Author: Sam Sisavath
Date: 2023-01-27 08:00:00+00:00
Description: Book 13 in the Road to Babylon post-apocalyptic series.___________________________NOT ALL MONSTERS SHOULD BE FEARED.He's been a bad guy, a good guy, and everything in between. But he's never been more than human...until now.After surviving the battle of Shaker Town, Keo has gone through a transformation and become the very thing he despises and fought against for years. And there is no way back. Or is there?The future is bleak, but Keo won't make his friends and loved ones suffer for his unfortunate circumstance. While Black Tide searches for him, Keo has disappeared into the wilds of an Ameri
Publisher: Independently published

In the Blood

Copyright © 2023 by Sam Sisavath

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, organizations, places, events, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

Edited by Wendy Chan

CONTENTS

Books in the Road to Babylon Series

Also by Sam Sisavath

About In the Blood

Prelude

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

BOOKS IN THE ROAD TO BABYLON SERIES

Glory Box

Bombtrack

Rooster

Devil’s Haircut

Black

The Distance

Hollow

Daybreak

The Ranch

100 Deep

Nice Shot

Ain’t Goin’ Down

In the Blood

ALSO BY SAM SISAVATH

The Purge of Babylon Post-Apocalyptic Series

The Purge of Babylon: A Novel of Survival

The Gates of Byzantium

The Stones of Angkor

The Walls of Lemuria Collection (Keo Prequel)

The Fires of Atlantis

The Ashes of Pompeii

The Isles of Elysium

The Spears of Laconia

The Horns of Avalon

The Bones of Valhalla

Mason’s War (A Purge of Babylon Story)

The After the Purge: Vendetta Trilogy

Requiem

Tokens

Remains

The After The Purge: AKA John Smith Post-Apocalyptic Series

Mist City

Run or Fight

Shoot Last

The Allie Krycek Vigilante Series

Hunter/Prey

Saint/Sinner

Finders/Keepers

Savior/Corruptor

The Red Sky Conspiracy Series

Most Wanted

The Devil You Know

The Fall of Man Post-Apocalyptic Series

The Break

Homefront

Firebase

The Tide

ABOUT IN THE BLOOD

NOT ALL MONSTERS SHOULD BE FEARED.

He’s been a bad guy, a good guy, and everything in between. But he’s never been more than human…until now.

After surviving the battle of Shaker Town, Keo has gone through a transformation and become the very thing he despises and fought against for years. And there is no way back. Or is there?

The future is bleak, but Keo won’t make his friends and loved ones suffer for his unfortunate circumstance. While Black Tide searches for him, Keo has disappeared into the wilds of an America still struggling in the new post-Purge world.

On a quest to discover a way back to Lara, Keo crosses paths with a pack of ghouls that, like him, has evolved into something more. Something much, much more deadly.

But while the line between human and ghoul has become muddled, one thing remains true: Stay alive at all costs.

PRELUDE

“Where are you?”

“Just outside of Atlanta.”

“What are you doing back there?”

“Found some tracks and thought he might have circled back.”

“Did he?”

“No. Doesn’t look like it. Actually, it looks like he kind of planned this.”

“What do you mean?”

“He got tricky. Convinced our trackers he was going in a circle.”

“But he wasn’t…”

“No. The boys think he’s headed northwest. Into the mountains.”

“Why would he do that?”

“I don’t know. Did he say anything to you?”

“No.”

“Then I’m at a loss, but that’s nothing new. One thing’s for sure: Whatever he’s doing, whyever he’s doing it, he doesn’t want us to find him.”

“Me.”

“What’s that?”

“Me. He doesn’t want me to find him.”

“Why would you say that?”

“Because he’s scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“Of what he might do to me. To the baby.”

“Well, that’s not good. So he’s that far gone?”

“I don’t know yet, Danny. That’s why I need you to find him.”

“He doesn’t seem to want that…”

“It doesn’t matter. He needs our help, whether he knows it or not. Whether he wants it or not.”

“Gotcha. We’ll keep looking. But it’s a big country.”

“How many men do you have with you?”

“Not enough to cover all the territories, but I’ll ask for volunteers to expand the search. Dollars to donuts I’ll get plenty of takers. How’s Carly doing on her end?”

“She hasn’t gotten anything yet. Like you said, it’s a big country out there. But we’re reaching more people in more towns every day. Hopefully we’ll stumble across someone who’s crossed paths with him.”

“You actually believe that?”

“Yes. Because I don’t have any choice but to believe it.”

“Well, we’ll do our part. If he’s still out there, we’ll find him.”

“He’s still out there, Danny.”

“Lara, don’t get me wrong, I want to find the Kiaster, too, but you read the same reports I did. He’s not the same Keo that left on the Shaker Town mission. How do you know he’s even still alive?”

“He’s alive, Danny.”

“But how do you know that?”

“Because I would feel it if he’s dead. I would just…know.”

“All right. Just wanted to make sure.”

“Find him, Danny, and bring him home to me.”

1

Five of them. All men. Well-oiled weapons clutched between gloved fingers. Puffs of mist with every easy breath. Calm heartbeats.

They’d done this before.

Feeding on the cow was a mistake, but the hunger had gnawed at him, as it did again now.

Too soon. Much too soon. Keo thought it would last longer, but the hunger was growing, becoming more impossible to ignore with every passing day. Already, he could taste the new batch of blood at the end of his tongue.

It’s getting harder and harder…

These men had come from the same place as that cow. They had been hunting him for at least two days now. He’d almost lost them last night, but they somehow picked his track back up. He should have spent more time moving between the trees, but he’d been too confident.

Overly confident, as it turned out.

Morning sunlight bounced off their lined faces. Hard men that had killed before. Many times before, in fact. And yet, he sensed hesitation in their movements. They weren’t quite sure what they were tracking. He didn’t blame them. He didn’t know what he was, either.

The leader was taller than the rest—over six feet with broad shoulders and strong arms. A flourishing stubble from the last time he’d shaved using river water. The AR rifle looked small in his hands. A baseball cap with the letters NY embroidered on the front hid his eyes. Searching eyes that never seemed to stop moving. Overgrown stalks of grass slapped casually at his dirty jeans-clad legs. The long scabbard housing a machete dangled invitingly from one hip. Pouches brimmed with ammo.

Silver-tipped bullets.

But it was the man’s blood that Keo couldn’t stop listening to as it flowed through the man’s veins. There was something strange about it. Something he’d never encountered before. At least, not in a human. He’d recognized the oddity while they were still miles away, calling to him like a siren’s song. So he’d waited for them to finally catch up because he had to know.

Why does your blood sing to me?

These men were not soldiers. They weren’t farmers or ranchers or citizens of some upstart community. They didn’t belong anywhere.

Slayers.

Ghoul slayers.

They were hunting him at the behest of the town where he’d taken the cow. Full bellies, the smell of garlic on lips. Tiny speckles of breadcrumbs clung to shirts. Lingering fragrance of malt beer under their tongues.

The leader stopped and raised a fist. The other four, spread out in a jagged line—two on each side of him—stopped instantly. Weapons scanned the woods. More knives with silver-coated blades clicked against sheaths. They had come fully prepared.

The big man said nothing. He didn’t move, either. Hidden eyes stared forward, then to the sides. The calm patter of his heartbeat behind his clothes. Pale lips twisted slightly, overly sharp nostrils flaring as he sniffed the air like some predator in the wilds.

Did the man smell him?

Impossible.

“What is it?” one of the others asked. The second oldest in the bunch. Grizzled. Thin and deceptively frail-looking, but Keo knew that wasn’t true. None of them were frail in any shape or form.

“Why’d we stop?” another one wanted to know. The youngest in the group. Dark skin. Hispanic origins. Curly hair matted to his head by sweat and morning dew. He was the most nervous among them. His hands kept switching up on his weapon, as if he couldn’t figure out the best approach to holding it.

“What do you see?” a third chimed in. A big black man. Bald. Gray stubble lined his face. Three old scars, readily visible, ran across his forehead in staggering lines. Something had gouged flesh up there. Something sharp. Talons.

“Yo, Mancini. What’s going on?” the fourth asked. Early thirties, wearing a dirty cap with a black Falcon on top. Nondescript in appearance. A messy eater; Keo could smell dried beer and ketchup on the front of his jacket.

The leader didn’t answer. His lack of response created more tension, more nervousness. Gloved fingers flexed on weapons and bubbles of mist came out faster. More than a slight uptick in heartbeat among the other four. The youngest one’s trembling had doubled.

Mancini. The leader. The hardest of the hard men.

He stood still, battered AR rifle at the ready. The weapon was due for a cleaning. Remnants of mud and dirt mixed with oil in the crevices. The man’s eyes shifted left, right, then forward. Ears wide open, hearing everything. The hairs along the nape of his neck rising slightly. Not from the cold but the atmosphere. Not a bad-looking man, if you were into the gruff lumberjack type.

And his blood. His blood called out to Keo.

How was this possible?

Who are you?

Keo leapt off the branch a split second before the man they called Mancini turned and fired. The first round sailed high while the second one, coming less than one-tenth of a season later, cracked against the tree trunk.

He was already in mid-air when he grabbed another branch and swung across the cold air.

The pop-pop-pop of gunshots from behind him as the others joined in. Silver-tipped rounds zipped alongside his head. Some came closer than others. Most went wild.

He landed and bounced back onto another tree.

Then another, and another.

They chased, firing as they did so. No one shouted. No one had to. They were slayers. Professionals.

They’d done this many times before.

* * *

How?

The man knew Keo was there. That shouldn’t have been possible. Keo didn’t give off any scent, unlike a ghoul. His heartbeat was completely flat and he’d barely breathed. There was nothing to give away his presence. Nothing at all.

How?

And yet the man had known he was there. Not just there, but exactly where.

How?

And why did the man’s blood sing to him? He looked human. Because he was human. Everything about him was human…except for the blood that pumped through his veins.

How?

The answer would not come to him; he had to go to it.

Who are you?

The question enticed him. The possibility that he had encountered someone similar to himself. Perhaps not completely the same, but maybe close enough. After all, Keo wasn’t the man he used to be. He wasn’t even sure he was still a man at all.

He had intended to move on, but that would have to wait. The questions nipped at the corners of his mind even as he scaled trees and ricocheted off branches. He’d spent months out here roaming, trying to get a handle on what he’d become. All the while fighting the urge to return home.

Home.

Home was Lara.

Home was the child she had given birth to.

Home was…

Not yet. Not until he was sure.

Until then, he laid in wait, knowing the slayers would catch up to him. They had a good bloodhound at the front—the one called Mancini. The man who had known he was there, somehow.

How?

They moved together as one, unwilling—smartly—to separate and make his job easier. That was fine. He was used to doing things the hard way. Maybe they understood that he was no ordinary prey. Maybe they even knew more about him than he did, but Keo was doubtful about that.

No one knew what he was. Not even him.

And yet, Mancini had known exactly where he was.

How?

This time he didn’t wait for Mancini to pick him out from the woods that surrounded him. He attacked, just stopping short of using lethal force. They were slayers and in another time, another place, he would have been walking alongside them.

But this wasn’t that time or place.

Hurting them—enough to incapacitate and render them threatless—was another matter.

He came out of the ground behind their line just as the closest slayer stepped over the damp earth he’d buried himself under. The man heard him and turned, but he wasn’t fast enough. Few things were fast enough to stop him these days. Another one of his newfound “gifts.”

The slayer screamed and his limbs flailed as Keo tossed him aside. The big black man. His rifle went in one direction and he went in the other, disappearing into a brush like a sack of potatoes.

One down.

The second one got off a shot. Barely. The second oldest, who looked weak but wasn’t. Silver-coated buckshot whipped past Keo’s head as he moved forward, grabbed the cold barrel of the weapon, and used it as a bat. The slayer flew ten yards before slamming against the unyielding trunk of an aged tree with a pained grunt. Hurt, but alive.

Thank me later. (Or not.)

Two down.

Numbers three and four got off their own shots. They were skilled, he’d give them that. Faster than most people with their weapons.

Not that it did them any good.

He was too fast, taking out one, then the other in exactly two and a half heartbeats. He was dealing with the fourth when the round struck him in the side. He twisted slightly, tossed the slayer, before turning to face the last one.

Mancini. “Jesus Christ. What are you?”

I wish I knew.

The slayer leader opened up. An AR platform firing 5.56 rounds. Silver-coated, of course. One pull of the trigger became three, then five, then ten. He’d fired the semi-automatic so quickly that the entire magazine emptied in seemingly one single continuous shot.

They all missed. It was child’s play.

The sound of gunshots reverberated off the trees around them. Birds that had already taken flight flew by overheard. Woodland creatures of all shapes and sizes scrambled to put more distance between them and the combatants.

Mancini dropped the rifle and reached for his machete.

The silver on the blade tickled Keo’s tongue as he moved in for the finishing blow.

* * *

One bruised arm and a bruised ego. It could have been much worse, but Keo had restrained himself. The same with the slayer’s four allies, though they wouldn’t know it. He was, after all, the enemy, and the enemy never showed mercy.

The man he needed to talk to was unconscious for a few hours afterward. There was blood on one side of his head, hidden among a patch of wet hair that was starting to show signs of gray. Mancini snored even unconscious, which was impressive.

Finally, the man woke up. “Jesus Christ.”

“You said that already.”

Mancini stared at him from behind groggy and yet defiant eyes. “Go ahead. Finish it. What are you waiting for?”

“Are you asking me to kill you?”

“I’m not asking you for shit. Just get it over with.”

“No.”

“No?” A brief pause as the man squinted back at him. “What the hell do you mean, ‘No?’”

“I mean, no. I won’t kill you.”

“Why the hell not?”

Keo smiled. That wasn’t quite the response he’d expected. “You’ve been bitten before. Bled.”

“What?”

“You have ghoul blood in you.”

The slayer’s eyes widened. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“When they bled you, all those years ago, they tried to turn you. But it didn’t work. For whatever reason, you didn’t become ghoul. So now you walk around with their blood in you. His blood.”

“‘His?’ Who the hell is ‘his?’”

The Father.

But he said, “You don’t know, do you?”

The man shook his head. He couldn’t tell if Mancini believed him or not. Defiance remained on his face.

“Did you think you became so good at hunting ghouls by accident?” Keo asked. “Or that you just”—he snapped his fingers—“spontaneously developed these abilities one morning after waking up? No, slayer. The very thing that tried to end you also gave you these talents.”

“Fuck you. These aren’t ‘talents.’ And they didn’t give me shit.”

“You know better than that.”

Anger and resentment flashed across the man’s face even as the veins along his neck and cheeks flushed red. “What are you?”

“I can ask you the same thing. You’re human, but not completely. So what are you now, if not completely human?”

“What is this, a game? Are you playing some kind of game?” He leaned slightly forward, the confusion spreading to more regions of his face. “How the hell are you walking around in sunlight?”

“It’s a long story.”

“I got all day.”

“I don’t.”

“If you were gonna kill me, you would have done it already. So what the hell do you want from me?”

Keo didn’t answer. He had questions but wasn’t quite sure how to phrase them. He had to admit, he hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Where are my men?” the slayer asked.

“Back in the woods.”

“Are they dead?”

“They’re alive. For now.”

“What does that mean?”

“They were alive when I left them. What happens after that isn’t my problem.”

“You say that like it wasn’t you that knocked them around.” Hard eyes peered at him, clouds of mist puffing out from cut lips. “What are you?”

“Why don’t you tell me.”

“Come again?”

“What do you see, slayer?”

The man didn’t answer immediately. He continued to look across the short distance of the semi-dark cave at Keo. Water dripped from somewhere in the back, among the shadows. A small patch of light floated in from the opening about twenty yards behind them. Enough illumination for Mancini to see what he was facing. Keo, on the other hand, could see just fine even in the darkest nights.

“You’re ghoul,” the man finally said, “but you’re not ghoul. Ghouls don’t run around in sunlight. Ghouls don’t look…like you. But I saw what you did back there. How easily you handled my men. How fast you were. You’re not a man.”

“Then what am I?”

Those hard eyes squinted into narrow slits. “You don’t know. You’re hoping I’d know because you don’t know what you are.” He leaned back slightly, the remnants of defiance on his face replaced completely by curiosity. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Keo ignored his question. He said instead, “How did you track me?”

“That’s what I do. I’m a slayer, remember?”

“Then later, you knew exactly where to shoot. You knew exactly where I was. That shouldn’t have been possible.”

“Is that why you attacked us?”

“I didn’t attack you. I defended myself because you came after me.”

“That’s an interesting way to look at it.”

“Tell me how you knew.”

“And then? What happens after I tell you?”

“We go our separate ways.”

“Just like that?”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re you and I’m me.”

“But you said you don’t know what I am. I’m not ghoul. Not completely. And you’re not human. Not completely.”

The slayer bristled at that. “You don’t know anything about me. Stop talking like you do.”

“Fair enough. And you don’t know anything about me, either.” He went into a slight crouch in front of the man. “So tell me, slayer. How did you know I was there? In the tree behind you?”

“Your scent.”

“I don’t have a scent.”

“Yeah, you do. At first I wasn’t sure what it was. You don’t smell like a ghoul, you’re right, but you don’t smell like a man, either. That was the problem. That was the thing that gave you away.”

He took a moment to digest the slayer’s words.

“My scent,” he finally said.

“Yeah. Your scent.”

“What is…my scent?”

The slayer shook his head. “I don’t know. It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“Like I said, you don’t smell like a man but you don’t give off the stink of a ghoul, either. I’ve killed hundreds of ghouls all across this land, and I’ve never encountered something like you before.”

“If you had to put it into words…”

“Impossible.”

“Try.”

The slayer seemed to think about it.

“Try,” Keo pressed.

“Empty,” the slayer finally said. “You don’t smell like anything. There’s a void where your scent is supposed to be. Even now, as close as you are, I can’t…” He shook his head, the confusion returning. “I can’t smell anything off you. And I’m not talking about the dirt or the mud or the forest on you. I’m talking about odor. The smell that every creature, living or dead, gives off. I don’t smell a goddamn thing coming from you.”

2

Max had a bruised lung and was sporadically coughing up blood, though it wasn’t life-threatening. The kid had been through worse, including a broken fibula a few months ago that was still healing. “Jesus Christ. Guys, guys. Am I supposed to be coughing up blood like this? Guys? Can someone tell me?”

Jackson was limping around on two broken toes and a sore right leg, but that didn’t do anything to stymie his ability to tell bad jokes. “‘Doc, it hurts when I do this.’ The doc says, ‘Then don’t do that.’” Jackson cackled. He was the only one.

Tandy’s jaw had a big welt on it, making it look like a giant tomato was growing down there, and his right eye was bruised. He gave Jackson a pity laugh. “Lame.”

“You like it? I came up with that myself.”

“No you didn’t, dummy. That’s an old joke.”

“No way. I came up with it just now.”

“In your dreams.”

“I’m doing other things in my dreams.”

“Leave me out of it.”

“Don’t worry, you’re just watching.”

“I think I’m gonna throw up.”

Keen, the oldest member of Mancini’s slayers by a good ten years, had a sore right wrist, but he’d gotten through the morning mostly injury-free. If anything, the back pain he’d been complaining about for the last two years had disappeared after his run-in with a tree trunk. That didn’t stop him from playing up his “injuries” and making eyes at the redheaded nurse that was tending to him. “I’m Keen. They call me Real Keen. Get it? Because of keen?”

The redhead gave him a half-smile. “I got it.”

“What’s your name?”

“Nurse.”

“That’s a weird name. I guess you were always destined to be a nurse, huh?”

Another half-smile. “Yeah. Something like that.”

Mancini stood at the open door watching his men getting treatment. They were alive. All of them. That wasn’t something many people could say when they went up against a blue-eyed ghoul.

Except this wasn’t a blue-eyed ghoul. Not really.

Then what was it?

Mancini didn’t know. Even now, he didn’t know what he’d gone up against…and survived. That last part was only at the mercy of the creature.

Or man. Half-man?

What the hell was that thing?

It’d talked. But then the Blue Eyes could talk, too. Except there wasn’t that strange hissing sound that accompanied a blue-eyed ghoul’s voice. Its eyes, too, wasn’t blue. Or at least they weren’t the entire time. Mancini swore the pupils changed colors more than once, but he didn’t dismiss it as his imagination getting the better of him. It was pretty dark inside the cave.

What a morning.

As for Mancini, the cut along his right temple was his only injury, and he didn’t even count it as one. Like Max and the others, he’d survived worse. A bandage and some antibiotic had fixed that right up. His back still ached, though. The creature had thrown him around like a rag doll until he’d blacked out. Not that Mancini had given him a choice; he’d been fighting to the very end, trying to take its head with his machete.

It had been a hell of a morning. The kind even someone like Mancini, who had probably fought more ghouls than most people alive, had never encountered before. That went double for the creature.

What the hell was that thing?

“Did you find it?”

Mancini glanced over his shoulder. “I found it.”

Katie walked over to stand next to him. Early forties, tall, cargo pants, and muddy boots. Fresh dirt clung to her pants legs and sweater as if she’d just come from digging ditches somewhere. Toned arms from hard physical labor and a face that didn’t take shit. She was a rarity these days—a woman that could lead men into battle and still, somehow, look feminine. Those enticing blue eyes didn’t hurt either.

He noticed her gun belt, which was something she hadn’t been wearing when he was here just two days earlier.

“Was I right?” she asked. “Was it a Blue Eyes?”

“Yes…and no.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s complicated.”

“How is it complicated? Was it a Blue Eyes or wasn’t it?”

“It’s complicated.”

“I didn’t know you slayers were prone to complications.”

“Not usually, no.”

“So what happened? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“That’s not too far from the truth.”

“That bad? You told me there was just one ghoul.”

“There was.”

“So what was the problem? Five slayers can’t deal with one little ghoul?”

“It wasn’t exactly little.”

“Then what exactly was it?”

“It captured me. After it thrashed my team.”

“Define ‘thrashed.’”

“Incapacitated them. But it could have done much worse. It could have killed them, but it didn’t. It chose not to.”

Katie didn’t say anything for a moment. He imagined her mulling over what he’d said, maybe even trying to decide if she could believe him. Like most people who ran towns across what remained of the country, Katie had dealt with ghouls before. It was something you got used to if you wanted to survive out here. The town of Creighton survived on the strength and will of its people—all 500-something of them.

Finally, she said, “Go on.”

“It took me to a cave, where it asked me questions.”

“It talked? So it was a Blue Eyes.”

“Yes and no.”

She flashed him an annoyed side glance.

“I told you, it’s complicated,” Mancini said.

“What did it ask you?”

“How I was able to track it.”

“How did you track it?”

“Does it matter?”

“Hey, it’s your story.”

“My point is that it didn’t look like any ghoul I’d ever seen and I’ve seen more ghouls in the last ten years than most people will ever see in ten lifetimes. But this one…” He stopped and thought for a moment. It was difficult to put everything into words when he could barely make it make sense in his own head. “Everything about it, from what it could do to how it spoke screamed ghoul. But everything else…didn’t.”

“You’re right, it is complicated.”

“I told you.”

“What happened to it?”

“I don’t know. It let me go.”

“So it’s still out there.” It wasn’t a question.

“You’re afraid it’ll come back for more beef?”

“Aren’t you?”

“I don’t think so.”

“And why is that?”

“It fed because it was hungry. Obviously. But I don’t think it’s interested in getting tangled up in a fight with Creighton. So that’s why I don’t think it’ll come back here. More likely, it’ll look for greener pastures elsewhere.”

Again, she shot him a quick side glance. He wasn’t sure how to take that.

“I’m telling you the truth,” he said.

“I know you are.”

“So what’s with the looks?”

“I’ve never seen a slayer talk about a ghoul like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you’re impressed with it.”

That surprised him. Had he sounded impressed? He hadn’t thought so, but it was hard to gauge your own tone sometimes.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” Mancini said. “I’ve never encountered a ghoul like that before.”

“A ghoul that you’re not even sure is actually a ghoul.”

“Yeah.”

“What color was its eyes?”

“Um…”

“Complicated?”

“Yeah.”

“Swell,” Katie said. Then, “Walk with me.”

She turned and left, and he followed.

* * *

“What did you tell your men?”

“I chased after it, but lost it in the woods.”

“And they bought that?”

“They were just happy to recover our horses where we left them or we’d still be limping our way back to Creighton. Besides, why wouldn’t they buy it? I don’t have any reasons to lie to them.”

“But you do. And you did.”

“Yeah, well, they don’t know that.”

“You keep a lot of things from them?”

“Just the things that would get in the way of them doing their jobs.”

“That’s a dangerous game, Mancini.”

“No more dangerous than what we do for a living.”

“Point taken.”

“So why did you ask me to come up here? I’m assuming it’s not for the fresh air.”

“Look out there. Tell me what you see.”

They stood on the rooftop of the hospital, which was really just a one-story building in the middle of Creighton. Here, Mancini got his first look at the true nature of where he was. He’d already gotten a good view on the place when they were approaching from the road, and it hadn’t looked any different from the hundreds of other towns that had risen out of nothing since The Purge. But now, standing near the ledge, he realized that he didn’t really have a good understanding of the layout.

Creighton was spread out, with a cluster of buildings in the main center. Those were surrounded by isolated homesteads that extended out in all directions, each with their own patch of land. There was a long winding river to one side that provided everything the townspeople needed to keep things running. A pair of windmills generated electricity and a water tower nearby ensured working plumbing. The latter was a luxury that most places he’d been through didn’t have.

Creighton’s buildings were a combination of old and new parts, with enough newness sprinkled throughout to give it a fresh shine. There was a single blacktop road that ran through town, cutting across the main city center just a few feet from the front of the hospital. Men and women, and some children, moved about in the open on foot and horseback. Cattle and other livestock teemed on one side while farming lots sat empty as winter approached. In the spring, those same emptiness would be filled with gardens and grains to generate food.

The first thing he’d noticed when he arrived was the water tower to the right of the town center, halfway between the buildings and the river. It was an old gray metal structure that rose forty meters into the air on four latticed legs, giving it the appearance of a massive spider. A pipe carried water back and forth from the ground to the bowl-shaped bottom. A conical roof topped the structure off, with a catwalk ringing it near the bottom. The words CREIGHTON CITY was painted across its side. A searchlight was welded onto a platform on top of the metal catwalk. It could be pushed around the circular structure, its bright beam focused on where it was needed. In the few days he’d spent in town, Mancini had never seen them turn the light on.

There were two men up there now, armed with rifles. The armed men hadn’t been there when he first arrived. Just like Katie hadn’t been wearing a gun belt then.

Mancini turned to look at Katie. “It’s an impressive setup. Is that what you wanted me to see?”

“No.”

“Then what?”

“You don’t see it?”

He shook his head. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

“This.”

“What is ‘this?’”

“Creighton. Can you see it?”

He wasn’t sure what she was asking him. Of course he could see it. There was nothing hidden about the town.

Mancini looked out again anyway, taking in the farmlands and ranches and people moving around outside and within the city center.

Again, he shook his head. “What am I supposed to be seeing?”

She glanced over at him and he felt a little stupid. She’d clearly thought he would see it, but he hadn’t. “Creighton hasn’t seen anything that could pass for trouble in over two years. The last time was when some asshats thought we were easy pickings and tried their luck. We buried them somewhere in the woods. That was a human threat. As for the inhuman ones, they show up now and then, but we’ve always dealt with them. It’s easier now, unlike in previous years.”

“I still don’t know where you’re going with this. I already told you about the creature.”

“A ghoul that didn’t look or act or speak like a ghoul.”

He could hear the doubt in her voice. It helped that she hadn’t bothered to disguise it in any way. “That’s right.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that it was here in the first place. And it’s not the only one.”

This time it was his turn to give her a surprised look. “There’s more?”

“Our hunters ran across their trails in the woods. They think the creatures were hunting wildlife. At least they were, until last night. Last night, they were at the tree line. They were watching us.”

“A pack? You’re talking about a pack?”

“The hunters think so.”

“And they didn’t attack?”

She shook her head. “They didn’t. The hunters think they were…watching us. All night.”

“It couldn’t have been the ghoul that took the cow. It was too busy being chased by us last night.”

“We don’t think so, either. We think there are two separate groups of them. The one that’s by itself and this pack that’s still out there.”

She was gazing toward the woods in the distance as she spoke. The road that cut through the heart of Creighton had been there long before the town existed. It was flanked by two heavy stretches of wooded areas that were, Mancini saw as they were approaching the town, brimming with wildlife. There was enough venison in there to feed Creighton and a hundred other communities for decades to come.

“That’s why there are more people suddenly wearing guns now, when they weren’t before,” Mancini said.

“You noticed.”

“Hard not to.” Then, “You’re worried about the pack.”

“Yes.”

“How many did your hunters say were in that pack?”

“They estimate the number at around a hundred.”

“That’s…a lot of ghouls.”

“Yes, it is.”

Neither one of them said anything for a while.

Five seconds passed.

Then ten…

“What else aren’t you telling me?” he finally asked.

“I already told you everything.”

Had she? Or was she keeping something from him? But why would she do that?

He turned over everything she’d said: A pack. Last night. Watching the town all night. But not attacking.

Then, the realization:

“Blue Eyes,” he said. “There’s a Blue Eyes in the pack. That’s why they didn’t attack last night. They’re planning something. If it were just Black Eyes, they would have attacked already.”

Katie nodded. “Yes.”

He turned to face her. “I’m assuming you didn’t bring me up here and didn’t tell me all of this for nothing. So what are you asking me?”

She did the same, blue eyes watching him back, even measuring him. Despite the crow’s feet and lines and a pair of scars that hadn’t completely healed, she was still one of the more attractive women he’d met in a long time.

“Stay in Creighton for a while,” she said. “At least, until this is over.”

“You think they’re going to attack.”

“What do you think?”

He nodded. “Yeah, they’re going to attack. Sooner or later.”

He turned and gazed out at the wide expanse that encompassed Creighton. The farms and ranches spread out around the city center. Red stables and white houses dotting the landscape. Men on horseback watching over cattle and livestock while the farmlands were barren for now.

“How many can you spare to defend the town?” he asked.

“Not enough,” Katie said.

“Give me a number.”

“Two hundred or so able-bodied adult men and women.”

“Two hundred or so,” he repeated.

Two hundred or so, against a hundred ghouls, being led by a Blue Eyes. Maybe even more than one Blue Eyes because Mancini had met packs that had those, too. It wasn’t unheard of at all, especially given the numbers they were dealing with here.

He looked toward the woods. There were so many places where an attack could come from. Too many to defend all of them.

“Two hundred or so isn’t enough,” he finally said.

“Yeah. I know.”

He was telling her nothing she hadn’t already thought about all night and all this morning, in all likelihood. Which was why she’d asked him and his men to stay. But even if they did, what did that make? Two hundred or so, plus five?

That was still not enough.

“Will you stay?” she asked.

“I’ll have to ask the others. If they vote to stay, then we’ll stay.”

“And if they don’t?”

He turned to look at her again, his face somber. “Then you’re on your own.”

3

His mother used to call him wonsungi—monkey in Korean—for his penchant for climbing trees, something he did regularly and with great skill even as a child. He could still do it as an adult, but it always took more effort.

These days, it didn’t take any effort at all.

Another “gift.”

Or “curse.”

Either/or.

He perched on the highest branch he could find, that could support his weight, and looked out across the greens and browns and whites of the world. He needed this vantage point—as high up as possible, to get a better handle on what was happening around him. Maybe, just maybe, he could also see what was happening with him.

That last part, as it turned out, was a fool’s errand.

There was nothing. No revelation to his condition. No insight into what he had become, or what he still might become yet in the days and weeks and months to come.

And, most painfully of all, no closer to going home.

Lara.

The baby.

Home.

The birds had abandoned their positions as soon as he made the effortless climb. They knew what he was, even if he didn’t look like what they knew ghouls to be. Despite the possibility of confusion, there was no doubt about what he wasn’t: Human. Completely human.

Those days were long gone.

A winter storm was coming, sporadic flurries of snow preceding its eventual arrival. The ground below was hard, covered in a fresh layer of melting ice and morning dew. It should have been freezing where he was but of course he couldn’t feel it. Despite what he told himself—or tried to convince himself—he didn’t feel much of anything, anymore.

Except fear.

There was always the fear. Not for himself because he was beyond that. No. He didn’t worry about death. If it came, then it came. His fears went beyond his own skin and to the two of them.

It always went to them.

Lara.

The baby.

Home.

They were out there. Safe and sound from his kind. (Maybe not exactly his kind, because Keo didn’t think there was his “kind”; did one lonely and cursed bastard qualify as a “kind?”) And they were going to stay that way.

He wanted to go home.

God, did he want to go home.

Desperately.

To hold Lara, to kiss the baby, to sleep in the same bed as the two of them. Never in a million years did he think he would ever have something like that. A family.

A family…

But he guessed he still didn’t have it. As long as he was like this—whatever the hell “this” was—he couldn’t go home. That realization had struck him a while ago, and it pained him to accept it even now.

How long ago had that been? Days? Weeks? Months? It could have been years for all he knew. Time flies when you didn’t sleep.

He was wide awake now as he’d been, seemingly, his entire life. He couldn’t recall the last time he had slept. The snow flurries against his skin was a reminder that he used to feel something but no longer. Externally he was the same, but it was everything else that was different. The whirlwind spun inside him, in the deep part of his being where his soul used to be.

Did he even still have a soul? He didn’t know. The answer was amorphous, constantly shifting and moving beyond his reach whenever he thought he was close to grasping it.

“Empty,” the slayer had said. “You don’t smell like anything. There’s a void where your scent is supposed to be.”

Emptiness. That was a good description as any to describe what he’d become. There was an emptiness to everything and it was all he could do to hold on, to remember that there was someone out there that loved him, along with someone new he’d brought into this world.

Lara.

The baby.

Home.

He didn’t know why he continued the charade of wearing clothes and boots. He certainly didn’t need them. Maybe it was a force of habit. Or maybe, just maybe, he was trying to convince himself of a lie.

“You’re not human anymore,” the voice deep inside him said. “Stop pretending.”

I have to, he would answer it.

“It’s not doing you any good.”

I have to hold on.

“Just give in. Accept your fate.”

No.

“Accept it.”

No.

“ACCEPT IT!”

NO!

And so it went. Keo, arguing with himself, over and over. Like a madman.

Or, maybe more appropriate these days, a madghoul.

But he couldn’t give in, and he never would. If it was a charade, then it was a charade he would cling to. Because it meant he still hadn’t given up on them.

Lara.

The baby.

Home.

There had to be a road back. Somewhere out there. All he had to do was find it.

…all he had to do was find it…

Easier said than done, as the saying went.

* * *

The crunch of fur boots on squishy dirt was the last thing Keo expected to hear moving underneath him. A bright blue bundle walked by, a hood attached to a puffy parka hiding the figure within. Equally puffy mittens covered small hands as the figure trudged across the woods, alone.

Keo watched with curiosity, listening to the boy’s heartbeat. Steady but not quite calm. Anxious about something, and Keo found out what that something was when the boy stopped, cupped his mittens over his mouth, and called out, “Banner! Where are you, boy? Banner!”

Judging by the words the boy was using, Banner was likely a pet. Probably a dog.

Out here? Of course. Why not? Human beings were creatures of habit and dogs had been domesticated a long time ago to serve various functions. He’d run across a few of them in the past, but not this far out from civilization.

He flicked through his memory banks in case he’d run across a dog’s tracks recently.

Nothing. If the dog was in here somewhere, it’d managed to avoid Keo’s notice. Which, he had to admit, was quite the feat because nothing, these days, escaped his notice.

Where had the boy come from? There was a settlement nearby. The same one that Keo had stolen that cow from. There was a good chance he was from there. It was close enough. Five miles, tops.

Five miles? Had the boy actually managed to wander five miles from home?

“Banner!”

Birds scattered as the boy’s voice rang out and ricocheted off trees. He was making quite the noise.

“Banner! Where are you, boy?”

The puffy figure continued on, shouting out “Banner” as he did so. If there were anything or anyone else in the woods with them, they would have surely heard him. Soon, the boy had stepped through some brush and disappeared behind a pair of towering trees. Not that Keo needed to be able to see the kid to know he was out there. For one, he could hear him shouting out his pet’s name. And even if he couldn’t, he could detect the boy’s heartbeat. It had picked up slightly, a clear indication the boy was starting to fear he might lose his precious pet.

Be careful, kid. You never know what else might hear you out here.

Keo hadn’t finished his thoughts when they registered.

New heartbeats. Three of them. Stronger than the boy’s and greatly more intense. Anxiety, anxiousness, and excitement for what was about to happen all rolled into one.

The boy was walking right toward them, calling out “Banner!” all the while.

Dumb kid. Watch where you’re going.

The dog was going to cost the boy his life.

Or worse.

Just as there was an or worse when it came to falling prey to ghouls, there was one when it came to falling prey to humans.

Goddammit, kid.

The men must have been well-hidden because the boy continued to get closer. The men’s heartbeats—all three of them—ticked up a notch as he neared.

“What are you doing?” That voice in the back of his mind.

What?

“I said, what are you doing?”

Watching.

“Why? Why are you just watching?”

Because it’s none of my business.

“Are you sure?”

Yes.

“Are you sure?”

He straightened up and jumped onto a nearby branch. The tree barely moved, barely registering his landing. Likewise when he hopped onto the next one, then the one after that, all the while tracking the boy’s shouts of “Banner!” and the rapidly increasing heartbeats of the three men lying in wait for him.

He was halfway there when the boy gasped, which was quickly followed by the sound of small child-size boots turning to flee. The grunts of grown men as they came out from their hiding spots and pursued.

Sweat and saliva filled the crisp morning air. Growing excitement.

Keo looked down as the boy appeared below him, a blur of puffy blue fabric, clouds of white mist exploding from cracked lips as he fled for his life.

The three men came next. Bundled in thick camo that was supposed to help them blend into their surroundings. They carried rifles—one bolt-action and two semi-automatic ARs—that thumped against their backs as they gave chase. Hoodies hid their faces, but he could smell the stink of sweat glued to their skin underneath their clothing.

Spittle flew from one man’s mouth as he sucked in breath. He was out of shape, but his two companions weren’t. The more athletic two caught up to the boy easily and one dived, tackling him around his small feet.

The boy spilled to the ground and rolled, only to crash into the trunk of a nearby tree. But the kid wasn’t out of it yet and he quickly sat up and turned, one hand reaching down to his hip for a sheathed knife.

“Don’t do it, boy! Don’t you do it!” one of the faster men, who had remained on his feet while his buddy dived, shouted as he made up the space between himself and the boy.

The fatter of the three struggled closer, breathing even harder. “Wait for me, wait for me. Shit, guys, wait for me!”

The one that had tripped the boy was picking himself up, rubbing at his chin where he had planted it into the slightly frozen ground. “He’s mine! I got him! He’s mine!”

“The hell he is,” the third one said. He laughed. Then, turning to the boy as he took the last five feet between them, “Put that knife away, boy. Don’t make me tell you twice.”

The boy didn’t do as commanded. Instead, he stumbled back up to his feet, the knife now in his gloved hand. His eyes snapped left then right, before resettling on the man closing in on him.

“You looking for it?” the man said. “The dog? Don’t bother. We already took care of him.” He grinned. “It tasted good.”

“Banner?” the boy said. Keo wasn’t sure if he didn’t understand or if he just couldn’t grasp the concept. “What’d you do to Banner?”

In lieu of an answer, the man licked his lips and rubbed his belly over his clothes.

The one that had dived for the boy’s legs was on his feet again, and rushed over. “He’s mine! I told you, he’s mine! I was the one that got him! I’m calling it!”

The one closest to the boy turned and sneered. “Like I give a shit.”

“He’s mine!”

“Tell it to someone who cares!”

“Goddammit, he’s mine!”

“You can have him if you can take him!”

The second one probably had a clever comeback. Not that he ever got the chance to say it because he was on the ground again with his face in the dirt, his neck broken, with Keo standing over him. The man had gone down like the sack of shit he was with hardly any resistance.

“What the fuck?” the one closest to the boy said as he gaped at Keo. It took a few seconds for the man to register the danger. When he finally did, he reached for his sidearm. Except it was hidden within the folds of his thick camo jacket and it took him three seconds too long to get it out.

That was two and a half seconds more than Keo needed.

He snapped the man’s neck, this time using his hands instead of his feet like he’d done the other one. He held onto the lifeless body and turned to look back at the fat one.

The last man was grunting as he struggled to unsling his bolt-action. He gave up almost right away, tossed it down, then turned and fled.

Keo dropped the dead man and watched the last one go.

“Holy shit,” a voice said.

He turned around to look at the boy. He couldn’t have been more than ten. Large brown eyes. Strands of blond hair matted to his forehead. If he was afraid of Keo, there was nothing on his face that showed it.

“That was fucking awesome,” the boy said.

Keo squinted. That was not the reaction he’d expected.

Then, looking past Keo, the boy said, “What about the other one?”

Keo turned to look. He didn’t pursue. He didn’t have to. He could hear the thundering heartbeat and gasping breaths, but it was the former that caught his attention.

Five…four…three…two…

He didn’t get to one before the man collapsed in a pile, his heartbeat blinking out of existence, along with his life.

“Don’t worry about him,” he said, turning back to the boy. “What are you doing out here by yourself?”

The boy put the knife away. The lack of fear on his face was both impressive and troubling. But maybe it shouldn’t have been. The boy had clearly been out here his entire life and seen things most kids his age never would.

“Looking for my dog. He ran away again.” He frowned at the dead man lying at Keo’s feet. “They found him first.”

“They ate your dog.”

“I guess.”

“You can get a new dog.”

“Nah, it wouldn’t be like Banner.” He seemed to suddenly focus on Keo, head tilted slightly to one side. “What’s wrong with your voice?”

“My voice?”

“It sounds weird.”

“Does it?”

“Yes.”

“That’s just how I talk.”

A new heartbeat, this one coming from farther in the woods, in the same direction that the boy had come from.

Then a woman’s voice, shouting, “Lewis! Lewis!”

The fear that had been missing from the boy’s face suddenly appeared. It was not from Keo’s presence or what he had done, but the sound of the voice.

“Oh shit,” the boy whispered.

“Who is that?”

“Mom. She’s gonna so kill me.”

Better her than these three.

Keo turned to go.

“Hey,” the boy said. Then, when he stopped and looked back, “Thanks, mister.”

Keo nodded. “Go to your mother before she has a heart attack, too.”

The boy turned toward the sound of his mother’s voice as she shouted out “Lewis!” again, and before he could look back, Keo leapt onto a nearby tree branch and used it to catapult himself away.

He found the fat man about thirty yards later, lying face-first on the ground. A small group of carrions were already lurking in the bushes nearby. They hesitated at the sight of Keo but only a few completely withdrew. The others were too hungry to miss this chance.

From behind him, the boy’s mother, “Lewis! Jesus Christ, boy, don’t you ever do that again! Never, ever again, do you hear me?” A threat that was easily overtaken with gratitude and a mother’s relief.

It reminded him of Lara.

The baby.

Home.

Keo continued on his way so the animals could fight for their dinner.

4

Mancini had tracked, hunted, and killed more ghouls than he cared to remember but he couldn’t recall when he’d encountered, in the space of one week, two completely different set of ghoul tracks that confounded him. The first one belonged to that strange ghoul that wasn’t a ghoul (Not-Ghoul? What the hell am I supposed to call you? The Dude That Looks Like a Ghoul But Wasn’t a Ghoul?).

And now, this one.

He was looking at ghoul tracks, that much was clear. But they were different. They were…off. There were always commonalities, regardless of how many ghouls there were, that he could count on. Packs made up of Black Eyes and one where there was a Blue Eyes present didn’t look the same. The former was chaotic while there was order in the latter.

This, though, mystified him.

“What’s wrong?” one of the hunters asked. There were two of them standing behind him, both in their mid-twenties. Their names were Cleveland and Talbert. Cleveland was the one who had asked the question. Talbert wasn’t much of a talker.

Mancini didn’t answer. He looked up and out of the tree line where he was crouched. On the other side of one hundred yards or so of open space was the town of Creighton. From this angle, he could see almost every part of the town without having to expose himself. It was the perfect spot to do recon for an impending attack.

He stood up. “Did you reverse-follow the tracks?”

“Of course,” Cleveland said. He sounded almost offended. “Followed them for a good five miles before we headed back.”

“It was a straight line from there to here?”

“Yup.”

“No detours?”

“No detours.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure.” Again, that slight hint of offense.

He glanced over his shoulder at them. Cleveland was the taller of the two, with Talbert at just a shade under five-ten. Young men with grizzled faces and hard eyes; “kids” that grew up in a world with ghouls. Which meant they were never allowed to be kids in the first place.

“So what you think?” Cleveland asked.

“They’re ghouls.”

“No shit.” It wasn’t a question.

“No shit.”

“What you think about the way they moved? Never seen that before.”

“Me, neither.”

“For real?”

“Yes.”

“That’s surprising. I thought you’d seen it all.”

Yeah. Me, too.

He said, “Not this.”

“Is that good or bad?”

“Depends.”

“On?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“I thought you slayers knew all there was to know about these crawlers.”

“It’s a big country. Bigger world.”

“I guess so.”

Mancini looked back at the town across the open field. There was no doubt about it: The pack had stopped here to survey the land. They hadn’t attacked because there was a Blue Eyes around. The presence of one always made a pack more dangerous. More tactical.

He sniffed the air, but there was no smell except the odor of the two men behind him. Then again, Mancini was sure they’d say the same about him. Combined, the three of them probably only had one bath in the month or so. He knew for sure it wasn’t him.

But it was the missing ghoul stink in the crisp afternoon air that bothered him. Even if it had been hours since the creatures were last here, they would have left hints of their presence behind. The ghouls didn’t so much as advertise with their stink as they tainted the surrounding area with it.

“What you thinking?” That was Talbert. He had a much gruffer voice than his companion and tended to talk in clipped sentences.

“I’m thinking there’s something weird going on here.”

“Weird ghouls.”

“Yeah. Weird.”

“Way weird,” Cleveland said.

“That, too.”

Mancini looked left then right, then back again. The tracks had simply disappeared once they reached this part of the woods, as if the ones that had created them had vanished into thin air. The only conclusion he could draw was that they had taken to the trees. He’d seen plenty of that: Ghouls swinging between branches like Tarzan. But that didn’t explain why they’d been walking up to that point.

“Trees,” Talbert said.

“Yeah, I know,” Mancini said. He retraced the tracks that were available on the ground, walking parallel to them. It wasn’t very hard to do; the creatures had made no attempts to cover them. “Where do the tracks end up?”

“Don’t know,” Cleveland said. He and Talbert followed from behind. “Like I said, we stopped tracking after five miles. Woods ended at mile four. Nothing but open ground beyond that. Didn’t see the point in continuing.”

“They’ll have a nest somewhere out there. A place for them to hide from the sun in the daytime.”

“We figured but didn’t find it.”

“And you’re sure they never detoured once from the tree line to where the woods ended?”

“Sure as sure can be.”

“Hunh.”

Mancini stopped and looked deeper into the woods. None of this made sense. But then, what did, this whole week?

“What about the other one?” Cleveland asked.

“Other one?”

“The one Katie sent you boys after.”

He was referring to the Not-Ghoul. “That one was different.”

“Different how?”

In every way imaginable, he thought but only said, “Just different.”

“Good different or bad different?”

“Just…different.”

“Bad,” Talbert said.

“Yeah, probably bad,” Cleveland said.

You’re both probably right, Mancini thought.

“So what’d you guys decide?” Cleveland asked him. “You sticking around or what?”

“The others are talking about it.”

“Still?”

“Still.”

“Should stay,” Talbert said.

Mancini looked back at him. “And why’s that?”

The laconic young man shrugged. “Don’t miss the fun.”

He had to grin at that. Talbert, in another life, would have made a great slayer because only slayers thought traipsing around the country looking for blood-sucking creatures to kill was “fun.” Mancini himself had lost the thrill a long time ago. That is, if he’d ever felt it, which he wasn’t sure anymore. These days, he was mostly doing it because he didn’t know what else to do with his time. He was old enough to remember people used to have real jobs and it’d always seemed odd to him to just stop everything—stop moving entirely—and settle down.

Mancini was turned back around when he noticed it: The air. Something had changed about the air in the woods.

His hand dipped reflexively to his sidearm, stopping just short of drawing the Beretta, even as his eyes snapped to the trees above them. Rustling movements behind him as the two hunters reacted. Neither one said a word as they unslung their rifles.

“Something?” Talbert said.

“What is it?” Cleveland asked.

Mancini didn’t reply. He didn’t know what to tell them anyway. It wasn’t anything he had seen, smelled, or heard. He had just felt it. How do you explain something like that?

“Yo,” Talbert said. Mancini waited for him to add something, but he didn’t. He had to admit, Talbert’s way of speaking took some getting used to.

Cleveland, of course, was more obvious. “What’re we doing, man? Give us a hint.”

The sounds of life in the woods around them. Birds chirping, insects sending out mating signals, and four-legged creatures scurrying among the overgrown grass. Nothing out of the ordinary whatsoever.

Relax, old man. Relax.

Mancini took his hand away from his sidearm. “Nothing. There’s nothing.”

He imagined Talbert and Cleveland exchanging a confused—and maybe even slightly worried—look behind him.

A radio squawked behind him, and Katie’s familiar voice could be heard through small speakers: “Cleveland. Come in.”

He glanced back as Cleveland fished out a two-way portable from his belt and answered it. “What’s up?”

“What’s your current position?”

“Half a mile west of town. You want us back?”

“No. You remember the way to Teller’s Pass?”

“Of course.”

“I want you guys to head over there.”

“What happened?”

“I don’t know. Maybe nothing. They were supposed to contact us an hour ago, but they haven’t. They’re also not answering our radio calls.”

“We’ll head over there now.”

“Is Mancini still with you?”

Cleveland looked over at Mancini as he answered. “I’m looking at him right now.”

“Take him along. You might need him.”

“Gotcha. Cleveland out.” The hunter clipped the radio back to his hip. “You heard the boss lady. We’re going to Teller’s Pass.”

“Where’s Teller’s Pass?” Mancini asked.

“Ten miles, give or take, eastward. We’ve been trading with them for years. Good people, like living by themselves in a valley.”

“Dirty,” Talbert said.

Cleveland chuckled. He said to Mancini by way of explaining, “You think we don’t shower a lot? I don’t think any of those folks have showered. Ever.”

Mancini didn’t ask them why Katie had wanted him along. It was obvious. He was a slayer, and she likely suspected some kind of ghoul involvement.

The hunters started off, and this time Mancini followed them.

* * *

Teller’s Pass was nothing to look at, especially when compared to a place like Creighton. It was essentially a series of log buildings that appeared to be hastily erected to keep back the elements. Even from a distance of about fifty yards, Mancini could see just how uninspired the planning for the community had been. There was no evidence of farming or agriculture, and no livestock wandered around chewing the plentiful blades of grass. The town sat in a field rampant with overgrown grass, next to a small lake.

“How many people live here?” Mancini asked as he followed the hunters down a well-trodden path that joined the woods and Teller’s Pass.

“Two hundred or so at last count,” Cleveland said.

“Adults?”

“Adults, kids, old ladies, pets; all that good stuff.”

Talbert didn’t say anything as he led the way, having appointed himself point man. Like Cleveland, he had his rifle at the ready. Mancini left his own weapon in its holster. He also had his knife, but didn’t pull it, either. There was no need. Whatever had happened to Teller’s Pass, it had happened sometime last night. There was no threat left. Hell, there wasn’t very much left at all.

For a settlement with over two hundred people, Teller’s Pass was eerily quiet. It was devoid of activity, as if every single resident had gone to bed early. Some of the homes had chimneys, but there were no lazy tendrils of smoke rising out of them. The lake near the center also appeared abandoned, though Mancini glimpsed a couple of boats moored to a dock.

“Where is everyone?” Cleveland asked, mostly to himself. He glanced over at Mancini. “You see anything?”

Mancini shook his head.

Talbert stopped and knocked on the door of the first house they came to. It wasn’t much of a building, just some logs stacked on top of one another, the crevices stuffed with moss to keep out unwanted elements. When no one answered, he pushed the wooden slab that was the door open—it was unlocked—and peered in.

“Anyone home?” Cleveland asked.

Talbert glanced back at them and shook his head. “Gone.”

They went from house to house, looking for survivors, and coming up empty each time. It was as if every person in Teller’s Pass had simply picked up and left at the same time, without bothering to take anything with them. There were valuables on makeshift shelves and precious mementos nailed to walls. The beds were unmade, blankets crumpled up on the floor, and some homes still had dirty dishes on dining tables. Not everyone had tables; those who didn’t had simply left their dishes on the floor.

There were twenty-odd houses in the entire place and they were all empty. Mancini couldn’t find anything that hinted at a fight having taken place, but there was no denying the loitering smell of ghoul presence. Whatever had happened, it had taken place last night.

In one of the houses, Mancini stumbled across a small arsenal of silver-coated blades and guns. They were still locked up inside a hope chest hidden near the back. He’d found similar sights in the other homes—evidence that the people of Teller’s Pass knew the dangers out here and were well-equipped to deal with them. That, unfortunately, hadn’t helped them to stave off what had happened last night. From what he could tell, they’d never had a chance to even grab their weapons.

He rejoined Cleveland and Talbert outside.

“Gone,” Talbert said, and didn’t bother to add any more. Mancini guessed he didn’t have to. What else was there to say?

Mancini glanced up at the sun, then down at his watch.

4:16 PM.

Nightfall would arrive within an hour. Night always fell quicker in the Midwest during the winter months.

Cleveland had taken out his radio and was speaking into it. “Creighton, come in. This is Cleveland.”

He didn’t have to wait long before a female voice that wasn’t Katie’s answered. “Creighton here. You guys at Teller’s Pass already?”

“That we are. Katie around?”

“Give me a sec.”

A sec turned out to be ten minutes or so. Mancini guessed the Creighton leader was busy with something and had to be fetched.

Eventually she appeared on the radio. “Cleveland.”

“I’m at Teller’s Pass now,” Cleveland said. “They’re gone.”

“Who’s gone?”

“All of them.”

“What do you mean, ‘all of them?’”

“Just that. It’s like they all just got up and left. No signs of fighting, no signs of anything. Pretty much like they just took off in the middle of the night and never came back. The whole town’s abandoned. They even took the dogs with them.”

Katie didn’t respond right away. Mancini imagined her trying to get a handle on what she’d just been told.

Finally, she returned. “Bodies?”

“None,” Cleveland said.

“How is that possible? Why would they just abandon their homes?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Katie.” He glanced over at his buddy Talbert, then Mancini, as if asking if they had anything to add.

Mancini didn’t, and neither did Talbert.

“It’s almost dark,” Katie said through the radio. “Get back here ASAP.”

“What about Teller’s Pass?” Cleveland asked.

“If there’s no one there and you don’t know what happened to them, then there’s nothing you can do. Come home.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Cleveland put the radio away.

“Bad voodoo,” Talbert said.

“You’re probably right about that, pal.”

“Gonna get worse.”

“Let’s hope not.”

“Gonna.”

Cleveland sighed. “I guess we’ll find out tonight. Until then, you heard the boss lady.”

Mancini followed the two hunters back into the woods. Before he stepped into the tree line, he stopped for a moment and glanced back.

He’d seen a lot of towns since The Purge. Some of them, like Creighton, had managed to survive and even thrive. Most didn’t. But he’d never seen the kind of fate that had apparently befallen Teller’s Pass.

Three firsts in one week. Definitely a record.

“Yo,” a voice said.

Mancini looked back at Talbert, who had stopped a few yards into the woods and was watching him curiously. Cleveland had walked on ahead.

“Bad,” the young man said.

Mancini nodded. “Yeah.”

“Gonna get badder.”

He sighed and slipped into the tree line. “You’re probably right about that, too.”

5

“What happened?”

“Ask your boys. I was just tagging along.”

“They said the place was abandoned. No clue how it happened. Probably sometime last night.”

“Sounds about right.”

“What do you think?”

Mancini shook his head. “I don’t have a clue.”

Katie shot him a side squint. “Really.” It wasn’t a question.

He shrugged but didn’t offer anything. He had some clues, but he didn’t want to say them. How do you explain to someone you’d just met less than a week ago that you sometimes have feelings of things even when there was no evidence to corroborate them? He did the same thing with his men, but they’d been with him for years now and had learned to trust his instincts. This woman, these people, were different.

Katie gave up and looked across the yard. They were standing somewhere on the outskirts of Creighton, watching as cowboys rounded up cattle from the range and moved them back to their respective homesteads. They were already working on sheltering the animals for the night, to get ready for whatever was coming, when Mancini returned with Cleveland and Talbert.

“Can’t risk them being out here tonight,” Katie had said to him by way of explanation.

It wasn’t just the cattle but all the other livestock as well. Chickens, goats, and other animals were being put up in stables. When they ran out of that, they began using equipment shacks and other assorted buildings. And when they ran out of those, they started pounding nails into lumber until they had erected fresh ones that could be taken down just as easily and quickly. If there was one thing he could say about Creighton, it was that they had a hell of a leader. That was one thing you didn’t always find in these settlements. Not surprisingly, those never seemed to last very long against the natural—and unnatural—adversities that skulked about the world these days.

Mancini glanced up at the darkening skies. The evening was already dwindling and in less than thirty minutes, most of the field would be pitch black except for the areas where they had solar-powered lampposts. Nightfall would soon be here, and along with it, the pack.

“You think it’s going to happen tonight?” he asked.

“I don’t know, and I don’t want to take the risk.” Again, that curious side glance. “What about the tracks? What did you find?”

“Nothing that your boys didn’t already tell you.”

“A pack of ghouls.”

“Yeah.”

“Just one?”

“One’s enough.”

“How many was in the pack?”

“I couldn’t tell you. That’s the problem with packs. There could be as few as three or four and as many as a hundred.”

“If you had to guess…”

“Definitely more than three or four. Possibly a lot more.”

“Dozens?”

“Yes.”

“What about packs in the hundreds? Have you seen that before?”

“More than once.”

She turned away. “You think it was them that took Teller’s Pass?”

“I don’t know what happened at Teller’s Pass. There’s something…” He stopped himself.

“What? There’s something what?”

“There’s something not right about what happened there.”

“You’ve never seen it before?”

“Never. Towns don’t go suddenly empty out without signs that something happened to them.”

“You mean if it had been a ghoul attack.”

“That or any other attacks. But this…” He paused again, before continuing a few seconds later. “This is different.”

“Shit. I was hoping you’d seen this before. Or at least have an idea of what I’m dealing with.”

“Sorry. I don’t.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“It’s true.”

“How many ghouls have you killed?”

“Too many to count.”

“And you’ve never once ran across something like what’s out there?”

“Never.”

“And you’re sure it’s not the same one that took our cattle?”

“It’s not. That one was a loner. This is a pack. Besides, their tracks are different. They’re clearly two different groups.”

“And you still think I don’t have anything to worry about when it comes to the first one?”

“I do.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

Mancini thought about it. He’d been trying to figure it out himself since it all happened and was still no closer to an answer. So how exactly did he respond to her?

“I just know,” he said.

“That’s it? You just know?”

“Basically, yeah.”

“I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

He smiled. “I don’t know why you would. I wouldn’t.”

She chuckled. “Well, I’m taking it on faith that you know what you’re talking about.” Then, without missing a beat, “What did your men say? How long are you guys staying?”

“I haven’t talked to them since I got back.”

“It’s already night. You don’t want to be running around out there, do you? Might as well stick around until tomorrow.”

“That’s convenient.”

She might have smiled to herself, but he couldn’t be sure since she turned and walked away first. “Hey, I don’t make the sun go down and I don’t make it come back up. You got a problem with that? Take it up with the universe. Dinner time, by the way.”

He looked after her. Mancini had to admit, he liked the woman. It’d been a while since he found himself attracted to someone not because of their looks but their gumption. Not that Katie wasn’t a fine-looking woman, too, so that was an added bonus.

“You coming?” she called.

“Coming,” he said, and jogged after her.

* * *

While the ranchers and farmers worked to protect their belongings and themselves from what might come in the darkness, Mancini and his men went to the communal cafeteria and ate dinner for only the second time in Creighton. The first was when they’d arrived and gotten their marching orders.

He had forgotten how good a home-cooked meal was until he showed up. Not that the other towns didn’t offer up their best to the slayers that would be ridding them of their ghoul problems, it was just that Katie’s people had things those places didn’t. Beef steak, fajitas, and for Keen, who only ate greens and had no tolerance for meat, plenty of vegetables.

Katie didn’t join them for dinner, but Mancini assumed she was eating elsewhere or maybe had already eaten. Unlike last time, when the building was full of people, most of the townspeople avoided them tonight, allowing the slayers to occupy an entire table by themselves. This was partially because of their prep work and, he guessed, their way of giving them some privacy to discuss the topic at hand.

Should they stay or go?

It was a question the boys had been mulling over since they returned from their “hunt” of the Not-Ghoul. Mancini had laid down the options for them—there were really only two: Stay or go—before leaving to join the two young hunters in the woods.

Everyone was too busy wolfing down their food to broach the subject right away. For Mancini, the beef steak was something he didn’t know he’d been craving until he got his first taste of it last time. It was the closest he’d gotten to something even resembling honest-to-goodness Texas beef in a long time.

Max, without preamble, but with a mouth full of beef, broke the quiet. “So. We staying or going?”

That got everyone’s attention and prompted all four men turned to look over at Mancini.

“What?” he said.

“We staying or going?” Tandy asked as he sporked himself another chunk of steak.

“Why are you asking me? This is a group decision. We decide together.”

“If you go, I go; if you stay, I stay,” Jackson said, pausing between mouthfuls of beef.

“That’s not how this works.”

“Since when?” Keen asked around a mouthful of greens.

Mancini sighed and leaned back slightly. He knew this was going to happen even after everything he’d said to them. Not that he was looking forward to it. The last thing he wanted was to dictate what everyone did, especially against whatever was out there.

A pack. It was always a tricky situation dealing with a pack.

“Well?” Max said, reaching into his mouth and pulling out a bone and flicking it to the floor. No one ever said slayers were clean eaters.

Mancini didn’t answer him. He glanced around at the mostly empty cafeteria. The nearest townspeople were sitting two tables down, close enough that, if they were inclined, they could eavesdrop on their conversation.

He looked back at his men. He stared at them one by one. They stared back, waiting for his answer.

“You know what we’ll be going up against,” he finally said.

“Ghouls,” Max said.

“More than that.”

“A pack. So what? We’ve done it before.”

“This is different.”

“More of that thing that beat our ass this morning?” Jackson asked. “I got a knife with that fucker’s name on it.”

“Join the club,” Max said.

“No, not like that one,” Mancini said.

“Then different how?” Keen asked.

“It’s different,” Mancini said.

“Different how?” Tandy asked. He was a big black man with broad shoulders and even broader neck. Mancini had seen him lift a horse and throw it with his bare hands. It had been one hell of a sight.

“Trust me when I tell you boys, we haven’t gone up against anything like this.”

“You don’t think we can handle them?” Jackson asked. If not for Max, who had just turned twenty-two last summer, Jackson would have been the youngest at twenty-five. But those were hard-earned twenty-five years and every single one of them showed on his grizzled face, made even more grizzled by his large and unkempt beard.

“That’s not what I said.”

“What are you saying?” Keen asked.

“Look, I can’t make this decision for you guys. You need to make it for yourselves.”

The others didn’t answer. Instead, they glanced around the table at each other, as if trying to read what the other was thinking. No one was willing to be the first to make a decision. Mancini knew this would happen, too. They had been together for too long to think as individuals. They usually deferred to him, and when that failed, to the group.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Mancini said.

“It never is,” Keen said.

“This will be harder.”

“Yeah? So when was the last time we ran from a fight?”

“Never.”

“Exactly.” Keen sporked a thick wad of greens and gulped them down. Then, through a mouthful of the stuff, “Who wants to live forever anyway?”

“Me,” Max said.

“Yeah, I’m for that, too,” Tandy said.

Jackson shrugged and grabbed another chunk of beef. There was enough to go around, but the man ate like he would never taste them again. “I could go either way. Figured I’d already lived longer than I thought I would.” He grinned, but it was a little more forced than he probably intended. “I’m the last, you know. After I’m gone, the whole family line vanishes. Mind as well go out in a blaze of glory, I say.”

“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Mancini said.

“Yeah, me too, but if it does…” He shrugged and let the rest go unsaid.

Mancini looked from Jackson to Tandy, then Max. And, finally, back at Keen.

His oldest friend chuckled as some leaves fell from his lips. “You already decided, haven’t you?”

Mancini shook his head. “Not yet.”

“Bullshit.”

That made Mancini smile. “Maybe.”

“It’s the woman,” Keen said.

“What woman?” Max asked.

“The one that runs this place.”

“Oh. That woman.”

“It’s not the woman,” Mancini said, even as he thought, At least I don’t think it’s her.

“It’s the woman,” Keen said with all the confidence in the world. He grabbed the pitcher of malt beer and poured it into his already-empty plastic cup, then downed it while mischievous eyes winked across the table at Mancini.

“It’s not the woman,” Mancini said.

“Uh huh.”

“So we’re staying, then?” Tandy said.

Before Mancini could answer, Jackson said, “I’m staying, too.”

“Count me in,” Max said.

Mancini looked around at his slayers. They were already back to eating, shoving good food into their mouths and downing beer. He thought about what Jackson had said: If this was to be their last hurrah, he couldn’t have come up with a better way to go out.

From across the room, Mancini saw Katie entering the cafeteria and walking over to get some food from the back counter. She must have sensed him staring because she glanced over and caught his gaze. He didn’t have to try very hard to read the question on her face.

“So are you staying or not?”

Mancini nodded at her and she returned it with a smile, before turning around and collecting her dinner on a tray.

“She’s not bad looking,” Keen said.

Mancini squinted at his old friend. “I’m not staying because of her.”

“Of course not,” Keen said, winking at him again.

6

It had been three months since his last feeding before he finally gave in to his urges once again and took the cattle from Creighton. It had been exactly four days since he finished drinking the animal dry and discarded it. That action had led to being hunted by the slayers, which wasn’t an entirely bad thing as it turned out. Yes, he would have preferred to stay in the shadows as he tried to figure out what was happening to him, but the need had been too great. He had hoped something as large as the cow would keep him fed for months. Instead, the contentment had gone away much quicker than the last time. He could feel it gnawing at his gut already, crying out for more.

The hunger.

Always the hunger.

He would have to feed again very soon. And how long would that feeding last? How long after that one before he would hunger again?

He’d lost track of how long he’d been in the wilderness. Years might have gone by for all he knew, but he didn’t think so. He didn’t feel any older than he did when he was first tainted by the ghoul blood outside Shaker Town. Time was a fluid thing these days, as was day and night and all the other moments in between.

It didn’t help that he didn’t sleep. Or needed to sleep. The consequences of being forever awake gave him too much time to think. Too much time to wallow in his predicament. Too much time to hunger.

And too much time to think about Lara and the baby.

The only times he really slept, if you could even call it that, was when he needed to control the hunger. But even then it was a challenge.

The hunger.

Always the hunger.

Keo forced the thoughts away as he concentrated on the task at hand. The deer. It was a beautiful creature. Brown and spotted with white fur. A male stag, antlers raised proudly as it galloped across the woods, jumping over bushes and slipping majestically around trees.

It was fast. Faster than most.

But not fast enough.

He caught it after about fifty yards from the start of their chase and brought it down. Large saucer eyes, black pupils dilating in fear, locked with Keo’s as it squirmed underneath him, trying in vain to toss him off. He put it out of its misery before settling down to drink from its neck.

The stag’s lifeforce overflowed through his veins in a sea of pleasure, the world opening up to his senses. The scurrying movements of animals that he couldn’t hear before came into focus once again.

His mind wandered back to Lara and Danny and his friends, and what they would say if they could see him right now, at his most primal. It didn’t seem to matter how much distance he put between himself and them, they were always with him. Especially her.

Lara.

But he had to feed. He’d tried not feeding, and it had made him act irrationally by taking the cow from Creighton. He should have been using the bountiful animals in the woods instead. God only knew there were plenty of them. Too much, even. Without man and his bullets and knives and arrows to claim them, the world was brimming with life. Ironic, he supposed, that it took the near-annihilation of humankind for the animals to thrive. As the cities decayed, Mother Earth reasserted her dominance.

He fed in silence, draining the deer’s blood as fast as he could. The hunger dissipated, becoming a memory.

But for how long?

For how long?

He paused his feeding and lifted his head.

There was something in the air. Something new. He had been in these woods for long enough now that he’d been certain he knew every species that called it home.

But this was different.

This was…familiar.

He abandoned the remains of the deer and slipped into the darkness, melting into the shadows of the night as if he were never there.

* * *

A long line of fleeting silhouettes, crashing through bushes and swerving around trees and dodging animals. They didn’t stop to feed or acknowledge the fleeing creatures in their path. They had bigger goals ahead.

Where are you going?

He followed from a distance, using all of his hyper senses to keep them in range while staying hidden. The crisp patter of bare feet against the slightly frozen ground, the heavy rustling of foliage as they pounded through the woods. And more prominently, their smell hanging in the air. They left a trail of stink as they traveled, the wind carrying them to him and not vice versa.

Where are you going?

The last in the train of moving figures was within a hundred yards of Keo and he could sniff its presence just fine. He also knew—even if he didn’t know exactly how—that it couldn’t do the same to him. Because it was a Black Eyes, but at the same time, not a Black Eyes.

How?

The question bothered and intrigued him in the same way he couldn’t figure out what he was.

There had to be an alpha at the front of the long line of ghouls. Perhaps it had an answer for him.

Black skin flashed across the moonlit woods, dipping in and out of shadows. More woodland creatures barreled out of their path even if they didn’t have to.

What’s out there? What are you running toward?

Oh, yes, these ghouls had something else in mind. Something bigger than feasting on the animals.

Where were they going? What was their plan?

Keo continued to follow, always staying behind them. They slowed from time to time but never came to a complete halt. Maybe they smelled him, or maybe one of them noticed his presence somehow. He didn’t think so because they never fully stopped. They had all the smell of Black Eyes but didn’t act like one. Black Eyes would have stopped to feed.

Unless there was a Blue Eyes among them. Perhaps the one leading the charge.

No. There is no Blue Eyes.

Because he would have sensed its presence if there were, just as he could feel the presence of a Blue Eyes from miles away. It was the same with them. They always knew if he was around even when there were many miles between them.

So what were these things? And why did they feel so different?

He pursued the answer around monstrous bushes and overgrown grass and ancient trees. A long line of undead (If they were undead, then what did that make him?) moving with the speed of a runaway locomotive, albeit one that could think.

…that could think…

Yes. He knew that without a doubt as well. They could think. All of them. These weren’t the mindless drones of a black-eyed ghoul. The Black Eyes were base creatures, surviving only to feed. Feeding only to survive. And repeating the cycle ad nauseum. It was what they were.

But these were not those. They weren’t Blue Eyes but they weren’t Black Eyes, either.

So what were they?

(And what am I?)

Maybe both answers could be found at the front of this slithering rainbow. So he followed them, keeping within striking distance, but far enough back that they wouldn’t know he was in pursuit.

* * *

The first one fell down from the moonlit sky. It had laid an ambush and he hadn’t heard, seen, or smelled it at all. At least, not with just a split second remaining before it attacked.

How?

Keo was faster, and he reached up and snatched it around the neck, crushing the trachea and snapping the spine. The creature fell to the ground, where it lay still, dark black eyes peering up accusingly at Keo.

Then it did something he hadn’t expected. It hissed, “Traitor” up at him.

Keo didn’t respond. He had no time.

Two—three—five more fell out of the trees around him.

He grabbed one by a leg and used it as a weapon against the others. Another spine snapped and thick black blood flitted across the cold night air.

How did they know? How had he given himself away?

No matter. He would worry about that later.

One lunged for his legs and Keo brought his boot on top of its skull and crushed it into the ground. He’d thought wearing boots was a silly thing, given that he didn’t need them anymore, but he was glad he had hung onto them.

Another went for his throat and Keo batted its seeking hands away, locked onto them at the wrists, and pulled both from their sockets.

They howled and squealed as he battered them, but instead of retreating, they continued to attack. The one he’d initially snapped the throat of was already crawling back toward him. Keo took a second to kick its head off its shoulder and watch it sail into the darkness and disappear.

The others wouldn’t give up. They were stronger than Black Eyes should have been. Faster and more agile, too. Not that it made any difference to the outcome. It took thirty seconds longer than it should have, but Keo pummeled them into the ground, into the trees, and through the air anyway.

And yet, it bothered him that they had managed to lay an ambush for him. That, if nothing else, erased any doubts that these weren’t normal Black Eyes.

So what were they?

The others. They were coming. All of them. He knew, then, that the six he’d just felled were there simply to keep him busy while the rest of the pack circled around and joined the fray. They were still far enough away that he couldn’t see them. He could smell and hear them just fine, though.

How many? A hundred? More?

Too many. He’d dealt with six without too much of a problem despite the element of surprise being on their side, but he wasn’t dealing with normal Black Eyes here. That was crystal clear now. They were stronger, faster, and more dangerously, they could think. Even if they weren’t quite strong or fast enough, more than a hundred of them, at one time, put the odds in their favor.

Not manageable. Definitely not manageable.

He turned to retreat when icy cold fingers grabbed his ankle. Keo looked back and stared into the eyes of another ghoul, saliva dripping from its wide-open mouth and jagged teeth. Its eyes, as black as tar, gave him that same accusing look as the first one.

“Traitor,” it hissed.

“What are you?” he asked.

“Traitor,” it said again.

“Good talk.”

Keo crushed its head into the ground with his boot, then turned and fled.

The others pursued, but they wouldn’t catch him. He knew that, just as they did, but that didn’t stop them from shouting across the woods after him.

“Traitor.”

It wasn’t one ghoul, but many. Maybe all of them, their voices ringing out like a chorus of broken toys.

“Traitor!” they shrieked. “TRAITOR!”

7

“It’s quiet.”

“Too quiet.”

She looked over at him. “Really?”

He returned it. “What?”

“‘Too quiet?’”

Mancini grinned. He knew exactly what she was talking about, but only because they were almost the same age and had grown up—and watched movies—before the world was plunged into shit by The Purge.

“What movie’s it from?” he asked.

“Too many to count. It’s a cliché.”

“I thought it was a trope.”

“What’s the difference?”

She shrugged. “I have no idea.”

“How many people you think would have ‘gotten’ that?”

“Not too many. What about your gang?”

My gang? he thought. Mancini had heard slayers be called a lot of things, but “gang” was never one of them.

He said, “Maybe Keen. He’s old enough.”

“When was the last time you saw a movie?”

“It’s been a while. What about you?”

“Four years ago, I think.”

That surprised him. He hadn’t met anyone in over a decade that had seen an honest-to-goodness movie. When you were trying to survive, sitting down on the couch and turning on the TV just wasn’t a priority.

“I was still with Black Tide at the time,” Katie said. “We used to have Movie Night every week when we were in Basic. Afterwards, a lot of us kept up the tradition wherever we were posted. The last movie I saw was…” She paused to think about it. “I think it was ‘The Godfather.’”

“You’re shitting me.”

“You’ve seen it?”

“Of course I’ve seen it. It was an old movie even when I was a kid.”

“Yeah. I guess it was. What about you? When was the last movie you remember seeing?”

He thought about it…and kept thinking about it.

“I don’t remember,” Mancini said.

“For real?”

“Yeah.”

“Must not have been that memorable.”

“Or it’s just been that long.”

“Or that. After this, we should go find a drive-in and watch a movie.”

He chuckled. “Sure. Why not?”

They didn’t say anything for a while after that, but Mancini had to admit, he enjoyed it. Small talk about nothing—and movies in this day and age was just that, a lot of nothing—helped him to remember there used to be things out there other than ghouls. Once upon a time, you could pass the night without worrying about your life. You could settle down and spend an hour picking a movie or open an internet browser and zone out on some random video. Maybe, one day, they could return to those days. He wasn’t holding his breath, though.

They stood on the water tower and looked out at the darkness, the parts of it that couldn’t be illuminated by the bright LED searchlight that had, for the first time since Mancini arrived in Creighton, turned on. Not that there was a lot to see even with the searchlight in the “on” position. Despite the combination of lights around the spread-out ranches, streetlamps along the roads, and the searchlight, there was a lot more black than light. From what he could see, the searchlight had obvious limitations—one being that it couldn’t reach the homesteads. From up here, and in the daytime, they could see every inch of Creighton with binoculars and most of it with the naked eye. At night, it was a whole different ball of wax.

Crickets filled the air around them and the occasional movements flicked in the periphery as animals dared to leave the surrounding woods to hunt for food outside their natural environment. Forty meters up, Mancini could make out figures standing and crouching along the rooftops of buildings both inside the town center and on the ranch houses along the edges.

It was colder up here thanks to the water in the tank behind them. Mancini was well-dressed for the occasion, as was Katie and the two sentries somewhere on the other side of the catwalk. Guard duty was a new experience for Mancini. He was used to going through towns and stalking ghouls while covered in dirt and mud and shit. Staying in one place for a while, committing to the protection of a certain stretch of land, required new muscles. Slayers were slayers for a reason: they went where the work was. Once you killed a ghoul, there was nothing left to do. And wasn’t that what he was? A slayer? But was that all he was?

Two weeks ago he would have been able to answer without a moment’s hesitation. Tonight, he wasn’t so sure. Maybe it had a lot to do with the woman standing next to him. Katie was…something. He’d known that the first time he met her, and she’d done nothing to dispel that first impression since.

“Let’s go back down,” Katie said after a while.

He nodded and followed her to the ladder. The climb down was easier than the climb up. Mancini prided himself on staying in shape, but even he was winded by the time they’d made it to the top. Katie, on the other hand, wasn’t even breathing hard. He told himself it was probably because she’d done it before, but that was likely just him trying to convince himself his age wasn’t showing.

He wasn’t sure where they were going, but Katie seemed to know. From the base of the water tower, they walked to the town center nearby. A few side alleys later and they were on the main street.

Mancini checked his watch. Thirty minutes past midnight.

And still no attack.

“You’re worried,” he said.

“Of course I’m worried. This isn’t how ghouls behave. They should have already attacked. But they haven’t. Why?” She shook her head. “I’m worried. I’m very worried.”

He glanced up at the sounds of movement along the rooftops above them. He could make out a few silhouettes. “Whatever’s going to happen will happen. Your people look ready for it.”

“Maybe.”

“You don’t think so?”

She sighed.

“What is it?” he asked.

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with. They’re ghouls, but they’re not behaving like ghouls. That’s the problem. I don’t know what’s out there. How do you prepare for something you don’t know?”

“The best you can.”

“Yeah, I get that. Still…”

He couldn’t disagree with her. He’d been thinking the same thing all day while waiting for darkness. They were dealing with ghouls—everything pointed to that obvious conclusion—but these were different. For one, they were much too patient. That only happened when a Blue Eyes was involved. But even then there was something odd about the movements in the woods.

What am I dealing with here?

There might have been someone he could ask that question to, who might have some kind of answer. Or maybe “someone” wasn’t quite the right word to use. Something was probably more appropriate.

They stopped outside the cafeteria and Katie pushed the unlocked door open. She flicked on the light switch and walked across the room to the kitchen in the back. He followed, trying to remember the last time he’d been in a room with electricity, and couldn’t come up with one. Creighton’s town center had all the electricity it needed because the ranches didn’t need them, but Creighton still conserved as much as possible in case of emergencies.

This wasn’t one of those emergencies as Katie disappeared into the kitchen, then came back out with a bottle in one hand and two tumblers in the other.

He smiled at the half-full bottle of Jim Beam. “It’s been a while.”

“You drink?”

“Goddamn right I do.”

She filled their glasses halfway, then walked over to a table and sat down. She unclipped a radio from her hip and put it down. The guards were tuned into the same channel, as was everyone else in town. There was no one talking at the moment, which was as planned. Katie’s orders had been to keep the frequency open until absolutely necessary. And she was the one who would decide when that was.

Mancini sat across from her and picked up his glass to sniff it. Jim Beam Kentucky Straight was something he hadn’t sniffed in years, maybe decades. But as the warmth poured down his throat, burning everything on its way down, he remembered why he used to love it so much when he was younger.

Katie sipped hers and made a face, her nose cringing into a point, but that didn’t stop her from taking a second, then a third sip. Mancini did the same. Soon, they were smiling stupidly across at each other.

“No one knows about this,” she said. “I have a secret stash in the back.”

“The cooks?”

“Not even them. Or they would have raided it years ago.”

“Nice.”

“When was the last time you drank something this good?”

“I can’t remember. Where’d you find it?”

“In one of the cities. We send out a scavenging crew every now and then to look for something valuable we can use. There’s a lot of stuff still lying around out there waiting to be picked up.”

“The cities? You’re not afraid of what’s still living in those places?”

“We know what’s out there. Every member of the crew knows, too. It’s all voluntary. Just like the hunters you were out there with this afternoon. Or the cowboys. No one in Creighton does anything they don’t want to do.”

“That must be nice.”

She shrugged. “This is how you keep a place running smoothly. Give everyone something they want to do and they’ll do it without having to be told.”

“I’ve been to a lot of places where that’s not the case.”

She took another sip and made the same face. “I’ve been to plenty of the same places. Different names, same shit.”

“Back when you were with Black Tide?”

She nodded.

“How long were you with them?” he asked.

She put down her tumbler. “Long enough.”

He waited for her to continue but she didn’t, even though the question seemed to have brought back memories. Memories, from the looks of it, that she didn’t want to relive.

“How’s your men?” she asked, perhaps hoping to steer him away from the topic.

“They’re fine, considering we got our asses kicked earlier.”

“This morning, By this not-ghoul ghoul.”

He nodded.

She leaned slightly across the table, eyes zeroing in on him. “You still think it’s not part of the same pack?”

“Yes.”

“How is it you’re so sure?”

He started to answer but stopped short. Instead, he shook his head.

How was he so sure? He didn’t know. He just…knew.

It all came back to that feeling. That unexplainable feeling that whenever he tried to explain it people would just look at him stupidly. Everyone had, except the Not-Ghoul. Instead of doubt, it had actually believed him. More than that, it knew things that no one else did.

“When they bled you, all those years ago, they tried to turn you. But it didn’t work. For whatever reason, you didn’t become ghoul. So now you walk around with their blood in you. His blood.”

“Mancini,” Katie said, watching him closely. “Convince me.”

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s not something I can prove.”

“What do you mean?”

He sighed and sat back slightly. Should he tell her? Would she even believe him? No one did. Even his men, though they trusted him. But that was because he’d never actually tried to explain it to them.

“Mancini,” Katie said. She hadn’t looked away. “Tell me.”

He nodded, then took a deep breath before doing just that. “It’s a feeling. That’s all it is. It’s just a feeling. I can’t explain it to you. But I just know where ghouls are. Where they’re hiding. I can tell right away if a ghoul has been in a place. Sometimes I can even tell you how long ago they were there. I track them the same way.”

“A feeling.”

“Yes.” He sighed. “I told you you wouldn’t believe me.”

She sat back. There wasn’t a look of derision on her face that he’d been expecting. Maybe she did believe him. Or if she didn’t, she wasn’t going to let him know it.

“It’s not him,” Mancini continued. “Whatever’s out there, he’s not a part of it.”

“‘Him,’” Katie said.

“Yeah, him.”

“‘Him,’” she said again.

“Yes, him. And?”

“You called it him. More than once.”

He raised both eyebrows in surprise. “Did I?”

She nodded. “You did.”

“Hunh. I didn’t know I was doing that.”

“This is all because this thing was walking around in daylight?”

“That’s one reason.”

“What’s the rest?”

“He didn’t kill me. He didn’t kill my boys, either. All he wanted was to…” He stopped short.

“What? What was all he wanted?”

“Ask me questions about him.”

“About it? It asked you questions about it?”

“Uh huh.”

“You’re right. That is…different.”

“I told you.”

She picked up the square bottle of Kentucky whiskey and refilled their glasses. Mancini didn’t realize he’d drained his while they were talking.

“Maybe we should save some for later,” he said.

“Why?”

He grinned and shrugged. “I just thought it was something I should say.”

“Don’t bother. I got three more where this came from.” When she finished pouring his glass, she added to her own. “By the way. Did I tell you where I sleep?”

“I don’t think you did.”

She pointed the now-empty bottle skyward, then smiled at him.

8

Creighton was a city of firsts.

It was the first city he’d been through to have running toilets for as long as he could remember. The first to have its own power source. The first to strike a balance of private ownership and community sharing. And for the first time, the first city where he seriously considered staying long after the job was over.

That last one had more to do with Katie.

Sex with her was intense and sweaty and painful. Intense because he hadn’t had sex in well over six months. Sweaty because despite the fact her room above the cafeteria was well-insulated from the cold outside, they worked up enough body heat to fill the attic-sized space. And painful because they didn’t stick to the bed. Katie slept on a single mattress on the floor without frames or box springs, and by the time they had both orgasmed, they were on the other side of the room with their limbs tangled. Mancini didn’t remember how they’d gotten there and in that position, but the throbbing in his joints was confirmation he hadn’t simply transported over.

He was thankful she was the only one who stayed up here, otherwise they might have woken everyone. He still thought the guards on the rooftop could have heard what was going on below them but Katie didn’t seem to care so he didn’t, either.

Eventually they untangled themselves and lay on the cool wooden floor, breathing shallow breaths. They would have been covered in sweat if not for the cool breeze coming through the meshed screen over the only window at the front of the room. Katie kept it open all the time to let air in, with a curtain over it for privacy. He shivered slightly but didn’t get up to dress. Katie’s body heat was enough to keep him warm, and he was still sticky with sweat in certain places.

“That was good,” Katie said after a while. “But it would have been better if you’d shaved. Pretty sure I have red welts everywhere your face touched. And you touched a whole lot of places.”

He chuckled. “Sorry.”

“When was the last time you shaved?”

“I don’t have a razor. Never needed one.”

“We have plenty of razors available.”

“Are you winking at me?”

“Just sayin’.”

“I’ll think about it.”

“Yeah, well, either shave or this is the last time we’re doing this.”

“I’ll shave tomorrow morning.”

She might have smiled. “That’s what I thought.”

Mancini laughed, even as he couldn’t help but wonder what it would look like if an attack happened now and her people found them like this, on the floor covered in the aftermath of sex. He wasn’t sure if he would be horrified or laughing his ass off.

It was in the aftermath of sex that Mancini could truly appreciate Katie’s body. She had the figure of a woman in her twenties, with hardly anything that could pass for flab. He wasn’t too surprised by that. She was a worker through and through, and her time with Black Tide hadn’t hurt.

“What did you do in Black Tide?” he asked.

She turned slightly to look at him. “Black Tide?”

“You told me you were in Black Tide.”

“I was. I’m just surprised that’s the first question you decided to ask after…you know.”

He grinned up at the ceiling. “I’ll try to think up a more appropriate question.”

“You do that.” Then, shrugging, “But I didn’t do anything special with Black Tide. Just another grunt. I got assigned to the southeast after Basic. Florida, mostly. Stayed there until my tour was up.”

He wanted to say there was nothing about Katie that screamed “just another grunt” to him, but he didn’t. He had a feeling she had been more than that, but if she didn’t want to tell him yet, then he’d wait until she was ready.

“How’d you end up in the Midwest?” he asked instead.

“Mostly by accident. After Black Tide I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do, so I hitched a ride and somehow ended up here.”

“‘Hitched a ride?’”

“By chopper. One of the units was headed out this way. I saw the snow-capped mountains and green fields and decided, ‘Why not?’”

“That was all it took, huh?”

“Yup.”

“And how’d you end up here? In Creighton of all places?”

“It was an accident. They were already up and running when I showed up. Someone else was in charge then.”

“What happened to them?”

“Got killed.”

“How’d that happen?”

“I killed them.”

He rolled over to look at her.

Katie smiled, but it wasn’t a look of conceit on her face. If anything, she appeared almost…regretful. “You didn’t expect that answer, did you?”

“Is it true?”

“Yes.”

“What happened?”

“They weren’t doing a very good job and the people in town wasn’t happy. I guess I came at just the right time.”

“You killed them and took over?”

“Let’s just say it’s…complicated.”

“That word again.”

“It seems to describe a lot of things these days.”

“I guess it does.”

He had more questions—a lot more, actually—but he didn’t ask them. Again, she would tell him when she was ready. Just as he would tell her all his secrets when he was ready. For now, this was good enough for both of them.

Katie spent the next few minutes silently tracing the scars on his naked chest with her fingers. She trailed over to his shoulders, then his neck. They were physical scars that would never heal. Remnants of the past that continued to haunt him in the present and, likely, for the rest of his life.

“I guess I don’t have to ask you why you became a slayer,” she said softly.

He pursed a smile. It wasn’t a topic he liked talking about and she could clearly see that.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she said.

“Thanks.”

“You don’t have to thank me, either. We all do what we have to do.” She ran her palm over his shoulder and moved it down to his elbow. He liked the feel of her rough palm scraping against his tanned skin. “Eventually, though, we all have to let go of the past and move on.” Her eyes searched for and found his. “You can’t start over until you give up what’s come before.”

He didn’t say anything. He knew what she was trying to say but it wasn’t something he had spent a lot of time thinking about. The past was all he had. Just like the job was all he had. For the longest time, it was all he was.

Her eyes didn’t leave his and her hand continued to explore him. For someone who was responsible for so much and who had gone through more trials than most people would ever know, there was a gentleness to Katie that surprised him.

“How long has it been?” she asked after a while. They weren’t talking about their scars anymore.

“It’s been a minute. You?”

“More than a minute for me.”

He chuckled. “How long?”

“The last time was in Florida.”

“That’s…a long time.”

“Never found anyone I wanted to get naked in front of.”

“I don’t know why. You look great naked.”

“Having low self-esteem or poor body image wasn’t the reason why I never dropped trou for someone, idiot.”

“My bad.”

She propped herself up on an elbow. “Did you just say ‘my bad?’”

He grinned. “Maybe.”

“I haven’t heard anyone use that slang in a long time. I used to say it all the time when I was younger. Brings back memories.” She leaned over slightly to rest her still-wet forehead against his shoulder. “I haven’t done a lot of things in a long time. It’s nice to finally catch up.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“We could catch up some more.”

“What are you saying?”

“I mean, we’re both adults. And neither one of us are taken.”

“Why is that?”

“Why is that what?”

“Why aren’t you already taken?”

She shrugged. “Again, haven’t met anyone I was willing to be taken by.”

He smiled, the thought that he, of all people, was somehow worthy of a woman like Katie, made him almost…embarrassed.

“Don’t think about it too hard,” she said. “Just accept it.”

“Okay.”

“Good. Now. You wanna fuck again or what?”

He almost laughed. “How romantic.”

“Hey, it’s been a long night. And like I said, it’s been a long time.”

His smile broadened, just as the air around them changed. It was still stuffy with their sweat and lovemaking, but now there was something else.

What just happened?

He remembered that the only window in the attic room was already opened when they arrived. There was a mesh screen there on the other side of a curtain. Anyone that could reach the second floor could come through, except he hadn’t heard anything close to forced entry. He still didn’t, now.

Instead, it was that feeling again. That buzzing, intimate, unexplainable feeling that they were no longer alone in the room.

“Katie…” he whispered, looking up at the ceiling, unwilling to turn his head to confirm his suspicions and give away what little element of surprise he still had.

“What is it?” she said, sounding like she was about to fall asleep.

“My clothes…”

“They’re across the room where you took them off.”

“Katie…” he whispered again, emphasizing her name as much as possible without alerting the presence in the room.

That did it. Katie lifted her head slightly to stare at him in the semidarkness. And just him. Which told Mancini that whatever was in the room with them was hidden, otherwise Katie was in perfect position to see it.

And if she had spotted it, she would have reacted. Which she hadn’t.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

He turned his head slowly and as naturally as he could muster toward her, and held her gaze. “When I give the word, I want you to go for the door.”

“What? Why?”

“Just do what I say.”

“Tell me first.”

“Goddammit, woman.”

She squinted back at him. “Hey, who do you think I am? A fucking damsel in distress? Tell me what the hell is going on with you.”

He sighed and closed his eyes for a moment.

Then, opening them back up, he whispered, “There’s something in the room with us.”

Her eyes went wide—a split second before they left his face and snapped over to the other side of the room. That was precisely the one thing he hadn’t wanted her to do.

Oh, fuck, Mancini thought just before he rolled away from her, tumbling across the room like a naked baseball bat, his legs and arms and genitals slapping the wooden floor as he ate up the space to where his clothes were, along with his sidearm and knife. Not that there was any potential for embarrassment at the moment. Mancini was more concerned with what was in the room with them.

A boot came out of the shadows and stopped him dead by pressing down against his waist, just a few inches above his loins. Gray eyes looked down at him from the darkness, followed by something that may or may not have been an amused smirk.

“Where you rolling off to, pal?”

9

It wasn’t difficult to track Mancini down. Keo had simply listened for the man’s blood before following its siren’s call to the town. And then, to the exact room. He hadn’t expected to find Mancini in post-coital with the woman, though.

That very naked woman jumped up to her feet and ran toward the door. But it wasn’t the door she was gunning for. Her real goal was the pile of clothes scattered rather haphazardly next to it. The same piles of clothes covering up the knife and gun underneath. He could taste the silver from those weapons on his tongue.

He didn’t stop her even though he could have. The room wasn’t nearly big enough that it would have taken any effort, especially since she had to waste a second just to get there, then another second to sift through her clothes before finally finding the gun. He didn’t have to stop her because he knew Mancini would.

“Katie, no! Don’t shoot!”

She had the gun halfway up to take aim at Keo when the slayer shouted. That stopped her. At least, for a pair of thrumming heartbeats as her mind attempted to process what was happening.

Why was Keo here, and why did Mancini tell her not to shoot him?

None of it made any sense to the woman, which was probably why she continued to lift the gun anyway and thumbed back the hammer on the 1911 model pistol.

Keo snatched the weapon out of her hand before she could pull the trigger. “Listen to your boyfriend.”

She stared at him with mouth slightly agape. He wasn’t sure about the reasons for that reaction. Maybe it was because he’d taken the distance between them before she could blink. Or maybe it was because he’d spoken and didn’t sound like what she thought he was supposed to sound like. Or maybe, just maybe, it was the clothes. And boots. And the shifting color of his eyes.

It could have been any one of those things or all of them.

“It’s okay, Katie, he’s not a threat.” Mancini, rising from the floor behind them in all his birthday suit glory. “It’s him. The one I told you about.”

The woman’s eyes snapped from Keo to Mancini, then back to Keo. “You.”

“Me,” Keo said.

“What are you?”

He smiled. Or he thought he did.

That question. That question!

“I don’t know yet,” he said.

Rustling clothes behind him as Mancini scrambled to pull his pants on. “What are you doing here?”

Keo held out the woman’s gun back to her. She stared at it, then at him, but didn’t move to take it.

He didn’t pull it away.

Finally, she took the weapon back. He half-expected her to shoot him as soon as she got a good grip on it, but she didn’t. Instead, she looked past him at Mancini, now slipping his shirt on. The air waffled as Mancini nodded back at her.

It was the go-ahead between them that Keo needed to turn his back to her. Not that he couldn’t spin and grab the gun away again if he had to. He was more than fast enough. Instead, the air behind him remained orderly as the woman slowly picked up her own clothes and began dressing.

“They’re coming here,” Keo said to Mancini.

“Who?” Mancini asked. He was putting on his gun belt. “Who’s coming?”

“The pack.”

“The pack?” the woman said. She already had her pants on and was slipping arms into her shirt.

Keo gave her a puzzled You know? look. Or he thought that was what he was trying to convey. Things were difficult these days even when it came to the simplest of facial expressions.

Before he could answer her, a radio on the floor squawked, followed by a male voice through the radio: “Boss. You down there? Boss, come in.”

The woman hurried over and picked the two-way up. “I’m here.”

“We heard noises,” the voice said. “Everything okay down there?”

The woman pointed her forefinger upward. Not at the ceiling but the rooftop. Keo had seen two men up there when he approached the town and slipped into the room.

“Everything’s fine,” the woman said into the radio. “You see anything out there?”

“Nothing yet,” the guard said.

“Keep your eyes and ears open. You should be getting relieved soon.”

“Roger that, boss.”

The woman clipped the radio to her hip before snatching a jacket from the floor and slipping it on.

“We saw their tracks in the woods,” Mancini said. “They were here yesterday while we were out there looking for you. We’re expecting them to attack. If not tonight, then soon.”

“Your guess is right,” Keo said. “They’re coming here. Now.”

“How long do we have?” the woman asked.

“Soon.”

“Well that narrows it down.”

She brushed past him on her way to the window behind Mancini. She might have shivered slightly as she did so but tried to hide it. From herself, anyway. He could hear the sound of hairs along every part of her bristling at just the slight contact.

“Do you at least know where they’re coming from? Which direction?” she asked.

“Northwest.”

She pulled the curtains aside and stared for a moment at the hole he’d made in her mesh screen. It hadn’t been difficult to break his way through without making a noise. “Couldn’t have used the front door, huh?”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t think she wanted one anyway.

The woman and Mancini stood at the window and looked out toward the northwest direction, into the dark woods across the wide field of grass that separated their town from the trees. They obviously couldn’t see anything out there. Not just because their eyes weren’t good enough but because there was nothing to see.

Not yet, anyway.

Mancini glanced back at him. “You ran across their path,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

Keo nodded. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“I wasn’t quite as stealthy as I thought. There was an altercation.”

“An ‘altercation,’” Mancini said. Again, it wasn’t a question. “And you’re sure they’re coming here?”

“There was one other town nearby, but it was empty.”

“Teller’s Pass,” the woman said.

“If that’s what you call it. The only community in their path that has anything they would want is yours. But you already know that, from the looks of your sentries.”

He’d already guessed that part when he first arrived at the outskirts of Creighton. The last time he was here, there hadn’t been armed men and women perched on rooftops. Tonight was different. Besides the presence of sentries, the place buzzed with nervousness. He could almost smell the sweat of fear and anticipation dripping from the buildings themselves.

“You know how many we’re dealing with?” Mancini asked.

“A lot,” Keo said.

“Man, you sure know how to narrow things down,” the woman said.

“Can you give us a number?” Mancini said.

“As few as a hundred and as many as two.”

“Jesus Christ,” the woman said. “As many as two hundred?” She looked over at Mancini. “More than your guess.”

“Yeah,” the slayer said. Then, to him, “This is even after your ‘altercation’ with them?”

“Yes.”

“Couldn’t you have thinned them out for us a bit?” the woman asked. It sounded more sarcastic than an actual question.

“No. They’re very hard to kill.”

The woman walked back over to him. Her eyes—light blue, reminding him somewhat of Lara’s, though she was taller and more muscled—focused on his and wouldn’t leave. “Wanna tell me what you’re doing here?”

“To warn you.”

“Yeah, I got that part. But why?”

He didn’t answer because he didn’t know. He hadn’t even realized where he was going until he recognized the smell of Creighton in the distance. After encountering the pack, he’d fled, then circled back around and proceeded in the same direction they had been before their planned ambush. While they scattered across the dark woods looking for him, Keo was headed toward their main objective.

Creighton.

It was just a guess at first, but nothing he’d heard from the woman or Mancini convinced him he was wrong. If anything, they seemed to believe the pack was already coming here even before his warning.

“The question stands,” the woman said. “What are you doing back here? You want another cow?”

“No.”

“Then why?” She squinted at him, the confusion on her face obvious.

He wondered if he looked just as confused because he didn’t know what he was doing here, either. He didn’t owe this people anything. He didn’t even owe Mancini.

So what was he doing here?

He had no answers. None at all.

Instead, Keo said, “You’ve been warned.”

Her eyes continued to follow him as he walked past her and to the window. “You didn’t answer my question.”

He ignored her and said to Mancini, “You should have left town when you had the chance.”

Mancini shrugged. “We took a vote.”

“When did slayers get so dumb?”

“About a few years ago, give or take.”

Keo smirked at him. Or thought he did. “Good luck.”

Mancini turned to follow him, too. “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here.”

“Wait—”

But he didn’t wait. Keo slipped through the broken slit in the mesh screen and into the cold night air. There was a guard almost directly on top of him, looking down, but Keo scaled the outside wall and lowered himself to the sidewalk before slithering, unnoticed, into a pitch-black alley.

* * *

“What are you doing here?”

It was a good question.

“What are you doing here?”

He didn’t know.

“What are you doing here?”

It didn’t matter how many times he replayed her question in his head, he still had no answer.

“What are you DOING here?”

Maybe Lara would know, but she wasn’t here. She was home, with their baby. Or maybe “home” wasn’t quite the right word. But she was somewhere with the baby.

Lara.

She had all the answers. And if she didn’t, she knew how to find them. She was always the smarter of the two of them. Always more resourceful, braver, and more resilient. He had never in his life met anyone—man or woman—who was so determined. She was all that, and more—

“Brother.”

He snapped a quick look to his left, then right, then behind him. There was nothing out there. Not close enough for him to see or hear or smell, anyway. But he’d heard a voice. Where—

It was in his head.

“What are you doing, brother?”

Brother? he thought. I’m not your brother.

“Aren’t you?”

No.

“Perhaps not. But you’re one of us.”

Wrong again.

“You come from the Father.”

The Father?

“The Father of us all.”

Fuck your father.

Laughter. Again, only in his head.

He was already moving, putting distance between where he’d been perched for the last thirty or so minutes waiting for the pack to make an appearance. Animals scattered in his path but he didn’t stop moving. They’d ambushed him once, and he was loathe to fall for it a second time.

What are you?

“You know who we are.”

The pack from earlier.

“Yes. Why did you fight us?”

You attacked first.

“Because there’s something…different with you. What are you?”

Keo might have smiled to himself as he climbed a large tree and rested momentarily on top of its crown. He was so high up that he could see for miles in every direction.

And still, no signs of the pack that he knew was out there.

You tell me.

“You’re different. But the same.”

Confused much?

“Much. Very much.”

Stay confused, then.

“Why do you move against us?”

Why shouldn’t I?

“We’re the same.”

No. I’m not one of you.

“You deny it.”

I deny your lies.

“The truth.”

Lies.

A heavy sigh in his head. Not his, but the voice’s. “You’ve been to Creighton. You warned them.”

I didn’t have to. They already knew you were coming. They’re ready for you.

“Perhaps.”

Creighton will be the end of your pack.

“Perhaps,” the voice said again. Keo couldn’t hear anything that sounded like fear in its voice.

Keo knew all about the ghoul hive mind. It was well-known that the creatures shared a kind of psychic link that allowed them to communicate telepathically. The Blue Eyes used it extensively, orchestrating their actions across the planet. All of that had collapsed when Black Tide killed the creature they called Mabry. Or at least that’s what they had thought.

Now, as he heard the voice in his head as if its speaker was crouched next to him, Keo wasn’t so sure. If the hive mind could survive, then what else had also?

What are you? he asked.

“We’re like you,” the voice said. “The same, but different.”

The same, but different…

“Yes.”

Confusing.

“Very.”

You don’t know what I am.

“No…”

Just like I don’t know what you are.

“Yes…”

The same, but different.

“The same, but different,” it repeated.

What do you want with Creighton?

“The town? Nothing. Just the flesh within its walls.”

The people.

“Yes.”

You can’t have them.

“We will take them.”

You can’t have them.

“We will see, brother. Don’t get in our way. You survived once, but you won’t a second encounter.”

Then it was gone. Whatever had connected their thoughts had vanished, fading into the darkness of the night around him.

The same, but different, he thought.

Then, again, The same, but different…

10

They stood on top of the cafeteria’s rooftop, watching the thick sea of darkness that surrounded them for signs of what they both knew was coming. The only question was: When.

Except there was nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Not yet, anyway.

Anytime now, boys. Anytime now…

The Not-Ghoul’s warning was further proof that it would happen. He wouldn’t have bothered to return here—back to the “scene of the crime”—without a reason. Why he had done it was a whole other matter. Like Katie, Mancini didn’t understand why the creature had decided to warn them. He certainly hadn’t had any reasons to.

And yet, he had.

Maybe he’s more human than I give him credit for.

That, though, made Mancini chuckle to himself. These days, even “humans” didn’t go out of their way to warn others of impending danger.

“What’s so funny?”

He looked over at Katie, standing next to him. “Hmm?”

“You laughed.”

“I did?”

She nodded.

“Just wondering where they are,” Mancini said.

She didn’t believe him from the look on her face. “And that made you laugh?”

“I didn’t really laugh. It was more of a chuckle.”

“A chuckle’s a lesser version of a laugh, but it’s still a laugh.”

“Is that how it is?”

“Yup.”

“Good to know.”

“So what’s so funny? What made you chuckle?”

“Just thinking about human nature…”

Then, when he didn’t keep going, “And?”

“And”—he shrugged—“it’s a strange new world we’re in.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s just about it.”

“Hunh. Interesting.”

“Really?”

“No. Not really.”

They exchanged a brief smirk before she glanced behind them at the water tower, then lifted her radio to her lips. “Tolliver. What do you see up there?”

Tolliver was one of the guards on the tower. Mancini had never gotten the name of his partner. Either one or both of them were in charge of the searchlight, which moved lazily along the outskirts of town. Or as much of it that it could reach. Once again, Mancini saw the limitations of the light. It was bright enough, but it never came close to reaching any of the houses out there. Maybe, he thought, that was the point. Those ranchers and farmers had chosen their locations for another reason: relative privacy from the rest of the town.

The sentry answered Katie quickly. “Nothing, boss. I don’t see nothing. If they’re out there, they’re not showing themselves. Give me a sec.” A beat, before the man returned. “Givens doesn’t see squat out there either. You sure they’re coming tonight?”

“I’m hoping they don’t,” Katie said. “But just in case, keep your eyes peeled.”

“Gotcha.”

Katie put her radio back against her hip.

“Who’s Givens?” Mancini asked.

“The other guard.”

“Ah.”

She looked back at the two guards on the rooftop with them. Both were young men in their twenties. One of them had radioed down to Katie earlier when he’d heard “noises” coming from below. Mancini still wasn’t sure if that noise was him and Katie having sex or the Not-Ghoul’s arrival. From the way the two men had avoided eye contact with both Katie and Mancini when they appeared up here, he was leaning toward the former.

“Eyes wide open, boys,” Katie said to the two men. She glanced down at her watch. “One more hour before you’re relieved.”

The sentries glanced over and gave her an acknowledging nod before looking out at the emptiness out there.

And it was empty.

Way, way too empty.

Despite the lights coming from the houses on the edges, along with the solar-powered streetlamps that still had enough juice left to brighten the main road, there was an emptiness to Creighton at night that gave him pause. For the first time in a long time (long enough that he didn’t even remember the last time), Mancini felt something other than just anticipation of a ghoul fight. There was, he thought, something that almost felt like…excitement.

It's been a long time.

“I don’t suppose you get nervous,” Katie said. He wasn’t sure if that was a question or a statement.

“It’s been known to happen.”

“When was the last time?”

“Can’t remember.”

“What does it take to make you nervous?”

The possibility that I might not want to leave when all of this is over because of you.

Of course he didn’t say that. He wouldn’t know how to put those thoughts into words anyway. Whatever he came up with would likely sound sappy and childish.

He said instead, “Why? You nervous?”

“Hell yeah.”

“You hide it well.”

“I don’t have a choice. I get nervous and everyone else gets nervous. Nervous people do dumb things and make stupid decisions.”

“So the calm and collected boss lady is just a façade?”

“Pretty much.”

He smiled. “When was the last time you told someone this?”

“You’re the first.” Then, before he could say anything else, she took a quick step toward the ledge of the rooftop and peered across the field with her binoculars.

Katie was using a pair of binoculars that, if not for the end of the world and the total collapse of fiat currency, would have cost her a sweet thousand or two at retail. These days, you could pick one up just about anywhere they were sold, along with a million other things people never really needed but were willing to sweat blood and tears for anyway. It was one of the ironies of the present world that always made him shake his head. The things they used to long for, many of them out of reach, were now there for the taking, except no one wanted them anymore. What good was luxury watches, jewelry, or brand name this-or-that when they didn’t do a damn thing to help you survive?

That last part wasn’t entirely true. Anything with silver was worth its weight in gold. More, even. Unless, of course, you were Black Tide, and had people who knew how to fly planes. That was just as precious a commodity as silver these days, perhaps even more so.

He watched Katie watching the darkness for signs. He couldn’t tell if she was glad there was nothing out there (yet) or annoyed by it. Mancini himself was relieved. He had gotten through the encounter with the Not-Ghoul reasonably, but that wasn’t because of anything he did. Mancini didn’t entirely like the idea of being at the whim of some other man. Even if this “man” wasn’t really a man at all.

Or, maybe more accurately, not entirely a man.

“Anything?” he finally asked when Katie didn’t say anything for a good five minutes or so.

The lack of action—hell, the lack of anything—made standing up there on the rooftop colder than it should have been, even with his jacket zipped up all the way up his neck. It was already frayed at a dozen (probably more) locations and would have fallen apart years ago if he hadn’t met a nice good-looking woman in Colorado who had restored it for him. Despite her deft fingers, the jacket had continued to fall apart. He’d be surprised if it lasted past the winter.

“No,” Katie said as she lowered the binoculars.

“Don’t sound so disappointed.”

“I’m not.”

“Aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer as quickly this time. Then, after a while, “Maybe a little. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen any action like this.”

“I thought you had some troubles a few months back.”

“A couple of assholes with guns. Nothing we couldn’t handle. This…this is actually dangerous.” Then, more to herself than him, “It’s been a while.”

Again, silence settled in between them.

Finally, she said, “You were right. About the creature I sent you after. It is…different. I’d definitely call a ghoul that isn’t a ghoul complicated.” She glanced back at him over one shoulder. “No wonder you had such a hard time telling me about it.”

“Told you.”

She might have rolled her eyes. “I didn’t say I didn’t believe you.”

“No, but you didn’t really believe me, either.”

“Maybe.”

“Admit it.”

She smiled and might have agreed with him, but her radio squawked first and a voice Mancini hadn’t heard before came through the speaker: “Boss.”

Katie unclipped the radio and held it up to her lips. “Go for Katie.”

“It’s Gibbs. I’m looking at the Tanner ranch and the lights just went out.”

Katie hurried across the rooftop. She’d done it so quickly that it actually scared one of the guards on the rooftop with them. The man glanced over to ask what was going on as Katie jogged past him.

She stopped on the other side and looked out across the field, speaking into the radio as she did so. “Mike, come in. Mike. Mike, are you there?” Then, when no one responded, “Stacy. Stacy, can you hear me?” Again, there was no response. “Anyone at the Tanner ranch. Someone respond.” She waited a few more seconds for a response and when she didn’t get any, tried yet again. “Mike. Stacy. Anyone at the Tanner ranch. Give me a shout back.”

Nothing. The radio remained silent. Mancini marveled at her people’s ability to stay off the channel to allow proper communications between Katie and whoever she was trying to contact. Most civilians he knew couldn’t muster that kind of discipline.

Mancini walked over until he was standing next to her. “What happened?”

“The Tanner ranch,” Katie said.

She pointed but Mancini couldn’t be sure at what. He could only make out several buildings on the outskirts, each one lit by lights from within and outside. They were spaced out across the landscape—about 100 meters or so per property—and spread across the clearing.

Then Mancini noticed it. An anomaly: there was a thick black spot among the lights. One of the ranches had, seemingly, blinked out of existence. One of the guards on the water tower had trained the searchlight on that area, but the light died halfway to its target.

“Gibbs, how long ago did the lights go out?” Katie said into the radio.

“I’m not sure,” the man named Gibbs said. “Noticed it just now.”

“When was the last time anyone saw lights on the Tanner ranch?”

A voice that Mancini also didn’t recognize joined the frequency. “What’s going on? What happened to the Tanners?”

“Something happened to the Tanners?” someone else piped up.

“Shit, it’s starting already?” a third voice asked.

“Everyone, shut the hell up,” Katie snapped into her radio.

Mancini smiled to himself. He guessed even a place like Creighton wasn’t 100% disciplined after all. Somehow, that made him like the town more. It would have been almost supernatural if everyone could remain so disciplined during what was clearly a sudden amping of tensions.

“I want this channel clear unless you have something important to say or an answer to my question,” Katie continued. “Otherwise, stay off it and hold your positions. Understand?” Then, calmer, “I’m still waiting for an answer about the Tanner ranch.”

“I saw it ten minutes ago, boss,” a new voice answered. It sounded familiar, and Mancini knew why when Katie glanced briefly at the water tower nearby. It was Tolliver. “The lights were still on then,” Tolliver added.

“Manuel, come in,” Katie said into the radio.

It took ten seconds before Manuel answered. He sounded groggy and half-asleep, with a slightly thick Spanish accent. “Manuel here. What’s up?”

“Lights at the Tanners just went out. I need you to go check on them.”

“Shit. When did that happened?”

“About ten minutes ago.” Then, holding the radio even closer to her lips as if that would emphasize everything she was going to say next, “Don’t take any chances. You understand? At the first sign of trouble, I want you to retreat. Don’t take any chances.”

“Understood,” Manuel said.

Katie lowered the radio and turned to look at him. “Manuel’s ranch is the closest one to the Tanners,” she said by way of explanation.

“How many men does he have?”

“Five. But there’s eight people there, counting him, his wife Gloria, and their kid.”

“The Tanners?”

She stared at the empty space between ranches. “Ten. Four hands and the Tanners. Mike, his wife Stacy, and their two kids, Donna and Mike Jr.” She pressed the radio and spoke into it. “Water tower, I need you to continue paying attention to the rest of the fields. Do not—I repeat, do not—get locked in to staring at the Tanner ranch. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Tolliver said.

The other one on the water tower, Givens, also answered. “Gotcha, boss.”

Katie glanced back at the two guards on the rooftop with her and Mancini. Both of them were looking toward the Tanner ranch. “Did you hear me? Get back to your areas.” Then, off their uncertain looks, “We all have jobs to do. Let’s do them.”

The two men nodded and returned to their positions, not that Mancini completely believed they had forgotten about the Tanner ranch and whatever was happening over there at the moment. He certainly didn’t.

Fortunately, he didn’t have any set job tonight, so he could continue to watch the darkness where the Tanner ranch was located. Shafts of lights had appeared—he counted three—and were moving in that direction.

Katie was looking through her binoculars again. “Manuel’s already on the Tanner side of the fence with his men.”

Mancini nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t want to interrupt her or take her mind off something other than the problem at hand. It was quiet now, but it wouldn’t be for very long. Something had happened at the Tanner ranch or the lights wouldn’t have gone out. It wouldn’t be long before the eerie quiet was broken.

The calm before the storm. I hate this part.

Katie’s radio squawked. Manuel, whispering through the tinny speaker, “We’re in front of the main house. Can’t see shit out here but it’s quiet. I don’t see any movements inside.”

The three flashlight beams he’d been focusing on had stopped moving, even though they remained on.

“What happened to their lights?” Katie asked into the radio.

Instead of an answer, Manuel said, “Shit.”

“What happened? What is it, Manuel?”

“Front porch lights. They’re broken.”

Katie clutched the radio and all but screamed into it, “Get out of there, Manuel! Get the fuck out of there now and get your men back to your ranch!”

Gunshots and muzzle flashes speared the darkness, and one of the flashlight beams was upended and went spinning to the ground. The other two continued to move in an erratic fashion. So too were the muzzle flashes, each one accompanied by the loud cracks of sporadic gunshots.

“Jesus Christ,” Katie whispered. Like him, she watched the action. And perhaps like him, she already knew the outcome.

Because it wasn’t much of a fight. Almost as soon as the gunshots began, they ended, leaving behind just three beams of light pointed in different directions. By their steady streams, they were all lying on the ground now.

Then, one by one, even those lights went out.

Katie keyed her radio. “This is Katie. Stay where you are. Do not abandon your locations.”

“What about Manuel?” someone asked. It was a new voice.

“We have to go help them,” someone else said. Another unfamiliar voice.

“I’m nearby,” a third said, sounding slightly out of breath.

“I’ll meet you out there,” a fourth joined in.

“Stay where you are,” Katie said. “No one abandon their locations. If you’re not already in your basements, get down there now. Do not come up until I give the all-clear.”

“Katie,” someone said but never got to finish.

“Do as you’re told, goddammit!” she shouted into the radio. “That’s an order!”

That did it. There were no more dissenting voices. Mancini didn’t blame them. That was the first time Katie had ever raised her voice since he’d known her and it was…something.

Katie glanced over at the water tower, where Mancini could make out two silhouettes moving around on the catwalk, not that he could tell who was who. “Water tower. You got anything?”

“They’re gone,” Tolliver said.

“Say again?”

“They’re gone, boss. Manuel and the other two. They’re gone.”

Katie didn’t respond. Mancini watched her forehead wrinkling as she digested Tolliver’s words. Then, back into the radio, “The house?”

“Quiet,” Tolliver said. “No movements inside or outside.”

“What’s the call, boss?” Givens asked.

Katie didn’t answer right away.

“Boss?” Givens pressed.

Katie keyed her radio and, in a voice much calmer than the last time she issued orders, “Everyone hold your positions. I repeat: Hold your positions. I don’t want anyone outside unless you’re supposed to be.”

She lowered the two-way and looked over at Mancini but didn’t say anything. She didn’t have to.

“Teller’s Pass,” she said.

“They took those people—over two hundred of them—without a fight. One night. That was all it took. They’re going to do the same to Creighton.”

She pursed her lips. “They’re going to try.”

“You’ve never had to face something like this before.”

“No. Not even close. You?”

He shook his head. “Me, neither.”

“I guess it’s a first for both of us.”

“Those basements out there…”

“They’re solid. Built to withstand exactly this. As long as they stay down there, they’ll make it to morning.”

“Why weren’t the Tanners in their basement?”

“I don’t know. If I had to guess, not everyone thought they needed it yet.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t have given them the choice.”

“This isn’t a dictatorship, Mancini. I don’t force people to do anything they don’t want to.”

“Didn’t you do exactly just that? Over the radio?”

“That’s different.” She peered out at the darkness with her binoculars. “We’re in the middle of a fight now. Democracy goes out the window when that happens.”

She didn’t say anything else and neither did Mancini. He glanced around him at the sprinkle of lights but there was, not surprisingly, more black than illuminated areas. Creighton was simply too big to cover every inch of ground. Nothing seemed to move out there. Even the insects had ceased their chirping, as had everything else that had a brain, regardless of how small. When there were ghouls in the area, you made noises at your own peril.

He glanced down at his watch. Four hours before sunup.

Four whole hours.

It was going to be a long night.

11

“Brother. Stop.”

The voice in his head wasn’t the same voice that had spoken to him earlier. Or he thought so anyway. It was difficult to keep them separated because they all tended to blend into one. He wasn’t even sure if it was just a few voices speaking to him or all of them at once. The hive mind, he was learning, was difficult to get a firm grasp on. It was one thing to hear Lara and Danny and others talk about it, but another matter entirely to actually have to live it.

“Brother. Stop. You must stop.”

But he didn’t stop. He continued to move, fighting them the entire way. They came out of the shadows and from the trees and out of the ground.

Ten. Twenty. More?

Yes. More. Too many more.

“Stop.”

Black eyes gazing accusingly at him as they attacked from all sides. They didn’t speak—at least not in sounds—but their anger was inside his head, reverberating back and forth along the inner shell of his skull.

“What are you doing?”

They knew damn well what he was doing. He was headed for Creighton to help. The town was in trouble. Maybe the slayers could make a difference and maybe they couldn’t. But he could. He knew that much.

“Why?”

Because.

“Why?”

Why was it asking questions it already knew the answer to? Didn’t it already know the answer? He certainly did.

“Do you?”

Yes, he did.

“Are you sure about that?”

He was. Or he thought he was.

“You’re not. Don’t lie to yourself. You don’t know why just as much as we do.”

That wasn’t true.

“Isn’t it?”

Yes. He knew the answers.

“Do you?”

Stupid. It was trying to confuse him. Asking the same questions over and over again. The ruse was obvious. It was trying to slow him down. To make him think. To make him question himself. It wasn’t going to work.

“You deceive yourself, brother.”

Bullshit.

“You deceive yourself.”

One of them landed on top of him and nearly drove him to the ground. It was strong, like the others, but not strong enough. He grabbed it by the neck and smashed it against a tree. Its bones snapped and the body limp, but death would not take it. It didn’t matter because it was down. It lived, but couldn’t pursue him as he darted away.

“You don’t know.”

Again, more tactics. Trying to slow him down.

“You don’t know…”

He wished they would shut up. He didn’t feel like talking. It got him nowhere. All they were trying to do was divert his attention while the others attacked. It was a trick. That was one thing the Blue Eyes did so well—trick you. Except these weren’t Blue Eyes. Not really. And yet, they were. Sort of.

“You don’t know at all, brother.”

He knew. Of course he knew.

“Are you sure?”

Why did it keep asking the same question? Of course he was sure. He was very sure.

“No, you’re not.”

Liar. He was sure.

“You keep telling yourself that.”

Because it was true.

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

He wasn’t. And besides, this was all a trick. A distraction. A pair of hands had grabbed him by the ankles, having come out of the ground. He saw it a split second before it did so but couldn’t avoid the ambush in time. Not that it mattered. It was only a temporary delay. Keo reached down and tore both hands off at the elbow shoulders.

“Your existence is at a crossroads.”

How many had he killed? He’d lost count. Or maybe “killed” wasn’t correct. It would take more than blunt force trauma to “kill” these things. It would take the sunlight, which wouldn’t come for hours yet. Or something with silver. Why didn’t he keep silver on him? Right. Because the near presence of the metal made him just as uncomfortable as it did these things.

“You refuse to acknowledge the truth of what you are.”

Two more fell out of the sky. They were clever, knowing he would be occupied with the one on the ground to notice the two above. But cleverness didn’t save them.

“What you’ve become.”

He punched his fist through a weak chest and nearly decapitated another one with a swipe of his left hand. Black blood sprayed him, joining what was already there. He was covered in the stuff by now.

“You run without thought.”

He continued running.

“But just to run.”

He wasn’t sure how far he was from Creighton. It was difficult to gauge distance when he had to fight for every inch that he managed. And still they appeared, bursting out from behind tree trunks and lunging out of shrubbery. One, two—five.

“You betray the Father’s wishes.”

The Father. The original ghoul as far as any of them knew. The blood from which they all sprang. Mabry. It’d been so long since that day in Houston, when he and Black Tide started the battle that would end the ghoul’s reign. The day they reasserted humanity as the dominant species.

“Join us.”

They weren’t trying to kill him, just stop him. Maybe they couldn’t do the former even if they wanted to, but he wasn’t convinced of it. It certainly didn’t feel as if they weren’t trying hard enough. He was just faster and stronger.

“We can finish the Father’s work.”

One, two, four ghouls fell by the wayside as he leapt. The fifth one attempted to follow, but he was too fast for it and sprang from branch to branch, imagining himself as a flying squirrel sailing through the crisp night air, oblivious to everything but the freedom of the act itself.

“You’re different. Like us.”

Yes, he was. He knew that, now. He was a ghoul but he wasn’t a ghoul. Mancini, the slayer, had said as much. Even the woman, back at Creighton, had realized it. Maybe it was her reaction that had sealed the truth. He’d always known, of course, but sometimes it took someone else to make the point.

“We can do what the others couldn’t.”

A skeletal form attempted to intercept him in mid-air, but Keo batted it away like an annoying gnat. It dropped to the ground below, arms and legs flailing, black eyes somehow still piercing the darkness between them and back up at him. Accusing eyes.

“Take our rightful place with us.”

Finally, he couldn’t help himself, and answered: I won’t let you.

“Why do you resist? You’re one of us.”

I’m not one of you.”

“Why do you lie to yourself?”

Shut up.

“The Father’s blood flows through your veins.”

Fuck your father.

“He loves you.”

Fuck you and fuck him.

“He still loves you.”

I was there when he died, you know.

“We know. The history of his death is written in our souls.”

He screamed like a bitch.

“You lie still.”

He was nothing. He went out like the cockroach he was.

“The Father continues to thrive in us. He lives on forever.”

They caught him by surprise, attacking from below and above. It wasn’t so much their strength—they were stronger than the usual black-eyed ghoul but not by much—but the element of surprise at their back. They knocked him off course and he slammed into a tree. Keo grabbed for a branch, got it, but it snapped in two pieces. He fell.

“We’re united. A new breed. More than that came before. You can’t stop us.”

They fell down after him, four figures with black eyes like tar, hands outstretched as if to embrace him. He felt another branch coming—a strong one this time—and twisted at the very last second, grabbed it, and used it as a slingshot. He catapulted upward and forward, feet first. Two of the creatures managed to follow but the other two disappeared into the abyss below.

“Nothing can stop us.”

I can.

“No.”

You’re scared.

“No.”

I can hear it in your voice. You’re scared.

He almost laughed. And he might have actually laughed. Or maybe it was all the animals racing to get out of his way. He wondered what he must look like: A madman flying through the air, only occasionally stopping to break an appendage or snap a neck; or in some cases, shatter bones.

You’re scared.

“No.”

Now who’s lying to themselves?

The voice didn’t respond. There was merciful silence inside his head. Keo used the temporary respite to navigate his way around trees. The shifting air behind him was a clue the two ghouls remained on his heels. He let them—for a while. Then he slowed just enough for them to catch up. When they did, he punched his fist through one’s face, his balled knuckles coming out the back of its skull, and used it as a hammer to knock the other one off the branch. They both went tumbling down.

Keo turned, the sound of gunshots ringing through the night air. Louder, now, because he was closer to Creighton.

Closer, but not there yet.

“You’re too late.”

Liar.

“What must be, will be.”

Then why do I still hear fear in your voice?

He waited, but there was no response from the voice.

Keo smiled and continued.

You’re right to be scared, he thought, knowing they were still there, listening. He could feel them at the corners of his mind, nibbling around the edges, searching for vulnerabilities they could exploit. I’m your end. Your destruction. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me.

Silence.

At least, for a while.

Then: “Are you sure about that?”

You can’t stop me.

“Are you sure about that?”

There were no further ghoul attacks, either because he’d put too much distance between them or there wasn’t enough left to keep up with, allowing him to sprint freely from tree to tree, getting ever so closer to the sounds of gunshots in the distance.

“Your child,” the voice said.

Keo stopped, grabbing a branch to keep himself from tipping over. Suddenly he wasn’t so sure about his footing and the darkness didn’t seem so clear anymore.

What did you say?

“Your child,” the voice said. There was something in its tone, a gleefulness that wasn’t there before. “We know about your child.”

12

First they took Mike Tanner’s ranch, then the one next to it belonging to Manuel. When they were done with those two, they went for the Williamsons nearby. Blake and Marcus Williamson, brothers that had arrived in Creighton a few years after Katie, were able to hold them off. Mancini and Katie knew this because the two men kept in contact through the radio all night.

“They’re both ex-Black Tide,” Katie said by way of explanation. Mancini had wondered how the two men were able to hold off the attack when Manuel and Tanner couldn’t despite all their preparations. Mancini just assumed the Williamsons were smarter about it than the other two. After all, you didn’t survive this long without knowing a thing or two about fighting ghouls.

Mancini kept his eyes focused on the Williamson ranch in the distance. There was clear tactical reasoning behind the attacks: The creatures took the Tanners first because they were the farthest away, albeit not by much, from the rest of the town. They were raiding the homes in the outskirts of Creighton because they were the most vulnerable.

“You were right, they were scouting us,” Katie said.

“Maybe you should bring them all into the town center,” Mancini said.

“It’s too late for that.” She peered through her binoculars. “The only thing that’s going to happen by ordering them into town is putting them out in the open to be taken. If I’d done it before nightfall, then yes. But now…” She lowered her field glasses. He could see the obvious regret on her face. “It’s too late for that now.”

That’s the problem with democracy, Mancini thought. Not everyone knows what’s good for them.

Of course he didn’t say that. He wasn’t sure if he actually believed it anyway. He’d worked towns that were run by men and women with iron fists, and there was always a somber, even pitiful look to the citizens there. He remembered asking himself why they stayed when there was nothing to keep them around. He would have left a long time ago.

But then, Mancini wasn’t like others. That was what made him and the other slayers different. Hell, that was what made them slayers in the first place. They stood out, even among the gruffest and most experienced of survivors. Everything that had happened to them had led them to carry this “profession,” which they did in exchange for food, supplies, and on the rare occasions, a good bed with a good woman.

So what was he still doing here? This wasn’t his fight. Wasn’t it?

No. It wasn’t.

And yet, here he was…

He imagined Keen winking at him and shooting a quick look at Katie standing next to him. Mancini wished he could say his old friend was wrong but the truth was, maybe he wasn’t. Even now, Mancini wasn’t sure if that was a good thing or not. He’d done a lot to keep himself unavailable.

And yet, once again, here he was…

What are you doing? Are you sure about this?

He wasn’t, but for some reason, it just seemed…right.

I’m getting soft. That’s got to be it. I’m getting soft in my old age.

There had been gunfire from the Williamson place earlier but that had faded, leaving behind only the occasional noise. The ranch was far enough away that it was impossible to figure out what was happening from moment to moment, although the lack of chaotic fighting was a good sign.

Mancini glanced down at his watch. “Three more hours before sunup.”

He hadn’t needed to tell Katie that. She’d been sneaking looks down at her watch about once every five minutes or so ever since the attack began. Like him—like pretty much everyone in Creighton, he assumed—she was waiting with bated breath for morning to come and end this assault.

Mancini looked around at the men standing guard on rooftops inside the city center. The two on the water tower, the ones to the left and right of him, and more behind and in front. About thirty men in all, each one heavily armed. There were more in the buildings below them as well as in the houses.

The ones on the water tower moved the searchlight around the town and its outskirts, searching for ghouls among the shadows and darkness. There was no point trying to light up the ranches: The beam wasn’t strong enough to reach them. So they watched the town center instead.

“Blake, give me a sitrep,” Katie said into her radio.

Blake Williamson, the older of the two brothers, answered. His voice was slightly muffled and his radio signal cut in and out. That was a direct result of his current location: The heavily fortified basement underneath his house. He would be there now with his family and younger brother Marcus’s own family.

“They’ve gone quiet,” Blake said. “I don’t know if that means they left to look for easier prey or what, but we can’t hear a thing out there. What do you guys see?”

“Nothing. They’re doing a really good job of staying unseen.”

“That’s new.”

“Yeah.” Katie lowered the radio for a moment, her lips twisted in intense concentration. Then, back into the radio, “What did you see when they were attacking, Blake? What are we dealing with here?”

“You mean did I see a Blue Eyes up there?”

“Exactly.”

“No. Not a one. There was just Black Eyes. Except…” He paused.

“Except what?”

“They weren’t acting like Black Eyes.”

Katie exchanged a look with Mancini, even as she keyed her radio and spoke into it. “How were they acting?”

“They were holding back,” Blake said. “Like they knew we were ready for them. You get me?”

“Yes.”

“Normal Black Eyes would have attacked without thought,” Mancini said.

Katie nodded. “I know.” She said into the radio, “And you’re sure they were Black Eyes?”

“Killed one of them when it was almost on top of me,” Blake said. “It had black eyes, all right.”

“What about the rest?”

“Same. At least the ones that came into the house before Marcus and me hightailed it into the basement to join the girls. That’s the other thing…” Again, he paused.

“Go on.”

“They didn’t pound against the basement door. I mean, even if they did, they weren’t getting through. Except they never even tried. You know what I mean? They never even tried, Katie. Like they already knew they couldn’t get through, so why bother? You understand what I’m trying to say here?”

“Yeah, I do,” Katie said. Then, to Mancini standing next to her, “Ghouls that don’t act like ghouls.”

He nodded. “But I didn’t know there were more than one type of Black Eyes.”

“There isn’t. Or at least, Black Tide never encountered one. It was always just the two types: blue and black. And those two have very specific behaviors. This…” She looked out toward the Williamson ranch. Their lights, like the others, had gone out. “This is new.”

Mancini couldn’t disagree with her. He wondered if she was as terrified of that revelation as he was, but, again like him, was just good at hiding it.

Blue-eyed ghouls that didn’t act like Blue Eyes. That didn’t even have blue eyes (sometimes). And now, black-eyed ghouls that didn’t act like Black Eyes.

What the hell was going on out there?

Katie’s radio squawked and another voice that was new to Mancini spoke. “Katie. It’s Rick.”

Katie answered. “What is it?”

“Me and the boys took a vote. We want to go out there and support Blake and Marcus.”

“No.”

“We know the risks and we’re willing to take it.”

“I said no.”

“They need help.”

Katie clenched her teeth as if Rick could see it. “Everyone stay where you are. No one goes anywhere for any reason until sunlight.”

“She’s right, don’t risk it,” Blake Williamson said through the radio. “We’re doing fine over here.”

“You sure about that?” the one named Rick asked.

“Yeah. Katie’s right. Everyone needs to just hunker down.”

“We made a pact, Blake, remember? To always watch each other’s backs.”

“I know we did, but we’re doing good here. If I need help, I’ll holler.”

“You goddamn better,” Rick said.

And that seemed to take care of that. The radios went quiet again.

“They do that a lot?” Mancini asked Katie.

“Do what?”

“Make pacts between them.”

“The ranchers and farmers do. It’s not like they’re out there on an island or anything, and we don’t help out when they need it, but I guess being closer to one another makes them more considerate of each other’s situations.”

“Better allies than enemies.”

She nodded, but he could tell her mind was already elsewhere.

“What is it?” he asked.

She looked over at him. “You told me you can feel these things. Even before you actually see them.”

“Something like that…”

“Can you feel them? Out there?”

Mancini shook his head. He hadn’t been able to feel or smell or hear or sense the creatures before the attack. If not for the occasional gunfire and the lights going out on some of the houses, he wouldn’t even know there was anything ghoul-related transpiring. And maybe that was one reason why this whole thing was so…disturbing.

That, and the whole Black Eyes not acting like Black Eyes bit didn’t help.

“No,” he finally said.

She continued to watch him but didn’t say anything. He could tell she didn’t understand any of it.

Join the club, he thought.

Mancini said out loud, “I told you, it’s—”

“Complicated,” she finished.

He gave her a forced smile. “Yeah. Complicated.”

“Tell me if you feel anything.”

“I will. You know I will.”

She nodded, just as a gunshot rang out.

This time it hadn’t come from in front of them but behind, and it had sounded louder than the previous ones. The latter meant it was nearby.

They both whirled toward the still-echoing noise, hands dipping to their sidearms. Unlike the others, they were only wearing gun belts with pistols and didn’t carry rifles.

“What was that?” Katie said into her radio. She hadn’t shouted the question but had spoken calmly. Mancini marveled at her ability to stay in control over everything, including herself. “Who just fired?”

The answer came in two shotgun blasts. Mancini had lucked out and turned in the right direction when the shooter fired, and he saw flames lighting up the dark night from three buildings in front of him. Silhouetted figures on the rooftops scrambled in the direction of the shooting, but of course how far they could actually go toward the action was limited by the ledges in front of them.

The searchlight had swiveled around and was flashing over the rooftops in the town center. But like before, it had difficulty penetrating the darkness. Mancini had to wonder what the point of the light was given how ineffective it seemed to be.

Mancini and Katie hurried over to their own ledge even as another unfamiliar voice answered the radio. “That was me, Katie.”

“Bennet?” Katie asked.

“Yeah. That was me with the first shot. Joseph fired the shotgun.”

The shooting had stopped as they reached the end of the rooftop. Mancini could just make out two other guards on the building in question, leaning slightly over the edge. They were obviously trying to see whatever they’d been shooting at.

“What happened?” Katie asked into the radio.

“Saw something,” Bennet said. “Moving on the alley below us. Joseph saw it, too.”

“What was it?”

“Don’t know. We missed. Damn thing was fast.”

Mancini glanced over at Katie. “Everyone has silver bullets?”

She nodded. “We break them out for just these occasions.”

“Even the shotgun shells?”

She nodded again. “Even the shotgun shells.”

He’d asked that second question because shotgun shells fired a spread of buckshot. If just one of those round balls had landed on its target, it would have done the job. That is, if they’d been shooting at a ghoul. If. Katie’s people were jumpy tonight; even jumpier after what had transpired with the ranches. He wouldn’t blame them if they had been shooting at a squirrel or feral cat trying to find some food.

Katie’s radio squawked. Bennet again. “Joseph wants to go down and check. Make sure we didn’t hit anything.”

“No,” Katie said. “Maintain—”

More gunshots, this time coming from behind them—from the other side of town.

They all turned in that direction and listened as someone let off a burst with a rifle. Mancini could make out the flashes, but the shooter was too far away for him to make out the man’s face. He could barely make out a shape.

Then, silence.

“Who was that?” Katie said into her radio.

“That was me,” a voice answered. “Thought I saw something down there in the alley.”

“What was it?”

“No idea. It’s gone.”

“I saw something, too,” another voice answered. “It scampered out as soon as Rhett started shooting.”

“Did I hit it?” the man named Rhett asked.

“Don’t think so. It was still running after you stopped firing.”

“Shit. I thought I got it.”

Katie exchanged a look with Mancini. “What is going on here?” her eyes asked him silently.

He shook his head. “I don’t know.”

Katie keyed her radio. “No one goes down to check on anything. Maintain your positions. That goes for everyone,” she added while looking across at the other rooftops around them. Specifically, at the sight of men out of positions.

As if those men could see her warning stare, they began returning to their posts on their own. Mancini and Katie walked back across their own rooftop. She was quiet, her face contorted in heavy thought.

“If those were ghouls, then you know what they were doing,” Mancini said. It wasn’t a question.

She confirmed his suspicions with a nod. “They were probing. Looking for vulnerable spots in our defenses.”

“That’s what I think, too.”

“If those had been ghouls and not some animals.”

“Yes. If.”

Katie keyed her radio. “Blake. Come in.”

Blake Williamson answered almost immediately. Mancini imagined him waiting impatiently with the radio. “What’s happening out there? Heard gunshots.”

“Possible false alarms. How you guys holding up?”

“We’re still here.”

“The ghouls?”

“Not a clue. Don’t know if they’re even still in the house. If they are, they’re keeping really quiet.”

“Stay down there until morning and only come up after reinforcements arrive to clear your house.”

“Roger that.”

Katie held the radio at her side and peered out at the blackness, a hundred questions flashing soundlessly across her face. Mancini held his tongue, not wanting to interrupt her thoughts. She was a woman with a lot on her mind.

Finally, Katie lifted the radio back to her lips. “This is Katie. I want this channel clear until sunup. Squawk only if you’re one-hundred-percent certain you have ghoul activity in your area. Shoot only if you’re one-hundred-percent certain you see a ghoul.”

She lowered the radio and stared quietly at the woods.

Finally, she said, “What do you think?”

“They’re testing your defenses. Finding out where you’re weakest and strongest. The next time they come back, they won’t leave until it’s over.”

“You’ve seen this before.”

“Not quite like this. I don’t think anyone’s seen this before. But I’ve seen something close. But there was always a Blue Eyes involved those times.”

“You don’t think there’s one here?”

“No. They would have shown themselves already if they were.” He paused for a moment.

“What is it?”

“Have you ever gone up against one of those? A Blue Eyes?”

“Not personally, but I’ve heard the stories about people—sometimes entire armies—going up against them. Why?”

“I’ve gone up against them.”

She gave him a surprised look, as if to say, How are you even still alive? He wasn’t sure how to take that: As a compliment or insult.

“More than once,” Mancini said.

“How many times?”

“More than once and let’s leave it at that. My point is, this—what we’re dealing with tonight—isn’t how they operate. What they were doing last night, what they did to Teller’s Pass. None of these things scream Blue Eyes to me.”

She stared at him in silence for a moment. He imagined the cogs turning behind her eyes. Clearly, Katie spent a lot of time living inside her own head.

“Jesus, Mancini,” she finally said. “I don’t know whether to be relieved or scared.”

He gave her an awkward smile. “I don’t blame you. I don’t know how to feel about it, either.”

Katie turned away from him and looked out at the darkness. There was still no hints of ghouls. There were no hints of sunlight, either. At least, not for a few more hours.

“We’ll stay until you tell us you don’t need us anymore,” Mancini said.

She nodded and might have smiled. Maybe. “Thank you.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t. I honestly don’t know what five slayers could really do for you folks that you can’t already do for yourselves. If anything, we might end up being a liability.”

“I don’t think so.”

He found that amusing and didn’t try to hide it. “Why not?”

“You’re slayers.”

“And?”

“This is what you do.”

“I still don’t get it…”

“You kill ghouls. Even if it kills you.”

Mancini actually laughed out loud. So loud, in fact, that the two on the rooftop with them glanced over. Some of the ones on the other rooftops, that were close enough to hear him, did so, too.

Katie, for her part, just smiled. “Am I wrong?”

He shook his head. “No. You’re not wrong.”

“So trust me when I say you’ll be an asset more than a liability.”

“I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

“I know people, Mancini. It’s one thing I’ve always been very good at.” She peered through her binoculars again. “By the way, what happened to your friend?”

“Which friend is that?”

“You know who.”

“I don’t.”

“The Not-Ghoul.”

“Ah. Him.”

“I noticed we haven’t seen it around.”

“I have no idea where he is. But I don’t think he ever said he was going to show up here tonight.”

“I thought he implied it.”

“You think so?”

She shrugged “That was my takeaway.”

“Maybe he’s busy with something else. Or maybe he just didn’t want to come back here when there are men armed with silver bullets on every rooftop.”

“There is that.”

Mancini gazed out into the pitch blackness, wondering the same thing Katie had. What had become of the Not-Ghoul? Was he still out there? Or had he run across the same creatures that were attacking Creighton and fallen?

“You figured out yet why it came back here to warn us?” she asked.

“No.”

“It didn’t have to.”

“No, it didn’t.”

“And yet, it did.”

“And yet…” Mancini said, and let the rest go unsaid.

His mind turned, trying to digest what was happening around him. Black Eyes that didn’t behave like Black Eyes. Blue Eyes that defied everything he knew about Blue Eyes.

What the hell was going on out there?

And why did it unsettle him so?

13

The father was dead and they were going to kill the mother next. In all likelihood, they would take the boy and bleed him for sustenance. Or, if he was very unlucky, turn him. But then who was he to decide what qualified as “lucky” or “unlucky?” He was a man without an identity, trapped between two factions that, given the right circumstances, would end him without hesitation.

Of course Keo didn’t let that stop him as he moved through the night, clearing the yard that surrounded the lone cabin so quickly that only two of the four ghouls standing guard outside were able to see him coming in time.

It didn’t help them one bit.

He snapped a neck and detached two legs, then used those same legs to beat the other two into submission. When they no longer proved a threat, he entered the lodging through the wide-open door. The creatures had torn the thick wooden slab off its hinges, including the outer metal security gate. From what he could see, neither measures had slowed them down.

He was in time to save the woman’s life, snatching the creature on top of her and slamming it into the ceiling. Two others, hidden in the corners, converged, hissing, “Traitor!” as they did so.

The boy screamed “Mom” as he rushed over to her. The woman was just screaming incoherently.

Keo broke the spine of one ghoul, then decapitated the other. The one he’d thrown into the ceiling fell back down and jumped to its feet, just in time for Keo to punch his fist through its chest, then fling it through the window, destroying what was left of the protective iron bars that the creatures had displaced in order to climb through earlier in the night.

The cabin’s owners were well-prepared to brave ghoul attacks, covering their vulnerable windows and doors with defenses that were designed for the new world. Against a black-eyed ghoul they would have been effective. And these were Black Eyes…except they weren’t.

The same, but not the same.

His nostrils flared at the vivid presence of blood. It was everywhere, drowning every inch of the small cabin. Even with the crisp night air filling the place from every gaping orifice, he couldn’t avoid it. The hunger returned in a rush, reminding him that each day he went without blood he was getting weaker.

And still the hunger grew.

Always the hunger.

The father lay bleeding in a corner, half in and half out of the shadows. They’d taken his heart first then went for the jugular to drink. All Keo had to do was drink some of his life force to quench himself. But the woman and the boy would see.

So?

No. He couldn’t. Not now. Not here.

But the hunger. It was there, filling his senses.

So much hunger.

The ghouls outside had vanished into the woods. The ones that could still move under their own power, anyway. The ones that couldn’t, crawled. The two he’d crippled lay on the floor in a pool of their own black liquids. They gaped up at him, mouth opening and closing, dripping saliva from crooked caverns of fangs.

“Traitor,” they hissed simultaneously, inside his head and outward, their voice layered with hate and anger and betrayal. “It’s the traitor. He’s here.”

Keo stepped on the nearest one, the sole of his boot crushing its skull to the floorboard.

“Traitor,” it hissed, this time inside his head only. “You can’t stop us.”

No, but I can stop you.

He walked over to the other one. It tried to crawl away. Keo stomped on its skull, too, and pulverized it into the boards. Unlike the other one, this one didn’t send telepathic accusations into Keo’s head.

He turned to look at the boy and his mother. They were on their feet now and staring at the remains of the father. The woman’s face was covered in tears, but no wails of sorry came out of her. Maybe she was just too stunned to react properly.

The boy stood beside her, arms around her waist. He finally turned tears-streaked brown eyes to Keo. “It’s him, Mom. It’s him.”

The mother looked over at Keo, her face flushed with a thousand questions that refused to come out between quivering lips.

“It’s him,” the boy said again. “He’s the one that saved me this morning when I was looking for Banner. It’s him, Mom.”

The woman stumbled toward him. “Help us.”

“Why?” he wanted to ask. “Why would I help you?”

But he didn’t. Maybe because he was afraid of her answer.

Instead, Keo turned and walked to the door.

They followed.

Hesitantly, at first, then quicker.

The ghouls stopped crawling to turn and glare up at him. “Traitor,” they hissed, this time only inside his head.

“What about them?” the woman asked.

“Forget them,” he said.

“See?” the boy said. “His voice is weird. I told you his voice was weird.”

“Yes, Lew, you told me. You told me,” the mother said. Then, “My husband…”

“He’s dead,” Keo said.

“We should bury him. So…so they can’t get to him.”

“Your husband’s remains is the least of your problems right now. Focus on your boy.”

“Yes,” the woman said. “Yes, you’re right.”

He went, and they followed.

“Traitor,” the voice said inside his head. He wasn’t sure if it were the ghouls he’d left behind or if they came from somewhere else. Not that it mattered. “Traitor. You can’t stop us. You can’t stop what’s coming…”

* * *

“Where are we going?”

“Creighton.”

“What’s there?”

“People.”

“What kind of people?”

“The kind that won’t kill your dog and rape your son.”

It was probably a little too harsh, but Keo was getting tired of her questions. He was also getting tired of walking so damn slowly through the woods with mother and child behind him. He hadn’t realized just how tedious it was to move so damn slowly until he had to or risk leaving the two behind.

Unlike the woman, the boy didn’t have a torrent of questions. He hadn’t asked any, in fact, but continued to hold onto his mother’s hand as they traipsed through the darkness, only occasionally glancing behind them in the direction of their abandoned home. The kid had probably witnessed his father torn apart then fed on. Keo wouldn’t wish that kind of lasting memory on even his worst enemies.

After a long merciful five minutes or so of silence, the woman finally spoke again. “We heard shooting earlier. Dan—my husband—thought it might have come from Creighton.”

“They’re under attack.”

“If that’s true, then why are we going there?”

“It’s safer than out here on your own.”

“But what if they’re…you know, gone?”

“They’re not.”

“How do you know that?”

Because I can hear the hive mind. I can hear them talking. They never meant to attack Creighton full-on. They were only testing its defenses. The real attack will come tomorrow night.

But he said, “I just know.”

“How can you be so sure?”

He stopped and turned around. Maybe it was too fast—no, it probably was much too fast—because the woman jumped back a few feet. The boy did the same, large brown eyes widening at what Keo could only assume was annoyance frozen across his face. Or maybe it was anger. Whatever it was, it was enough to strike fear in both their hearts.

“You have two choices. Go to Creighton with me, or go your own way. Make your choice.”

He turned and continued walking without waiting for them to answer.

They followed after only a few seconds.

What options? They didn’t have any. The husband was dead and there were ghouls in the area. Not the same type of Black Eyes that could have been easily dealt with, either. Keo didn’t doubt for a moment that the woman and her man had had to fight their share of creatures—and won, because they were still out there on their own.

But the ones that had raided their home was different. The woman would know that too.

“I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“Doubting you.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“What’s your name?”

He didn’t answer.

“You have a name, don’t you?” she asked.

“No.”

“Everyone has a name. I’m Tabby. This is Lew, my son. You already met him earlier. You saved him from those men.”

Keo walked in silence, willing himself to go as slow as possible. Even so, he must have picked up his pace slightly because the mother and son had to scramble to catch up.

Slow down. Slow down.

Sloooooow down.

“Dan is—was my husband,” she continued. “We thought we could handle it. And we have, you know. For ten years now. It was just me and him. Then Lew came along. Still, we handled it. Until tonight.”

He wasn’t sure who she was talking to because he hadn’t asked a single question about their lives—past, present, or future. He didn’t care and didn’t want to care. As soon as he neared Creighton, he would leave them. In its current state, with the residents ready for war, it would be stupid for him to show himself.

…stupid for him to show himself…

The mother hadn’t seemed to care that he wasn’t fully human. Or didn’t she know? Was it the shadows? The darkness? Had he purposefully kept her from seeing his face full-on? He couldn’t remember if he had, but he must have. His clothes, boots, and everything else about him was a lie. He wasn’t a man anymore. At least, not completely.

“You’re different,” she finally said.

There it is.

“You’re one of them, aren’t you?” she said.

He continued to walk in silence.

“But you saved us. Just like you saved Lew. You’re one of them, but you’re not. How…how is this possible?”

“You ask too many questions.”

“I’ve never seen anyone like you before,” she continued as if he hadn’t said anything. “And I’ve seen more than my share of your ki—” She stopped herself.

He smiled, knowing what she was about to say. “I’ve seen more than my share of your kind.” He wanted to tell her he didn’t even know what his kind was, so what made her think she did?

She continued, this time more cautiously. “I’ve seen a lot of things. But never someone like you.”

“You’d be wise to keep that to yourself.”

“You were out there in the daylight,” she continued, again as if he hadn’t said a word. “How is that possible?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.”

“What’s that mean?”

“I’ll let you know when I figure that out, too.”

He might have chuckled. Or maybe the sound that came out between his lips was a mildly amused grunt. He couldn’t be entirely sure. Most of his concentration was on the surrounding woods. He tracked every scuffle, every moving limb, and every bristling hair, searching for signs of danger.

The stink of the boy and his mother’s sweat against their skin was obvious behind him. And the lingering taste of speckled blood on their clothes. They didn’t know about the latter because it was too dark, but they would see it in the morning’s daylight and remember what had happened. He didn’t want to be around when the full realization of their losses finally hit them.

His stomach churned at the smell of blood on them. The hunger called out, reminding him that it had been hours since he last fed on the deer. Hours, not days, or weeks, or months. The hunger returned faster with each feeding. But he had to deny it. He had to keep it at bay.

But how? How?

There were ghouls around, but they were staying away. They knew that he knew of their presence, but they also knew what he could do. For now, they were content to track him, following his movements from a safe distance. He counted more than twenty. Then, when they were almost at Creighton, thirty more.

And yet, they didn’t attack. He wondered why. This was the perfect time for an ambush, with Keo’s hands full of the mother and her son.

So why didn’t they?

“Brother.” The same voice as last time—one sound made by multitudes of lips. “We’re waiting for you.”

Keep waiting, asshole.

They laughed. “We hold no grudges. All is forgiven.”

Like I give a shit.

“Wounds heal. Bones mend. But trust must be earned.”

He wanted to laugh. Did they really think he desired to earn their trust? He didn’t give a damn. Not one bit.

“You’ll come home. Sooner or later, you’ll come home.”

He doubted it.

“This is where you belong. The Father would welcome you with open arms, and so will we.”

He continued walking in silence, the boy and mother struggling to keep up. He made a concerted effort to slow down even further, his senses heightened to his surroundings.

The creatures had begun to thin out around him, slowly but surely allowing him to extend more of a lead between them until, finally, it was just him and the boy and his mother walking…

Sunlight.

The warmth appeared in the horizon, like a welcoming embrace. Soon, it would sweep over the woods, casting its gentle glow across the trees and branches and longing blades of grass.

The ghouls fled like cockroaches against its encroachment.

He didn’t. Keo didn’t need to run. He was…different.

He stopped walking.

“What’s wrong?” the mother asked. Her heartbeat had increased noticeably. Fear. Fear of him. Fear of what he might do. To them. To her. To…the boy. She wrapped both protective arms around him.

He kept his back to her. She hadn’t really seen him last night. That was how it should be. But now, with morning on the horizon, his face would be clearer. “Creighton is ahead. Less than a mile.”

“I know where it is. Aren’t you coming, too?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I have other places to be.”

“It’s safer there. You said it yourself.”

Not for me.

He said, “They’ll take care of you and the boy. Ask for Mancini.”

“Is that a friend of yours?”

He almost smiled. “Perhaps.”

“Your face,” the mother said. There was great hesitation in her voice. “Can I see your face?”

So she really hadn’t seen him clearly last night, just as he had thought. He wasn’t too surprised. She was on the verge of being killed, with a ghoul hovering over her. Everything in the cabin must have been a horrific blur. The human mind, in a state of crisis, could conjure up the most ludicrous answers to explain away the unexplainable.

“No,” he said, and ran off.

“Wait!” the mother shouted. “Where are you going?”

He would have felt guilty about abandoning them if not for the sun pressing against his face. They would be fine. At least, from the creatures of the night. As for the other creatures that may be stalking the woods in the daylight, that wasn’t his problem.

“Hey, mister!” It was the boy this time.

Keo didn’t stop.

“Thanks, mister! Thanks for everything!”

He didn’t slow down until he was sure he was beyond their line of sight, and only then did he leap up and onto the nearest branch and flung himself to another tree 20 meters away. Then another, and another.

Wonsungi, his mother used to call him. Monkey.

He wondered what she would call him now if she could see him in action. Somehow, he doubted if wonsungi would have been one of them.

14

The Tanners were dead. So were the Garcias next door. At least that was the going assumption. Mancini wanted to tell the Creighton people that dead was the best they could hope for, because in this world there was something worse than death.

But he kept his mouth shut and stood outside the front yard of the Garcias waiting for Katie and her people to finish combing through the main house. They’d already done the same to the Tanner residence and found only blood and violence. At the moment, the missing numbered eleven, including children.

It was less than they’d been dreading, but in many ways it was expected. After all, last night wasn’t the real attack. It was reconnaissance. Simple as that. The ghouls wanted to know what they were capable of. They’d been watching Creighton from a distance, but last night was the up close and personal probe.

Ghouls but not ghouls.

He was dealing with something new here, something that was much more dangerous than all the other creatures he’d faced before. That, more than anything, made Mancini shiver slightly even as he stood underneath the warm morning sun. It had been a while since he felt this sensation that it actually took him awhile to recognize it.

So this is what fear feels like.

He blinked up at the sun, the warmth pushing away the remnants of last night’s cold. The sun had always been his ally—the ultimate weapon at his back, but he’d never really appreciated it as much as he did now.

Ghouls but not ghouls.

Jesus. What’s this world coming to?

He glanced over as Katie came out of the Garcia house with her people. They were just as empty-handed now as they’d been when they went inside. The look on her face told him everything she’d found in there. More specifically, not found.

Katie shook her head at his questioning glance.

“That good, huh?” he asked.

“Yeah. That good.”

She stood next to him and the two of them glanced around at the large swath of land that had belonged to Manuel Garcia and his family for more than five years now. They’d built a good life for themselves, raising cattle to feed the town. Manuel, Katie had told him, was an old cowboy from Texas who had found himself up here.

That story wasn’t anything new. Mancini had met plenty of people from all corners of the country that had ended up somewhere they hadn’t anticipated, only to discover that they, somehow, fit in anyway. Maybe he could even include himself into that group. Wasn’t he in the same situation right now?

Maybe.

“They’ll be back tonight,” he said.

“I know.”

“They’re not going to stop with two houses next time.”

“I know.”

Half the people that had been standing guard on rooftops had remained in place, waiting to be relieved by a new shift. Katie had ordered others to help with other tasks, including preparations for tonight. Instead of two people on the water tower there was now five—four to keep an eye on every direction while a fifth was tasked with working the searchlight. Mancini just hoped that made the apparatus more effective, but he didn’t think that likely.

The rest of Creighton was scattered around them, farmers and ranchers doing what they always did despite the situation. Cattle needed to be brought out of stables where they had been housed last night for safe-keeping and fed. The same for chickens, ducks, and other livestock. Those that didn’t have daily tasks to attend to were busy elsewhere. The city buzzed with activity, the air thick with anticipation and nervous energy.

“Where do you think it went?” Katie asked after a while.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

“The Not-Ghoul.”

“Uh huh.”

Mancini turned toward the nearest tree line, a good two hundred or so meters away with nothing but open field between them. For some reason, he expected to find the Not-Ghoul there looking back at him.

“I really don’t know,” Mancini said. “But I think he’s around.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

“Why does it care what happens to us?” She squinted at him for a moment as if trying to see straight into his soul. “It’s a ghoul, Mancini. You have to remember that.”

“You don’t think I know that?”

“I’m not so sure. Sometimes you talk about it like you think it’s something else.”

“It is something else. I just don’t know what that is yet.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Do you know how many ghouls I’ve killed since all of this began?”

“I won’t even hazard a guess.”

“A lot. I’ve killed a lot, Katie. I’ve looked them in the eyes while I sliced them open or lopped off their heads. Blue Eyes, Black Eyes…every other shade of color in between.”

“How many shades of colors are there?”

He made a face. “It was a figure of speech.”

She smiled. “Continue.”

“The point is, I’ve looked them in the eyes. I’ve looked hundreds—maybe thousands—of them in the eyes. And when that Not-Ghoul took me to the cave and questioned me, I didn’t see it. I didn’t see it at all.”

“What didn’t you see?”

“The monster inside. It looked and spoke and it did things only the monsters could do, but I couldn’t find the monster inside it.”

Katie stared at him for a moment before looking away. He wondered what she was thinking at the moment. Did she think he was crazy? Delusional? Confused?

Oh, who was he kidding. She was probably thinking he was all three. And he wouldn’t blame her one bit. Everything he’d said to her sounded crazy and delusional and confused even to his own ears.

“He’s…different,” Mancini continued, struggling for the right words, wanting her to believe him. “I don’t know what that means exactly so don’t ask me for specifics, because I don’t have it for you. I just don’t.”

Katie turned to look at him. “The way you talk about this thing, about these creatures... I’ve come across more than a few slayers over the years, but I’ve never encountered someone who talks about them the way you do.”

“How do I talk about them?”

“Like you know them. I mean, intimately. Like you can see into their very being. That’s…new.”

“Imagine how it is for me,” he said. Mancini tried to laugh it off, but all that came out was a minor snort.

“Does it scare you?”

“Yes. Often.”

“Who else knows about this? About what you can do?”

“Three people, counting you.”

“Who’s the other two?”

“Me and him.”

“‘Him?’” Then, realizing, “The creature. The Not-Ghoul.”

Mancini nodded.

“You trust it, don’t you?” she asked.

Now it was his turn to look over at her, unable to hide the surprise on his face. “What?”

“The creature. You trust it.”

“I don’t…”

“Yes, you do.” She grinned. “You really do. You trust a ghoul.”

He sighed and shook his head. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

She continued to grin, as if amused with him. “I think this is what they call irony.”

He continued to shake his head, sifting through his vocabulary for the right words to deny her accusation, when the radio clipped to her hip squawked.

A familiar voice, Tolliver—one of the men on the water tower—spoke through the two-way. “Katie. Got two figures coming down the road.”

“Saved by the bell,” Katie said to Mancini before turning to look toward the long blacktop road that ran through Creighton.

He did, too, and could just make out two figures walking steadily down the long road even as a trio of cowboys that had been watching over a herd of cattle rode over to intercept.

“Friendlies?” Katie said into her radio.

“Don’t know, too far still,” Tolliver said. “A woman and a boy. Probably mother and son.”

Mancini and Katie walked in that direction but wouldn’t reach the newcomers before the riders did. One of the newcomers was definitely smaller than the other.

“Besides Teller’s Pass, how many other neighbors do you have?” he asked.

“I couldn’t begin to tell you. A lot of them are scattered around the woods and not all of them want to be friends. Most are just single-home families that want to be left alone. We tend to steer clear of them and vice versa. You don’t want to push people who’d rather be by themselves in this kind of world. Teller’s Pass was one of the few towns that actively traded with us.”

The riders had already reached the two forms and halted them. A conversation briefly took place before Katie’s radio squawked again, and an unfamiliar male voice—one of the cowboys, Mancini guessed—spoke through it.

“Katie. It’s George.”

She answered. “Go for Katie.”

“We got a mother and her son. She said someone told them to come here.”

Katie exchanged a curious glance with Mancini before responding. “Who?”

“She doesn’t know his name,” George said. “He saved her life last night from a ghoul attack. Husband’s dead. What should I do with them?”

“Take them to the town hall.”

“Roger that.”

As the cowboys turned their mounts and led the two newcomers toward town, Katie keyed her radio. “Marilyn. Come in.”

A woman answered. “Marilyn here.”

“Did you hear that?”

“I did. We’ll make two extra plates.”

“I’ll join you shortly.” Katie put the radio away and looked over at Mancini. “Last night.”

He nodded. “They were busy.”

“Makes me wonder what else they were doing out there besides reconning us.”

“Yeah, makes you wonder…”

* * *

The woman called herself Tabby and her son was Lewis. The boy’s father was Dan, who was dead and, according to Tabby, still lying on the floor of their cabin in the woods.

No, he’s not, Mancini thought to himself. Ghouls didn’t leave dead bodies lying around because even the dead could offer them enough blood to last for some time.

But he kept that to himself. The woman wasn’t in any state to hear it, even if he did think she already knew, perhaps subconsciously. But consciously, she was ignoring those cold hard facts of the world they lived in in order to keep herself and her boy afloat.

Not that the kid seemed to need it. If he knew his father was dead and that his life was irrevocably changed from today onward, it didn’t show on Lewis’s face. The boy sat with some of the town’s kids at their table—the “kiddie” table—in the cafeteria where the cowboys had brought them. They had separated mother and son so Katie could talk to the woman without the boy having to relive what had happened.

Tabby hardly touched the food that Marilyn, the woman that ran the cafeteria, served to her on the same metallic tray everyone else used. She poked at her vegetables with a spork but had barely made a dent in the servings.

“They came out of nowhere,” she said, staring at her carrots as she talked, as if unable to comprehend what they were. “Killed Dan. Ripped his throat out. They were…different.” She looked up at Mancini and Katie, sitting across the long table from her. “They didn’t act like ghouls. They were…smart. I mean, they weren’t Einstein or anything, you know? But they weren’t stupid. You could tell they weren’t mindless.”

“Their eyes,” Katie asked. “What color were their eyes?”

“Black. Black as the night.” She shivered inside the jacket they’d given her. It was zipped all the way up to the neck. “I didn’t know they could do that. The Black Eyes. I didn’t know they could think.”

Me, neither, until yesterday, Mancini thought.

He said out loud, “This man that saved you and Lewis. Did he say who he was?”

Tabby shook her head. “No. I asked, but he never said his name.”

“What did he say to you?” Katie asked.

“To come here. He said we’d be safe.” She looked from Mancini to Katie as if asking them, Was he right? Then, before either one of them could answer, “I don’t think he’s right. I don’t think anyone is safe from those things. Not even here.”

You’re probably right.

“How many were there?” Katie asked. “The ones that attacked you and Lewis?”

“I think ten or so.”

“What else can you tell us?”

Tabby looked up from her food and at them again. “He was strong. The man that saved us. It didn’t really occur to me then but the more I think about it…” She paused briefly before continuing. “He was strong. Very strong.”

That’s definitely him, Mancini thought even though he already knew who the “man” was that had told Tabby to bring her son to Creighton. Who else could it be? Who else would be running around out there in the middle of the night fighting ghouls?

And yet, the question Katie had asked him still could not be answered: Why was he doing any of this?

“Did you see his face?” Katie was asking Tabby.

Lewis’s mother shook her head. “It was too dark in the cabin. Later, when we were coming here, I couldn’t get a good look. I don’t think he wanted me to see what he looked like. Why? Does it matter what he looked like?”

“No. I was just curious.”

“His voice…”

“What about it?”

“It didn’t sound…right.” She looked past them and at her son across the room. “Lewis noticed it, too.” Then, as if remembering, “He saved Lewis. Earlier in the day. The boy was looking for his dog out in the woods and he saved him.”

“What happened?”

“There were some men…” She shook her head. “It doesn’t matter. They’re dead.”

“All of them?”

“Yes.”

“How many were there?”

“Three.”

“Where are they now?”

“In the woods.”

Katie glanced over at Mancini. “I’ll send some men to go look for them.”

“I wouldn’t bother,” Mancini said. “They died yesterday morning.” He turned to Tabby for confirmation.

Tabby nodded.

“And?” Katie said.

“And you really think they’ll still be out there?” Mancini asked her.

Katie understood. “Right.” Then, standing up, she said to Tabby, “Try to eat as much as you can. There’ll be a room for you and Lewis across the street in the boarding house when you’re both done.”

“What happens now?” Tabby asked.

“You let us worry about that. For now, just take care of your son.”

Tabby nodded solemnly and went back to poking at her food.

Katie and Mancini walked through the cafeteria, passing tables full of diners. There was very little chatter, and those that did speak kept their voices low. It was almost as if they were afraid someone might overhear.

Someone, or something.

He followed Katie out of the cafeteria and onto the sidewalk.

“It’s your friend, all right,” Katie said.

Mancini breathed in the cool morning air. After last night’s events, everything seemed crisper and cleaner. “Who did you think it was?”

She shrugged. “I had to be sure.”

“Are you sure now?”

“Yes.” She stopped and turned to look at him. “We could use his help.”

“The Not-Ghoul?”

“Yes. He clearly wants to help. He may not be one-hundred-percent one of us, but he’s definitely not one of them.”

“The enemy of my enemy is my friend?”

She smiled. “Exactly.” Then, “The question is, how do we find him and make sure he’s here when we need him tonight?”

“I’ll find him.”

“How?”

“Leave that to me.”

She nodded. “You can take whatever you need. Men, guns, supplies…”

“No.”

“No?”

“It’s better if I do this alone.”

Katie gave him a slightly confused look. “Why? Why do you need to do this alone?”

He started walking away. “It’s a delicate situation. It’ll be better if I’m the only human he has to worry about.” Mancini turned but continued to walk backwards. “By the way, you realized what you just did?”

“What did I just do?”

“You called him he. The Not-Ghoul. You didn’t say it, but he.”

Katie’s eyes widened in surprise. Apparently she hadn’t realized she’d said those words, which made Mancini even more amused.

Before she should respond, he turned and jogged off. “I’ll be back before nightfall! Don’t wait up!”

15

He followed their trail of death, the fragrance of still-fresh blood they had drawn last night lingering in the air. And every second of it reminded him that the thirst was still there, gnawing away. If anything, it had gained strength, calling out to be satiated.

But he couldn’t give in.

He couldn’t give in…

…could taste it, even if he never touched the smears of blood left behind on the branches and stalks of grass and gnarled barks of trees. There were a lot here, a little there. Not that he needed very much to track them. Even a tiny drop would have been enough.

The loitering taste of it, running down the length of his tongue…

Fight it. Fight it!

He continued onward, frightening away woodland creatures that had come out of hiding after the pack went through them just hours ago. The creatures were on the move, fleeing the sunlight. He didn’t have that problem.

Why? How?

Questions better left answered by those who would come later. Maybe one day they would put him in a lab somewhere, tie him down to a gurney, and cut him open to see what made him tick. He was a curiosity, a step in the evolutionary ladder, somewhere between man and ghoul.

And yet, neither one.

…neither one…

There, up ahead. The air was smothered with their gathered stench.

The pack.

More than a hundred in all, at least a dozen of them freshly turned. They wasn’t an ordinary Black Eyes among them. He knew that from the way blood flowed freely along their veins, from the constant moving, the preparing for an attack just in case. Tactical thinking, unlike a normal Black Eyes.

Normal? What was normal anymore these days?

He perched on a branch, high up enough that he could see into the open mouth of the cave carved into the hillside. A leftover from hundreds of years in the past, like a gaping orifice of time. It was lined with moss and interrupted by overgrown branches that stretched around it in an attempt to reach freedom.

He didn’t need to see the prints on the slightly wet ground to know they’d gone inside. The entire pack. They’d come from Creighton and raids throughout the woods, bringing with them the spoils of their marauding. The freshly turned, more foot soldiers for the growing army. When night fell, they would return to Creighton to finish the job.

Would the townspeople stand a chance? Even with Mancini and his slayers assisting? Maybe, against an ordinary ghoul enemy.

But these weren’t ordinary ghouls.

It occurred to him that he might have sent the boy Lewis and his mother to die in Creighton. He’d thought they would be safe, but now he wasn’t so sure. Maybe he should have told them to keep running instead.

Not my problem. None of them are.

So why was he still here? Why hadn’t he continued on to the other side of the country like he’d originally planned? To someplace where he could isolate himself and try to figure out what he was, what he was becoming, and what he might yet turn into.

Why am I still here?

Another question without an answer. There was a lot of that going around these days.

He wanted nothing more than to open his mind to the creatures within the cave, to connect to the hive, and eavesdrop. But that would have alerted them to his presence. Right now they didn’t know he was here, whereas he knew exactly where they were. Unlike them, the sun was not an enemy and Keo had all the time in the world.

To do what, though?

He didn’t know. Creighton would of course like to know where the pack was, but what could they do with the information? Launch a pre-emptive attack? They would have already surmised that the creatures would assault them tonight and be prepared for what was to come. What was that old saying about a good offense being the best defense?

Scratching. Small teeth biting into hard shell.

He glanced slightly to his right and came face to face with a squirrel. The small mammal, brown fur with patches of orange bristling in the chilly morning air, eyeballed him back even as tiny teeth nibbled at the acorn clutched tightly in both hands.

Keo watched it eating, gorging itself on the meal. It was the first animal that had ever come close enough for him to reach out and pet it. Not that he did so. He’d never petted a squirrel in his life, and nothing about what he had become would change that.

But it was a curious thing, seemingly indifferent to his presence.

More scratching, this time from below him. A scurry of squirrels raced across a thin branch, causing it to wobble as they skirted past, each one bearing prized nuts. The one near Keo paused to look after them as if to consider following.

It went back to work on the acorn instead.

He chuckled at it. “Well, Mr. Squirrel. You are one curious little bugger, aren’t you?” He pointed at the mouth of the cave, and he swore the damn thing actually stopped eating long enough to turn its head to follow his finger. “You see that? Stay away from there. Got it?”

Keo jumped higher, letting the warm morning air flash across his face. He wasn’t entirely certain if what he was feeling was actually warmth or a figment of his imagination. A remnant, perhaps, of the man he used to be.

And long to be again, one day.

* * *

“Out for a walk?”

“Jesus Christ! Don’t do that!”

“Do what?”

“Come out of nowhere like that!”

“I wasn’t.” Keo couldn’t help but smile to himself. Mancini’s heartbeat had jumped to three times its normal rhythm, even as his hand went for his sidearm. “What are you doing here?”

Mancini relaxed his hand and took it away from his gun. “Looking for you. Though now I’m starting to regret that.”

“Why?”

He’d heard and smelled Mancini’s presence in the woods well before the slayer spotted him perched on a tree. For a moment, Keo wondered if Mancini had come to kill him, to finish what he’d started yesterday, but there was nothing bloodthirsty about the man’s aura. He was too calm and his heartbeat normal. There wasn’t the prolonged surge of adrenaline that had been flowing through the man’s veins when they’d first met.

But you could never be too sure, so Keo had waited for him instead of meeting him halfway. He never once forgot who he was—what he was—and what that meant exactly to a man like Mancini.

The slayer stood at the bottom of the tree, looking up at him. “How’d you get up there, anyway?”

“I climbed.”

“I thought you could jump.”

“I can.”

“So did you climb instead of jump?”

“Maybe a little of both.”

“Is that a joke?”

“No.”

Mancini grunted. “You’re what, thirty feet up?”

“Give or take. Why are you looking for me?”

“Can you come down here so we can talk? I feel like a kid looking up at his dad and waiting to get a belt across his ass.”

“I like the view up here. It’s…cleansing.” Then, “Why are you looking for me?”

“You were right. About the pack. They were at Creighton last night.”

“And?”

“It wasn’t an all-out attack. They were probing us. Recon.”

Keo nodded. He’d concluded the same thing. He turned in the direction of the cave. “They’re waiting for nightfall.”

Mancini followed his gaze, but of course he couldn’t see anything beyond the foliage. Keo couldn’t either, actually, but he could smell them just fine. It was even easier up here.

“How many?” the slayer asked.

“A lot.”

“How many is ‘a lot?’”

“More than they had last night.” Keo stood up and dropped off the branch. He landed with almost full extension in front of Mancini, then turned and walked off. “How many did they take?”

Mancini followed on his heels. “Two families. Eleven people in all.”

“Eleven. That’s it?”

“Yeah. Why? You thought it was more?”

“There are other people in the woods. While the main contingent was at Creighton, smaller parties were raiding homesteads. They picked up more than eleven last night.”

“People like Tabby and Lewis. The ones you sent to Creighton.”

“Yes.”

“Her husband…?”

“They took his body.”

“That’s what I thought.”

They walked in silence for a moment, with Keo doing his best to keep a slow pace. Like last night, when he’d been leading Tabby and her son, the speed with which he used to move was maddening.

“Where we going?” Mancini finally asked.

Keo thought that was an interesting question. The slayer had followed him without a word and only now decided to ask. “There’s a cave up ahead. They’re inside.”

“The pack?”

“Yes.”

“You found them.” It wasn’t a question.

“It wasn’t very hard.”

“You knew I was looking for you.”

“No. I knew you were in the woods, but not what you were doing here.”

“By the way. You got a name?”

A name?

Keo hadn’t thought about it. He already had a name, but he couldn’t tell Mancini or anyone else that. Keo had a history that went as far back as the beginnings of The Purge, during it, and beyond. Keo was attached to many events, and rumored to be a part of even more.

And most of all, Keo was irrevocably linked to Lara.

He said, “Yes.”

“You gonna tell me what it is?”

“Calvin.”

“Calvin,” Mancini said, as if trying to see how the name sounded coming off his tongue. “Is that your real name?”

“A name’s a name.”

“I guess so. It’s just that you don’t look like a Calvin.”

“What do I look like?”

“I don’t know. You’re more of a Dwight.”

Keo scoffed. “Was that a joke?”

“Maybe.”

“I didn’t know slayers had a sense of humor.”

“And I didn’t know ghouls could be…whatever it is you are, either. So I guess we’re both learning something new today.”

“I suppose so,” Keo said.

* * *

Mancini was squinting. “I can barely see anything. Can we go closer?”

“Any closer and they’ll smell you.”

“So? It’s not like they can do anything about it.”

“You’d lose your element of surprise.”

The slayer glanced over at him. They were crouched at a far enough distance from the mouth of the cave that Keo was sure the pack inside couldn’t detect Mancini’s presence. Far enough to camouflage the man’s scent against the natural surroundings of the woods and just close enough to see…enough.

“What element of surprise?” Mancini asked.

“You need to thin their ranks before nightfall. If they arrive in Creighton at full force, the city will never survive.”

“So why don’t you do it? Go in there and do some thinning.”

“The cave is too narrow. There is no room to maneuver. Eventually, they would overwhelm me with sheer numbers.” He shook his head. “No. You’ll have to find a way to make the upcoming fight more even.”

“Figures.” He turned to look back at the cave. Or squinted in that direction. “You got any ideas how I might do that?”

“Creighton has the resources.”

“Like what?”

“Explosive ordnance.”

“How do you know that?”

“I can smell them from miles away. They have enough to take down the entire mountain. My suggestion would be to use them on the cave. Take out as many as you can.”

“That sounds…highly dangerous.”

“It’s either that or watch every man, woman, and child in Creighton die tonight.” He paused. Then, “Or worse.”

“Since you put it that way…”

They remained crouched, staring at the naturally gaping cave opening.

Finally, the slayer said, “How did you know? About what happened to me?”

“Your blood. I can hear it.”

Again, Mancini turned to look at him. There wasn’t fear or paranoia on his face, just curiosity. “Come again?”

“I can hear your blood calling. The Father’s blood.”

“You said that before. The Father. Who is the ‘father?’”

“The one that came before. The one that started all of this. Mabry.”

“Jesus Christ,” Mancini said in a low, almost throaty whisper. “This Father of theirs has a name?”

“Yes.” This time Keo turned to look at the slayer. “You didn’t know?”

Mancini shook his head. “How would I know? I heard stories about what happened, how Black Tide took down the nest in Houston, but that’s all. I’ve never met anyone who was actually there.”

You have now.

He gazed back toward the cave. “They called him the Father because he gave birth to them. His blood flows in your veins whether you know it or not.”

Mancini went quiet.

“You already know that,” Keo said. “You just don’t want to admit it.”

The slayer didn’t say anything for a while.

Five seconds of silence turned into ten, then twenty, then a full minute.

Then, after what seemed like an eternity, Mancini said, “It’s the reason I can sense ghoul presence. It’s like some kind of sixth sense. It doesn’t take long, either. I can show up in a place I’ve never been to and know right away that a ghoul was there. Or in some cases, had been there. The others don’t know I can do that.”

“You’ve never told anyone.”

“Not the how of it, no. Especially the other slayers.” He chuckled softly. “How do you tell people whose job it is to hunt ghouls that you have ghoul blood running through you?”

That sounds familiar.

Mancini turned to look at him again. “But you know all about that dilemma, don’t you?”

Keo didn’t answer him. Instead, he got up, turned, and began walking away. “You’re losing daylight. Better get to work.”

16

“M32 MGL,” Keen said. “The MGL part stands for Multi-shot Grenade Launcher, FYI. First versions were fielded by Uncle Sam’s boys in the ‘80s. They didn’t replace it for a long time but finally got a bunch of newfangled ones during that fun-and-games in the sand dunes. The best part? You can launch all six shots in less than three seconds if you weren’t a pussy.”

“‘Fun-and-games in the sand dunes?’” Katie said, looking over at Mancini.

Mancini chuckled, mostly because he thought she’d be questioning the “if you weren’t a pussy” part. “The war in Iraq, I’m assuming.”

“That’s the one,” Keen said. “This is one of the older models, though.”

Mancini picked up the launcher and turned it over in his fingerless-gloved hands. The weapon was in surprisingly good shape despite its age. There were six chambers, each designed to hold a bulbous 40mm grenade round that was almost as big as his hand and heavy enough he could probably bludgeon someone to death with it.

Keen played toss-and-catch with one of those shells now. “Haven’t seen one of these in a long time.”

“You were in the Army?” Katie asked him.

“Yup. Was supposed to go to the Shit but never got around to it.”

“What happened?”

“Never got the chance. War was over before I got out of Basic.”

“There was Afghanistan after Iraq, wasn’t there?”

“I was already in civvies by then. They didn’t need us grunts anyway, not with those Special Forces boys all over the place. Plenty of those to go around back in the day.”

“Not so much anymore,” Mancini said. He looked to Katie. “Wasn’t Black Tide founded by one of those spec ops guys?”

She shrugged. “Depends on who you ask, and which version of Black Tide you’re talking about.”

“There’s more than one?”

“The history of Black Tide is…complicated.”

He smiled. She returned it.

“Tell me when I get back,” Mancini said.

“I’m missing something here?” Keen asked.

“No.”

“Feels like I am.”

“That’s just your old age talking.”

“Hey, you’re older than me, pal!”

They were inside Creighton’s armory—a big basement underneath a large building in the center of town used mostly for meetings. The weapons were stored down here for safe-keeping. There were enough guns, knives, and explosives to arm a few small countries. There were also boxes of silver on one side in case more weapons needed to be created to deal with ghoul threats. According to Katie, that hadn’t been the case in a while.

“Ghouls aren’t as much a threat as they used to be,” she said. “But you already know that.”

“They’re never a threat until they become one,” Mancini said.

He had seen the theory play out in person in a lot of places. While the creatures weren’t the danger they used to represent, there were still enough of them out there to cause problems. Not everyone was like Katie or the town of Creighton and had the wherewithal and resources to deal with them. More often than not, Mancini and his slayers ran across groups of people who thought, foolishly, that there were no hidden dangers in the darkness anymore. They usually found that not to be true the hard way.

Of all the weapons shelved in the armory, only the M32 was of much interest to Mancini. It was a launcher and didn’t need them to actually go into the cave to find the pack. A few rounds lobbed into the place would take out plenty of them. That was the plan, anyway. The truth was, Mancini would have to get closer to the target to know for sure. If the cave had an extensive reach, grenades fired from the opening wouldn’t do much except collapse it. And while that would sidetrack the ghouls for a while, it wouldn’t do anything to dent their numbers.

He tossed the M32 over to Keen now. The other slayer caught it with one hand, by the barrel. Mancini turned and grabbed another one off the shelf then picked up enough heavy shells to fill out the pouch he’d added to his web belt. Keen did the same.

“We’ll take two with us, just in case,” Mancini said to Katie.

She smirked. “Sure. That’ll be a grand each. What else can I get you boys?”

“I don’t have a grand, but I can offer you a handful of dead ghouls.”

“Deal.”

They went back up the basement steps, Mancini and Keen carrying an M32 each. Two guards outside gave them a nod as they came out, then walked through the mostly empty building.

“How many did he say there were?” Katie asked.

“He didn’t have an exact number,” Mancini said. “But there’s more of them there now than there was last night.”

“Tabby’s husband?”

“I’m not sure about him. From what she said, he might have just been used as food.”

“Ouch,” Keen said from somewhere behind them.

“Better food than alive,” Mancini said.

“Can’t disagree with that.”

“How did he know we had these things in the first place?” Katie asked Mancini.

“He said he could smell them.”

“‘Smell them?’ All the way down there?”

“Yeah.”

“Who are we talking about here?” Keen asked.

“We’re talking about Calvin,” Mancini said.

“Who the hell is Calvin?”

Mancini exchanged a look with Katie. He wasn’t sure how to answer that one. When he’d broached the topic of telling the others about Calvin earlier, she’d immediately shot him down.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“They won’t understand.”

“You did.”

“They’re not me.”

Katie, like him, had seen her share of ghouls. She’d fought and survived and nearly died at their hands multiple times during her stint with Black Tide. And like most people that had come face to face and lived to tell the tale, she’d developed an almost hyper awareness for the threats that ghouls represented. Ironically, it was also that same instinct borne out of experience that had allowed her to see Calvin as not a threat but an asset. Eventually, anyway. Of all the people in Creighton, perhaps only Keen could possibly share that understanding as him and Katie.

But Mancini still hadn’t told the other slayer about Calvin. He hadn’t told anyone but Katie, and that was only because she already knew. It was a tricky subject, made even trickier because of his and Keen’s chosen profession. Mancini had to keep reminding himself that he couldn’t even find the words to explain to his fellow slayers about his own situation, never mind about Calvin’s.

“He’s an asset,” Katie was saying to Keen now. “Spends most of his time in the woods. He’s been tracking the coming and going of the pack for us.”

“Brave man,” Keen said. “Or stupid.”

“He’s something, all right.”

“I met him yet?”

“I don’t think so.”

Mancini shook his head. “Not yet.”

“I’d like to meet him,” Keen said. “A man like that, willing to do that, is worth a handshake.”

“I’ll let you know when we run across him,” Mancini said even as he exchanged another side glance with Katie.

“You should take Cleveland and Talbert with you,” Katie said. “They know those woods better than most people.”

He nodded. “Four of us should be enough.”

“The more the merrier,” Keen said.

They stepped outside, where Mancini looked around at the rooftop guards. It was still bright enough out, with nightfall hours away, but Katie was already putting more men on more rooftops.

“Grab our horses,” Mancini said to Keen.

The other slayer jogged off. The M32, hanging by a strap, thumped against his back. It probably hurt a little because Keen soon swung the weapon around to let it hang in the front where it was less bouncy.

Katie looked after Keen for a moment, before turning to Mancini. “How long before I see you again?”

He grinned at her. “You worried about me?”

She might have rolled her eyes. “I need to make plans for tonight.”

“I thought you already did.”

“Not even close. Still a lot left to do.”

“Hopefully I can buy you more time. Two or three nights is a lot better than one to prepare for what’s coming.” He took out one of the shells from the pouch and watched the sunlight glint off its golden tip. “Any chance of disassembling these things and putting silver in them?”

She smiled but shook her head. “Be my guest.”

“We can give it a shot when we come back.” He squinted up at the sun above them. “No time for that now. It’ll take an hour just to get there on horseback, then another hour back. Maybe one hour to do the work. Three in total.”

“That’ll leave you with two hours before nightfall.”

He nodded. “Plenty of time.”

“Sure, so long as you don’t run into trouble on the way there or back.”

“Don’t jinx it.”

“Who’s jinxing anything? Shit happens all the time. Especially in those woods. You never know what you’ll run into in there at any given time.”

He smiled at that. “No kidding.”

“Nope.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were worried about me.”

She flashed an irritated smirk, but it was much too dramatic to be convincing. “In your dreams. I just need as many hands on deck as I can get for tonight.”

“Yeah. That’s probably it.” He looked over as Keen returned, riding his own horse while leading another along. “Time to go. What about your hunters?”

Katie unclipped her radio and keyed it. “Cleveland. Talbert. Come in.”

Cleveland, the talkative of the two, answered quickly. “Go for Cleveland.”

“Where are you at the moment?”

“About a mile from town. What’s up?”

“I need you to return and link up with Mancini. He’ll fill you in on the rest.”

“Roger that. Heading home now.”

Katie put the radio away. “I guess this is where I wish you good luck.”

“We don’t need luck, we got silver,” Keen said as he arrived on his mount. Then, to Mancini, “What about this Calvin character. He coming along, too?”

“I don’t know,” Mancini said. “I guess we’ll find out when we get there.”

“Calvin’s a shy boy or something?”

He’s something, all right, Mancini thought.

He said, “Something like that.”

* * *

“You still think he’s on our side?” Katie had asked before he left with Keen to join the two hunters waiting for them inside the woods.

“Are we talking about Calvin again?”

“Who else?”

He nodded. “I do. He doesn’t have to do any of these things, but he is.”

“Unless he has an ulterior motive.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. These things…the blue-eyed ones, they have a tendency to be unpredictable. Their capacity for sadism is legendary.”

“‘Capacity for sadism?’” he asked with a smile.

“I’d think you would know all about that, being a slayer and all.”

“I never said I didn’t. It was just how you phrased it. ‘Capacity for sadism.’ I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone use those words to describe them.”

“Am I wrong?”

“No. You’re not wrong.”

“Which brings us back to Calvin…”

“He’s not a Blue Eyes.”

“No, but from everything you’ve told me, and I’ve seen myself, he acts just like them.”

“Not quite like them.”

“Unless he’s playing some kind of game.”

“Are you saying you think he is?”

“That’s the problem. I don’t know. And neither do you, if we’re being honest.”

He couldn’t disagree with that completely. He really didn’t know Calvin from Adam. The man (Jesus Christ. I’m thinking of him as a man now? What’s wrong with me?) had come out of nowhere and Mancini didn’t have a clue where he’d been or where he was going. He was dealing with a complete mystery here, a potential Pandora’s box.

“By the way,” Katie said, “does he look Chinese to you?”

“Calvin?”

“Who else?”

“I don’t know. It never occurred to me.”

“He looks Chinese. Definitely Asian.”

“Maybe he used to be. Why? Does that change anything?”

“No.” Then, checking to make sure no one was watching them as they stood on the sidewalk, including Keen, who was waiting on his mount about twenty yards up the road, she leaned in and kissed him quickly on the cheek. “I’ll wait for you to come back before nightfall.”

Then she hurried away before he could say a word.

* * *

It took him longer to return to the cave than he’d expected. Ninety minutes instead of the hour he’d told Katie. He wasn’t too worried, though, because an extra thirty minutes only meant they now had ninety minutes to make it back to Creighton before nightfall. Of course, that was assuming they didn’t get lost along the way. Or, as Katie said, some “shit” didn’t happen on the way back.

They rode on horseback, with Mancini and Keen leading the way. The two hunters trailed slightly behind, the two young men clearly keeping an eye on their surroundings as well as remembering the trail they were taking. That was a good thing because it ensured they didn’t get lost on their way back. Mancini wasn’t as young as he used to be and could use all the help he could get. Getting (slightly) lost on the way here was good evidence of that.

Unlike last time when he stayed far enough away from the cave to keep the creatures inside from smelling him, Mancini had no such worries on the second approach. They rode all the way to the front entrance and climbed down. Talbert, the less chatty of the two hunters, tied up their mounts nearby while Mancini and Keen prepped the M32s for action.

Cleveland, like Talbert, was still decked out in his camo. He stood near the cave, hands on his hips, peering into the opening. The cave must have stretched far into the hillside because they couldn’t see a damn thing. There was nothing that looked like movement but plenty of tracks led from the woods into the darkness.

Definitely the right place.

“Don’t see shit,” Cleveland said. He took out a flashlight and clicked it on, then trained the beam into the cave. Gnarly walls and muddy floors, along with slightly wet ceiling, greeted him.

But no ghouls.

“It goes deep,” the hunter said. “Hill this size, this old, probably real deep.”

“No biggie,” Keen said as he loaded his launcher with 40mm rounds. “These babies have an effective range of over three hundred meters. More like three-fifty, if memory serves. High-explosive rounds have a five-meter kill zone; add another ten for potential casualties. In a cave like that? Enclosed? They’re gonna be looking for limbs for months to come.”

“But not kill them,” Cleveland said. “We don’t got silver in those 406s.”

“No, but it’ll slow them down,” Mancini said. “And that’s the name of the game right now.”

He walked over to join Cleveland. The M32 was three pounds unloaded, but that weight jumped mightily with all six bulbous rounds inserted. It featured a collapsible stock and a reflex sight on top. It was a relatively easy weapon to use, even for someone like Mancini, who was never in the service and had never used anything like it before. But he’d handled plenty of military hardware and from Keen’s quick demonstration before they took off, he didn’t think it’d take very much to use effectively. This was the type of arms that were built to be squad-friendly tools that anyone could pick up on the spot.

Mancini stopped next to the hunter and looked into the cave. Or into it as much as he could, which wasn’t very much. Even with Cleveland’s flashlight beam, he couldn’t see anything.

“How deep do you think it goes?” he asked.

“Dunno. Pretty deep would be my guess.”

“What are the chances there’s another way in and out?”

“Doubtful. Natural holes like this only goes in one direction. It likely goes downward instead of straight through. Gravity and such.”

“You read that in a book or something?”

“Nope. You spend enough time out here, exploring places like this, you figure things out.”

“I’ll take your word for it, kid.”

“Can you smell it?”

Mancini nodded. He’d smelled it well before they reached the cave. More than that, he’d felt their presence nearby. “Ghouls.”

“Air’s thick with them. That means there’s a lot of them.”

“All the more reason to thin their ranks before we have to face them head-on.”

Keen walked over to join them. “How we gonna do this, boss man?”

Mancini had been thinking about that on the way over, running the scenarios around in his head. He’d always come back to the same answer.

“The goal is to thin their numbers. We can’t do that if we can’t even see them. No telling how deep the tunnel goes. We could just collapse the cave and bury them under all that rubble. That would give us an additional few days or weeks or more to get ready for them. But then we’d just be right back in the same situation again once they dig themselves out.” He let the M32 hang by its sling and drew his machete. “We go in, take out as many as we can, and retreat only when the situation becomes untenable. Collapse the cave to buy some time and call it a win.”

“Dangerous,” Talbert said as he appeared behind them. As usual, the man had a way with words.

“We’re slayers, kid,” Keen said as he, too, let his launcher hang off its sling while he drew his handgun. “Danger’s our beat.”

Mancini looked over at Cleveland. “You don’t have to go in there with us. Stay out here and watch our six.”

“You serious?” Cleveland slung his rifle and pushed it behind his back, then drew his Bowie knife from a sheath. The sharp silver-coated blade gleamed in the sunlight. “We ain’t gonna miss all the fun.”

Mancini hadn’t expected the kid to follow his instructions anyway, but he had to be sure. He glanced back at Talbert. The other hunter was already wiping his own Bowie knife off on a dirty rag he’d retrieved from somewhere.

“I guess I don’t have to ask you,” he said.

Talbert grinned at him.

“Didn’t think so,” Mancini said, turning back around.

He didn’t say anything for a while—none of them did—but just stared into the cave. It was impossible to see anything in there. Even the shadows seemed to be all-encompassing, swallowing up everything, including Cleveland’s flashlight beam. Even the sunlight feared going too far inside.

“We’re burning daylight,” Mancini said. “Let’s get to work.”

17

Blood and death and misery and pain.

He relived all of it even before he stepped foot into the bungalow. It was a nice house, large enough for the two families that called it home. Two brothers, their wives, and children. Older men; old enough to remember what life was like before the creatures came alive and swallowed the world in one horrific night. Plenty old enough to know what freedom was. Their wives were younger.

The men were gone, torn to pieces, their limbs taken by their killers. The women and children, too, were absconded with. Two women and six children. One of the women had fought but lost. The other one hadn’t even tried; she was too stricken with fear to do more than scream as members of the pack mauled her family before her eyes.

The creatures had come through the windows, having ripped apart the metal bars that were fastened over them. After that it was easy pickings. The men had gotten in some licks because the acrid stink of evaporated ghoul blood lingered in the morning sunlight. An arm, too, had been lobbed off, leaving behind bleached-white bones.

Keo walked through the building, his senses alert for survivors. He shouldn’t have bothered. The pack had been thorough and took everyone. There were hidden rooms in the back, but the homeowners hadn’t managed to reach them in time. He opened them anyway just to be sure.

The bedrooms were left in the same state as last night, the last time the families lived as humans. There was a single bathroom near the back, with a clawfoot tub in the middle. A small PVC pipe ran from the drain to the wall and outside. A bucket filled with cold water sat nearby, along with clothes dangling along a pair of wires that crisscrossed the ceiling. Keo stood staring at the setup for a moment before deciding on what to do next.

It took ten trips to the well outside to fill up enough of the tub for him to undress and lie down in. There was no soap, but dirt pots hosted familiar-looking plants. He picked them, tore them into pieces, then rubbed the mulched remnants between his hands with water before using the results on himself. Nature’s very own version of soap.

He was a wolf pretending to be a sheep as he washed away the stink of the world, of what he had become. It didn’t help. Not that Keo ever truly believed it would. But the simple act of washing made him feel more…human. If nothing else, it took his mind off the hunger.

The hunger.

Always the hunger.

There were clothes in one of the bedrooms that fit him. Keo changed, replacing the old rags he’d been wearing for months. He was thinner than when he’d started off, the faded jacket and cargo slacks hanging off him at multiple places. Thinner, and yet stronger. It was an odd contrast, this thing he’d become.

He chose a black T-shirt and drab olive-colored utility jacket with four pockets, two at the top and two more at the bottom. Not that he had anything to fill them with. The cargo slacks were similarly sized for a healthy man who was two inches taller than Keo. They fit him like a glove because he’d gotten taller as well as thinner. More “gifts” from the transformation.

There wasn’t a bathroom—there was an outhouse in the back—so Keo made do with a full-length mirror next to a homemade vanity table. The new wardrobe didn’t hang off his frame as much as his old one had. His face, like the rest of him, had become gaunt, though not ghoul-gaunt. Not yet, anyway. No bones stuck out in places where they weren’t supposed to and his eyes, a shade of gray this morning, was more hollow than usual but still clung to its humanity. Or he thought so, anyway.

What if you’re wrong?

He wasn’t. He hadn’t become completely ghoul yet. If he had, the others would have given it away. Mancini, for one, wouldn’t have been so comfortable around him. Or maybe “so comfortable” wasn’t the right words to describe it. Comfortable enough, perhaps, was the more appropriate phrasing. It was the same with the woman in Creighton. He’d watched her every reaction and there was no instant revulsion on her face or in her voice when he’d appeared in the attic last night.

He was different from the Keo he used to be. There was no doubt about that. But “different” wasn’t the same as “ghoul.”

What if you’re wrong?

He wasn’t.

God, he hoped he wasn’t.

He went back to one of the bedrooms and lay down on the bed, resting his head against a pillow filled with feathers. He wanted to sleep. He wanted badly to sleep. More than that, he desired the need to sleep.

But it didn’t come.

Like all the other days and nights where he lay and waited, hoping, sleep eluded him.

* * *

Keo left the bungalow and headed north.

There was nothing for him to do at the cave. Mancini wouldn’t be alone and there was no point in pushing his luck with strangers. Building something that could almost be construed as a relationship with the slayer and the woman from Creighton was already an oddity. Never in his life would he think something like that could happen. He wondered if the same was true for them. Especially Mancini, who had devoted the remainder of his life to hunting down ghouls. There was no money in the job. No future, either. There was just the killing. And once there wasn’t anything left to kill…

Who was he kidding? That was never going to happen. Ghouls were here to stay. One way or another they would become a permanent fixture of the world. The pack that Mancini was hunting down was proof of that. If anything, the creatures were evolving.

Explosions, echoing in the distance.

Keo stopped and glanced back.

The cave. The explosions had come from the direction of the cave.

Good luck, pal, Keo thought before he turned back around and scaled the nearest tree branch, launching himself into the crisp afternoon air.

* * *

He wasn’t sure where he was or why he’d taken this direction. Miles became mere yards to him when he ran and it was hard to keep track. Soon, he would reach the other side of the country and smell the breeze of the Pacific Ocean, but not yet. Not that he knew what he would do once he got there. But that wasn’t unusual. Sometimes he saw himself as a hamster on a wheel running endlessly hoping there was something on the other side, never realizing there never was an other side.

Death in the horizon steered him off course, and Keo ran toward it. The stench was impossible to resist. It didn’t help that his hunger shouted at him like it always did despite having already fed twice in the last few hours. A doe and a wild boar had come and gone. He was hoping they would last longer, but that wasn’t to be.

The hunger persisted.

Always the hunger.

It was a community inside a valley, smaller than Creighton but not by much. From the number of houses scattered below him he guessed at least thirty or so buildings, most of them packed into the center. Even at the end of the world, humanity always found some measure of safety in numbers. He couldn’t say he blamed them. The world was still dangerous, filled with things that could kill the ordinary human.

A stream flowed nearby just over the hillside. The water came from the mountains, fed by the melting snows in the summers. Winter was coming, and soon more life-giving resources would be deposited for the humans and animals that relied on them. And the cycle would continue endlessly as long as no one stymied the naturally formed aqueducts. Four-legged creatures dotted the length of the green landscape below him, with more that he couldn’t see among the tall swaying grass. They lingered about, taking advantage of the absence of bigger predators.

Keo descended the hillside. Afternoon sunlight glinted off thatched rooftops and board and batten sidings. The buildings had been created from scratch, erected using ancient trees that had been milled with handmade tools. He glimpsed personal belongings behind open windows, off front porches, and left to float along the dirt streets. Drops of blood here and there, but not enough to tell him how the end had come.

He moved quickly, listening for the sounds of heartbeats among the structures.

None.

Not a single thump.

The air was dry, the smell not quite as fresh, just fresh enough to tell him that whatever had happened had happened a while ago. A month, at least. The place still looked lived in and not yet abandoned. That would change, of course. Soon, its constructions would begin to fall apart at the seams; awnings would droop and sidings would rust over. The creations of man, like all things manmade, needed maintenance to be preserved, and nature had a way of tearing them down in order to start anew.

A gathering place for the citizens showed obvious signs of a prolonged siege. The doors were barricaded and there was blood on the floor and walls. And there, evaporated ghoul blood still clinging to furniture. Invisible to the naked eye but not to him. He could always smell when a ghoul had shed its blood in a location no matter how long it had been. Just another “gift” of the curse.

The second floor was empty, even though some of the townspeople had managed to retreat up here in the later moments of the attack. They hadn’t made it to the rooms. The end had come in the hallway. The floor and walls were dotted with bullet impacts. Windows shattered. Death had come from all sides—including above.

No survivors.

He searched the rest of the town but found no heartbeats, just more evidence of a one-sided fight. It hadn’t been a total massacre, though. The citizens had successfully mounted some sort of resistance, even though, in the end, it hadn’t been enough. Silver weapons had been used in the melee but it, too, hadn’t been able to avert the inevitable outcome.

Ghoul blood but no ghoul bodies. There were no bleached-white and deformed bones among the abandoned structures. Nothing to indicate that a ghoul had fallen despite the presence and use of silver weapons. Even if the creatures had taken their dead with them, something they sometimes did, there would still be evidence.

Except there wasn’t.

Not even a single ghoul had fallen to the silvered-armed townspeople.

Then, something else. Something hidden among the crevices along the walls and ceiling and floorboards. A familiar scent.

The pack.

It was the same pack that had attacked the woods around Creighton. That had preyed upon the boy and his parents in their cabin.

The pack.

The same pack.

They had been here. Black Eyes, but different. Evolved, somehow. Stronger, faster, more durable.

And now, the inevitable conclusion staring him in the senses:

They were immune to silver.

Mancini.

He was back there at the cave hoping to thin out the creatures before they could attack Creighton again. He would have returned with the proper weapons to use against the ghouls.

Silver weapons.

…except silver didn’t work on these creatures. All the evidence, missing and accounted for, pointed to that unavoidable fact.

Keo left the town and darted up the hillside.

He ran, faster than he had ever run before, hoping he wasn’t too late but thinking, perhaps, that he probably already was.

18

He’d been in tight confines with ghouls before but it never felt this…wrong. A little apprehension would have been welcomed, but this wasn’t that. This was full-blown What the fuck am I doing?

Maybe it was Keen’s slightly labored breathing to his left or the steady, eerily quiet of the two Creighton hunters behind them. There wasn’t nearly enough room in the passageway for them to line up side by side so the two young men had to follow on their heels. Not that it was that tight. If they insisted on it, all four of them could have walked side by side, but that would have given them no extra room to maneuver. They didn’t need to just yet, but Mancini preferred to have something available to use and not need it, than to need it and not have it. Enough space to fight freely was one of those things.

And the smell.

Jesus Christ, the smell.

It was like walking through a centuries-old landfill with absolutely no inch of fresh air to draw from. His nostrils flared at the stench and even breathing through his mouth didn’t help. The tainted air buzzed with ghoul presence, causing the exposed parts of his face to tingle.

This is stupid. This is beyond stupid.

What are we doing here? Why am I leading them into this?

The grenade launcher thumped against his back as he eased his way through the darkness. It had gotten pitch black about ten feet into the cave and if not for the headlamps he had brought with him, they wouldn’t have been able to see anything at all. They had two wide-beamed lights to navigate by, but he hadn’t had the foresight to bring enough for all four people. As a result, the hunters trailed behind them, forced to use Mancini and Keen’s lights to see with. The two young men had their flashlights, of course, but using those would have given them one less hand to hold their weapons.

Should have brought more lamps.

Among other things. It was too late for that now, but it wasn’t too late to turn and head back into the light. Mancini wasn’t sure if he was afraid or just anxious. He hadn’t allowed himself to be affected by either emotions for a while. You couldn’t afford to be afraid or anxious in his line of work. Others couldn’t help themselves, but not Mancini. He’d learned the secrets to detaching himself from those two emotions when he was on the hunt.

So what was this feeling? Was it fear or anxiety? Or both?

Relax. You’ve done this before.

A lot of times before. Too many to count.

And yet…

“Where are they?” Keen whispered. “They gotta know we’re in here by now.”

“They do,” Mancini said. He hadn’t bothered to whisper because it was true: The creatures did know they were in the cave with them. They’d known even before he and the others stepped foot inside.

“So where are they?”

“Waiting,” Talbert said. Like Mancini, he hadn’t bothered to whisper.

Keen must have been waiting for Talbert to expound on that (You’ll get used to it, buddy. The kid doesn’t say much.), and when he didn’t, “Waiting for what?”

“Us,” Cleveland said. “They’re waiting for us to get closer.”

“You see them?”

“No.”

“So how you know?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Keen stopped. “Wait, wait. You know they’re waiting for us? Then what the fuck are we doing in here?”

Mancini had stopped, too. So did the two hunters. Keen turned to look at him, the bright LED of his headlamp washing over the side of Mancini’s face. Mancini hadn’t turned around, which was a good thing because if he had, Keen’s lights would have temporarily blinded him. Even if that lasted for only a few seconds, Mancini couldn’t afford it.

His eyes remained fixed on the illuminated parts of the cave in front of him at all times.

“Why don’t we just pump a few grenades in there?” Keen asked. “I mean, if they know we’re in here already…”

“Because the plan was to thin them out,” Cleveland said. “Or did someone send me the wrong memo?”

“No,” Mancini said. “That was the plan.”

“Good. Thought I was getting old like you two for a moment there. Senility and all.”

“Hey, watch it, kid,” Keen said.

Cleveland chuckled.

Talbert, meanwhile, hadn’t joined in.

“A few rounds would do that,” Keen continued. “Thin them out.”

“Rounds aren’t silver, old timer,” Cleveland said. “Only thing that’ll do is collapse the cave. Like Mancini said, they’d just dig themselves out eventually and we’d be right back to square one.”

“Well, shit,” Keen said. He turned back around, the wide beam of his headlamp joining Mancini’s in front of them once again. “Well, at least we didn’t come all the way out here for nothing.”

“You good?” Mancini asked his old friend.

From the corner of one eye Mancini thought he saw Keen attempt a brave smile. “Yeah,” Keen said.

“You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get on with it. This place…” He shivered slightly.

It was, Mancini realized, the first time he’d ever seen Keen show overt signs of hesitation. The fact that Keen had suddenly developed, as Max and Jackson liked to say, “the case of the yips”, was disturbing in more ways than one. Keen was by far the oldest member of Mancini’s slayers and they’d been through more battles than he could recall. The man was battle-hardened, to put it mildly.

But to hear Keen’s heartbeat pounding against his chest…

This is wrong.

This is all wrong.

Then, like a shot of lightning: What the hell was I thinking bringing us in here?

“Let’s go back,” Mancini said.

“Huh?” Keen said.

“We should go back. We shouldn’t be in here.”

“That’s what I said.”

“What about the original plan?” Cleveland asked. “I thought we wanted to thin their numbers?”

“Plan’s changed,” Mancini said. “Coming in here was a bad idea. We’ll pump this place full of grenades, collapse the cave, and take our chances back in town when they finally dig themselves out.”

“Yes,” Talbert said. There was obvious relief in the taciturn hunter’s voice.

His own heartbeat had begun to increase in speed. Why was he suddenly acting like a virgin during prom night?

Because this wasn’t right.

The cave.

The air.

The smell.

None of this was right.

It almost felt like—

“Back up,” he said, and made the mistake of turning around. His headlamp flashed the two hunters behind him. They instinctively reached up with their hands to shield their eyes.

“Hey, watch it,” Cleveland said just as the floor of the cave shook and dirt exploded upward and covered him in a hail of soil and pebbles and scrambling insects.

“Cleveland!” Mancini shouted as he lunged toward where Cleveland had been, even as the side of the hunter’s Bowie knife flailed wildly in Mancini’s headlamp.

Talbert, who had been standing next to Cleveland, spun around to look for his partner, his own Bowie knife slashing at empty air. Or Mancini thought it was empty air, except it wasn’t, because a wetness splashed the wall of the cave along with the front of Mancini’s jacket.

Something let out an inhuman shriek.

Mancini tracked the source of that “something” with his lights, just in time to see a ghoul burrowing its way into the ground where it had come out, dragging Cleveland’s struggling body along with it. For a split second Mancini locked eyes with the young hunter even as the other man reached out to him, mouth wide open in a soundless scream.

Then he was gone.

“Cleve!” Talbert shouted just a heartbeat before a deformed hand, bent unnaturally at the elbow, burst through the cave floor and bony fingers wrapped around his shin. The hunter kicked at the hand, and when that didn’t work, he lopped it off at the wrist.

Another shriek as the remainder of the hand disappeared into the dirt.

…the remainder of the hand disappeared into the dirt…

Wait. What?

That shouldn’t have happened. Talbert’s knife was coated with silver, as were all of their melee weapons. And yet the ghoul, hidden somewhere in the ground, had continued to move—it had fled back into hiding—even after the hunter severed its hand at the wrist. That hand now lay on the cave floor, the fingers twitching as if every digit had grown sentient now that they were detached from the main limb.

And there, another appendage—almost an entire arm—trying to crawl away from Mancini’s light. Either Talbert or Cleveland had taken that one off at the shoulder when its owner had grabbed Cleveland.

Mancini was looking at two appendages that had been cut off with silver but were, somehow, still moving.

The silver wasn’t killing them!

Talbert was on the ground on his knees, digging into the cave floor with his hands. He looked like a child playing in the backyard, trying in vain to find his missing toy. Except in this case his “toy” was his friend.

Mancini spun to Keen, who had somehow gotten behind him.

Run, Keen! Silver doesn’t work on them! Silver doesn’t work!

Except he never got the chance to turn his harried thoughts into actual words because the powerful—and way-too-close—boom of gunshots nearly shattered his eardrums.

Keen had switched to his sidearm and the cave walls lit up with the staccato flashes of every shot even as his headlamp lit up an amorphous blob of black figures moving toward them, as if the cave’s internal guts were spitting them out. Globs of death, black eyes flashing against their headlamps.

Skeletal forms twisted against Keen’s bullet impacts but didn’t stop. The pings of bullets striking bone then ricocheting off and sometimes hitting another bone. Skulls chipped, black blood flitted through the air, made visible by the erratic shafts of LED light.

And still they came.

Because the silver didn’t work! The silver didn’t stop them!

Keen glanced over his shoulder at him, his friend’s eyes as wide as Mancini had ever seen them. But for some reason the other slayer grinned. Instead of reloading—maybe because it would have taken too much time—Keen threw the gun, drew his machete, and swung into the horde of twisting flesh that was almost on top of him.

Severed limbs flopped to the floor and black tar sprayed the walls in wide swaths. Shadowy figures shrieked at the contact of silver blade against flesh but bony legs, pruned black flesh draped over them like gossamer webbing, continued to move forward.

Silver doesn’t kill them, but it hurts. It still hurts.

Mancini spun back around, shouting, “Talbert! The silver! The sil—” He didn’t finish because there was no point.

Talbert was gone.

There was nothing back there except a freshly dug hole and a Bowie knife lying on the ground. The blade was covered in black goo and there were fresh puddles of bright red blood glistening against Mancini’s headlamp. Talbert was last seen searching for his friend, but something had found him instead.

He wasn’t sure why, but an inane thought popped into Mancini’s head at that moment:

Jesus Christ. Katie is going to be soooo pissed for getting two of her hunters killed.

He wasn’t even sure if that was true or not. Would she be angry? Maybe. He would be if some asshole had gotten his men killed. And that was certainly what he had done to Cleveland and Talbert. Because they were dead. They’d been dragged into the goddamn earth itself, after all. How did you survive that?

You didn’t. That was the answer: You didn’t.

But even if she didn’t blame him, Katie would have questions. Questions such as: Why did he think this was a good idea in the first place? And why didn’t he recognize the trap for what it was earlier? Why had it taken so long? What was this, his first ghoul hunt?

You fucked up. You fucked up!

Keen’s voice snapped him back to the present. “Get outta here! What’re you waiting for, an invitation?”

Mancini almost laughed. Now that sounded like the Keen he remembered.

“Go! I gotcha,” Mancini shouted as he whirled back around.

“Don’t mind if I do!”

A blur as Keen rushed past him. The other man’s face, temporarily lit by Mancini’s own lights as he turned, was covered in splatters of black blood.

But Keen was still alive. He was still alive!

And so was Mancini, for now.

Let’s keep it that way!

He didn’t bother checking to see what Keen was doing behind him. Instead, he targeted two ghouls coming at him, hands reaching out, bony fingers inches from caressing his exposed face.

Caressing? Bullshit they want to caress me!

They were going to dig those fingers into his flesh and try to reach into his brain if they could. He’d seen it. He’d seen so many things before, so why the fucking hell hadn’t he seen what a bad idea this was earlier?

He swung reflexively, going by sheer instinct and past experiences more than anything. He chopped one hand off at the wrist then sliced another one at the elbow.

Shrieks as the creatures retreated, blood pouring from their stumps. It was all the proof Mancini needed that while silver blades didn’t kill them the way it should have, it at least caused enough damage.

And pain. He could see the pain on their gaunt faces as they shriveled back into the shadows, abandoning the attack for the comforts of darkness.

Not that Mancini spent any time searching for them in order to finish them off. There was no point because more were coming, surging forward. An endless flood of clacking bones and jagged yellow teeth. The only reason he and Keen weren’t already swallowed up by the horde was because of the narrow passageway. But they were still too fast and there were too many of them, and it was all Mancini could do to hold them back, slashing and chopping and lopping off more limbs.

Something clutched to his right ankle. He glanced down and was shocked to see one of the severed hands trying to get a better grip on him.

Mancini shook it off, then kicked it while it was in mid-air, more out of disgust than any other reason. It flew into an incoming ghoul and ricocheted off its forehead. The stunned look on the creature’s face was priceless.

“Come on!” Keen behind him. “Get your ass back here!”

Mancini didn’t have to be told twice. He turned and fled, glimpsing Keen to his right as the other slayer unleashed a fury of bullets from his freshly loaded pistol.

Up ahead, the cave opening glowed like a portal to an otherworldly world, beckoning him, promising hope if he could reach it. It was still daylight outside, thank God, and all he had to do was get there. Silver might not kill members of this pack, but sunlight might still hold some promise. At least, he hoped so.

Black Eyes that aren’t Black Eyes. Calvin the Blue-eyed Ghoul that wasn’t a blue-eyed ghoul. Jesus Christ. What else is out there that I haven’t met yet?

Mancini gauged twenty yards between him and salvation.

Nineteen…

Eighteen…

He slowed enough to twist around at the fifteenth-yard mark but never stopped moving completely. He backpedaled, putting his knife away and drawing his own handgun. “Keen! Come on!”

For some reason Keen hadn’t been on his heels like Mancini had anticipated. Instead of directly in front of him, the other slayer was a good ten yards behind.

What the hell is he doing?

“Keen!”

His friend turned, and as he did so, Mancini knew why. Keen was struggling to reload his handgun once again.

They locked eyes, the same way Mancini had done with Cleveland earlier. It felt like hours ago, but it couldn’t have been more than seconds. A minute, tops, but he didn’t even believe that much time had passed since all of this went to shit.

You should have seen it coming. Jesus Christ, man, you fucked up. You fucked up bad!

Then Keen grinned at him, the same way he had earlier.

Mancini stopped, then started moving forward instead of backward. He made it two steps before Keen disappeared, his body seemingly being lifted up into the air and pulled back by an invisible hand until it disappeared into the mouth of the squirming darkness behind him. The only thing left to prove that he was ever there was his gun, lying uselessly on the floor.

I’m sorry, Keen. I’m sorry.

I’m so, so fucking sorry…

If Mancini had any doubts it was over for his friend, all he had to do was look at the half-dozen creatures racing up the tunnel. Their bones clacked and spittle flew in thick gobs from their eager mouths. At least two of the creatures were on the ceiling, crawling along it like some kind of goddamn spider.

Mancini shot the ones on the ceiling even as he resumed backing up. They fell, landing on some of the ones below them, and the figures collapsed in a heap. Not that it stopped the others. They continued to come.

He fired again and again. Bullets bounced off bones, shredded faces, and shattered noses. All of it was revealed to him in unholy glory against the wide beam of his headlamp. Mancini wished he couldn’t see what was happening. Maybe, that way, the outcome would be easier to accept. Maybe—

Warmth against the nape of his neck.

The sun.

He was almost at the cave opening!

And the creatures knew it, too. They stopped almost as soon as Mancini retreated out into the sunlight, coming within inches of stepping into the light themselves. One didn’t stop in time and lost its foot in a cloud of evaporated flesh.

It squealed and scrambled back into the shadows.

The others stared out at him, black eyes visible against the glow of afternoon sunlight.

“What the fuck are you looking at?” Mancini asked even as he unslung the M32 and pulled the trigger.

The first explosion nearly took his own head off. Soot and dirt and rocks of every imaginable size flew at him like missiles, staggering him. Mancini fired again and this time had to wait longer for the grenade round to strike something. The creatures were retreating, but they didn’t go far enough.

The second explosion sent more of the cave tumbling down, debris rushing out of the opening in a tidal wave.

He sent four more rounds into the opening. He barely heard the almost comical ploompt! of the grenades launching and flying to their targets and was only slightly more aware of the thunderous boom! of each impact.

He didn’t stop shooting until the hillside itself began to collapse in something that almost resembled a landslide, burying the cave underneath thousands of pounds of Mother Earth. Only then did he drop the grenade launcher and stood staring at the rubble, his hands like useless stumps at his sides.

It took him a few minutes to control his breathing, to slow everything down. His nose was full of dirt and pulverized rock, and tar-like black wetness dripped from his chin and dangled off his ears and was stuck in his hair.

He’d screwed up. He’d fallen for a trap.

“Fuck.”

He walked calmly to where they had tied up the horses. The animals watched him with apprehension. He didn’t blame them. They were looking at a man responsible for the deaths of three men today. God only knew what misery he was capable of inflicting on them.

Mancini untied his horse and climbed on. He grabbed the reins of the others and tied them to the pommel of his saddle. Katie wouldn’t like it if he lost three horses.

…like he’d lost three men…

He looked back at the cave. Or what was left of it.

The hillside continued to settle, small carpets of debris sliding down the slanted face where the cave opening used to be. There was enough rubble there that it would take time for the creatures to dig their way out.

A day, two days. Maybe a week, if he was really lucky, though he didn’t dare hope for that.

He fled back to Creighton, the look on Keen’s face as he grinned at him—seconds before he was taken by the horde—forever imprinted on his mind’s eye.

I’m sorry, my friend. I’m so fucking sorry.

As he rode through the woods, everything flashing by in one indecipherable blur, all Mancini could do was hope that however many hours or days he’d managed to delay the attack on Creighton was worth the lives of three men.

But somehow, he didn’t think so.

19

He watched Mancini ride off from a distance, dragging three horses with empty saddles behind him. A sure sign that things had not gone well for the slayer in his attempt to thin out the pack inside the cave. More likely than not, the man had figured out the same thing Keo had—that the ghouls in this particular pack had evolved.

Evolution.

Now that was a curious word. He wasn’t sure if that explained himself, too. What were the chances the ghouls would evolve the same time he did? Or maybe it was all just one big coincidence.

No. He didn’t believe in coincidences.

Merrick.

Did any of this—or did all of this?—have anything to do with him? Merrick was the blue-eyed ghoul that had tried to turn Keo during the whole Shaker Town mess. The creature had purposely infected Keo, hoping to make him one of its soldiers. The plan had backfired. Sort of. Instead, Keo had become…this.

Whatever this was. Even now, he still didn’t know. One of them, but not really.

So what am I?

And what were these new ghouls? They weren’t Blue Eyes. They weren’t Black Eyes, either. Somewhere in between. Like him, who was in between ghoul and human. Maybe a little more of one than the other. Or equal parts. Or…

He didn’t believe in coincidences. The pack had come from somewhere. They had an origin. Everything did. Even him.

Keo watched Mancini disappear into the thicket, heading in the direction of Creighton. He and the woman, Katie, would have to deal with what came tonight. Or the night after. Or the night after that. However many days the slayer had managed to earn for himself and the town from the pack’s eventual attack.

He leapt off the branch and headed back toward Shaker Town. The answer was there. Now all he had to do was find it.

Of course, it would have helped if he knew the question. But that, as with most things in his life these days, was a luxury he didn’t have, so it was up to him to find it. Even if that meant going back to where this nightmare originally started…

* * *

Merrick.

There wasn’t much of the Blue Eyes left. Nothing at all, in fact, that the human eye could see. The inhuman eye, on the other hand, picked up much more.

Merrick had evaporated away underneath the sun, but his bones were gone. That in itself wasn’t a complete shock, as animals usually found left-around bones to their liking. Even ghoul ones. Once you stripped away the tainted flesh, what remained was the same as any other bone. If not for the animals to help with the cleanup, the world would be one large landfill of bones.

But it wasn’t animals that had taken the remains of Merrick. The boot prints were proof of that. Humans had snatched up the remains in the aftermath of Keo’s confrontation with the creature. Humans in boots that had come down from vehicles.

Black Tide.

They had absconded with the remains after Keo left. Why? Did this have anything to do with Lara? Or Danny? Black Tide had plenty of scientists these days. They’d come from around the country hoping to learn more about what made the ghouls, well, ghouls. For Keo, those were something for historians to figure out. He had other things on his mind. Besides, the idea of being prodded by eggheads was not…appealing.

He wasn’t sure why he had come back here. It’d taken him nearly a day, only to find nothing of importance. And yet, there was a nagging in the back of his mind, insisting that the answers he was looking for came from here.

So where was it?

Merrick. He had to find Merrick.

* * *

Shaker Town was where it was supposed to be, but the resort hotel had been torn down and its materials repurposed. The population had expanded in the months since he was here and there were noticeably less armed people walking around the perimeter. Not that they were completely gone. That was never going to happen as long as ghouls remained a threat.

There was a Black Tide base on the outskirts that wasn’t there before, and it was in one of its buildings that Keo smelled Merrick’s remains. There was no longer any blood left to call to him but enough of the creature’s lingering presence remained to draw him forward.

Four buildings, all put up in recent weeks, but it was the one near the middle, painted white, that he made his way toward. He’d waited until dark so as not to draw attention. There were considerations to be taken. One: He wasn’t who he once was and his presence would have alerted the Black Tiders. And two: He was still enough of who he once was that his presence would get back to her.

Lara.

She was looking for him. He knew it as surely as he knew her. She wouldn’t give up, not yet. Maybe never. She’d send either Danny or someone to look for him, to scour the remains of North America for his whereabouts.

Lara.

He longed to go home to her. To the baby. But he couldn’t. Not yet.

Not yet…

There was no one in the building when he entered through a high window in the back. Two guards up front didn’t hear him make his entry and he didn’t bother with lights. He could see just fine without them.

Merrick’s remains sat on a metal table near the center, covered with a blue tarp. Most of the dead blue-eyed ghoul was there, including his skull and all his limbs. The Black Tiders had gotten to the cabin early, beating the animals to what remained. They had spread Merrick out, shaping his bones into what he once looked like. Bleached-white bones, misshapen at odd places, glowed with “life” even in death. Even for the uninitiated, it wouldn’t be hard to conclude that this was not the leftovers of just any ordinary ghoul. This was a Blue Eyes.

Merrick. What the hell did you do to me?

Keo stared into the eyeless sockets of his old foe for a moment. Merrick hadn’t been easy to kill. But then, you could say that of all the Blue Eyes. If not for the sun’s help, Keo might not have been able to beat the creature at all. At the time he’d been willing to sacrifice himself to see Merrick gone, only to discover that whatever the ghoul had done to him, it had left him immune to sunlight.

That was at least one thing he still had over the evolved pack outside of Creighton. He had no fear of the sun, but they still did. He knew that from the way they scurried to hide from the coming mornings each night.

Keo stood perfectly still and looked down at Merrick’s remains. He wasn’t entirely sure what he was doing here. It was just a feeling. A sense that Merrick might have the answers he needed to his own salvation.

And yet, staring down at the bones of his former enemy, Keo could see…nothing.

What am I doing back here? This is a waste of time.

But he couldn’t bring himself to leave. Not right away. There was something here, even if he couldn’t see it. Whatever it was, it had everything to do with Merrick. Or the creature that once was Merrick, but was now just a pile of bones laid out in a skeletal pose—

Voices, approaching the building from outside. A man and a woman.

“…dinner yet?” the man was asking.

“No, you?” the woman said.

“Not yet. Was waiting for you.”

“Aw, shucks.”

The man chuckled. “You’re mocking me, aren’t you?”

“Of course not. It’s cute.”

“It wasn’t supposed to be cute.”

“What was it supposed to be?”

“Romantic.”

“Maybe a little romantic, too.”

A key slipped into a lock and turned as Keo glided toward the window he’d come through earlier and slipped out, closing the glass pane behind him.

Two figures stepped into the darkness, one of them flicking on a light. A man and a woman. Early thirties, both in Black Tide uniforms. He’d never seen them before, but that wasn’t a surprise. Black Tide was constantly being infused with new faces every day with survivors looking to make a difference.

“When was the last time you went out on a date?” the man was asking.

“A real date, date?” the woman said.

“A date, date.”

“It’s been a while.”

“Let’s fix that.”

She laughed. “That’s your best line, huh?”

He grinned. “Is it working?”

“Maybe.”

Keo didn’t hang around to hear the rest of their courting. He vanished into the night instead.

* * *

Stupid.

Coming back here was stupid. There was nothing to be learned from Merrick’s bones about his own situation. Nothing that could tie the dead Blue Eyes to the Creighton pack, either. So why did he convince himself the answers were here?

Stupid.

So stupid.

Keo spent the night moving from one spot to another within the woods surrounding Shaker Town. His mind was filled with confusion, his attempts to sift through everything he thought he knew always ending up at the same place: Merrick.

Why Merrick? What did he have to do with any of this? He only knew one thing for certain: The ghoul’s blood flowed through his veins. It was Merrick’s blood that had made him what he was—whatever the hell that was. For some reason he’d thought Merrick might be responsible for the pack, too.

But he wasn’t. Or if he was, Keo couldn’t find the link. Maybe because there never was one? Or maybe he just hadn’t looked hard enough?

He was going in circles. Endlessly muddy circles. He’d come here with nothing and was leaving with nothing. And yet, Keo couldn’t comprehend why he thought Merrick would have the answers.

It was Lara. It had to be. He was so desperate to return to her that he was grasping at straws. There—

His thoughts emptied as something changed in the woods around him.

Twigs snapping underneath heavy boots, the smell of well-oiled metal, and the unnatural scent of freshly pressed clothing. Slightly accelerated heartbeat and the smell of heavy anticipation mixed with uncertainty all around them.

Black Tiders, coming in his direction. Had he been spotted back in the base?

No. He would have known if he had been. So why were they cautiously stalking through the woods with him?

Because they were hunting.

Him.

They were hunting him.

Then, a sudden epiphany: The tarp.

He’d removed the tarp from Merrick’s bones but hadn’t remembered to put it back over them when the two Black Tiders had approached.

Goddammit.

He moved farther away before they could get any closer. He didn’t want to hurt them or be seen. Either one of those things would be unfortunate.

“You see that?” a voice said. Male. Gruff.

“I don’t see shit,” another voice answered. Also male but not as gruff.

They were still far enough away that Keo would look like a fleeting shadow to both men. If they had even seen him in the first place.

“Thought I saw something,” the first one said.

“Did you or didn’t you?” his companion asked.

“I dunno. Maybe?”

“Oh yeah, you sound real sure.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, fuck you.”

“God, I hate you…”

The other one chuckled. Nervously.

There were others in the woods with them, scattered in a jagged line, but only these two were close enough to whisper back and forth.

They were definitely hunting. Him.

Keo put more distance between him and the soldiers.

Then he turned and made a beeline back to Creighton.

20

He thought she’d be mad, but she wasn’t. Or if she was, she was very good at hiding it. Mancini didn’t she was, though. More likely she was just used to losing people under her watch. Her past with Black Tide had conditioned her to the very real possibility and reality of losing soldiers. Not that he considered the hunters as soldiers, but maybe she did.

It was nearly dark by the time he returned to Creighton. He blamed that on having to drag three horses, but the truth was Mancini had gotten lost. Twice. Or maybe it was three times. Enough times that he’d had to stop more than once to gather his thoughts, and at the same time, ignore what had happened at the cave.

I’m sorry, Keen. I’m sorry, old friend.

The last time Mancini lost a slayer was three years ago, which might as well be three lifetimes in their profession. It wasn’t that they were that good, even though they were. It was more that the enemy wasn’t as fearsome as they used to be during The Purge and the few years after.

Just as Katie took the news relatively well, so did the rest of Mancini’s team. The only one that showed emotion was Max, the youngest in the group. Without the two ever having discussed it, Max and Keen had become student and mentor. Not that Max cried about it. There was no crying in their world. Slayers came and went, and more likely than not, the “went” part meant “dead.”

They were used to it. They accepted it. And in many ways, they all expected the same thing to happen to them.

And yet, Mancini could see the sadness in each of their faces. For a brief moment, before they separated, each man moving on to his position for the coming night. Like the people of Creighton, Mancini’s slayers were preparing for some kind of attack but hoping it wouldn’t happen.

“Hope for the best, prepare for the worst,” Katie had said. It was a phrase she’d heard often during her time with Black Tide, and one that she clearly lived by.

The last to head off was Jackson, who stopped at the door and looked back at Mancini.

“What’s on your mind?” Mancini asked.

“How’d he go down?”

“Like you’d expect. Fighting.”

Jackson nodded and even offered up a slight smile before turning and leaving.

Mancini hadn’t lied. Keen had gone down fighting, just the way all of them hoped to go out. But Mancini couldn’t help but wonder if his friend’s sacrifice had been worth it. Or was any of this worth it. Was going from town to town and state to state killing ghouls for a meal here or a night in bed with a lonely woman there worth it? Was this all there was? Did his life mean so little?

Just as those melancholy thoughts came to him, they left just as quickly. Those questions did him no good. He was a slayer. He’d found his true calling without even knowing what it was until he’d fallen deep into it. There was no way back.

Right?

After talking to his men, he went to join Katie on the rooftop of the cafeteria, where she was watching the sun slowly start its descent in the horizon. Creighton sentries were climbing up to other rooftops around them while cowboys and farmers prepared for the night across their respective lands. There wasn’t anything that looked like panic; if anything, after last night, the people of Creighton was more prepared to deal with what was coming.

Mancini glanced down at his watch. His Casio ticked to 5:12 PM.

“You think you did it?” Katie asked after a while.

He didn’t have to ask her what “it” was. “I think I gave us at least a day. They can’t start digging their way out until night falls.”

“A day. If we’re lucky.”

“Yeah. If we’re lucky.”

“That’s the trick, isn’t it?”

“Luck?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah. That’s always the trick.”

A streak of light pierced the semidarkness, coming from the water tower. The searchlight. It seemed a lot brighter than the last time Mancini had seen it in action.

“Mark’s been tinkering with it,” Katie said.

“Mark?”

“One of our electricians. He says the light should be twice as bright and reach farther.”

As if the people manning the spotlight could hear them, they swiveled the light toward the nearest tree across the wide expanse of the farming fields. Mancini could just barely make out the halo of light splashing across the trunks. It wasn’t very bright, but there was a notable difference.

“Better,” Mancini said.

“It would be nice to have more of them.”

“It would be nice to have more of a lot of things.”

“Speaking of which, what about our friend Calvin?”

Mancini shook his head. “I haven’t heard from him since this morning.”

“He left?” Katie asked. He couldn’t be sure if that was surprise or dread in her voice. Maybe a little of both.

“I don’t know. He said he had something to do.”

“Like what?”

“He didn’t say.”

“I was hoping he’d stick around.”

“Me, too.”

“And you don’t know if he’s coming back?”

“I haven’t a clue. He’s…not exactly easy to read.”

Katie might have chuckled. “I guess not. He is a ghoul, after all. Even if he’s not really a ghoul. He’s still…mostly ghoul. Or something.”

Mancini smiled. He shared Katie’s inability to nail down what exactly Calvin was. Not that Mancini thought for even a second Calvin was his real name. The man (Creature? Half-creature? Half-man?) was hard to figure out. Even harder to guess what he was thinking at any time.

Remember when you would just kill these things without trying to figure them out first?

“You still don’t understand him, do you?” Katie was asking him.

“Is it that obvious?”

“Yes.”

“It’s complicated.”

“That’s what you said when you first came back. Still complicated, huh?”

He nodded. “Still.”

“There is one bright spot.”

“What’s that?”

“At least we know we don’t have to worry about Calvin, too.”

“You sound confident about that.”

“I’ve seen my share of ghouls too, Mancini. Fought a lot of them. Killed many myself and saw them slaughter just as many. Whatever Calvin is, he’s different. Complicated.”

“Yeah. He is that.” Then, “The hunters. Cleveland and Talbert. Did they have family?”

“No. I think they were each other’s family.”

Mancini nodded and didn’t say anything else. He wasn’t sure if that was relief he was feeling or just a little bit less guilt. Whatever it was, he didn’t get a chance to address it because Katie’s radio squawked.

A woman’s voice: “Katie, come in.”

Katie answered. “Katie here.”

“It’s Louise. Got someone here you might want to talk to.”

“Who is it?”

“They didn’t give me a name, but they said they’re Black Tide.”

* * *

Mancini hadn’t been through too many towns that had their own communications center like Creighton. They had a nice system in place too, though to his dismay he didn’t recall ever seeing anything that even looked like a radio tower anywhere in the area.

“We’re using a preexisting radio tower on a hill nearby,” Katie said. “We ran our own cables to town.”

“I didn’t see it when I was coming here.”

“You did, you probably just didn’t really pay attention to it. And why should you? There’s not exactly a great need for long-distance radio communications these days. Even less people that know how to use it.”

Those were fair points. Many settlements didn’t need to keep in touch with someone over long distances. Certainly, they didn’t need an open line to Black Tide, the dominant pseudo military organization that had taken over for the defunct United States government in the lower southern half of the country. Depending on who you asked, Black Tide was either a cause for good or an Uncle Sam-wannabe that stuck its nose in situations where it wasn’t welcomed. Katie, clearly, fell into the former camp.

The comm center was just three buildings down from the cafeteria. It was a small square box manned by a single young woman named Louise. The redhead swiveled around in her chair when Mancini and Katie entered. “How’s it going out there?”

“It’s going,” Katie said. Then, without missing a beat, “What does Black Tide want?”

“Beats me. They asked for you.” Louise picked up a headset and passed it over to Katie.

The Creighton leader slipped the headphones over her ears and adjusted the mic. “Go for Katie.” She paused to listen to whoever was on the other end of the line before responding. “Give me what you have.”

Mancini had nothing to do while Katie talked to Black Tide so he looked around the room to keep busy. There was an empty tray of food on the floor next to Louise’s feet, but other than that there wasn’t very much to see. He was never a radiohead so Mancini didn’t know what most of the equipment was for, but they looked very analog. There were no computers since those required too much power to run. Besides, without internet, there was no point. The closest to high technology Mancini found himself was when he spent some time traveling with a fellow slayer he'd met four years ago. The man carried around a MacBook Air laptop that he would write in after every job, as if he was keeping some kind of diary. He would charge it using foldable solar cells. The last time Mancini saw the man was two years ago. He didn’t even know if the guy was still alive.

Katie finally finished her conversation and took the headset off, then handed it back to Louise.

“What was that about?” the young woman asked.

“Black Tide’s version of an APB. They’re looking for someone.”

“Anyone we know?”

“No.” Katie turned to look at Mancini and he thought, She’s lying. Why did she just lie to the kid? Then, back to that kid, “Keep the channels open.”

“Will do.” Then, with some hesitation, “Are we okay for tonight, boss lady?”

“We’re fine,” Katie said. She put a reassuring hand on Louise’s shoulder. “As long as everyone does their job, we’ll be fine.”

Louise nodded back, looking very relieved.

Katie glanced over at him and he thought again, Why did she lie about the radio call?

Then it hit him: Calvin. Black Tide was calling about Calvin.

Katie nodded toward the door and the two of them left. They stepped outside, then walked up the sidewalk. It had gotten darker since the last time they were out here. There was maybe five or so minutes of light left, with the orange glow having turned dark red in the horizon now.

“What was that all about?” he asked.

“I’m not sure.”

She stopped and turned to look at him. She didn’t whisper the rest, but she did lower her voice noticeably, maybe to prevent whoever was guarding the rooftop of the building next to them from overhearing.

“They’re looking for someone. From their description, it sounded like Calvin,” Katie said. “Different clothes than the last time we saw him, but close enough.”

“Are you sure?”

“Like I said: It sounded like Calvin.”

“What did they want with him?”

“They didn’t say. Only that we should be on the lookout for him.”

They looked at each other in silence for a moment. He was certain she was thinking the same thing, but he had to be sure.

“I noticed you didn’t tell them anything,” he finally said.

“I didn’t.”

“Why not?”

“It might not be him.”

“Bullshit. You already think it’s him. So why didn’t you tell them?”

She didn’t answer right away.

But she didn’t need to because the answer was suddenly obvious to Mancini. “Creighton. You didn’t tell them about Calvin because of Creighton.”

She nodded. “If Calvin can help us, if he can do some good for this town, then I can’t risk Black Tide taking him.”

“That’s assuming if he comes back.”

“I’d rather have the possibility of him coming back here than giving him over to Black Tide and being certain he won’t get the chance.” She squinted at him intently. “You think I made a mistake?”

“No. I’d do the same in your shoes. I’m just surprised you lied to Black Tide, given your past with them.”

“I didn’t lie. I just didn’t tell them what I knew, or suspected. That’s not a lie. It’s an omission.”

He smirked. “Is that what we’re going with?”

“Besides, they weren’t actually expecting me to tell them anything. It was just an APB.”

“All points bulletin.”

“Exactly. They were just letting everyone in the communications loop know they were looking for someone that may or may not have been Calvin.” She shrugged. “It’s probably not even him.”

“Again, bullshit.”

“Maybe.”

They walked up the sidewalk, back to the cafeteria. Men moved around on the rooftops above and across the street from them. The darker it got, the emptier the street became until it was just the two of them. Doors were closed and locked, windows battened down with extra lumber that hadn’t been there this morning. For a town that hadn’t had to deal with a legitimate ghoul threat in a while, Creighton was amazingly good at jumping to the occasion.

At the cafeteria, they stopped and didn’t go in right away. Everyone had already eaten their dinners and gone home or were already at their positions. Even the cafeteria staff was gone, leaving behind a large room filled with unoccupied tables.

Finally, Katie said, “I’m sorry about your man. I don’t think I mentioned that before. Keen seemed like a good guy.”

“He was.”

“You knew him long?”

“Of the guys, he’s been with me the longest.”

“Do you ever get used to it?”

“Used to what?”

“Losing men that’s under your command.”

“Keen wasn’t under my command. We were just two guys that shared a common goal.”

“Killing ghouls.”

He nodded. “Killing ghouls.”

“The others treat you like their commanding officer.”

“That’s their prerogative.”

“Because you don’t see yourself that way.”

“I don’t.”

She smiled.

“What’s so funny?” he asked.

“You. Thinking you’re not a leader.”

“I can’t control how they see me. I’m not a leader like you. I’ll never be and I don’t ever want to be.”

“Yeah, well, sometimes we don’t get to choose.”

She went inside the cafeteria and he followed. “The scars on your body. They never heal, do they?”

“No. They don’t.”

“Is that why you continue to do what you do?”

“I don’t know. I never sat down to think about it,” he lied.

“Maybe you should.”

“Why would I do that?”

“Because there’s another way.”

“Another way for what?”

“To live,” she said as she walked up the stairs. He didn’t follow her this time. “It’s there if you want it. I think you already know that. You just have to want it.”

He remained at the bottom of the stairs looking after her, trying to find the words to respond.

Nothing came.

She stopped at the head of the stairs and looked down at him. “It’s there if you want it, Mancini.”

He stared back up at her, not quite sure what it was he was feeling at the moment. There was a flush of emotion, more than he knew what to do with.

“All right, enough awkwardness,” she said, glancing down at her watch. “Time to get to work.”

He nodded, then turned to go one way while she went in the other.

21

Merrick.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Merrick despite the dead end at Shaker Town. Why had he thought the creature would have the answers anyway? Was it just a crazy feeling? An instinct—with no regard for proof—that it could be true?

It’d turned out to be a waste of time. The harder part to swallow was that he might have missed something he’d been searching for and didn’t even know it. It was a conundrum, as Lara would say.

Lara.

He was thinking more and more of her these days. He remembered their last conversation vividly as if it had taken place just this morning:

“Come home,” she had said over the radio. “It’s almost time.”

“Time” was her pregnancy. She was about to deliver and wanted him beside her as she did so. And he’d intended to do that. He’d planned to do that with every fiber of his being.

But things went sideways. Merrick’s blood pumping through his veins was impossible to ignore. The longer he stayed away from her, the more obvious it was that he couldn’t return as if nothing had happened.

He had changed. Maybe irreversibly. He couldn’t risk her and the baby’s life. Even now, as he moved through the forest, the blood of animals called to him.

A scurry of squirrels above, scattering at the sound of his approach. Already behind him was a deer with her two children, and their unmistakable relief as he put more distance between them. Somewhere on his right, a herd of wild horses, eight strong, trampled their way across the open prairie having never tasted the yoke of manmade bridles.

Any one of them would do to satisfy the hunger.

Always the hunger.

The feeding was becoming more frequent, more…less effective. Maybe it was the animal blood. Was that it? Did the ghouls feed on human blood because it lasted longer? More…fulfilling? Was that why they only went for animals when there wasn’t human prey around?

He only knew one thing for certain: The hunger was growing, becoming more powerful. Flowing blood of every living thing called to him. He could taste it on the tip of his tongue and imagined the rush of being satiated.

Any one of them would do. Any single one.

But then what? What would he do after that when the hunger returned, as it inevitably would? What would it take to prolong it? He had gone months before he fed the first few times, but that was impossible now. Every hour that he didn’t feed, every minute, he could feel the waning energy.

The hunger.

Always the hunger.

He stopped on a dime and glanced up toward the moonlit night.

There was something in the sky that shouldn’t be there. It moved with speed, scattering birds. Then, the familiar sound. He’d heard it so many times before. Sometimes it came to rescue him; other times, to kill him.

Helicopters.

Here?

More than one.

What are they doing here?

It was impossible to miss them. Their noise was like an air raid siren against the sounds of nature. He thought they would continue on and pass by overhead, but instead they slowed down as they neared his position. And it became suddenly obvious what they were doing here.

Me. They’re searching for me.

A pair of MH-6 choppers. Little Birds. The Army used them to ferry soldiers. Special Forces, usually. They were small enough to be inserted into most locations and fast enough to get there and back without too much fuss. Keo had run across them numerous times before and after the end of the world. The pilots were supposed to be the best of the best.

Why are they looking for me?

Shaker Town. It had to have something to do with Shaker Town. Dammit. Yet more proof that returning here had been a big mistake.

They were black as night and might have been invisible if not for his new eyes. He could see them as clearly as he could make out the moon in the background. They were flying low, just over the trees, silhouetted uniformed men sitting along platforms on the sides, legs dangling in the air as if they were on an amusement park ride.

When they slowed down even further, he gave up on any doubts that all of this was a coincidence. There was nothing of interest around him for miles. Certainly no people or town.

No. It was clear as day what they were doing here.

He leapt up onto a nearby tree and went on a slant, away from the incoming helicopters.

One, then both Little Birds turned to follow.

He wasn’t sure how they were even seeing him down here. Even if both aircraft were equipped with thermal imaging, the ghoul blood that flowed through his veins should have made him indistinguishable from his background. He had found that out himself years ago when he tried to pick off the creatures with NVGs. The technology didn’t work on the creatures’ physiology.

And yet, these two aircraft could clearly see him.

Or if not “see” him in the traditional sense, then “see” him enough to continue their pursuit.

How?

He thought about Mancini and how the slayer had been able to track him. But Mancini wasn’t just any slayer—he had ghoul blood in him, too. It was that trait that had allowed him, whether he knew it or not before meeting Keo, to sense the presence of other, similarly tainted beings.

“Tainted?” Was that how he saw himself now?

Keo moved faster, zigzagging his way through the thick woods. Sometimes he hopped down and moved on the ground, hoping the heavy canopies above would blanket him, but it didn’t help. Somehow, the airmen always managed to pick his trail back up. Fortunately he was fast enough to stay one step ahead of them.

One step ahead, but not outrun them. He wasn’t that fast.

They had to have come from Shaker Town. He thought he’d eluded the ones back there, but apparently he was wrong. If that were true, then these would be Black Tide as well. Who else could they be? Only Black Tide, as far as he knew, had airpower these days.

And, it would appear, Lara’s people had developed a new way to see the “unseeable.”

…Lara’s people…

They used to be his people, too. But not anymore.

…not anymore…

The annoyance grew as he found himself unable to shake them. He zigged and zagged and retraced his steps a dozen times but each time they reappeared in the sky, always moving toward his position. He might have thought they had some kind of satellite at their beck and call, but that was ridiculous. Satellites were floating debris in space without the necessary technology to utilize them.

No. Whatever these Little Birds were using, it had to be on the choppers themselves. Some kind of new thermal imaging cameras, most likely, either positioned at the nose of the aircraft or handheld by one of the soldiers hanging off their sides.

Was there a way to stop their pursuit? He couldn’t think of one. Despite everything he could do since his change, combating an aircraft was still beyond his capabilities. Especially while they were up there. The pilots had to know that because they were keeping their distance, remaining just close enough to keep him within sight.

“Sight.”

Again, how were they seeing him? He imagined himself looking like a shapeless form moving through a pitch-black forest. And yet, and yet, he couldn’t shake them. It didn’t matter how many times he circled around or vanished alongside ponderously huge oak trees. Every time he reemerged in the open, they were there.

Goddammit. How are they doing this?

Zip! as something hard and fast sailed over his head and pekked against the gnarled trunk of a tree in front of him. Bark flew in Keo’s face as he leapt to the right, avoiding most of the small missiles.

A silenced gunshot.

Its origin was a no-brainer: One of the Little Birds. It didn’t matter which one. The shot itself was a signal they hadn’t come here to talk to him. This was a hunt.

And he was the one being hunted.

Two more shots zipped harmlessly to his right, pek-pekking into the same tree a few inches apart.

Keo dropped back down to the slightly damp ground in order to put more coverage between him and the choppers. He was a much too easy target high up.

One of the Little Birds passed by overhead, shearing wind as it did so. He’d managed to lose it, but that proved to be a temporary victory. It quickly righted itself and turned around in a wide U-turn.

The second one, on the other hand, had veered off into another direction. Soon, it too, was turning around.

What the hell were they using to track him? What kind of tech had Black Tide invented while he was gone?

He sprinted, using the trees and bushes and branches as cover. His mind raced in sync with his feet, trying to figure out what was happening. Better yet, how had they managed to track him all the way from Shaker Town?

Ever since his transformation, Keo had wondered just how fast could he run exactly. He had never timed it. There wasn’t any reason to. Besides, he wasn’t sure how he would do that anyway. When he was moving—when he was really, really moving—the world blurred by in the background.

Like now, as—

Pek-pek-pek! as rounds struck the ground behind him, buzzing like bees on his heels. The sounds of their impacts were louder than the gunshots themselves, which were almost entirely drowned out by the roars of the Little Birds.

He tasted silver on his tongue.

Their bullets. They were using silver bullets.

After a while, they stopped shooting. Not that Keo stopped moving. Even if he couldn’t see them above him through the plentiful tree canopies, he could hear them still. They hadn’t gone anywhere. Both aircraft remained in pursuit.

He made a mental note to ask Lara how they were accomplishing this. How they could track him so effortlessly despite his best efforts.

Lara.

Home.

One day he would return. One day—

Something pierced the night air behind him. Radar-like senses made up the object’s properties: Long, sleek, metallic, and leaving a trail of smoke behind.

A rocket.

Fuck…

He slowed down just long enough to glance over his shoulder to make sure his senses weren’t deceiving.

…me.

The rocket flew past him, its trailing heat enveloping him as it did so, and just before it struck a tree a few yards in front of him. The hundreds-year-old great oak shattered, sending ancient chunks in every direction.

Keo was one of those things that went flying in the aftermath of the concussive blast.

He hadn’t landed on the ground yet when a second rocket slammed into the earth, cratering it and sending a wall of dirt into him. The force of the impact caught him in mid-air and spun him like a top before flinging him forward.

A third—then a fourth—rocket landed, and soon the entire forest was ablaze.

22

“Tonight?” Max asked.

“Hopefully not,” Mancini said.

“Hopefully not, or hopefully so?” Jackson chimed in.

Mancini grinned. “The former.”

“What’s that mean?” Max said.

“What’s what?”

“Former. Former what?”

Mancini looked over at the young slayer, standing next to him. For a moment he thought Max was messing with him, but he quickly realized he wasn’t. Max was barely twenty-two and while he had been alive during The Purge and the dark years after, he had never really experienced it. There was a world of difference between just being around during those times and actually understanding the events. And like most kids, Max had never seen an actual classroom.

“What?” Max said when no one answered. “I say something wrong?”

“He’s not kidding,” Tandy said through the radio. All four of them were connected by two-ways tuned in to their own channel so they could communicate back and forth. Mancini himself carried a second radio to stay in touch with Katie.

“Kidding about what?” Max said.

“He’s definitely not kidding,” Jackson said from the barn across the yard where he was crouching next to Tandy.

“The hopefully not part,” Mancini said to the young man. “That’s what I meant by former.”

“Oh, should have just said that,” Max said. He made a slightly annoyed grunt before returning to peer at the darkness with his night vision binoculars.

Was I ever that innocent? Mancini thought.

The answer came quickly: Yes, once upon a time, but he couldn’t remember. The days of innocence for him, for everyone in the world, was long over. Maybe, one day, it would return, but he didn’t think he’d still be around to see it happen.

While Jackson and Tandy were stationed at the barn, Mancini and Max stood on the rooftop of the Tanner house watching the blackness slowly envelop the town’s outskirts. Soon, the only way to see anything was through the streetlamps sprinkled about and the occasional wandering eye of the spotlight on the water tower. But as Keen liked to say, beggars couldn’t be choosers. This was at least an improvement.

…as Keen liked to say…

Mancini continued to wait for the other slayers to chastise him about losing Keen at the cave, but no one had. As they walked their way over to the Tanner residence to take their positions, Mancini had watched their faces in secret, trying to read the disdain they had developed for him, but he couldn’t find any no matter how hard he looked.

Because they knew, just like he did, that this life they had chosen wasn’t meant to last forever. Even Max, who couldn’t grow a beard to save his life and was often made fun of because of it, had seen enough to know that their profession had only one ending, and it wasn’t of the happy variety.

None of those cold hard facts made the pangs of guilt that wracked him throughout the day go away. Even as he told himself that there was nothing he could have done, he couldn’t force himself to believe it. Was it even true? Was there nothing he could have done? Or was he just lying to himself?

I’m sorry, Keen. I’m sorry, old friend.

They had chosen the now-deserted Tanner main house because it was the farthest one from town and would, if there was an attack, become the early warning. Not that the Garcia home next door was that far away, but it was still second in terms of distance.

Clouds blotted out most of the moon above, denying them any natural light besides what the streetlamps and spotlight could provide. Fortunately every one of them had access to night vision equipment—handheld binoculars and goggles—to help them see in the dark. After all, when your job was almost always at night, your equipment had to keep up.

His “job.”

He’d been thinking a lot about it lately. Maybe it was already on his mind even before he arrived in Creighton; he couldn’t recall the first time. But meeting Katie had made the concept seem…real for the first time. Oh, there were nights where he lay on the ground, unable to sleep and wondering if this was all there was, but it had never been this strong—this persistent—until he met Katie.

“It’s there if you want it. I think you already know that. You just have to want it.”

He just had to want it. So did he?

Yes. Yes, he did. Badly, too.

So why hadn’t he said those words to her?

When he’d told her about his plan for his group to act as the vanguard, she had looked at him with a curious expression. “Why?” she had asked.

“Because if they attack tonight, we’ll be first to meet them head-on. That’s what we do, remember? Slaying ghouls is in our name.”

“And that’s it?”

“What do you mean?”

“Is that the only reason?”

“Yes. Why?”

“I just wanted to make sure.”

“Sure about what?”

“That you’re doing this for the right reasons.”

“There isn’t another reason. It’s what we do; we kill ghouls. If they attack tonight, they’ll reach us first. That will give your people more time to get ready.”

She had nodded even though he didn’t actually believe that she had, well, believed him. Or if she did, there was some doubt left.

Now, as he stood with Max on the rooftop of the disappeared Tanner family’s home, Mancini continued to turn over her question in his head.

“And that’s it?”

What had she meant by that?

“Is that the only reason?”

Of course it was.

Wasn’t it?

“You okay?” Max was asking him.

Mancini looked over at the young man, standing at almost the center, his boots placed firmly on each side of the rooftop’s ridge. Mancini himself was near the chimney where he could lean against the brick exterior while continuing to stand. He was, after all, the older of the two of them by a long shot.

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m fine. Why?”

“You look…off.”

“Off?”

Max nodded. “Off.”

“Off how?”

The young man shrugged. “I dunno. Just…off.”

Mancini gave him a comforting smile. Or he attempted to, but from Max’s expression, the slayer didn’t fully buy it. That was becoming a pattern these days—people not buying what he was selling. First Keen, then Katie, and now Max.

“You just pay attention to your side,” Mancini said.

“Okay, boss,” Max said before turning around and lifting his binoculars to his eyes again.

“And stop calling me that.”

Max glanced over again. “Stop calling you what?”

“Boss. I’m not your boss.”

“You’re not?”

“No. And you don’t have to do anything I say.”

Max continued to give him a confused look. Again, another person who wasn’t buying what he was selling.

“Stay focused,” Mancini said before turning away. He could still feel the young man’s eyes on him, maybe trying to figure out what was wrong with Mancini all of a sudden, for a few seconds afterward.

What was wrong with him? Why had he snapped at the kid? Was it because of what had happened to Keen? Was he tired of leading these men to their deaths? Like tonight. Why had they agreed to this stupid plan of his? And if they were to all die tonight, would he once again be to blame?

Goddammit. I’m not your boss. I’m not anyone’s boss.

Mancini glanced across the wide front yard of the Tanner house at the red barn nearby, unable to quell the frustration growing within himself. When all of this was over, he would disband the group. Everyone would go their own way, walk their own path. He might even stay here with Katie, a decision that the others probably wouldn’t share.

Good. That would mean he didn’t have to shoulder the responsibility of their lives anymore. Max, Tandy, Jackson, and Keen—

Not Keen. Keen was dead.

Tomorrow, then. It was settled. He’d tell them.

The redness of the barn balked against the darkness, its bright color slightly diffused by the lack of light. There was really no reason for the barn to be red. Back in the old days, farmers didn’t so much as paint their barns red as the mixtures of things they used to do the painting turned whatever color they used red. If you painted your barns red these days, you were simply adhering to tradition. Mike Tanner, it seemed, was a sucker for tradition.

That tradition hadn’t helped Tanner or his brother save their wives or their kids. Twenty-four hours later and Katie’s people still didn’t know what had happened to the entire Tanner bloodline. Not that anyone had to guess very hard. Their fate, more likely than not, was the same one that befell any poor soul unlucky enough to cross the path of a roaming ghoul pack. Death was the more preferable option, but no one ever accused ghouls of offering choices to their victims.

They had been out here, watching the night swallow up the world, for the last six hours. Midnight had come and gone and there was nothing. The lack of something—anything—made Mancini start to think he might have done enough to delay the pack. Maybe. In another day and time he might have put a remote camera at the cave to keep tabs on the creatures within, but those days and times were long one.

A radio squawked. Not the one he was holding, but the second one behind his back.

“Anything?” Katie asked through the radio.

Mancini unclipped the two-way and spoke into it. “Nothing yet.”

“They would be here by now if they weren’t busy digging themselves out of the cave.”

“Maybe, but the night’s still young.”

“Think positive, Mancini.”

“Sure. Positive. Gotcha.”

She might have chuckled. “Katie out.”

He put the second radio away and turned his focus to the first one. He keyed it. “Anyone see anything out there?”

“Nothing,” Jackson answered.

“Just a whole lotta squadoosh,” Tandy said. “Squadoosh on squadoosh and oh, guess what, even more squadoosh.”

“That’s a lot of squadoosh,” Max said, more to Mancini than the others since he hadn’t said it into his radio.

“Stay alert,” Mancini said. He glanced down at his watch. “We have five more hours to go before sunup.”

“In the morning, maybe we should head back to that cave and pump more grenade rounds into it,” Jackson said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Tandy said.

“Morning’s not here yet,” Mancini said. “Until then, stick to the plan.” He put the radio away and turned to look at Max across the rooftop. “Anything on your side?”

Max, binoculars covering his eyes, shook his head. “Not a thing. Squadoosh just like Tandy said.”

Squadoosh. Nothing.

So why wasn’t he happy? Or even a little bit relieved?

Because Keen died for this. I got him killed.

He decided, at that moment, that he would do it five hours from now. Instead of tomorrow, he’d tell the others that it was time to go their own way when the sun was out. The sooner he got rid of the responsibility for their lives, the better it would be. For their sakes, and his.

His radio, the one linked with the other slayers, squawked again. It was Jackson. “I got movement. Northwest. Tree line.”

Mancini grabbed his night vision binoculars with one hand and pointed it northwest toward the tree line.

“Confirm on movement,” Tandy said.

Mancini couldn’t see anything but trees and a wide-open field, but he kept looking. Both Jackson and Tandy were pros that had been doing this too long to jump at false alarms. And both men had sounded very calm when they spoke.

“I don’t see anything,” Max said from the other side of the roof.

“I got nothing, too,” Mancini said.

“Maybe those two are just seeing things. Getting jumpy.”

Mancini kept his binoculars to his eyes while lifting the radio to his lips. “You still got visuals?”

“Wait,” Tandy said. Then, a few seconds later, “No. I lost it.”

“Jackson?”

“I lost it, too,” Jackson said.

“What did you both see?”

“Movement.”

“Animals?”

“No. It wasn’t an animal.”

“Agree. Not an animal,” Tandy added.

Like before, there was no panic in either of their voices.

“I still don’t see anything,” Max said. He wasn’t speaking into his radio but just to Mancini.

“Wait, wait.” Jackson, his voice rising noticeably. “The road! Movement on the road!”

Mancini swung his binoculars over to the long stretch of road. It was easily the most visible part of the landscape out there because of the streetlamps that lined it. He went straight to the section where the road extended out of the woods like a paved tongue, trying to pick up what Jackson had seen.

There, finally: Silhouetted figures fleeing down the road.

“I see it,” Max said into the radio. “Are those people?”

“Those are people,” Tandy said.

Tandy was right. Thanks to the high magnification of his binoculars, Mancini was able to make out three figures running down the road. Although he couldn’t tell their sex or faces, it was easy to tell from the way they moved that they were human.

Mancini unclipped the second radio and keyed it. “Katie.”

Katie answered almost right away. “Go for Katie.”

“We got three people running down the road toward us. Can you see them?”

“Water tower, you hear that?”

Whoever was manning the spotlight on the water tower trained the light onto the road, then began moving up its length. But the figures were still too far away and the light couldn’t reach them.

“I don’t see anything,” a voice said through the radio.

“Keep searching,” Katie said. Then, “What do you think, Mancini?”

“It could be a trick,” Mancini said. “We should hold our positions and see what happens.”

“What if they need help?” someone asked. Mancini didn’t recognize the voice.

“We’ll do what Mancini says,” Katie said. “Water tower, keep looking.”

“Roger that,” the same person from the water tower said.

Mancini’s other radio squawked and he heard Jackson’s voice. “What’s the verdict, boss?”

Stop calling me boss, goddammit.

He said into his radio, “Everyone hold their positions.”

“They might need help,” Tandy said.

As if on cue, one of the three figures seemed to trip and fall to the road. The other two kept going for a while before realizing one of their own wasn’t with them. They stopped, turned, then hurried back to the fallen figure.

“They need help,” Max said.

“Not yet,” Mancini said.

“When?”

“Not yet.”

“Boss...” Jackson said.

“Not yet,” Mancini said.

Mancini continued to watch the two figures pick up the third between them and, once again, continued down the road. Except this time they weren’t so much running as they were hobbling, their speed hampered by the injury to the third figure.

“Boss, they need help,” Jackson said through the radio.

Mancini didn’t answer him. Instead, he gauged the distance between the three figures and their positions. Two hundred yards, give or take. Just about the length of two football fields. If not for the magnification of the expensive binoculars, he wouldn’t have been able to make them out at all. Especially in this (lack of) light.

“Boss.” Jackson again, something that could almost pass for agitation in his voice.

“Hold your position,” Mancini said.

“They need help.”

“Hold your position.”

“Boss, we gotta help them.”

“I said hold your position, goddammit.”

Mancini hadn’t finished cursing when he saw movement out of the corner of his eye and turned toward the barn, just in time to see one of the two figures on top disappearing. No, not disappearing, but climbing down the opening to the second floor of the barn below. It was either Tandy or Jackson, not that it took Mancini long to guess who.

“Fuck.”

“Boss,” a voice said through the radio. It was Tandy this time.

“I know, I know.”

“What should I do?”

Mancini didn’t answer him right away. Instead, he imagined Keen back in the cave, grinning at him, just before the creatures swallowed him whole.

“Boss?” Tandy, his voice growing with urgency. “Boss, what should I do?”

“Go,” Mancini said. “Cover him.”

Tandy was gone a second later, disappearing off the rooftop of the barn almost as quickly as Jackson had.

“What about us?” Max asked as he walked over to join Mancini near the chimney.

“We stay put.”

“They might need our help.”

“The best way to help them is to keep an eye out for any threats they can’t see. Go back to your position.”

Max did, if reluctantly.

Mancini peered through his binoculars, watching as a lone figure burst out of the barn and made a beeline toward the three figures on the road. The trio had gotten closer, but not by very much. Just how hurt was the third person that the trio had barely made any progress since the last time he glassed them?

Tandy appeared out of the barn, racing after Jackson.

His other radio squawked and he heard Katie’s voice. “What’s going on out there, Mancini?”

He answered. “Jackson and Tandy are intercepting the newcomers.”

“Why the hell are they doing that?”

He sighed, before saying into the radio, “It looked like they needed help.”

“I thought we agreed to hold our positions?”

“We did.”

“So what the hell are your people doing down there?”

“People need help. It’s what we do.”

He pictured Katie’s face contorting in annoyance.

“I’ll keep you apprised,” he said and put the radio away.

Mancini returned to scanning the horizon with his binoculars, returning to Tandy and Jackson’s figures as they quickly neared the trio on the road.

“Anything?” he said out loud to Max.

“There’s nothing out there,” Max said.

Good. That’s good. Let’s keep it that way.

Mancini watched as Tandy and Jackson finally stepped onto the road. There was a moment where the three figures almost turned and fled, but something the slayers must have said stopped them. They were talking now, probably trying to get a feel for one another.

Mancini keyed his radio. “Tandy, Jackson. What’s your situation?”

Jackson answered, the big man still sounding out of breath from his sprint. “We’re good, boss. They said they’re from a place called Teller’s Pass.”

“Did you say Teller’s Pass?”

“Yeah. You heard of it?”

Images of the abandoned Teller’s Pass raced through Mancini’s mind.

He said into the radio, “Ask them how they got away.”

A few seconds ticked by as Jackson relayed the question. “They said they escaped. Boss, they say they know where the others are.”

“Others? What others?”

“People from this Teller’s Pass place. They’re still alive.”

“How many survived?”

Again, another beat, as Jackson talked to the trio on the road. “All of them. Boss, they said everyone from Teller’s Pass are still alive.”

23

“They came in the middle of the night. We didn’t even know what was happening until it was over.”

“How many did they take?”

“Everyone. They took everyone.”

The girl telling the story was just that: a girl. She was barely sixteen years old but looked much older. That was normal in Mancini’s experience. In today’s world, you grew up fast or you didn’t grow up at all. Innocence died easily out there.

Of the trio that had arrived in the middle of the night, only the girl, Marcy, was talking. The other two were fast asleep in one of the boarding houses nearby. Not that they would have been much help anyway. The oldest of the three, a man, was a mute, and communications with him would have been overly difficult. The other one was another kid even younger than the girl they were talking to—ten years old going on twenty. She was the one who had twisted her ankle on the road and had to be helped earlier.

Marcy ate food from this evening, devouring everything on the plate. The other two had similarly eaten their fill and gone to sleep. Despite her haggard condition—her hair was disheveled and covered in dirt and leaves, and her clothes were similarly stained—Marcy told her story with a calmness that belied her age.

“Everyone’s still alive?” Katie asked the girl as she stood next to Mancini, watching Marcy gulp down her food in huge bites.

Mancini wanted to tell her to slow down before she gorged herself to death but didn’t have the heart. The girl was malnourished in appearance, her clothes—a long dress with faded floral patterns—hanging off bony shoulders.

“I’m not sure,” Marcy said. “It was so dark in there. And there was a lot of us.”

“How many is ‘a lot’?” Mancini asked.

“I don’t know. A lot?”

“So a lot.”

“Yeah. A lot.”

“That’s a lot.”

Katie might have rolled her eyes sideways at him, which he thought was pretty impressive. “Let’s get back to how it happened. Tell us again.”

The girl nodded and repeated what she’d already told them.

The citizens of Teller’s Pass had been rounded up like cattle in the middle of the night and taken to an old mine not far from their town. There, they had been locked inside. It was only after a lot of exploration that some men found a naturally-occurring opening near the back. Marcy had managed to squeeze through with the other two, but no one else could fit inside the narrow exit.

“They didn’t hurt anyone when they took you?” Katie asked.

“I’m not sure. It happened so fast. But like I said, it seemed like there was a lot of us crammed in there.”

Mancini turned to Katie. “You said there were two hundred people at Teller’s Pass?”

She nodded. “At last count.”

Two hundred people, jammed into an old mine. No wonder the girl had looked so miserable and exhausted by the time she reached them.

According to Marcy, she had been to Creighton before so knew the way here. “I didn’t know where to go after we got out. But I remembered Creighton was nearby.” The girl crammed down more bread. “The rest are back there,” she said through a mouthful. “They’re waiting for help.”

“How many of them were there?” Mancini asked. “The ghouls?”

Marcy seemed to think about it. “I’m not sure, but there was a lot. A hundred, maybe. There was a lot. And it was dark when they took us.”

“And none of them tried to do anything to anyone?”

“I don’t know about that either. But nothing happened to me. Or my mom and dad.”

Katie looked across the room at Marilyn, the woman in charge of the cafeteria who had woken up to prepare food for the new arrivals. “Bring her some more, Marilyn. The kid’s starving.”

“Thanks,” Marcy said. “This is really good. Wish we had this stuff at home.”

“Eat as much as you can,” Katie said. “Then go get some rest.”

“Okay.”

Katie turned to Mancini. She didn’t have to say anything for him to follow her away from Marcy’s table. They walked to the other side of the room and looked back at the girl, even as Marilyn brought out a second tray of food.

“What do you think?” Katie asked. She wasn’t whispering but wasn’t talking in her normal voice either.

“I think it’s a trap,” Mancini said.

“Sounds like it, doesn’t it?”

“But I can’t figure out what’s the point of it.”

“Lure us to the mine. What else?”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why lure us there? It seems like a lot of trouble.”

“You said it yourself: These aren’t ordinary black-eyed ghouls. They’re intelligent. Blue Eyes without the blue eyes part.”

“Yeah but it still doesn’t make sense. It seems almost too…”

“What?”

He struggled to find the right words.

“Just say it,” she said.

“Dramatic,” Mancini finally said. “It’s too much effort.”

“Are you saying we’re not worth the extra effort?” she asked, grinning mischievously at him.

He smirked. “Not at all. You know what I mean.”

She nodded. “I know what you mean.” She glanced across the room at Marcy, already claiming more bread and meat. “Do we just ignore those people at the mine?”

He sighed and shook his head. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“I know one thing: It would have been nice to have our pal Calvin around. He could have run out there to check and report back.”

Mancini couldn’t help but grin at her. “So he’s our pal now, is he?”

“Well, he’s not our enemy. I don’t think he’s a friend just yet—he still has a lot to prove—but I’m willing to extend pal. Speaking of which, still haven’t heard from him yet?”

“No.”

“Too bad.”

“Yeah. Too bad.” He looked back at Marcy as the kid continued to wolf down food at an amazing pace. “Kid’s going to eat herself to death.”

“She’s all skin and bones. A little gorging will do her good.” She stared at Mancini, her expression suddenly somber. “I don’t know what to do here, Mancini. You got any suggestions?”

“Just one.”

“Let’s hear it.”

“Wait until morning.”

“And then?”

“Head out to the mine.”

“What if it’s a trap like we both think it is?”

“Doesn’t matter. Silver might not work on these things, but we still have sunlight on our side.”

“For now.”

“Yeah. For now…”

* * *

“It’s a trap. It has to be.”

“It probably is.”

“Only a fool would walk right into a trap.”

“A big fool, yeah.”

“But you’re still doing it.”

“Yep.”

“You fool.”

“I know.”

“Why?”

“Because this is what I do.”

“What about the others?”

“I told them to leave. This isn’t their fight. I already have Keen’s blood on my hands; I can’t afford theirs, too.”

“And they’re leaving?”

“I don’t know. I guess we’ll find out soon.”

“So it might just be you out there.”

“Yes.”

“Why does it have to be you?”

He smiled at Katie. “If I don’t do it, then who will? You used to be part of Black Tide. Isn’t that their motto?”

“I don’t think we had a motto.”

“You know what I mean. Isn’t that their entire purpose for existing? To do what no one was doing—bring law and order back to the country.”

“Give me a break, Mancini. You know that I know you don’t believe any of that.”

“That’s not true. I’ve heard very good things about Black Tide.”

“And a lot of bad things too, I’m sure.”

“You know what they say—you can’t have the good without the bad.” He shrugged. “You tell me if all the good things I’ve heard is wrong.”

“They’re not. Mostly.”

“Good enough.”

He sat up on the floor and glanced toward the window. Morning sunlight filled the attic room and washed over their naked bodies. For some reason, the two of them were disinclined to make use of Katie’s bed. Maybe it just felt better on the floor, though he had to admit that his butt was getting a little sore against the hardwood.

The night had come and gone and other than Marcy and her two companions, there was no other incident. For all they knew, the creatures were still trying to dig themselves out of the collapsed cave. Mancini planned on verifying that later.

Katie sat up beside him then leaned over and placed her head against his bare shoulder. The contact with her warm skin sent a slight thrill through him. It reminded him of high school, of first love. The problem was that he was too old to be indulging in that kind of nonsense.

“You know where this mine is that Marcy talked about?” he asked.

“No. There’s a lot of them out there. Before the turn of the century, there were dozens of them sprinkled across the hillside. The gold rush back then had everyone ready to dig all the way to China.”

He turned to look at her, liking the way the sun played off her face. Katie wasn’t a young woman anymore and she had lines and scars to prove that, but she was still the best damn looking woman he’d seen in a while.

“What are you looking at?” she asked.

“You.”

“Why?”

“You’re beautiful.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“Bullshit.” But she smiled anyway. “You’re just biased in the aftermath of coitus.”

He grinned. “‘In the aftermath of coitus?’”

“What? It’s true.”

“I’ve just never heard anyone put it that way. You have a way with words.”

“Should I have said ‘after fucking’?”

“No. I like ‘in the aftermath of coitus’ better.”

“Glad you approve.” She pressed her forehead against his shoulder. “When this is over…”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

He nodded. “Okay.”

She smiled. “You don’t even know what I’m going to say.”

“Yeah, I do.”

“Are you sure about that?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, then.”

He reached over and stroked her long hair. If I survive this, he thought but didn’t say.

Instead, he said, “I’ll leave in an hour. That’ll give me plenty of time to check out the cave before I head over to the mine.”

“You need reinforcements. I can spare a dozen men.”

“No. You need everyone here.”

“I’m not asking you. It’s happening.”

“No.”

“Mancini…”

“No. And that’s final. I’m not risking anyone else’s life but my own.”

She sighed and glared at him.

“It’s final,” he said.

“How the hell are you going to save two hundred people on your own?”

“I’ll figure that out when I get there.”

“If they’re even there.”

“You still think it’s a trap,” he said. It wasn’t a question. The truth was, he thought it was a trap, too.

“Like you said. Nothing about this makes sense.”

“I still have to make sure.”

“What if I tell you not to go?”

“Why would you do that?”

“Because I don’t want you to go.”

She got up and straddled his lap, then kissed him deeply, her mouth practically devouring him. He slipped his arms around her waist, pulling her tighter against his own naked body until there was barely any space between them.

She pulled back just enough to peer down at him. The sunlight danced across her hard features. “Don’t go.”

“I have to.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Yes, I do. And you know that.”

“Then take some men with you.”

“No.”

“Mancini…”

“No.”

She sighed. “I should never have slept with you the first time.”

“Why not?”

“Because if I didn’t, and you end up dying on me, it wouldn’t break my heart.”

“I’m not going to die.”

“You don’t know that. These things…these creatures…they’re not like the ones we’ve faced before. That’s what scares me about them. And it should scare you, too.”

“It does.”

“You don’t look scared.”

“I just hide it well.”

“If you’re not going to take my men with you, then just stay with me. Here. In Creighton.”

“That pack isn’t going to stay away forever, Katie. Sooner or later, they’ll dig their way out of that cave—if they haven’t already—and they’ll come back here.”

“And we’ll deal with it when they do.”

He shook his head. “I don’t like playing defense. Not if I don’t have to.”

She frowned. “You’re going out there to fucking die on me, aren’t you?”

“Of course not. I’ll be back.”

“You fucker.”

She crushed his mouth with hers and they slid back down to the cold hardwood.

Forty minutes later he woke up, careful not to wake Katie as she snored lightly on the floor, and got dressed.

By the time he stepped outside the building, the others were already on their horses waiting for him. His own horse had been saddled and tied on a post nearby.

He frowned. “I thought I told you guys to leave this place. It’s not your fight.”

Jackson glanced at Tandy, who looked to Max. Then all three of them turned to stare at Mancini.

“Who says we’re staying because of you?” Jackson asked. “We like this place. Sure as hell don’t wanna see it razed.”

“I got me a nice blonde in the cafeteria,” Tandy said. “She’d kill me if I ran off.”

Mancini turned to Max. “And what’s your excuse for not leaving like I told you to?”

“Keen,” Max said.

Mancini’s frown deepen. “What about him?”

“Those fuckers killed him. I aim to kill them back.”

Jackson and Tandy chuckled.

“Yeah, that too,” Jackson said.

“That three,” Tandy added.

“I guess I’m not going to change your minds,” Mancini said.

“I mean, you could try,” Tandy said. “But you’d just be wasting your time.”

Mancini sighed. “Don’t wanna be doing that.” He walked the short distance over and swung onto the saddle of his own horse. “All right, then. Let’s go kill these fuckers.”

They rode off, Mancini leading the way. After a few seconds he slowed and let the others pass by, before glancing back toward the cafeteria.

Katie was at her attic window looking back at him.

He smiled, even though he didn’t think she could see it from this distance.

He turned and spurred his horse until he caught up to the others, resuming his spot at the front. They rode out of Creighton with the sun at their backs and death on their minds.

24

The forest was on fire.

The whole damn world was on fire.

He was on fire.

Not that Keo was complaining (too much) because he was still alive. Sort of. Was it really being “alive” if you weren’t completely human anymore? That remained to be seen. For now, he was up and running.

Running for his life.

But the goddamn choppers wouldn’t be shaken. They were still up there, the roar of their rotor blades as loud now as they had been before the trees and branches and leaves and grass started bursting spontaneously into flames.

They wanted to kill him. Bad.

What the fuck did I ever do to these guys?

It had to be that trip to the Black Tide base outside of Shaker Town. Stupid. That had been real stupid. He was sure he would find something among Merrick’s bones, but all it got him was this. He should have stayed away. Should have remained around Creighton in case Mancini and his boys needed help with the pack.

Shoulda, coulda, woulda, pal.

Instead he was running for his life, half of his flesh seared off, different sections of bleached-white bone protruding out from various spots like some kind of half-assed lab specimen. Half his face was gone but, shockingly, he retained most of his hair for some reason. He’d expected that part to go first. He hadn’t met a ghoul yet that still had hair. Even the pack he’d faced recently was composed entirely of hairless creatures.

But not him. He still looked “human” even though he wasn’t and didn’t feel all that “human.” It had to be a joke. Some kind of sick joke by the gods. Part of that comedy was fleeing people he used to work with, who he used to call friends, and more times than he could remember, used to protect and be protected by.

Yeah, things were definitely going sideways these days. He wished he could say there was some upside to any of this but at the moment all he really had on his side was—

Another rocket splitting air with ease.

He launched himself, boned toes scraping the gnarled bark of a tree that had existed for hundreds of years and using it to springboard upward and forward, just before that same hundreds-year-old tree disintegrated.

Sorry, tree!

He might have laughed out loud. Probably.

There were more than two choppers up there now. Two more, for a total of four. The two new arrivals were bigger. Blackhawks. Carrying more people, with more guns, with more magazines loaded with silver bullets.

Swell.

For some reason Black Tide was determined to catch him. No, scratch that. They were trying to eradicate him. Was it something he’d done back at the base? He didn’t think so. No matter how many times he replayed it over in his head, nothing he’d done there would elicit this kind of response. This was a tad overkill.

So what was it, then?

He didn’t know. That was the problem. He didn’t—

A great metal beast howled from the pits of hell itself.

Oh, fuck me.

He darted and dived and lunged around anything he could find even as 30mm rounds sliced through the darkness.

A Warthog. The nickname of the A-10 Thunderbolt aircraft. Officially the Fairchild Republic A-10 Thunderbolt II, but who had the time to call it by that? He was listening to the ferocious fire of its gatling gun. Officially the GAU-8 Avenger, but again, who had the time to call it that? That same gatling gun was capable of 3,900 rounds per minute and it seemed as if every single one of them was trying to kill him all at once.

More flesh disappeared as Keo jumped and slipped and lunged. It didn’t matter where he zigged or zagged, the damn war machine kept finding him. What kind of new technology was it using that it could pinpoint his location so accurately?

He really, really needed to talk to Lara about this. That is, if he managed to live through this. At the moment, Keo wasn’t so sure.

Nope. He wasn’t very sure at all.

He lost most of the flesh on his back in that last barrage, along with whatever fragments of clothing he’d managed to cling to, from the scorching gunfire. The forest itself had stopped burning around him, but that was only because he had outrun the flames. The problem, of course, was that the lack of soul-wrenching inferno at his back only opened him up to more targeting by his pursuers.

The flash of the Warthog’s metallic belly became visible for the first time as it swerved off, having completed its gun run. An unsuccessful one since he was still standing. Or running to be absolutely pedantic about it. He couldn’t stop because stopping meant making himself into an even better target than he already was.

Seriously, Lara, how are your guys seeing me?

The whup-whup-whup of helicopter blades drew closer. The Blackhawks. Both of them. They were carrying at least two dozen men among them. Very, very well-armed men and women that were used to hunting down ghouls. Like him.

He was a ghoul. Or almost one. Mostly one.

And that made him the enemy.

One, then both choppers swooped by overhead. He was fast, but they were faster. It helped that they didn’t need to go around trees or jump over bushes. They simply glided effortlessly, unencumbered by obstacles, in a straight line.

The whirring of gun parts, followed by all six barrels of two M134 miniguns spinning, unleashing hordes of 7.62mm NATO rounds. Branches, leaves, and even hulking trees snapped in two, then three, then hundreds of tiny little pieces. It would have been a beautiful sight if it wasn’t so terrifying to behold.

He lost his right arm at the shoulder. His left followed seconds later, evaporating until there was nothing but a stump. At least he still had his legs, which were the really important limbs. He wasn’t sure if his arms would grow back. That was one of the bigger problems with his current condition: He didn’t know his limitations or even if he had any.

The left side of his face was sheared off along with most of his lower jaw as he zagged and managed to use a tree for cover, if only momentarily. Then the tree was gone and Keo was running again, the ground around him exploding, sending dirt and blades of grass and the furs of unlucky dead animals that didn’t scamper away fast enough at him like death-dealing little missiles.

Zip-zip-zip!

Zip-zip-zip!

In the distance, moonlight glinting off his potential salvation: Water.

A river flowing through the forest, the beginnings of it coming from a nearby mountain. He could hear the currents smashing against boulders in their path, attempting to push around objects that had been there long before Keo ever existed.

Strong currents. Strong enough that if he could make it…

The Blackhawks came back for another pass.

Sonofabitch! Cut me some slack!

He poured it on, crossing the remaining two hundred yards or so as fast as he could muster. It wasn’t quite fast enough.

The first rounds disintegrated the ground around him, turning the earth into quicksand that broke apart underneath his bare soles. It didn’t matter how fast he ran; you just didn’t outrun minigun bullets.

Then, at last, the river.

He dived for it, turning himself into a javelin, and struck the surface head-on and went deep.

And deeper still, until he touched the very bottom. Only then did he right himself and began swimming with the current, legs driving him south while what remained of arms tried their best to help out. He remembered that people used to call him a dolphin because he had always been a good swimmer. He didn’t really need all those skills now. The strength of the river was plenty strong enough.

The zip-zip-zip of rounds pouring into the water behind him. Many, many yards behind him.

He’d lost them.

He’d lost them!

Keo stopped moving and let the water carry him like a mother would a helpless child. His body was numb, his skin tingling with overwhelming sensations of cold wetness against his exposed, bleached-white bones. Fish, unable to comprehend his presence, swam around him. He ignored them.

Despite the literal and figurative drowning, it was okay.

It was all okay.

Keo closed his eyes and let the water take him, his mind’s eye full of Lara and the baby. A baby that he had never seen and yet knew he loved dearly and would do anything to keep safe.

Anything, including exiling himself forever if that was what it took.