolled gauze in her hand so hard it dissolves into a mad mess of lazy loops through her fingers.
“Zombies,” she tells me tensely, her eyes on the makeshift road. Men and women are running down it. They’re heading for the entrance to the park. “Probably people too. They made the same announcement when Trent and the herd showed up.”
Something in me aches. It clenches hard and holds that way. It hurts and I hate it, but it’s good.
I know what it is.
It’s hope.
I move to fall in line with the people running down the road. Ali grabs my arm hard.
“No. We don’t go.”
“Why not?”
“Medics and explosives experts—we’re too valuable to risk losing. It’s why we’re hidden away in the middle of the woods.”
“Not me.” I pull my arm away, shaking my head. “I’m a fighter. It’s the only thing I’m good at.”
I run for the road. If Ali calls after me, I don’t hear it. All I hear is the pound of feet on packed dirt. It’s a steady rhythm that loosens the tightness in my chest. It’s a song I know in my veins. One beating in my blood louder and louder with every step. I’m running toward something I don’t understand, but still it’s familiar. Still I know it.
When we reach the clearing barricaded by fire still pouring black smoke into the air, I don’t slow. The rest do, but I don’t. I run. I run toward the fire and the haze. I run into the darkness blotting out the sun. To the rancid air stinging in my lungs, the smoke burning my eyes. I can barely breathe, I can barely see, and all I can hear is the persistent pounding that’s beating against my body, begging to come in.
I search the ugly gray world until I find it. Silhouettes of black against the darkness. There are so many of them. So many that I don’t know.
And there’s one I’d know anywhere.
When I see him, it’s in me: the beat of his heart – the one I’d follow to the ends of the earth – it’s in my blood. It’s not calling me, it’s pushing me. It’s willing me to him until I leap into his open arms and feel his warmth, his strength.
His relentless life.
Chapter Seventeen
“I thought you were dead,” I whisper against his skin, my mouth pressed to his. “I thought I lost you.”
He doesn’t answer me. He holds onto me, his mouth over mine and his hands in my hair. I don’t need words from him. I don’t even know what ones I’m saying to him, they simply spill out in an avalanche of everything I avoid and bury too deep to find. I don’t need to know where he was or what happened. It doesn’t matter. What matters is that I lost him, just like I always knew I would, but by some strange, insane, otherworldly twist of fate and luck, I have him back.