Avalon: Dark Days Book 8: A Post-Apocalyptic Series
Date: 2020-11-10 08:00:00+00:00
Keywords: Post-Apocalyptic | Infected
Description: The final book of the Dark Days series. Even though Jo wanted Ray and his group to stay at her store and help defend it, Ray believes he must go to Avalon - he knows something important is waiting there . . . the answers to the plague. After Ray, Mike, Emma, and Josh leave for Avalon, Jo's store is overrun with rippers, driving her and the others up to the roof, trapping them there. The Dragon uses Petra as bait to lure Luke and Max to Hell Town where he has laid a trap for them. Luke, Max, and Petra collide with the Dragon and his army of Dark Angels. Will they win? Will good triumph over evi

AVALON

DARK DAYS: BOOK 8

A post-apocalyptic series by

MARK LUKENS

Avalon: Dark Days Book 8—copyright © 2019 by Mark Lukens

All Rights Reserved

No part of this book may be reprinted or used without written permission from the author.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead (or in any other form), business establishments, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Cover design by: Extended Imagery

Special thanks to: Jet, Ann, Kelli, Valerie, and Mary Ann—your help is immensely valuable to me, and I just wanted to let you know how much I appreciate it.

OTHER BOOKS BY MARK LUKENS:

ANCIENT ENEMY – www.amazon.com/dp/B00FD4SP8M

DARKWIND: ANCIENT ENEMY 2 – www.amazon.com/dp/B01K42JBGW

HOPE’S END: ANCIENT ENEMY 3 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07G1MS6RK

EVIL SPIRITS: ANCIENT ENEMY 4 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07L8KLXVB

DESCENDANTS OF MAGIC – www.amazon.com/dp/B00FWYYYYC

SIGHTINGS – www.amazon.com/dp/B00VAI31KW

DEVIL’S ISLAND – www.amazon.com/dp/B06WWJC6VD

WHAT LIES BELOW – www.amazon.com/dp/B0143LADEY

NIGHT TERRORS – www.amazon.com/dp/B00M66IU3U

THE SUMMONING – www.amazon.com/dp/B00HNEOHKU

THE DARWIN EFFECT – www.amazon.com/dp/B01G4A8ZYC

GHOST TOWN – www.amazon.com/dp/B00LEZRF7G

THE VAMPIRE GAME – www.amazon.com/dp/B07C2M72X9

FOLLOWED – www.amazon.com/dp/B078WYGMJN

THE EXORCIST’S APPRENTICE – www.amazon.com/dp/B00YYF1E5C

POSSESSION: THE EXORCIST’S APPRENTICE 2 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07NCZQTNR

A DARK COLLECTION: 12 SCARY STORIES – www.amazon.com/dp/B00JENAGLC

RAZORBLADE DREAMS: HORROR STORIES – www.amazon.com/dp/B076B7W252

SLEEP DISORDERS – www.amazon.com/dp/B07XX9WVGM

COLLAPSE: DARK DAYS BOOK 1 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07SCPL6QB

CHAOS: DARK DAYS BOOK 2 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07TVYNW19

EXPOSURE: DARK DAYS BOOK 3 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07TY5S1S8

REFUGE: DARK DAYS BOOK 4 – www.amazon.com/dp/B07VR8KNJ6

AFTERMATH: DARK DAYS BOOK 5 – www.amazon.com/dp/B0821PWVH5

SURVIVORS: DARK DAYS BOOK 6 – www.amazon.com/dp/B0821QWTGB

Contents

OTHER BOOKS BY MARK LUKENS:

PART ONE

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

PART TWO

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

PART THREE

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

PART FOUR

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

CHAPTER 57

CHAPTER 58

CHAPTER 59

CHAPTER 60

CHAPTER 61

CHAPTER 62

CHAPTER 63

CHAPTER 64

CHAPTER 65

CHAPTER 66

CHAPTER 67

CHAPTER 68

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

PART ONE

CHAPTER 1

Petra

Petra woke up on the bed in the basement. It was night, the basement pitch black. The battery-powered lantern was on the table beside the bed—her only source of light, but she didn’t want to turn it on. Instead, she lay on the bed with both blankets pulled up over her body. She was cold. She was tired. Thoughts ran through her mind at warp speed.

Only hours ago (she wasn’t sure how many hours it had been) she’d seen Audrey and Scott executed, both of them hung by their wrists, their feet dangling five feet off the ground, their bodies twisting in the cold wind, their broken wrists swollen up inside the metal handcuffs, the pain beyond excruciating for them . . . but it was nothing compared to the horde of rippers that came from the woods to rip and tear at their flesh while they hung helpless.

The Dark Angels hadn’t hung Petra from the wooden beam. No, they had put her back into the bed of the pickup truck with Dawson, a Dark Angel who had held her head still, forcing her to watch the rippers feast on Audrey and Scott while they drove away.

Petra could still hear their screams echoing in her mind; they had followed her from her nightmares.

She had been dreaming in fragments just a few moments ago, more like memories—the horrific scene playing over and over again in her mind: Scott and Audrey’s lower bodies being ripped apart, knives cutting, hands like claws tearing, blood running in rivers, teeth gnashing and chewing. Two of the younger male rippers had climbed the thick wooden support poles up to the crossbeam to get to the top half of Audrey and Scott’s bodies.

In the dream it had been like the memory, like being there again in that field: the sights, the sounds, the smells. But in the dream the Dark Angels hadn’t driven her away in the trucks; in the dream Petra stood on the cold, dry grass of the field as the rippers ignored her and concentrated on their food.

“You did this!” Audrey screamed at Petra, her eyes bulging, her blond hair whipping in the freezing wind, her hands so purple from the swelling they were almost black. She had stopped screeching in pain for a moment to condemn Petra. “You did this!”

And Audrey was right. This had been Petra’s fault. If Audrey hadn’t tried to help her escape she might still be alive. Petra had sparked the inspiration in Audrey, sowed the seeds of escape, the seeds of hope that had eventually killed her.

Petra wasn’t sure if she had apologized to Audrey in the dream, but she whispered the words now as she lay in the darkness of the basement: “I’m sorry, Audrey. So sorry.”

Despite the horrors, Petra was still tired. It felt like the cold was sapping her strength, draining the energy out of her body. And if it wasn’t for what Dawson had told her in the back of the pickup she might just sink down into a pit of hopelessness.

Dawson was a little shorter than the other Dark Angels, a little smaller, his jaw angular under the scruffy reddish mustache and beard. “I can’t get you out of here right now,” he had told her, “but I’ll get the others at the store to come here for you.” That’s what Dawson had promised hours ago as they left the killing fields where Audrey and Scott had twisted and screamed.

She had remained quiet and still as Dawson told her his plan, whispering harshly into her ear, his hot and smelly breath drifting on the cold air.

Could she trust Dawson? Was this another setup by the Dragon? Another test? Or worse, would she get Dawson and those he was working with killed? Would they soon swing from the metal cables, their wrist bones snapped inside the handcuffs as they were raised up from the ground, the metal of the cuffs sinking into their swollen skin? Would they make her watch that again?

Dawson had said there were others like him, others like Audrey and Scott, others who wanted to fight the Dragon and remove him from power.

Petra was sure Dawson spoke the truth about that. But she wondered if the Dragon already knew about Dawson and his cohorts. The Dragon had known a lot about Audrey and Scott—maybe he knew about Dawson’s plans too. She knew now that the Dragon wasn’t the scary monster he had pretended to be in the dreams, but there was also no denying that he had some amazing psychic powers. Could he read minds? Could he see the truths in one’s mind behind the lies? She couldn’t be sure.

But she also couldn’t give up on the nugget of hope Dawson had given her. Maybe it was impossible to escape this hell town, and maybe it was just as impossible to believe that Dawson and his fellow revolutionaries might overthrow their own unit and get to the store to convince Jo and the others to come back for her, to come back and defeat the Dragon.

And who was left now at the store? Kate, Max, and Brooke? Jo? The doc? Fernando and Tina? If the Dragon was telling the truth, then Lance, Crystal, Dale, Tamara, and Tyrone were all dead. She knew at least one or two of them were dead; she’d seen their bones and scraps of bloody clothing at Jeff’s house beside Dale’s pickup truck. She’d seen Dale’s paintball mask and baseball cap he always wore. So she had to assume they were all dead.

Still . . . the hope burned inside her, fueled by her anger. She’d been ready to die earlier, ready to die hanging right next to Audrey and Scott, but Jacob had denied her that. She remembered the disappointment on his face, like he’d wanted to see her hang, to watch her twist slowly above the frozen ground, waiting as the roaring mob of rippers closed in.

But she hadn’t been executed. She hadn’t even been hurt. The Dragon still wanted her alive. And that, as much as what Dawson had told her in the back of the truck, spurred the hope in her. The Dragon still needed her as bait; he still wanted to lure the others she’d seen in her dreams to this town: the man and his son, the scruffy man with the long hair, the muscular man with the crewcut, and the blind woman who had spoken to Petra in her dreams. Maybe the blind woman was as powerful as the Dragon was.

The Dragon had called the people in Petra’s dreams the resistance. The resistance to his tyranny, to his dictatorship. A small group, sure, but obviously a group the Dragon was worried about. And Petra couldn’t help feeling that the blind woman was the key to that resistance, the one holding that group together, the one who could bring others into their group.

Yes, she had hope. What other choice did she have? It was either hope or sinking down deeper into despair. And if these people were coming, and if Dawson was going to help, then she would need to do her part. She needed to stay strong, and if there was any kind of chance to kill the Dragon, or even hurt him, then she would have to take that chance.

She lay in the darkness, a darkness so thick she felt cocooned in it, swaddled tight in the blackness and the cold. She lay still and listened. There were no noises coming from above the ceiling of the basement. But the Dragon was up there somewhere. And so was Jacob.

The Dragon might visit her dreams again. He might stay hidden in them, waiting in the shadows and watching, waiting for her to reveal something important that he needed.

She didn’t think the Dragon could read her thoughts, but she didn’t want to think about Dawson just to be safe. She didn’t want to get someone else killed.

Little by little she drifted back to sleep. Her eyes closed, but there was no difference from the darkness of the basement. She saw the field again in her dream, as she knew she would. She saw Audrey and Scott hanging from the metal cables and handcuffs, the rippers tearing and cutting at the flesh of their legs as Audrey’s eyes bulged, her mouth wide open in one long continuous scream, like her jaw as going to become unhinged. She stopped screaming suddenly and stared right at Petra.

“You did this! You did this to me!”

CHAPTER 2

Petra

It felt like Petra had only been asleep for a few minutes when she woke up again. But hours must have passed because there was some light in the basement seeping in around the black curtains over the small, rectangular windows high up on the long block wall. More gray morning daylight shined down the basement stairs, illuminating the landing and the last few steps down to the concrete floor.

Someone was coming. The door being unlocked and opened had awakened her.

She sat up and threw the blanket off of her, swinging her legs over the side of the bed, shoving her socked feet into her hiking boots.

The footsteps on the stairs were heavy. They were slow and deliberate. She could tell just by the sound that it was Jacob coming down for her.

Petra got her hiking boots laced up just as Jacob appeared on the landing, washed in the daylight that flooded down the steps. There were two others on the steps right above him, two of the Dragon’s guards dressed almost entirely in black.

“Petra,” Jacob said with his fake smile. “So good to see you this morning.”

She didn’t say anything as she stood next to her bed, her stomach twisting into knots, her body tense. Jacob was in too good of a mood, which meant that only something terrible was about to happen. She’d known this moment was coming, figured it had to come eventually.

“Over here, Petra,” Jacob said, his smile disappearing in a second, his eyes as cold as the basement air. He pointed down at the floor in front of the last few steps in front of the landing, like he was commanding a dog to come and sit before him.

Petra wanted to refuse his order, but she walked toward him and stood in front of him. She wouldn’t allow herself to look away from him, to break contact with his eyes.

“You gonna be good, Petra?”

She didn’t answer.

“Do what I tell you to do and you’ll save yourself a lot of unnecessary pain.”

Petra figured pain was coming no matter what. She wasn’t going to give Jacob the satisfaction of submitting to him.

Jacob descended the last three steps and walked behind her, hovering right in the dark behind her, breathing on her. She swore she could feel the heat from his body, the heat from his anger, his hatred, his sadistic fantasies.

The guards waited on the steps, just in Petra’s view from behind the basement wall that hid most of the stairs from the basement.

“Okay, Petra,” Jacob said from right behind her. “Time to go. Don’t try anything stupid. Okay?”

Petra didn’t answer. She climbed the three steps up to the landing. The two guards turned and marched up the steps. Jacob was right behind her as she followed the guards. She was out the basement door a moment later, still following the guards across the kitchen to the door that led out to the back porch. No one else was in the kitchen, no servants getting breakfast ready or preparing food for later.

In the middle of the long screened-in back porch a sturdy wooden chair had been set up, facing the far end.

“Sit down,” Jacob ordered.

Petra didn’t fight. She sat down in the chair.

“Arms on the chair.”

Petra laid her arms on the arms of the chair. The guards swooped in quickly to tie her wrists to the chair arms, the ropes tight, digging into her flesh. They tied her ankles to the chair legs. Then they stepped back, fading out of Petra’s sight but still somewhere on the back porch, standing guard.

Jacob was in front of her, the smug smile back on his face. “The Dragon has some questions for you.”

“Why don’t you tell him to ask me to my face?”

“Oh, he is. Don’t worry.”

Petra heard the Dragon enter the back porch from the kitchen door. Even though he was a thin man, his steps seemed heavier than Jacob’s, whose steps were so light for his muscled body he almost seemed to hover an inch above the ground. Jacob was a man who could sneak up on anyone and they’d never even know it. But the Dragon didn’t try to sneak—he wanted you to know he was coming.

Jacob backed up a little to the side of Petra, then moved behind her as the Dragon stood in front of her, staring down at her. He was dressed in the same clothing he’d worn at their dinner a few nights ago: black pants and a black shirt, but now he wore a long black coat, gloves, and a felt hat pulled down low. The pale skin of his face seemed so bright in contrast to his clothing—his skin almost seemed to glow.

The Dragon didn’t smile; he didn’t try any of the fake shit that seemed to amuse Jacob. But his blue eyes were as hard as Jacob’s eyes were.

“Petra,” the Dragon said, the word coming out in a rush of breath, almost like a weary sigh. “You tried to escape.”

She didn’t respond.

“Scott and Audrey were traitors. And you went with them.”

Petra felt like she had emboldened them to act, to take a chance, but she didn’t bother explaining that.

“I know there are other traitors among us,” the Dragon said. “I can feel them.”

“What you feel is your little town here falling apart. This isn’t going to last. When you take away people’s freedoms, it never lasts long.”

“Traitors are expected,” the Dragon said, drawing out the last word in his northern Alabama drawl. “Many people can’t see what we’re doing here. Can’t understand it. They don’t see the greater good beyond the suffering at first. They don’t realize how much more they’ll suffer on their own.”

“But at least they’ll be free.”

“This is a battle we must win,” the Dragon continued like Petra hadn’t even spoken. “I hope you can understand that. And it’s a battle we will win because God is on our side. Destiny is on our side. I’ve seen the future, what it holds. I’ve seen it all my life.”

Petra tried to keep her mind blank in case the Dragon was trying to probe it for a name, for an image, for a memory.

“I need to know more about the store. More about the people in the store.”

Petra stayed silent.

“I know there’s food in the store. A lot of it. Supplies, too. I’ve seen it through other people’s eyes. Seen it in their dreams.”

“What do you need me for, then?”

The Dragon paced from one side of the porch to the other, the heels of his boots clomping on the floorboards, like he was deep in thought, or at least pretending to be. He stopped and stared at Petra. “I want to know more about the person who runs the store. The manager, I think they call her.”

“Do you even know her name?”

It was the Dragon’s turn to remain silent.

Petra wondered if the Dragon could only enter certain people’s dreams, read certain people’s thoughts, or at least pick up on their feelings or the images in their minds. Maybe he had more power over some than others, and maybe there were some whom he had no power over at all. And maybe it had nothing to do with the strength of the person’s mind. Maybe it was just differences in the makeup of people’s brains, the chemicals and synaptic connections.

But it also felt bigger than that to Petra, bigger than just randomness, like stronger unseen forces were at work, some kind of good battling evil.

“Tell me about this person. The manager.”

Petra didn’t answer.

“How much food is in that store? How many guns? How much ammo?”

Jacob floated back into Petra’s peripheral vision, like a ghost materializing out of a wall. She looked at him; he had what looked like an old handheld tape recorder in his hands, one that used a cassette tape and ran on batteries. The PLAY and RECORD buttons were pushed down as Jacob waited to capture her confessions on tape.

“How much medicine and medical supplies?” the Dragon asked.

Petra still said nothing.

“How many people are there? How many are trained to shoot? To fight?”

She wasn’t going to answer. She tried not to fidget, but the ropes on her wrists were too tight, beginning to hurt a little.

“How do they get onto the roof? How many entrances are there into the store? How many do they use? How do they barricade the entrances inside the store? How many car batteries do they have to electrify the fence in the back?”

Petra remained silent, glancing from Jacob to the Dragon, and then back to Jacob again. He held the clunky dinosaur of a tape recorder in his hands. But that kind of device was all they could use—most digital devices were useless now, part of a world that didn’t exist anymore, a world that may never exist again.

The Dragon sighed heavily. “I guess we could keep asking questions over and over again. For hours, I suppose. But I don’t want to waste that kind of time.” He looked at Jacob and gave a slight nod.

A lunatic spark of happiness glowed in Jacob’s eyes as he bolted away.

Petra couldn’t turn all the way around to see what Jacob was doing, but she heard him setting the tape recorder down somewhere behind her, pushing the STOP button, the buttons making a loud clicking sound. He grabbed a few things and then came back up on her left, dragging another wooden chair with him. He set the chair down close to her, almost facing her but off to her left just a little. He had a canvas duffel bag on the floor.

“Last chance,” the Dragon said. “I think you can guess what’s about to happen. But we don’t need to do that. We can be civilized here.”

Petra’s heart thudded against her breastbone, her pulse pounding in her ears. Something bad was coming—she could tell by the smile on Jacob’s face.

The Dragon gave a brushing-away gesture with his gloved hand, like he was suddenly annoyed and exhausted by the whole thing.

Jacob dug around in his canvas bag and pulled out a pair of handheld pruning snips and a small blowtorch.

Petra’s breath caught in her throat, and for a moment she couldn’t breathe.

CHAPTER 3

Petra

The pain was immediate and intense; it was Petra’s whole world for the moment. Everything else seemed to fade away into the hot whiteness all around her. She had the sense for a few seconds of being outside of her own body, floating just above it, like she was looking at someone else’s hand, not her own, someone else’s pinkie finger being snipped off, someone else’s finger spurting blood, someone else’s wound being cauterized with a blowtorch.

But it wasn’t someone else; it was her. She bucked in the chair, straining against the ropes, tense like she was being electrocuted. She had promised herself that she wasn’t going to scream or cry, but she couldn’t help it: the scream came on its own, the tears leaked out whether she wanted them to or not.

The torture was over, but the pain was still there. It felt like Petra’s whole hand was throbbing, waves of pain surging up her arm. Her stomach turned. She was afraid she was going to puke all over herself, throwing up what measly liquids she might still have in her stomach.

Jacob pushed a wad of gauze onto the stump where her finger used to be and wrapped a white bandage around it. She grunted as he wrapped the wound—he wasn’t being too careful with it. She squeezed her eyes shut, more tears slipping out.

“Remember when I told you I used to work for Vincent as an enforcer for his family?” Jacob said as he wrapped the tape around the bandage over her maimed hand.

Every slight movement sent excruciating pain shooting through her.

“Remember how I said most of the time I didn’t need to use violence? Well, sometimes I had to use violence. And I was very good at it. You’re going to see how good I was at it.”

Petra’s breaths came quickly. She bit down on her bottom lip, her eyes still squeezed shut, her right hand clenched into a fist as if her fingers were protecting themselves from Jacob, withdrawing into her hand like a turtle into its shell.

“That wooden frame in the field with the cables on it,” Jacob continued, “the place where we hung Audrey and Scott, that was my idea. Imagine watching the rippers tear your own lower body apart as you hang there.”

Petra tried to get her breathing under control. Her stomach rolled inside of her, gurgling.

“I told you she was a tough one,” Jacob said, glancing up at the Dragon from his chair.

The Dragon nodded in agreement, but his eyes were on Petra. “She’s seen monsters before. Haven’t you, Petra?”

Petra opened her eyes and stared through her blurry vision at the Dragon.

“You’ve seen a monster,” the Dragon said, his voice lower, softer. “Someone close to you. Someone named Diego.”

Petra didn’t say anything, swearing to herself that she wasn’t going to give these two animals one nugget of information, not one bit of satisfaction.

“Yes,” the Dragon said, nodding now like it had been confirmed. “You’ve known monsters. You’ve known fear. True fear. And loss. Diego . . . he took things from you. Loved ones. People you couldn’t save. You wanted to kill Diego. You were ready to die for the sins of not saving your family. You’ve been ready to die for a long time now. Haven’t you, Petra?”

Petra didn’t answer. She thought she’d been prepared for torture like this. She had imagined Diego and his men doing something similar to her. She’d been sure that he would’ve eventually beaten her to death in one of his rages. Memories of those beatings came back to her in a hallucination so vivid she swore for a moment she was back in Philly, back in that large house in the suburbs, that masterpiece of modern architecture. He hit her, punched her in the stomach, then slapped her in the face, kicked her several times after she was down on the marble floor, curled up in a ball, trying her best to protect herself.

And at some point Diego was going to get tired of her. He would want to move on to a new woman. New women. He would kill her. Most likely he would shoot her up with enough heroin to kill her. It would be just like falling asleep. But after she’d run away from him, he wouldn’t let her die so easily. He would have tortured her before killing her. She would have been dragged to some warehouse perhaps, tied to a sturdy chair not so different than the one she was tied to now. Then she would’ve been tortured just like Jacob was torturing her now, by someone like Jacob, someone with dead eyes and an amused grin, someone who lived for delivering pain and terror, someone who fed off it.

But Diego hadn’t been able to catch her, hadn’t been able to find her after she’d stolen his money and bought herself a new identity, hiding in a small town outside Baltimore. There she had trained herself to be stronger and tougher. She’d taught herself to defend herself with guns, knives, hand-to-hand combat. She had prepared herself to go after Diego, to kill him for what he’d done to her family.

Some of her family members had been tortured, some beaten, a few killed. Some had their homes and businesses burned down. They had suffered because of her, because she had been selfish enough to leave Diego, selfish enough to try to save her own life. And now she was the one suffering, the one who felt the pain.

She deserved this pain. This was her penitence.

The thought of it calmed her down a little, numbed the pain just a bit. She opened her eyes and looked at Jacob, smiling at him.

“Oh, you’re a tough one, alright,” Jacob said, returning her smile.

Petra saw the gleam in Jacob’s eyes. She knew Jacob could have worked for Diego just like he had worked for Vincent in Ohio. Even though she’d never met Vincent, she knew he’d been the same as Diego. Men like that were all the same. Men like Jacob and Diego’s enforcers were all the same. Men like the Dragon were all the same.

“Yeah, you’re tough,” Jacob warned. “But we’re just getting started.”

“But it doesn’t have to continue,” the Dragon said. “You tell me everything I need to know and this will all stop.”

Petra stared at the Dragon.

“Tell me about the store.”

“There’s a lot of food there,” she said. “Supplies. Medicine. Guns. Ammo. And you’re never going to get it.”

“How many guns?” The Dragon nodded at Jacob.

Jacob got the tape recorder and pushed the two buttons down again to record.

“I didn’t count them.”

“How many people are there?”

“I didn’t count them, either.”

“Guess.”

“Twenty. Twenty-five. I’m not sure.”

“And the manager. She’s the leader?”

“You already know that.” She was answering questions the Dragon already knew the answers to. It was like he was getting her warmed up, used to answering questions. Because there were other things he wanted to know. He was leading somewhere else with the questions. “You already know all this stuff. You had a mole inside the store.”

“Yes. Moles. Traitors to their own people. I wonder if you know any traitors among us.”

“I don’t. How would I know?”

“You knew about Audrey. About Scott.”

“Audrey came down to give me meals. I asked for her help. She didn’t come to me. I came to her. She went to Scott. That’s all there is to it. They weren’t happy here. They wanted out. Most of the people here probably want out; they’re just too scared to leave.”

“They might want out, but they don’t know what’s good for them. But I do.”

Petra stared at the Dragon. The pain in her hand was down to a dull throb now, her burnt nub of a pinkie aching; it was pain she’d never felt before, but she didn’t want to show them how much she was suffering.

“What about the others?” the Dragon asked.

“Others?”

“The blind woman and the ones she’s with. They’re at the store.”

“I never met them.”

“You’ve seen the blind woman in your dreams. She’s talked to you before.”

“No. I’ve seen her, but she never said anything to me.”

The Dragon exhaled a loud sigh and looked at Jacob.

Petra braced herself for another round of torture, for another finger to be snipped off and the wound cauterized with the blowtorch. Maybe it would be the pinkie of her right hand this time. Maybe Jacob would keep going back and forth between her hands. Or maybe he would start on her toes.

Jacob stood up and picked up the wooden chair he’d been sitting on. He carried it across from Petra, setting it down in front of her ten feet away.

“What are you doing?” Petra asked.

“You don’t seem to want to talk,” the Dragon said. “The torture might not be working. So we’ll have to try something else.”

CHAPTER 4

Petra

Petra heard the guards behind her. It sounded like they were dragging someone toward her. Then she saw the servant woman in their grasp; she was dressed in the same type of white dress that Audrey had worn. They slammed her down into the wooden chair across from Petra, tying her wrists down tight to the arms of the chair. She cried out as they knotted the ropes. Then they tied her ankles to the legs. She was tied to the chair like Petra was, a mirror image of her. One of the guards pulled out a wide strip of cloth and wrapped around the servant’s face, covering her mouth.

“Okay,” Petra said. “Okay. The blind lady talked to me in my dreams. Is that what you want to hear?”

The Dragon didn’t answer.

“But . . . but she didn’t say anything special. She just told me that some of my people were still alive. That’s all she said.”

“Too late,” Jacob said as he brought his canvas bag and another chair over to the woman. “You had your chance to talk. Now you need to watch this. Watch what you’ve done to this woman. Just like what you did to Audrey and Scott.”

“No, Jacob . . . please don’t do this.”

“Oh? Not so tough now?”

The servant woman breathed heavily through her gag, her eyes wide as she stared down at her right hand that Jacob held still with the powerful snips, easing the blades down onto her pinkie finger, positioning the blades where he wanted them.

Maybe they wouldn’t do it. Maybe they were just testing her, trying to get her to talk.

“I told you what the blind woman said. I’ve told you what I know.” Petra struggled against the ropes binding her to the chair.

“I don’t believe you,” the Dragon said calmly, conversationally. “I think there’s more you’re hiding. More you need to tell me.”

“What? I don’t know what you want. Just . . . just ask me a question and I’ll answer it.”

“I’ve got a better idea. You tell me anything you think might be important. Anything about the blind woman, about the people she’s traveling with, about the store. About anything that comes to your mind.”

Jacob snipped off the woman’s pinkie finger. She howled into her gag, struggling, the ropes and the chair creaking. She sobbed, her eyes squeezed shut. Jacob turned the blowtorch on and touched the flame to the bloody wound, cauterizing it. The woman’s howls turned to high-pitched screams through her gag. Jacob set the torch down and bandaged her hand like he’d done to Petra’s.

“You’re sisters now,” Jacob told Petra. “Twins.”

The woman’s screams turned to low sobs. She looked like she was close to passing out.

“We can do this all day,” Jacob said. “There’s a lot more I can cut off this woman.”

*

Hours later Petra was down in the basement again, cradling her left hand against her under the blankets. She’d drunk some water but they hadn’t given her any food.

Jacob only cut one more finger off the woman’s hand, and then the woman had passed out.

Petra told Jacob and the Dragon about the blind woman, what little she knew about her from the dreams, what little she knew about the people who traveled with her, what little she knew about the store. She told them about Max, about Kate and Brooke, about Joe and Fernando, the doc, Tina, and anyone else she could think of.

Finally, it seemed to be enough. The Dragon seemed satisfied.

But she hadn’t said anything about Dawson and the promise he’d made in the back of the pickup truck. She’d kept that blocked out of her mind. But how long would she be able to keep that information blocked? Were they going to torture her again tomorrow? Torture someone else in front of her? Soon enough the Dragon would see it in her mind, or in her dreams.

CHAPTER 5

Dawson

Greg Dawson had always been a coward. He didn’t like to think of himself that way, and maybe he had fooled himself over the years, justified some of his actions, a revised history of his memories, but there was no hiding from the truth now. As he looked back on his life he saw clearly the things he’d done, and sometimes, more importantly, the things he hadn’t done because he’d been afraid.

He’d never stood up to people in his life.

When he was eleven years old he’d stood by on the playground as three older boys pushed his younger brother around. They’re just teasing him, he’d told himself, just playing with him. But the teasing had turned physical: pushing, shoving, hitting, kicking. After it was over, Dawson had been mad at his little brother for provoking the older boys, for putting himself into that situation. But he’d really been mad at himself.

In high school he’d gotten together with a girl, the first real girlfriend he’d ever had. Once, in the hall, he’d been about to go around the corner to her locker, but he heard her yelling at the three boys who were teasing her, telling her they wanted to take her out into the woods on a date. Dawson hadn’t even thought about it, he just turned and walked back the other way. He never told his girlfriend that he’d overheard her being teased, that he’d been just around the corner. And she never told him about the incident. Like many things in his life, he’d just pushed it from his memory.

Maybe part of his lack of courage was that he’d always been small, short and thin, too weak. But that was no excuse because he knew other smaller people, boys and girls, who had no trouble standing up to people, confronting people, speaking their minds, pointing out wrongs and injustices.

He thought the bullying would end after high school, that people would grow up, but they didn’t. They were still bullies. Maybe not bullies so much in the physical sense, but maybe more psychological, hitting and hurting with words instead of punches and kicks, hurting with sly remarks, tasteless jokes, mean laughter, snide looks.

But eventually he got sick of it, and he battled his way up through the company he worked for, becoming a mid-level manager. He’d fought his way up through the ranks; he’d grown a backbone, he told people what to do.

And then the Collapse came and all he had worked for had evaporated overnight. He found himself afraid again, cowering when it came time to do the right thing. He had wanted to change places with Lanier on the platform when the Dragon made him choose someone to take the punishment for the failure of their team to get inside the store. He had wanted to take Lanier’s place in the stocks. Lanier was one of his men; Dawson had been in charge of the mission, not Lanier, not any of the others. It hadn’t been Lanier’s fault the mission had failed. Something had gone wrong with the mole. It was no one’s fault. But Lanier certainly hadn’t been the one to blame, the one to make an example of.

Dawson touched the brand on his forehead, feeling the hard edges of the outlines of the letter D and the letter A, the crusty, scabby bumps. He remembered the pain when he’d gotten the brand, but he’d gone along with it because that’s what he always did, go along with the group. And he’d even allowed himself to believe the Dragon’s bullshit about helping humanity out of the darkness, about being a beacon of light, about sharing the wealth among everyone instead of small tribes squabbling over bits and pieces, constantly at war with each other.

But all of it was a lie—he knew that now. He saw the monster the Dragon truly was; he realized that when the Dragon had made him choose one of his own men for punishment.

Dawson had no idea why he’d chosen Lanier to come up to the platform and the stocks. He didn’t hate Lanier, didn’t have any beef with the man. But Dawson had been scared up on the platform with the Dragon watching him, the guards watching him, the Dark Angels watching him, the crowd of townspeople. He’d been scared and he just picked the man he’d been standing next to in line.

Once again, when the Dragon told him to take out his knife and remove the brand from Lanier’s forehead, Dawson had almost volunteered to trade places with Lanier, to strip off his own clothes and allow himself to be locked into the wooden stocks, his hands and head immobile, helpless to any tortures the Dragon dreamed up.

And once again, he’d backed down. Once again he’d followed orders. Once again he’d done what he was told to do. Once again he’d been a coward.

But no more. Not anymore. Now, when he closed his eyes, he saw Lanier. He saw the blood running down the man’s face as he sawed the skin off his forehead with his own knife, the waterfall of blood steaming in the cold air, dripping down onto the floorboards.

Lanier haunted his thoughts, his dreams. He could still hear the man’s screams, his sobs, the breath caught in his throat. He could still smell the slightly metallic scent of the man’s blood, the putrid tang of his body odor, the acidic scent of nervous sweat.

And now Lanier was dead from the infection that had ravaged his bloodstream.

I killed him.

No more. Dawson knew he should be dead, not Lanier. And if the Dragon ruled the world—which seemed to be the way the future was headed—then this world wasn’t going to be a place worth living in, not for himself, not for anyone.

If you had the chance to kill Hitler before he’d gotten too powerful, would you take it? he asked himself. Would you sabotage battles and missions to keep a monster like that from rising to power, from millions suffering, from millions being slaughtered?

This was Dawson’s only chance.

But he needed to be careful. He’d slipped up by telling Petra his plans. They would torture her, make her talk. No one could withstand the torture for long, and Dawson figured when they came for him, when they tortured him, he would talk too. He wouldn’t hate Petra for telling on him—she was only human. And if the torture didn’t make Petra talk, then the Dragon could worm his way into her mind, and eventually into Dawson’s own mind.

So he had to keep playing his part for now, the part of a coward. But he needed to be ready if the guards suddenly came for him, ready for when Petra ratted him out.

He shouldn’t have told her that he’d bring the others from her store back with him; he knew it was too dangerous. But at the same time he needed to give her hope. She would be stronger with hope, last longer. It might be her only chance.

And Dawson knew a secret. He knew the Dragon was afraid of the people in the store for some reason. He didn’t know why the Dragon was afraid, and he didn’t care. If the Dragon was afraid of them, then maybe they were the only chance to defeat him, and Dawson had made up his mind to help them in any way he could.

Little by little the Dragon’s empire was beginning to crumble, little cracks forming in the walls. Dawson knew that the airplane the Dragon had sent to the store hadn’t returned. Maybe the airplane had run into engine trouble, or maybe the two men in the plane had just decided not to come back to this hell town, just like a few of the troops of Dark Angels sent out to bring back food and supplies hadn’t returned. But maybe the most logical reason the airplane hadn’t returned was because it had been shot down by the people at the store. They had guns up on the roof—Dawson had seen them shooting. It wasn’t that difficult to believe that someone on that roof had shot the plane down.

The Dragon was angry that the airplane hadn’t come back; he seemed to believe it had been shot down. Maybe he knew for sure like he knew the secret thoughts in people’s minds, like he knew their dreams.

Dawson didn’t care if he died now; he was going to stand up this time, for the first time in his life. This was for his little brother on the playground, for his girlfriend in high school, but most of all it was for himself.

PART TWO

CHAPTER 6

Ray

In Ray’s dream he was back in Craig’s house, back in the garage where Craig had killed his own family. Ray was alone in the garage, standing near the door that led into the laundry room and then to the rest of the large home. For some reason Ray knew the door that led into the laundry room was locked. The two windows on the back wall of the garage were closed and locked, the two garage doors pulled down. It was cold and murky.

But Ray wasn’t really alone—there were dead people in this garage, a car full of them. Ray stared at the Mercedes to the left of the SUV that had been backed into the garage. The SUV shouldn’t be there—they had driven it out of the garage when they had escaped the rippers trying to get into the house.

Why was he here? Why was he back at Craig’s house in his garage?

A low growl came from between the two vehicles; it came from Craig’s dog, the one he’d left outside the car while he ran it, flooding the garage with exhaust fumes that would eventually kill them all. Ray remembered seeing Craig and his family in the car, Craig’s wife and daughters tied up, their heads leaning against the glass of the windows, dried puke on their faces, eyes bulging and glassy and dead.

The growl came again, louder and lower. Ray could sense the dog moving in the darkness. Ray stared at the Mercedes and saw the vanity license plate: Mr. Mercedes. That hadn’t been there before, had it? Craig didn’t have a license plate like that, did he?

This is just dream . . . just a dream . . .

The driver’s door of the car opened. Craig got out of the car, taking a moment to stand, like his body was frozen and he was working out the kinks. Ray could hear his muscles and bones snapping and popping with his movement.

Ray wanted to run, to turn and try the door, kick it in if he had to. But he didn’t, he kept on staring as Craig walked toward the rear of his Mercedes, materializing from the gloom of the garage, the air still heavy with exhaust smoke. Craig’s dog still growled, but remained between the cars down in the shadows.

“Ray,” Craig croaked when he got to the rear of his car, standing beside the trunk.

Ray didn’t answer.

“You think I knew what the hell I was talking about when I called you here? I was turning into a ripper by then, losing my mind. You have to know that, don’t you? I mean, deep down inside you must know that.”

“No,” Ray whispered.

Craig took another shambling step forward, slightly off-balance, a zombie moving forward from the smoky gloom. “I was speaking gibberish, just like your wife was before she died . . . before you killed her.”

“No,” Ray said a little louder. He touched his hips, searching for the gun he kept on him, but it wasn’t there.

“There is no Avalon, Ray. There’s nothing there. Just some shit I had on my computer. None of it meant anything. None of what you’re doing means anything.”

“No, that’s not true.”

Craig took another step forward, his eyes glowing now just like the Dragon’s eyes glowed in other dreams. “You killed your wife. You abandoned your daughter. And now you need to pay.”

Ray heard Craig’s wife and daughters getting out of the Mercedes, snapping the ropes that had bound them, groaning and screeching. The dog was growling louder, barking now.

Ray’s eyes popped open in the tent, his breath caught in his throat. For a second he wasn’t sure where he was. It was dark, but not too dark for Ray to see around him. He was at the store. It was run by a woman named Jo. They’d been on their way south when they’d seen an airplane shooting at someone on the roof. Luke had shot the airplane down and Jo and the others here had welcomed them inside. They were safe here for the moment. They had food here, water, guns, and ammo.

Ray turned his head, looking at Mike. He was still asleep. Ray sat up and crawled out of the tent, trying to be as quiet as he could.

The dream still clung to Ray and he shivered as he stood outside his tent. It was just beginning to get light, the gray morning light shining down through the skylights in the ceiling high above him. He exhaled a long breath, feeling a little better now.

Today was Mike’s birthday; he was twelve years old. Ray had promised himself to start teaching Mike skills he would need to survive in this hellish new world, and today he would start that training—it would be Mike’s birthday present.

He found Jo in her office. He knocked lightly at the door. She told him to come in and he limped inside. His ankle had healed up quite a bit, but it was still a little tender.

“Ray,” Jo said, her face brightening.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?”

“No,” Jo said, getting up from her air mattress on the floor. “I only sleep for an hour or two at a time.”

“Bad dreams?”

“No,” Jo said as she walked to her desk and sat down in the chair behind it. “I don’t think I dream much. I can’t remember them too much.”

I wish I didn’t dream, Ray thought as he took a seat in one of the two chairs in front of Jo’s desk.

Jo frowned. “Is something wrong?”

“No.”

“Is this about your preparations to leave?”

“No.”

Jo looked a little relieved.

Ray had begun the preparations, which consisted more of planning out a more detailed route to northern Georgia—he used a few maps he’d found in the store. He had an idea of where Avalon should be, remembering the map he’d drawn at Craig’s house, but he couldn’t be sure exactly where it was. But Emma said they would find Avalon—she said they were meant to find it.

So far Ray had planned on leaving with Mike, Josh, and Emma. Josh and Emma said they still wanted to go to Avalon; Emma said they needed to go. Ray had tried to talk Luke into going with them, but he seemed committed to helping Max find a woman named Petra, a woman Luke had seen in a dream, a woman who had spoken to him in his dream and asked him to come help her. Ray would’ve loved to have Luke with them—his skill with firearms was invaluable—but Luke wasn’t swaying from the decision that he’d made to find Hell Town.

“Are you okay?” Jo asked. There was true concern on her face. Her arm was still bandaged from the gunshot wound she’d gotten on the roof, but there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage, and no infection so far.

“Yeah. Actually, if I’m counting the days right, it’s November 19th. My son’s birthday.”

“It’s Mike’s birthday? How old?”

“Twelve.”

“Where is he?”

“Still sleeping. I’m going to get him up soon.”

“We should have a party for him. We could try to make some kind of cake. We can’t really bake one, but we could come up with something creative.”

Ray nodded. Smiled. “Thank you, Jo. I want to teach Mike how to drive today.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I promised him a few days ago that I’d teach him how to drive. He needs to learn how to drive in case something happens to me.”

Jo nodded gravely.

“And he needs to learn how to shoot.”

Jo nodded again in agreement.

“I’m going to use our van out back to teach him to drive. I’d like to have him drive around a little back there. I don’t want to take him outside the fence with all the rippers out there.”

“Of course,” Jo answered, but she looked a little concerned.

“We’ll be careful. When we leave, if there’s a remote area, I’ll let Mike drive some more, practice some more. But I need him to learn the basics first.”

“Sure. I’m going up on the roof soon to take a shift. I’ll give you a walkie, let you know if any rippers are around the back area.”

“Thank you, Jo. I’ll teach him to drive, and then I’m going to ask Luke to teach him how to shoot a rifle up on the roof. Is that okay?”

“That’s fine with me.”

“I just wanted to run these things by you before we did them. It’s your store.”

“It’s our store. All of us. I don’t own it. We all share it. I’d like us all to share it, to make our decisions together.”

Ray made a move to get up from his chair.

“You’re still sure about leaving?”

“Yes.”

“It’s . . . it’s just that I’ve got a bad feeling. Petra left with six of our people. They were going on one last run for supplies before winter set in.”

“Seems like you’ve got enough food and supplies to last the winter.”

Jo nodded. “Yes. I shouldn’t have let them go.” She paused for just a moment. “But we had a mole, a guy named Jeff, the guy we told you about. He set them up, made them believe his uncle had a home full of supplies and weapons. We always need more weapons and ammo to fight the Dark Angels.”

Ray didn’t say anything.

“I shouldn’t have let them go, but like I said, I’m not a dictator here. We all make our own decisions. They wanted to go, wanted to help, and now three of them are dead, shot right out there in the parking lot. There are still three others missing, and Petra is with the Dragon.”

Ray could tell how hurt Jo was, how much she blamed herself. “I’m sorry, but we have to go. Avalon was always going to be our final destination. There could be something wonderful there, civilization still, a bunker of uninfected people, food, supplies, people who have plans, who know how to rebuild again. My supervisor at work, Craig, he wouldn’t have told me to go to his house, to find the information on his computer about Avalon if he didn’t believe in it, if he wasn’t sure of what was there.” He felt a twinge of guilt, remembering the dream he’d just had.

Jo sighed and nodded. “I understand.”

“There could be a cure there. Or some kind of vaccine that could protect children, or future children.”

“After Mike is done with his training today, I want to have a birthday dinner and a cake for him,” she said, changing the subject. “Maybe a few gifts, if that’s okay.”

“That would be fine.”

“I’m going to spread the word about the party, but we’ll try to make sure Mike doesn’t find out.”

“Thank you, Jo.” Ray stood up. “You’ve been so gracious. So welcoming. You’ve helped us so much. And after we get to Avalon, we will come back here for the rest of you.”

“I know you will. I can tell that you’re a man of your word.”

And Ray could tell Jo was a woman of her word.

He left Jo’s office.

CHAPTER 7

Ray

“Mike, wake up.”

Mike rolled over in his sleeping bag, his eyelids fluttering just a bit.

“Come on, Mike. I let you sleep almost nine hours.”

Mike groaned, burying his head deeper into the blanket and the sleeping bag.

Ray hated waking Mike up. He hadn’t gotten much quality sleep since leaving Doug’s cabin a few days ago. “You know what today is?”

“No,” Mike grumbled.

“It’s your birthday. You’re twelve today.”

Mike opened his eyes, staring up at Ray, coming fully awake.

“Come on. Get up.” He slapped Mike’s hip under the sleeping bag. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“If I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it? Get up. Get dressed. Get your shoes on. Your coat too.”

Mike’s excitement switched to fear. “We’re going outside? Are we leaving today?”

“No. Not today. Would you just trust me and do what I tell you?”

Mike sat up, looking for his shoes.

Ray left the tent so Mike could get dressed.

*

Ten minutes later Ray and Mike joined Kate and Jo by the smaller back door near the rollup door. Brooke was with Kate—she hardly ever left Kate’s side. Brooke stared at Mike, another child, fascinated by him, like she thought there were no other children in existence.

“You’re going to learn to drive today,” Ray said.

“Can Brooke watch?” Kate asked. “Just from the doorway here?”

Ray had asked Josh, Emma, and Luke to give him this time alone with Mike, to allow him this moment to teach Mike something he would use from now on. A father was supposed to teach his son how to drive . . . in a normal world, anyway.

But Ray couldn’t help saying yes to Kate. He couldn’t tell Brooke no. She looked almost as excited as Mike, the first real emotion—at least a happy emotion—he’d seen from her. He nodded. “Sure.”

Moments later Mike sat down in the driver’s seat of the van while Ray got in the passenger side.

“First, we’re just going to sit here for a few seconds,” Ray said. He’d already looked up and down the fence line—no rippers. Jo had her walkie and she communicated with the spotter on the roof (Luke was up there right now too), and the report was pretty clear so far; many of the rippers had wandered off to the gas station at the intersection in the distance, some wandering beyond the partially constructed building, a small group of them sifting through the wreckage of the airplane in the other direction, hoping to find a scrap of burnt human flesh from the pilot and shooter that had crashed and burned with the plane.

“First, let’s adjust your seat,” Ray told Mike. “There’s a lever on the side. It’s motorized.”

Mike figured it out within seconds, moving the seat a little closer. Even though he was only twelve years old, he was only a few inches shorter than Ray. He had long arms and legs that were skinny now, but they would fill out with muscles through his teenage years, like Ray’s had done.

God, let me see him grow up. And if not, let me show him the skills he needs to survive.

“Okay, that’s good, Mike. Now you want to adjust your mirrors. The rearview mirror there, the two side mirrors. You can see out the back window of the van, but you need to learn how to use the side mirrors too.”

Mike got the mirrors adjusted where he wanted them.

Ray pointed at the shifter. “This is an automatic transmission. You shift into D, which means drive. P is for park. R is for reverse. N is for neutral.”

“What’s neutral?”

“It means you’re not in gear or in park. If you need to push the van you would have to have it in neutral.”

“Why would I need to push it?”

“Or tow it. But, yeah, you’re right; you’ll probably never need it.”

“There’s a 2 and a 1.”

“Lower gears. You won’t really need those either. Let’s just concentrate on drive for now—to go forward, and reverse—to go backwards. And park to park. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“The pedals on the floor. The one to the right is to go; the one to the left is to stop. Only use your right foot, not both feet at the same time. Okay?”

He nodded. “What about the other pedal?”

“That’s the parking brake. It’s for if you park on a hill. You won’t need to use that right now. We’re just going to drive around back here.” And try not to hit the fence. “So you’ll just worry about putting the van in drive and then either pressing the gas to go or the brake to stop.”

“Okay.”

“Your switch over there is for the headlights, but there’s only one headlight on this van now. That switch lever on the other side of the steering wheel is for the windshield wipers.”

Mike nodded.

Ray handed the keys to Mike. “Stick the big key into the ignition and twist it.”

Mike twisted the key and started the van. It rumbled quietly.

“Good. Now put your seatbelt on.”

They both put their seatbelts on.

“Okay. Press your foot down on the gas a little.”

Mike looked at him.

“It’s still in park. It won’t go anywhere unless you put it in drive. See? The shifters in the P for park.”

Mike pressed his food down on the gas pedal. The van roared a little.

“Okay. That’s a little too much gas. Just press the pedal down a little.”

Mike eased down on the gas.

“That’s good, son. Now the brake. Press your foot down on it. Get used to it.”

Mike pressed his foot down on the brake pedal.

Ray turned the heater on. “Still cold, but it will warm up in a few minutes. We might as well be comfortable, right?”

“Right,” Mike said with a smile, but he was nervous.

“It’s okay, Mike. There aren’t any rippers around yet.” He picked up the walkie Jo had given to him. “And Luke’s up on the roof looking out. He’ll let us know if a bunch of them are coming our way.”

“Or he’ll shoot them.”

“Yeah. Maybe he’ll do that too.”

“I . . . I just don’t want to hit the fence. Tear it open.”

Ray was glad Mike was speaking aloud the fear he’d been secretly harboring. “You won’t. Don’t think about what you don’t want to do, think about what you want to do.”

Mike nodded.

“We’ll go slow at first. You’ll see.”

Mike took a deep breath. He was ready.

“Okay. Hands on the steering wheel at ten and two.”

“Ten and two?”

“Yeah, like a clock face. Left hand at ten o’clock and right hand at two o’clock.” Ray realized he was talking to a kid who only looked at digital numbers. He held up his own hands like he was holding an imaginary steering wheel. “Like this.”

Mike copied his movements.

“That’s right. That’s how you drive. Both hands on the wheel.”

“But you drive with one hand on the wheel.”

“That comes with experience.” It was time to get going. The longer they sat here with the engine idling, the more gas they wasted and there was more of a chance some of the rippers might hear the van running. Ray still had the walkie, but he kept glancing at the thick woods beyond the fence in the distance. He didn’t see any movement in the woods, but the rippers could be at the fence in seconds, seemingly materializing from the trees. He remembered how fast they had appeared on that lonely, sun-dappled road when the little girl had sat as bait to stop their vehicle, to lure them out of it.

“Put your foot on the brake pedal and shift into drive. You can’t shift without your foot on the brake—it won’t let you do it.”

Mike pressed his foot down on the brake pedal, pushing it down hard. He shifted into drive, the transmission barely making a sound as he shifted.

“Now ease your foot up off the brake. The van will start rolling just a bit.”

Mike lifted his foot up. The van rolled a little.

“Okay, good. Now put your foot back down on the brake pedal.”

Mike slammed his foot back down on the brake hard, the van rocking to a sudden stop.

“Not so hard, Mike. Okay. Just ease your foot down.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It just takes some getting used to. Try it again.”

Mike did a little better the second time.

“Now we’re going to try some gas, okay? Just a little. We’ll drive that way over there, and start to turn left. Got it?”

Mike nodded nervously.

“Okay, Mike. Just a little gas.”

Mike pressed the pedal down a little too hard.

“That’s okay. Take your foot back off, then the brake.”

Mike slammed the brakes again, the van stopping suddenly, the seatbelts tightening up.

It took a few more tries before Mike got going again. He turned the van to the left and drove toward the gate at the far end of the building. He hit the brakes a little too hard again, but not enough to screech the tires.

Ray had Mike turn in a wide circle and head back to the concrete ramp. He had Mike park next to the ramp. Then they drove toward the gate again, a little faster this time. Mike was already catching on. After two more trips around the back area, Mike parked next to the ramp again.

“You did really well, son. I’m proud of you.”

“Can we drive some more?”

“Maybe later. Tomorrow.”

Mike looked a little disappointed.

“Right now there’s a second part to your birthday present.”

“What?”

“Luke’s up on the roof. He’s going to teach you how to shoot.”

“Seriously?” Mike whispered in awe.

“Yes. And you need to take it very seriously.”

“I will.”

“Cars and guns aren’t toys. They’re weapons and tools that we all need to survive now.”

“I know.”

“Okay. Go meet Luke up on the roof.”

“What about you?”

“Later. You need to do this with Luke on your own at first.”

CHAPTER 8

Kate

Kate, Jo, and Brooke watched Ray teach Mike how to drive the van, the three of them standing just outside the doorway to the loading bay, leaning against the metal railing on the concrete landing, six steps leading down to the asphalt of the loading area of the store.

Brooke smiled as she watched, then she laughed as Mike hit the brakes too hard, the van rocking back and forth for a moment.

It was good to hear her laugh, to see her engaged in something, happy for a moment.

“Oh Lord,” Jo said. “I remember learning to drive.”

“Me too,” Kate said.

“My mother taught me,” Jo said. “She had a big car, a ’69 Plymouth Fury. It was a burnt orange color with a dark brown vinyl top. The hood looked as wide as the road to me. My mom was a nervous wreck teaching me. She made me even more nervous than I already was.”

They watched Mike drive a few feet farther and then hit the brakes hard again, not hard enough to skid the tires, but enough to rock the van again, the brake lights flashing.

Brooke laughed again, covering her mouth like she was doing something wrong, but unable to control herself.

“What about you, Kate?” Jo asked. “Who taught you how to drive?”

“My dad. He had an old pickup. I actually learned how to drive a stick shift first. My dad was so calm, though. So patient with me. No matter how many times I stalled, he told me, ‘You’ll get it.’” The pang of the memory hit her hard. She watched the van, wondering if Ray was as calm right now as her father had been, or if he was as nervous as Jo’s mother. Maybe a combination of both, she guessed.

They watched Mike drive around for fifteen minutes, and then he drove back, reversing next to the concrete ramp to park.

“Ray’s going to let Mike learn how to shoot a rifle up on the roof,” Jo said.

Kate looked at her.

“Luke’s going to teach him. The next part of his birthday present. Which reminds me, I need to get started on the third part.” She patted Brooke’s head. “You want to help me make a cake?”

Brooke’s eyes lit up. “Yes.” She looked at Kate for permission.

“Go ahead with her.”

“What about you?” Brooke asked. “Don’t you want to help?”

“Yeah. I’ll be there in a little while.”

As Brooke and Jo went back inside, Kate waited outside the door. She watched as Ray and Mike got out of the van. Mike rushed up the stairs and shot past her inside the building.

“He’s just excited about learning how to shoot,” Ray explained as he climbed the steps.

“And to drive,” Kate said.

Ray nodded. “Yeah. He needs to learn these things.”

Kate thought about Brooke and Patrick—they were still too young, but even they would have to learn soon.

“You going back inside?” Ray asked.

“I don’t know. I might sit out here for a minute.”

“It’s cold.”

“I know, but it feels good to be outside again, even for just a few minutes. Not on the roof, but out here on the ground.”

Ray nodded like he understood.

Kate sat down on the first step.

“Mind if I join you?” Ray asked. “If you want to be alone, I understand.”

“No. Please.”

Ray sat down next to Kate. “At least the rippers stayed away while we were out here.”

“There are less and less of them every day. I think a lot of the herd, or whatever you want to call them, has been moving on.”

“Other herds will come,” Ray said, hunching forward a little, his hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, mist clouding up in front of his face as he spoke.

“It’s not safe out there beyond the fence. It will never be safe out there again.”

“Maybe one day.”

She looked at him. “You really believe that?”

Ray didn’t answer.

“That place you’re going to . . .”

“Avalon.”

“Avalon. You really think something’s there?”

“I do. There could be a cure there. A vaccine. Could be a whole city of survivors down there in that bunker, people who were never exposed to the Ripper Plague.”

Kate watched Ray as he spoke. He stared at the chain-link fence in the distance, watching for rippers, watching for Dark Angels. He was always watching. They all were.

“It’s a big risk going there,” she said.

“Yes, but I believe Craig meant for us to find the information on his laptop at his house. I don’t think he would’ve called me and told me about it if it wasn’t something important.”

She watched Ray as he stared at the fence. She saw something on his face, some imperceptible twitch, something in his eyes, some kind of doubt, or maybe he was lying—lying to them or himself, or both. She didn’t know him well enough to make the judgment; it was just a feeling she got.

“It’s risky. Whatever we do is risky. It’s risky staying here at this store.”

“It might be better than being out there on the road.” Flashes of her trip across North Carolina ran through her mind: stranded on the rooftop with Ted in the city after being chased by thousands of rippers, running for her life in the small town where she’d found Brooke, driving through the hordes of rippers as they tried to flee her parents’ home while a few of the rippers tore Lisey apart. The horrors she’d seen . . . she didn’t want to see them again.

“The Dark Angels will attack this store eventually.”

“Max is going after Petra. Your friend is going with him. He said he’s going to kill the Dragon.”

Ray didn’t look like he believed any of that. “If they don’t succeed, and believe me, I hope to God they do, then the Dark Angels will just keep coming back. They had at least one airplane in Hell Town, maybe they have more. The cabin we stayed at in West Virginia, they blew it up with some kind of rocket launcher or something. They had military vehicles they’d taken from the National Guard and the police. They’ve got way more weapons than we do, way more ammo, way more soldiers. Eventually they’ll get in here.”

Kate knew Ray was right. As much as she loved Jo, she also knew Jo was afraid to leave the store. Jo would defend the store up until her death, and maybe everyone else’s death.

“Look,” Ray said, his voice softer as he turned to look at her. “I’m not saying abandon this store or set out for something like we are, I’m just saying everything we do has risk right now. Everything. Running, searching, staying in one place.”

Kate nodded in agreement. For just a moment the lure of going with Ray and Mike attracted her. Maybe it was just being outside again in the fresh air. Maybe it was the promise of a great discovery, something that could help everyone. She’d been a scientist, and every scientist’s dream was discovering something great to help humanity.

But there was something that held her back, something in Ray’s eyes, a truth he was hiding from everyone . . . maybe even from himself.

CHAPTER 9

Luke

Luke crouched down next to Mike who was hunched down right behind the knee wall that surrounded the roof of Jo’s Super Bea’s store. Mike rested the .30-06 rifle he was holding on top of the knee wall, the finger of his right hand on the trigger guard.

“That’s good, Mike,” Luke said. “Now squeeze your left eye shut and look through the scope with your right eye.”

Mike did what Luke told him to.

“It’s like looking through a telescope,” Luke continued. “You see the parking lot?”

Mike nodded, still concentrating on looking through the rifle scope.

“Try to focus on one of the rippers in the parking lot.”

“Okay.”

“Tell me when you’ve got one in your sights.”

“Okay. I do.”

Luke looked down at the vast parking lot below, at the dozens of rippers roaming around like zombies from a horror movie. But these were no zombies wandering around aimlessly; these were animals always on the hunt. Some of them formed small groups, a few occasionally fighting with each other, brief but violent altercations. Sometimes there was a flash of a knife, or the blur of a stick swinging through the air. When they weren’t squabbling and roaring at each other, most of the rippers were looking around, always alert for any movement of possible prey, alert to any sounds. Many of them looked up at Luke and Mike perched at the edge of the roof, just their heads and arms visible from below, and the rifle in Mike’s hands. But even though the rippers were alert, they didn’t seem to be aware that a weapon was pointed at them. Or maybe they just didn’t care—too desperate for food now to care.

“You see the crosshairs in the scope?”

“Yeah,” Mike whispered. “It’s like a video game. Like Zombie Takeover.”

“Yeah, I guess it is.” Maybe Mike was more prepared for this than Luke had expected. “You got one of them in the crosshairs?”

“Yes.”

“What’s he look like? Describe him to me.”

“A man. Short hair. His face and hands are stained. He’s wearing a white shirt, like maybe an undershirt, with a dark shirt over it. He’s got jeans on.”

Luke pulled his binoculars out from his hoodie, the strap already around his neck. He brought them up to his eyes, panning a little until he found the ripper matching Mike’s description. This ripper was alone, one of the loners. Luke still wasn’t sure why some of the rippers formed into smaller packs and some didn’t. And even so, they still attacked as one gigantic group when they needed to. But there was some kind of pecking order among the rippers that Luke couldn’t understand.

And what did it matter? What would it help if he understood why those monsters did what they did?

“You ready to take him out?”

“You want me to shoot him?” Mike’s concentration broke.

“How else are you going to practice?”

Mike shrugged, glancing down at the rifle in his hands like he’d just suddenly realized he was holding a loaded weapon. He looked out at the parking lot, not meeting Luke’s eyes. “I don’t know. I thought I’d just shoot at a tree or a car or something.”

“Trees and cars don’t move. They don’t try to attack and kill you. Those rippers down there aren’t people anymore. They’re animals. Monsters.”

“You don’t think they might still be themselves somewhere inside their heads, trapped in there, watching? But they can’t control their bodies anymore.”

“I don’t know, Mike.” Luke sighed, staring down at the dozens of rippers still hanging around the parking lot in front of the store. It had been days since the dead bodies up here were dumped over the edge and down to the sidewalk. Many of the rippers had moved on, somewhere deeper into town, Luke guessed. But a few had remained around the store, possibly remembering that they’d gotten food from here before. How long did their memories last?

“I don’t know how much human they have in them anymore,” Luke went on. “I don’t know much about them. But I do know that they won’t hesitate to rip you apart and eat you, or anyone else you care about. I know that you need to be ready to shoot them without hesitation if they are after you.”

Mike sighed like he was a little frustrated, but he hadn’t put the rifle down yet.

“You still want to practice?”

“Yeah,” Mike answered, steeling himself, a sudden hardness in his eyes like he didn’t want to let Luke down.

He’s probably going to miss, anyway.

“Okay, Mike. Look through the scope again. Find your target. It’s just a video game.”

Mike hunkered down again, squeezing one eye shut, the other peering through the scope.

“You got him in your crosshairs?”

“Yeah.” The barest of whispers.

“Finger on the trigger. Very lightly right now. Don’t squeeze it yet.”

Mike’s finger was on the trigger, his body tense and still as he perched his elbows on the top of the knee wall.

“Breathe in . . . hold it . . .”

Mike inhaled softly.

“Let your breath out slowly and squeeze the trigger.”

Mike exhaled and squeezed the trigger. The rifle rocked in his hands, but he didn’t freak out and drop it—he held on and shouldered the recoil well.

Luke had been watching Mike take his shot. He grabbed his binoculars from his neck.

“I got him,” Mike whispered in awe, still staring through the scope.

Luke looked through his binoculars, scanning for a moment then stopping on the downed ripper. “Holy shit.”

“I got him, didn’t I?”

“Check your scope. Find your target again. Make sure.”

Luke had already found the target, staring through the binoculars at the ripper sprawled out on the pavement, a bloodstain in the middle of the white thermal shirt underneath his tattered dark blue button-down, the frayed sleeves stained with dirt and blood. The bloodstain on the front of the rippers’ shirt blossomed, growing bigger and darker right in the middle of his chest. The ripper was still barely alive, staring up at the cloudy sky with bulging eyes, a thick line of blood trickling down from his mouth, more blood pooling under his head from where the back of it had smacked the pavement.

“Luke . . . Luke, I got him. That’s the one I was aiming at.”

Luke kept watching through the binoculars, panning a little to the left and the right. A few of the other rippers were getting interested in the fallen ripper, the fresh blood attracting them. A few of the rippers called out, one pushed another back and went for the dying ripper with a knife in his hands.

“You might not want to watch the rest of this,” Luke warned as he lowered his binoculars. He looked at Mike.

Mike beamed as he took the rifle off the knee wall. “I did it. First try and I shot one.”

“Beginner’s luck.”

CHAPTER 10

Josh

Josh rooted through the boxes, crates, and bags stacked up at the far end of the loading bay. He’d brought a flashlight and a lantern with him, setting them down every so often so he could move boxes and other items around, unstacking them. There didn’t seem to be an organized way that Jo and her staff at the store (all of them gone now except Jo) had piled up these boxes and supplies, just designating this stuff piled up out here as “non-essential.”

Finally, Josh came across some toys and games—what he’d been after all along. Jo hadn’t stacked the books, magazines, CDs, and other entertainment out here and Josh had gone through that area in the store earlier. He’d found a few comic books for Mike’s birthday already, only one Hulk comic, but he’d found a few other superhero comics. He’d left any zombie comics or books behind, sure that Mike didn’t want to read that kind of stuff right now. He’d also found a few books on CD, only a few from the most popular authors (or they used to be when they were still here). Josh knew Emma liked Stephen King books, or at least she had listened to a few of his books so far, so he grabbed one for her: The Institute. He didn’t read what it was about, he just grabbed it. He also selected a book on CD by someone named Neil Gaiman. He found some music CDs for Emma, some rock and country. He wasn’t even sure what type of music Emma liked to listen to, but he brought them to her along with a battery-powered radio and CD player that Jo let him borrow.

Emma had been surprised by his gifts.

“Figured I’d get you something to listen to,” he told her. “I also got a few comics for Mike’s birthday.”

“When’s the party?” she asked.

“In about an hour. I just checked on Jo and the rest of them. They put me in charge of toys and games. But I figure Mike’s already getting his best presents: learning how to drive and learning how to shoot.”

Emma nodded in agreement.

“Hell, Mike could probably look through those piles in the loading bay himself. I don’t know what he likes. I know he likes video games and Hulk comics, but that’s about all I know.”

“You’ll find something, I’m sure.”

Josh had left Emma alone in the tent after getting the CD player started with the Stephen King book. He wasn’t sure why she wanted to listen to that kind of horror stuff when there was so much real horror in the world right now just beyond the store’s walls.

Maybe she would switch to one of the other authors after the King book. But it wasn’t like she had a lot of books on CD to choose from; they’d been kind of fading out years ago, everything going to digital.

Now Josh had been picking through the toys and games for a while. He’d emptied a box to collect his finds: a couple of board games, a football, a smaller rubber ball, a package of toy cars. Nothing that ran off batteries; Jo had asked him to conserve the batteries as much as possible.

Well, these would have to do. He’d run it by Ray when he saw him.

The door that led outside opened with a slight squeal of the hinges, letting in a blast of gray daylight. Josh jumped, looking that way. He realized he didn’t have his shotgun with him, or any kind of weapon. He didn’t even have a walkie-talkie.

Why wasn’t that door locked?

Before Josh could even think about running to get help, he recognized Ray in the doorway, then Kate. The two of them had been outside. They were smiling, talking. Kate closed the door and locked it.

Josh knew Ray had been outside teaching Mike how to drive. Josh had wanted to be there, but he figured it was a special occasion that Ray wanted just between him and Mike, so he didn’t offer to help in any way. But apparently Kate had been allowed to witness Mike’s first attempt behind the wheel.

A small pang of jealousy hit Josh, but he tried not to let it bother him. He was sure Ray would rather have had just about anyone else out there than him. But the test drive was over now; Josh had seen Mike climbing the ladder up to the roof to shoot the rifle with Luke, that’s why he knew he had some time to come back here to find a few birthday gifts for Mike. Josh figured Ray would be up on the roof with Mike and Luke. But no, he was outside hanging out with Kate.

Was something going on between them? Were they starting to fall for each other a little? Josh couldn’t help smiling, but he wasn’t going to tease Ray about it. No need to get on Ray’s bad side any more than he already was.

Ray and Kate walked toward the double doors that led to the hall, talking in low voices.

Josh didn’t want to look like he was slinking down near the “non-essential” supplies and spying on them. He set his lantern in his box of toys and picked up the box, slipping out from between the stacks of boxes.

“Hey, you two.”

“Josh.” Ray looked a little surprised.

“How’d the drive go?”

“Oh . . . uh, yeah. Mike did really well.”

“He did better than that,” Kate said with a smile. “He did great. Way better than my first time behind the wheel.”

Josh noticed Ray’s eyes on the box in his hand. “Getting some stuff for Mike’s party. Some board games. A few balls. Figured he could toss the ball around with Brooke and the other kid here.”

“Patrick,” Kate reminded him.

“Yeah, Patrick. Could be fun.” Josh looked at Ray. “You think of anything else he might like to do?”

Ray shook his head no. “I think what you’ve got is going to be fine. I think this will be a great birthday for him.”

Josh smiled, amazed that Ray was so amiable.

“I just talked to Jo a little while ago,” Josh said. “She said everything should be ready in about an hour, and that was half an hour ago.”

“Yeah, I’m going to help get the tables and chairs set up,” Kate said.

“I’ll help you,” Ray offered.

“Brooke was with Jo,” Josh said. “She seemed like she was having a lot of fun.”

Kate smiled. “Good. She deserves to have some fun.”

We all do, Josh thought.

While Ray and Kate went to the deli and the kitchen, Josh went back to Tent City. Emma was lying on her side in the tent, listening to the Stephen King novel at a low volume. She reached out and paused the CD when Josh came inside the tent.

“Book good so far?”

“So far, so good. Did you find anything for Mike?”

“Yeah, some board games and balls. Something all three of the kids can play. Hell, I might even join them if they ask me.”

Emma smiled. “You sound . . . sound good.”

“Yeah. You know? I feel good. Coming here, it’s been good for all of us. Not just the rest and the food and the safety of this place, but being around other people. Having other things to do besides just thinking about trying to survive from one minute to the next.”

Emma nodded. “Yes, it’s good here.”

“Hey, guess who I just saw hanging out together out back.”

Emma was still smiling but trying to look serious.

“Ray and Kate,” Josh said before Emma could guess. “I think those two kids might be a little sweet on each other.”

“That’s good for them.”

“I think it is. I think it’s helping Ray relax a little. He didn’t even snap at me.” Josh slipped down onto the floor next to Emma, holding her, snuggling up close to her in the chilly air. He kissed her, just a peck, then he kissed her again, a longer kiss.

“It is good here,” Emma said. She seemed like she was going to say something else, but she let the words die away.

“But?” Josh said. “It sounds like a but was coming.”

“But it’s still dangerous. We can’t forget that.”

“Yeah, I know. But if we all put our heads together we could defend this place. At least get through the winter here.”

Emma was quiet.

“You still think we should go to Avalon, don’t you?”

Emma didn’t say anything.

“I know Ray’s bent on going—”

“I think it’s important too.”

Josh was quiet for a moment. He wasn’t looking forward to going out on the road again, crossing a whole state to get to northern Georgia. But if Emma thought it was important, then he would go.

“I’ll go wherever you want me to go,” he told her and kissed her again. “As long as we’re together.”

Emma was suddenly tense.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Do you feel something . . . something bad? From the Dragon? Have you been dreaming?”

“No. But . . . I don’t know. I just think we all need to be ready.”

“Ready for what?”

“For danger.”

Josh agreed. “We will be. But first we’re going to have a cool birthday party for Mike. He’s going to feel normal again for a little while.”

CHAPTER 11

Dawson

Dawson and his troop had left Hell Town hours ago at sunrise, their convoy of two Humvees and two pickup trucks driving the route they’d driven to the store the last time. They’d packed the trucks last night with the weapons and supplies they would need for their second attack on the store.

Last night Dawson had tried to prepare himself for the inevitable. He’d been sure one of the Dragon’s guards, or even Jacob himself, was coming to get him at any moment. They had interrogated Petra two more times in the last two days. They hadn’t taken any more of her fingers, or any other body parts, but they’d taken more from the servant girl they were torturing in front of her, trying to get Petra to talk.

Sharon. The servant girl’s name was Sharon. She had a name. She was a person.

Petra had talked by then, Dawson was sure of it. How could she not? And even if she hadn’t, wouldn’t the Dragon just eventually know what Petra knew?

Dawson had told himself over and over again that he wasn’t afraid to die, that if he died he didn’t want to go out like a coward—he wanted to make a stand at least once in his life. But as the hours ticked by until sunrise, the greater his fear grew. He was sure he’d crumble like a jellyfish on the floor if Jacob burst into the room. He hadn’t slept all night; he’d been too nervous. And he’d been afraid of dreaming, of the Dragon slipping into his dreams, swooping over his troop as they slept like a vampire gliding on the night air, invading each person’s dreams, prodding and poking in that darkness until he found what he’d been seeking.

But Jacob hadn’t come to get him in the middle of the night, nor the Dragon’s guards. They hadn’t come for the other four Dark Angels who had dared to plan this with him, all four promising that they were willing to die for this, that living any longer in the Dragon’s world wasn’t tolerable anymore. They knew what the Dragon and his henchmen had been doing to the people in this town. They knew about Jacob’s sadistic execution contraption in the field. Dawson and two of the four Dark Angel defectors, had been at the last execution, watching Audrey and Scott, one of their own, twisting and thrashing from the steel cables as dozens of rippers hacked away at the flesh on their legs.

It would only get worse. The Dragon would get worse.

Jacob or the Dragon hadn’t even come around when they’d packed the trucks. Two Dark Angels sat in the back of the pickup that had a steel cage welded around the back of it with an open ceiling. The Dark Angels could shoot through the bars. They had a box with a few hand grenades inside if the mob of rippers got too large.

But their trip to the store had gone well enough. They’d only encountered two big groups of rippers, and one of the groups were only a few miles outside of the Dragon’s walled hell town. The rippers waited around, many of them living in the woods and the fields, hoping for a chance to rush the town’s walls. But they couldn’t get over the walls, and the Dark Angels standing guard at the top of the walls would just pick them off for a while until the group of rippers gave up, fleeing back to the abandoned homes and the woods: the suburbs of Hell Town now.

The other large group they’d come across had been too far off the road to do anything. They’d run at them, but by the time they got to the road the four trucks had already roared past them.

Dawson drove the lead Humvee in the convoy. He thought he might be tired from not sleeping the whole night, but he was wired, jumpy, ready to get this started.

Kramer sat in the passenger seat, eyeing Dawson. “You going to tell us the plan yet?” he growled.

Dawson glanced at Kramer as he drove. “There’s no sense in sneaking up to the store—the spotters on the roof will see us coming. And trying to sneak up on foot will be too dangerous with any rippers around.”

“So what are we going to do?” Kramer said. “We’re almost there.”

“We’re going to ram the gate that leads to the fenced-in area at the back of the store.”

“The Dragon wants that fence intact so the rippers don’t get inside.”

Dawson swore he saw just the trace of suspicion in the man’s eyes. “The orders have changed. We’ll have to fix the gate later. We need to get inside the back fence, blow the rollup door, get inside. Kill who we need to, take the rest as prisoners.”

“What about the food in the store? The rippers will get it.”

“A convoy of box trucks will be coming right after us,” Dawson lied. “They’re hanging back until we give them the word to come to the store and load up what they can.”

Dawson swore he could sense that Kramer knew the whole plan was made up. All it would take was for Kramer, or any of the other Dark Angels in their troop, to radio Jacob or the guards about the plan. But Dawson was counting on, or at least hoping, that Kramer and any others were too afraid of questioning orders. Those who questioned orders might have their brand removed from their foreheads at the least, or at worst, hung from the cables in the field.

And so far, with only a few miles left to go until they reached the store, Kramer didn’t double check the orders.

Last night Dawson had gone over the real plans with his four conspirators: Barry, George, J.J., and Isabella (but they called her Bella). Barry was the oldest of the five of them, sixty-two years old but still in pretty good physical condition. He was slim and short, with a head full of white hair. He’d been a lawyer in the old world, before the Collapse. But after the Collapse he’d had a nervous breakdown, hiding in the basement of his home. A band of Dark Angels had found him sobbing on the floor, curled up in a fetal position. They told him he could live if he joined them, became one of them. He told them he would do anything to live, to not be alone. He took the brand. But since then he’d had second thoughts about being forced into a military unit. He’d always been against any kind of military or war, always fighting for those in society who couldn’t protect themselves. And now, even though he wanted to live, he felt he was on the wrong side of things. Dawson trusted Barry somewhat, trusted his ideology, but he didn’t trust Barry’s overwhelming desire to do anything to survive.

J.J. was the youngest of them at only twenty-two years old. He had no wife, no kids, not even a girlfriend before the Collapse. He worked as a diesel mechanic so his skills were useful to the Dragon and his army. J.J. was tall and gangly, but deceptively strong. His teeth were already going bad at his young age, his hair beginning to thin. He’d been a patriotic American before, practically a right-wing nut, but he believed in freedom above all else; he believed that freedom was what America had been founded on and should be protected more than anything, and at all costs.

George was the same age as Dawson—thirty-four years old. He’d been a teacher and a history buff. His area of specialty was World War II. He needed very little convincing of defecting, and he was the one who compared the Dragon to a young and rising Hitler. (But George only told Dawson that, no one else.) Dawson understood the comparisons that George made, and he knew that George believed that so much history could have been changed if the assassination attempt on Hitler had been successful. George even had a plan to assassinate the Dragon, but Dawson had to talk him out of it. If Jacob wasn’t killed, then he would just take the Dragon’s place. They needed more help if they wanted to take out the Dragon and Jacob; they needed to recruit the ones the Dragon seemed so afraid of. It hadn’t taken too much convincing for George to see it Dawson’s way, and he was in with the plan immediately.

George was slightly overweight, but he’d lost fifteen pounds since the Collapse, since he’d become a Dark Angel. He claimed he hadn’t volunteered, that he’d been forced to join by a small group of Dark Angels in Virginia, that they had threatened to kill him if he didn’t join. But this was another thing that he’d only told Dawson about. Complaining about anything could get you in big trouble in Hell Town.

It had been George who had formed a friendship with Bella, and he’d been the one to bring her into their little circle, vouching for her right away. Bella was a large and somber woman who had a vacant gaze like the undead, like she was already dead and just waiting to fall down. Even though she didn’t show much emotion, she hated how the Dragon ruled, how he had hoarded the supplies, how he had orchestrated everything so quickly. She, like the rest of them, especially with George’s stories of Hitler, saw where things could go with the Dragon leading them. She said there had been enough death and destruction in the world and that they didn’t need to add to it. Dawson agreed to let her in on the plan as soon as he met her.

Of the four, Dawson trusted George and Bella the most, and Barry the least. J.J. was somewhere in the middle.

Right now he had no choice but to trust them. The plan was in motion. They had escaped the Dragon and Hell Town, and now they were almost to the store.

CHAPTER 12

Petra

Petra was roused from sleep in the basement. Her hand throbbed. She was cold and achy, her mind sluggish. They hadn’t given her much to eat in the last few days—no more fancy dinner dates with the Dragon; their only dates were on the back porch now with Petra tied to a wooden chair. At least they filled up her plastic gallon jug with some tepid water. The last three days she had been dragged upstairs to the back porch where she was strapped to the chair. The first day Jacob had snipped off her pinkie finger and cauterized the wound with a blowtorch. But then they’d brought another woman, one of the servants like Audrey had been, onto the back porch to torture her. Her name was Sharon—she remembered the Dragon saying that. They had cut off Sharon’s pinkie finger not long after they had taken Petra’s.

But the next day they took more of Sharon’s fingers, and then some of her toes yesterday. They asked question after question. Petra told them everything she’d known about the store. She’d told them who was there, naming names, ones she could remember. She told them what weapons they had, where the entrances were. But no matter what she told them, they kept asking the questions again and again. The Dragon was never satisfied with her answers. The Dragon seemed sure she was hiding something from him and he was waiting for her to slip up.

She hadn’t slipped up so far. Not yet, at least. But she wasn’t sure how much longer she could hold on. She wasn’t sure how many more times she could watch Sharon suffer, watch another piece of her cut away, the wound cauterized as she screamed, and she was sure the Dragon knew it.

Now someone was coming down the basement steps, the gray afternoon daylight washing down the steps, pouring light into the pitch-black basement.

“Time to go,” Jacob sang out as he came down the stairs, descending them deliberately slow, making each footstep clomp hard on each step. She knew he usually moved without a sound, but when he came down to the basement, he came loud—he wanted her to hear him, to know it was him coming for her.

Petra didn’t want to get out of bed. She didn’t want to go upstairs. She didn’t want to be strong anymore. She was close to giving up, to giving the Dragon what he really wanted, and then maybe they would all take a short drive out to the field so it could all be over for her.

She thought about giving up, but Jacob’s singsong voice as he called out to her stirred a rage in her. She thought about what Dawson had said in the back of the pickup a few days ago (which she tried not to think about too much now), about how he and a few others were going to bring people back from the store to fight the Dragon, to bring him down. And the thought of it made her happy. She wished she would be around to see the Dragon and his attack dog Jacob fall, watch them die.

“Time to get your ass out of bed,” Jacob said as he stood on the landing. “We’ve got things to do.”

Petra knew the two guards were probably at the top of the stairs, not that Jacob needed them. Resisting would only make things worse. She sat on the edge of her bed and laced up her hiking boots, careful to avoid banging her bandaged left hand. They’d given her a few aspirins a day for the pain and the swelling, but that was it for painkillers.

She walked to Jacob and then brushed by him on the landing. He followed her up the stairs and into the kitchen. She walked across the kitchen to the back porch. She knew where she was going; she didn’t need to be told.

The same wooden chair was waiting for her in the middle of the back porch, the other chair in its place across from hers, waiting for Sharon—or maybe even someone new. There were spots of dried blood under Petra’s chair from when Jacob had cut off her finger, but there were a lot more bloodstains under the other chair.

Petra sat down in her regular chair, her arms on the arms of the chair, waiting for Jacob to tie her wrists down. Jacob seemed to take a sick pleasure in their new daily ritual, tying the ropes a little tighter than he needed to.

Jacob stood up after tying her ankles. “Comfy?”

She didn’t answer him. Even though she’d barely eaten anything over the last few days, her stomach gurgled, threatening to throw up the water and bile.

The Dragon was coming. She could hear him. She could sense him. He would ask his questions over and over again. The guards would bring Sharon in again and strap her to the chair across from her, the gag tied around her mouth, her eyes glassy with shock, her hands and feet wrapped in bloodstained bandages.

Petra couldn’t be strong anymore. She could feel the thoughts of Dawson and his plan bubbling to the surface of her mind. She was hungry, cold, tired, and yes, she was scared. But most of all she just wanted this to be over. They would take her out to the field, only this time Dawson and his fellow traitors wouldn’t be her captors—now they would be the captives. They would all hang from the cables together. They would all experience unimaginable pain and terror, and then it would be over.

Then a worse thought came to Petra. Maybe they would make her watch as Dawson and his traitorous soldiers were hanged and torn apart. Maybe the Dragon would keep her alive. Maybe he still needed her as bait. The idea of being cooped up in the cold basement again started a panic inside of her, and being bound to the chair only intensified the panic. She could feel a scream rising up in the back of her throat where the muscles twitched, ready to expel not only the scream, but the acidic water in her stomach.

“Petra,” the Dragon said in his deep Southern drawl, swooping in past her to stand in front of her. Jacob had moved away without Petra even noticing it, like a shadow that just appeared to form in a new place, waiting while his master commanded the attention.

Petra didn’t answer him.

“I’m not going to ask you any more questions,” he said.

She stared at him.

“I think I’ve gotten what I’ve needed. I believe you’re telling me the truth, telling me everything you know.”

“I am,” Petra croaked. Her eyes were right on the Dragon, but her ears were tuned behind her, listening for the sounds of the guards and the numb, shuffling feet of Sharon.

“Yes, I believe you.” The Dragon walked away a few paces, a long finger to his lips like an actor poorly mimicking someone deep in thought. He inhaled a sharp breath before speaking. “But I still can’t help feeling that you’re withholding other information, but nothing to do with the store.” He turned to stare at her. “Something to do with the traitors who are plotting against me.”

Petra didn’t say anything. She held his stare, but she swore she could feel a thousand fingers invading her mind, wriggling there, prying layers up, pulling holes open, searching . . .

“Yes, you know something. Something you’ve been trying so hard to hide from me.”

“I . . . I’ve told you everything. You don’t have to hurt anyone anymore.”

The Dragon sighed again like he’d come to an important but painful decision. “You see, I think you might be wrong there.”

Petra heard the footsteps coming, the shuffling feet. They brought Sharon to the chair and sat her down on it hard, tying her wrists and ankles to the wood. She was already gagged, as usual. She didn’t fight. She never fought back anymore. There was an acceptance in her glassy eyes, like an animal that knew it was about to be slaughtered, an animal that knew it had no hope of escape or survival.

“Let’s talk about a man named Dawson,” the Dragon said.

Petra’s heart skipped a beat. She tried not to react, but she was sure the Dragon had seen the recognition on her face.

“He was in the back of the truck with you after Audrey and Scott were executed.”

“Murdered,” she whispered.

“I believe Dawson told you some things. I believe he promised to go to the store and bring back help for you.”

Her stomach sank, the pukey feeling worse now.

“You can’t hide things from me,” the Dragon said, smiling now. “I know things. I can see them. I can see people’s thoughts like watching a movie. I can visit dreams where people can’t hide their secrets.” He took a step closer to Petra, frowning. “You should’ve just told me, Petra. We wouldn’t have had to go through all of this day after day. I knew all along about Dawson and his small band of traitors, just like I knew about Audrey and Scott. Yes.” He glanced back at Sharon. “All of this pain and suffering could have been avoided if you would’ve just told me the truth right away.”

Petra thought of Dawson, wondering where he was. Would he be dragged out on the back porch soon?

“Dawson’s on his way to the store,” the Dragon said as if she’d just asked the question aloud. “He’s going through with his plan. Yep. I knew all about it. I let it happen. I want him to bring the others back, to lure them here. And you’re helping to lure them here.” He paused for just a second. “I told you that you would help me, whether you wanted to or not.”

“Okay,” Petra said. “Okay. You know everything now. So . . . so you can just stop this.”

The Dragon shook his head slightly. “Sorry, Petra, but you need to learn to be truthful with me. With us. Always truthful.”

Jacob had his canvas bag in his hand. He brought it over to Sharon’s chair. He set it on the floor and opened it, searching through the tools inside, taking some out, selecting the ones he wanted.

“Please,” Petra cried. “Please don’t do this.”

“You did this!” the Dragon roared, his face a mask of rage suddenly, his pale skin flushing red, eyes wild, mouth wide, his teeth showing like a snarling dog. “You need to watch this, to see what you’ve done to this poor woman.”

A coldness spread through Petra, so much colder than the air outside. She locked eyes with the Dragon. “I’ll kill you for this. I don’t know how, but I swear I will.”

The Dragon calmed down, switching from one extreme emotion to the next. He seemed suddenly bored, ready to leave, his message delivered. He looked at Jacob and gave a slight wave of his hand for him to carry on.

Jacob picked up a knife, studying it for a second, happy to carry on.

CHAPTER 13

Jo

Jo had Mike’s birthday “cake” ready. It wasn’t really a cake. She couldn’t actually bake a cake; they had no electricity, no generators, nothing to fire the ovens with or keep the refrigerators cool—they only had dried and canned food to work with, pre-packaged boxed food. They had snack cakes. She wanted to keep certain foods rationed, using absolutely all of the last of the perishable foods like breads, fruits, and vegetables first. Bananas had been gone for a while now, lettuce and some other vegetables were too questionable to eat. The cold air in the store helped preserve the fruits and veggies a little longer, but they weren’t going to last much longer. Jo planned on using some of the vegetables, fruits, and breads for the dinner, along with some cheeses and canned meat. But for the dessert, the “cake” was going to be made up of individual snack cakes all pieced together like a 3-D puzzle and covered with icing. It took a little figuring out, to put the pieces together, some of them rectangular, others circular, others logs, some irregularly shaped, but Max helped her paste them together with the icing and then he spread the rest of the icing over everything until it actually resembled an actual cake.

Brooke helped too. It was so good seeing Brooke become more active, more sociable. Kate told Jo about when she’d found Brooke (or more accurately when Brooke had saved her) down in the old crawlspaces beneath the warehouse and storage bays, down in the brick tunnels, in the dark with the rats and spiders, hearing the roars and commotion of the rippers above her, knowing her parents and everyone she’d ever known were dead, that no one was coming for her.

But Brooke had survived. And she’d let Kate inside the building, leaving the relative safety of her tunnels to unlock the door to the alley.

Like she knew. Kate told Jo that Brooke had seen her in a dream, that Emma had come and told her to help a woman soon who would be banging on the metal door, trapped in the alley with the rippers. Jo hadn’t believed the stories about the dreams Emma and Brooke shared, that Kate, Max, and Petra also shared, but now that Emma was here, along with the others Brooke had drawn in her art tablet, Jo couldn’t deny anymore that something unexplainable and powerful was at work.

And just being around Emma was enough for Jo to believe. She could see how Ray, his son, Luke, and Josh had followed her through the wastelands. Emma was a small and slight woman, but there was power inside of her, something instinctually felt. It was like being next to a massive generator that hummed with power . . . lethal power if tampered with the wrong way.

Jo had never believed in things like psychic abilities, or even religion, but everything had changed in the last few weeks. There was no denying the monsters roaming around the parking lot, and there was no denying the dreams her visitors had shared and the power inside of Emma. And the power inside the Dragon—possibly Emma’s equal, or maybe more like her opposite, the dark to her light.

Yes, Jo believed in all of it now, but she wondered where it left her. Why hadn’t she dreamed about Emma or any of the others? She’d seen the Dragon—or just the shadows and glowing eyes—in her dreams, but she hadn’t seen the light along with the darkness. Had Emma chosen only a few she could connect with? Josh said Emma couldn’t control what she did in her dreams, that she did things kind of subconsciously so the Dragon couldn’t pinpoint their location. But the Dragon knew they were here at the store now; he had to know. So why couldn’t she see the dreams like the others could? Did it mean something? Something bad? If there was some plan here, some final battle, did it mean Jo wasn’t involved? That she wasn’t as important as Emma and her friends, as important as Kate, Brooke, Max, and Petra? Or maybe Emma could only communicate through dreams with people who were like her. Well, not exactly like her, but those who might have a flicker of the abilities that she had.

Above all, Jo was pragmatic. She was realistic. If she didn’t even have a smattering of the psychic powers that Emma and the others had, then she wasn’t going to let something like that determine her fate. She wasn’t going to create a self-fulfilling prophecy. She would do her job, do her best to protect this store and those inside.

It was time. The table had been set up, the food and drinks on the table. Now, the cake. Luke was with Mike on the roof. She’d heard the gunshot a few moments ago, so they would be down the ladder soon, and Luke was supposed to bring Mike over to the deli area, what had now become their cafeteria.

Everyone else (except Phil and Lisa who had volunteered to hang out on the roof and keep watch) was hiding, waiting for Luke and Mike to get to the table.

Jo stuck twelve candles in the top of the cake. She looked at Brooke, who was eyeing the dessert, like she was looking at a relic from the past, something that shouldn’t be around anymore, like a dinosaur that had come back to life.

“Are we ready to bring the cake out?” Jo asked Brooke.

“Yeah,” Brooke whispered with the biggest smile.

Jo looked at Gil. He’d been helping in the kitchen along with Max and Becca. Jo felt something for Gil, maybe the same thing she’d felt for Jackson. She swore Gil was a little sweet on her too—he’d flirted enough; that was for sure. And he’d already decided to stay at the store after Ray and his group went looking for Avalon, and Luke, Max, and Phil went looking for Petra in Hell Town. He said someone had to stay and help guard the store. Maybe he just didn’t want to be on the road anymore.

Jo’s walkie crackled. Then Luke’s voice: “Okay, we’re coming down.”

“Got it,” Jo said into her walkie. She smiled at Brooke and Gil. “We need to get the cake on the table, the candles lit, and then we need to hide.”

Gil carried the cake, setting it in the middle of the table. He lit the candles with a long disposable lighter.

“Hurry, we need to hide,” Brooke said with urgency, but she couldn’t stop smiling.

“I know,” Jo whispered back.

They hurried to the aisles where a few others hid. Others were behind the deli counters, crouched down and out of sight.

A moment later Jo heard Luke and Mike approaching, Mike talking excitedly about shooting from the rooftop. Then he stopped in mid-sentence. “What’s this?”

Jo and everyone else jumped out from their hiding places. “Surprise!”

Mike’s face lit up.

“Come on over here and blow the candles out,” Ray said.

“We don’t want the cake to melt,” Josh joked.

“How’d you guys make a cake?” Mike asked.

“We had it delivered,” Josh said. Emma elbowed him in the side.

Mike blew out the candles.

*

An hour later everyone had eaten the food and a piece of the cake. Some had drifted back to their tents, but most had stayed around, watching Mike, Brooke, and Patrick play games with the balls Josh had found among the toys in the loading bay. Josh and Ray even joined in for a little while, then came back to the table, content to let the kids play together.

Mike’s gifts were stashed at the far end of the table: some comic books and the board games. Josh had also gotten some toys for Brooke and Patrick so they wouldn’t feel left out.

This was good. Jo felt good. The kids were playing. They had food and drinks, a safe building to stay in. Everything felt right for the first time in a long time.

Jo’s walkie crackled to life. It was Phil, his voice panicked. “We need shooters up here. The Dark Angels are coming!”

Everyone at the table heard Phil’s voice on the walkie-talkie. Luke jumped up, ready to get to the roof. The kids stopped playing with the ball, frozen like startled deer.

“How many?” Jo asked as she got to her feet with the walkie in her hand.

“Four vehicles. That’s all I see. Coming in from the road, through the restaurant parking lot.”

Same place Ray and Gil drove through the ditch, the path the shallowest there now, the shrubs already flattened by their vehicles from a few days ago.

“Might be more coming,” Phil added. “I don’t know.”

“Airplanes? Drones?”

“None that I can see.”

Jo hurried toward the middle of the store where the lift was extended up to the now-shattered skylight, the extension ladder tied to the side of it. Luke dashed in front of her getting to the ladder first and climbing it quickly.

CHAPTER 14

Dawson

Dawson knew this operation was going to be very risky, but staying with the Dragon had its own terrible risks too. But even more important, this was the right thing to do, and he needed to keep telling himself that. He’d been a decent person once; maybe a coward, but always a decent person. He couldn’t go along with the savagery of the Dragon anymore.

There weren’t as many rippers in the parking lot of the store as there had been before. The gunfire from the two Dark Angels inside the cages of the two pickups had driven back most of the rippers on the road. They were afraid of gunfire, but it wouldn’t hold them back forever; they were hungry, starving, desperate.

Dawson sped through the restaurant parking lot with the other three trucks behind him. He sped across the wide strip of grass between the back of the restaurant parking lot and the edge of the Super Bea’s parking lot. He saw the ruts in the mud, the same place where they had parked their trucks the night two of the Dark Angles had murdered Lance, Dale, and Crystal in the middle of the parking lot. They were supposed to use the three of them as bait—they weren’t supposed to kill them—but the savagery, and the cruelty, of the Dragon rubbed off on many of his Dark Angels, his evil seeping into the flesh and their minds, and everything had spiraled out of control that night. The rippers had been getting closer, slinking through the dark, moving in toward the lights of their vehicles. Maybe the two Dark Angels had panicked; maybe they wanted to get back to the trucks before they were left alone in the middle of the parking lot with hundreds of rippers closing in. Or maybe they had just wanted to kill their three hostages.

Later that night Dawson had talked to George about rebelling against the Dragon. George had already hinted about it and he’d brought Bella onboard with his plan. And then J.J. and Barry had joined them. J.J. and Barry had been with Dawson a few days ago at the execution of Audrey and Scott. The execution had been the last straw for them. Audrey and Scott were supposed to have gotten away with Petra, but Scott’s friend had told on them. Dawson had been notified by Jacob of Audrey and Scott’s plan, and he’d been handpicked along with the others to meet the traitors at the gas station, where one of the Dark Angels had already taken the battery out of their getaway vehicle.

The Dragon hadn’t killed Petra. He still needed her as bait to get the people from the store to her. He needed them to come to him because he was afraid of them for some reason.

Dawson drove down into the ditch and then up the other side, flattening the ruined shrubs even more. The other three trucks were right behind him.

“Get the megaphone ready,” Dawson told Kramer.

Kramer turned and George handed him the megaphone from the back seat.

“Why do I need this?” Kramer asked, not even hiding his suspicion anymore. “I thought we were ramming the gate. Blowing the back doors open.”

“We are,” Dawson said. He could practically feel Kramer going for his sidearm, see the subtle movements out of the corner of his eye, see Kramer’s hand slowly reaching for the holster on his hip.

“Then why are you slowing down?”

It was time. George knew the plan. Dawson was confident George and Bella would go through with it, and hopefully J.J. and Barry wouldn’t hesitate once everything started.

Dawson raced across the parking lot, speeding past trash, overturned shopping carts, scattered bones and strips of clothing among the large bloodstains. He was close to the front of the building, getting closer to the chain-link fence at the side. He wanted to be close to the gate, but he wasn’t going to ram it.

Dawson slammed on the brakes, gripping the steering wheel hard. He’d been ready for the sudden stop, and so had George, but Kramer and the Dark Angel in the back seat hadn’t been. Even though Kramer had been caught off guard, he was still suspicious; he had drawn his sidearm just as they stopped. Dawson had no choice, he drew his own pistol and shot Kramer in the side of his head, rocking him toward the passenger door, his head hitting the glass and shattering it, blood spraying from the gunshot wound.

George shot the other Dark Angel in the back seat at the same time.

The other vehicles came to screeching halts behind Dawson’s Humvee. He put the vehicle in park. The gate to the fence was only thirty feet away in front of them, the Super Bea’s building to their right, the line of cars and trucks blocking that side of the parking lot off to the left.

Dawson only had a second to glance back at George, but he knew they were on the same page. They both got out of the Humvee with their assault rifles in their hands. Bella shot the driver of the Humvee behind them and got out of the passenger side, aiming her rifle at the men in the back seat. J.J. had his rifle on the men inside the cage of the pickup, yelling at them to throw their weapons through the bars, their side arms too.

A few shots rang out from the roof, one of the bullets shattering a back door window of the Humvee Bella had been in moments ago.

The last truck, another black pickup truck jacked up on large tires with a cage of bars welded around the back, reversed suddenly, tires screeching before gaining traction. The two shooters in the back were hunkered down, the driver down below the dashboard as he sped backwards.

J.J. brought his rifle up, aiming it at the front of the truck.

“Let them go,” Dawson yelled at J.J. through the megaphone.

Rippers were almost to the edge of the parking lot. Some were peeling off from the group, racing to the road to intercept the fleeing pickup truck. Even with the gunfire, the rippers were growing bolder, a few already at the line of cars and trucks blocking the far side of the parking lot, climbing over them.

Bella ordered two of the Dark Angels out of the Humvee she’d been in, aiming her rifle at them.

Two more shots rang out from the roof of the store, but then they stopped firing. Dawson heard a few of the people up there yelling at each other.

He raised the megaphone up to his mouth. “Don’t fire, please! We’ve come to surrender! We don’t want to be with the Dragon and the Dark Angels anymore! We want to stop them!”

CHAPTER 15

Jo

They had to go up to the roof one at a time on the ladder—it was too risky to have more than two at a time, too much weight on the ladder and the ropes securing it to the lift; Jo had told them that and it had slowed them down.

Luke had shimmied up the ladder first, then Ray. Jo was next with Max waiting impatiently on the floor for her to get most of the way up, his foot on the bottom rung of the ladder, jiggling it.

As Jo climbed she remembered the three kids: Mike, Brooke, and Patrick. They had frozen when Phil’s shouts from the walkie started, when she and the other adults had run toward the ladder up to the skylight. The ball they’d been tossing around had dropped to the floor, rolling away, forgotten in some deeper and gloomier part of the store.

Someone would take care of the kids, Jo thought. Rebecca would; she’d become like a mother to all three of them. But Rebecca could only do so much, and none of it would matter if the Dark Angels got inside.

Four trucks: That’s what Phil had said on the walkie. She hadn’t heard any shooting so far coming from the roof, so maybe the trucks were still far away, too far to start shooting.

Jo was up through the skylight and onto the roof. The air was just as cold up here as it was in the store, but it felt colder because of the freezing wind which slammed into her as soon as she stood on the roof, hunched over a little, still traumatized by the gunfire that had come from the airplane before Luke had shot it down a few days ago. The gunshot wound on her upper arm ached from the cold. Luckily it had just been a grazing shot, but it still hurt like hell.

She hurried across the roof. Phil was at the other side with Lisa, both armed, Lisa with a pair of binoculars hanging from her neck. Luke and Ray were already with them, Luke spotting the Dark Angels below through the pair of binoculars he kept around his neck. She rushed up to the four of them, crouching down beside them, the cold air burning her lungs from her sprint across the roof. She was out of shape. She’d never been a health nut, but beginning some kind of jogging schedule inside the store (if they survived) crossed her mind suddenly. In this new dawn of human history you needed to be in shape, you needed to be able to run at a moment’s notice without becoming winded.

“Where . . . where are they?” Jo asked Phil as she fought to catch her breath.

“At the end of the parking lot. They just came through the ditch over there, over the shrubs.”

Luke kept his own pair of binoculars up to his eyes, watching, saying nothing, not wasting energy with words.

Jo didn’t need a pair of binoculars—she could see the four black vehicles easily enough: two black Humvees and two black pickup trucks with a cage of bars around the back of the trucks, an open ceiling above the cage so the Dark Angels could crawl in and out. There were two Dark Angels each in the back of the pickups. The grills of the pickups had steel mesh wired to them, and there were other pieces of armor welded over the wheels to protect them. The two trucks looked like something from a Mad Max movie. The other two vehicles, the Humvees, looked like military vehicles. The Humvee in the lead raced toward the far corner of the store where the gates to the back area were.

Luke picked up the M-16 he had with him, ready to fire. Josh and Max were there a few seconds later, breathing hard from their run across the roof. Everyone was getting their weapons ready, preparing for battle.

The Humvee leading the small convoy screeched to a halt when it got just past the front corner of the store. It had stopped so quickly Jo thought it was going to tip over. The other three vehicles skidded to a stop, doing their best not to collide with each other.

Joe could practically feel the tension from Luke—he was getting ready to shoot, aiming at them, ready to pick them off one by one. Ray had called Luke their expert shooter, and he had to be if he’d shot the airplane down with one shot.

Two gunshots sounded from the first vehicle right after it had stopped. Two men got out with assault rifles, one from the driver’s side and one from the back. The other two men didn’t get out.

Did they just shoot the men inside?

Another gunshot sounded from the second Humvee. A woman got out from the passenger side, aiming her weapon inside at the back, yelling for the two men in there to get out and get on the ground. Two other men got out of one of the pickups, aiming their weapons at the two Dark Angels inside the cage of bars. The last pickup started to reverse.

Someone fired from the roof—Jo couldn’t tell who it was. Not Luke; someone else. “Wait,” she said. “They’re shooting each other.” She raised her binoculars up to her eyes, watching.

The last truck backed away from the first three, tires spinning at first, smoke rising up from behind the truck.

The driver from the first Humvee told a man aiming his rifle at the pickup to let them go, barking the orders at the man through a megaphone he held in one hand.

“What the hell is this?” Ray asked.

Someone on the roof fired another shot, blowing out the back door window of the first Humvee.

“Hold your fire for a minute,” Jo yelled.

“Just a warning shot,” Luke said. “If I wanted to hit one of them, I would’ve.”

The apparent leader with the megaphone turned toward the building. “Don’t fire, please! We’ve come to surrender! We don’t want to be with the Dragon and the Dark Angels anymore! We want to stop them!”

“You think it’s a trick?” Josh asked. He had an M-16, but he didn’t look comfortable with it in his hands.

“Could be,” Ray answered.

“They might have information we need,” Max said.

Jo knew what Max was thinking, that the group down there might have information about Petra. But she couldn’t deny that this could be an elaborate trick. She figured the Dragon would have no problem setting this up, sacrificing a few of his own men to get some of his soldiers inside the store.

“Rippers are starting to come,” Lisa warned. She was crouched down by the knee wall. She didn’t have a weapon, only the binoculars up to her eyes, spotting for Phil.

“How many?” Jo asked.

“Just a few so far crawling over the barricade of cars, but others are starting to group together, coming closer. Some are flooding the streets, going after the truck that just left.”

Jo raised her binoculars back up to her eyes, panning until she saw the truck that was retreating. It sped down the street, but it didn’t get very far before the rippers swarmed it, bogging it down. Rippers smashed the windows, pulling the two men out of the truck. The two men in back shot through the bars at the rippers, mowing them down, but there were too many. In only a moment they were out of ammo, and the rippers swarmed again, crawling up and over the cage of bars like ants, dropping down inside the bed of the truck, tearing the two men apart with knives.

She panned her binoculars back to the three vehicles, the four Dark Angels aiming their weapons at the other two Dark Angels who were out of the vehicles, kneeling down on the pavement, and the other two inside the cage of the pickup truck.

The Dark Angel with the megaphone looked up at the roof and yelled at them. “Please let us in! The rippers are coming!”

Jo wasn’t sure what to do. This was all going so fast. This could be a trick, but Max was right; they might have information.

Luke aimed his M-16 and picked off a ripper crawling over a white car that was part of the barricade. The report echoed through the air, the bullet knocking the ripper back over the car. The other two rippers who had come with him cowered back down behind the line of vehicles.

The gunshot would hold them for a moment, but others would be coming. They didn’t have a lot of time to make a decision.

“How do we know this isn’t a trap?” Jo said, still hesitating.

“We are defecting from the Dragon’s army!” the man with the megaphone yelled. “He’s evil and we don’t want to be with him anymore! I know you don’t believe us or trust us! You can take our weapons! Tie our hands! Lock us up! Just please . . . don’t let us get ripped to shreds out here!”

“I don’t know,” Ray sighed.

Jo felt a little relieved. She’d only know Ray a few days, but she respected his judgment. If he was wary, she didn’t feel so bad. “They got a mole in here before,” she told him. “This could be the same thing.”

Luke shot another ripper coming up through the ditch. Hundreds of them were coming from the gas station and other buildings across the street.

“We can help you!” the man on the megaphone said. He was beginning to sound panicky. “We know things about the Dragon, about his army, his plans! He’s got one of yours! A woman named Petra!”

“Where’s Petra?” Max yelled.

Jo repeated Max’s question into her megaphone. “Where’s Petra? Is she alive?”

“She’s okay!” the man answered. “Unharmed last I know of, last time I saw her! I can tell you more. A lot more! But first you need to let us inside!”

“We need to open the gates,” Max said. He was already up and running for the skylight.

“Shit,” Jo hissed. Her decision had been made for her. “Phil, go with him please.”

“I’ll go too,” Ray said. “Luke?”

“I’ll stay up here,” Luke said. “Cover you guys from the corner of the roof over there. Just keep them out in the open when you get them inside the fence.”

“Lisa,” Jo said, “stay up here and keep watching for the rippers.”

She nodded, the binoculars still up to her eyes.

Jo followed Ray and Josh to the skylight.

CHAPTER 16

Max

They know something.

Max raced through the store, past the tents. Kate was at the tents, watching him as he ran by. Phil was right behind him.

He got to the loading bay. Phil grabbed his long rubber gloves and unlocked the back door. Max had the .30-06 in his hands. Ray and Josh joined them at the back door, Ray with his handgun and Josh with the M-16.

As soon as they were outside and down the concrete steps, they ran down the back wall of the building while Wade unhooked the cables to the car batteries that electrified the fence.

At the gate, Phil unlocked the padlock and rolled the gate back, waiting to close it again when everyone was back inside.

Max could hear the rippers beyond the parking lot. Luke, perched above them at the corner of the roof, took two more shots with his rifle, hopefully keeping the rippers back for a few more seconds. Eventually the rippers would rush the store together as one mob, like they knew Luke couldn’t get them all. Maybe they were willing to lose a few of their own—it would be more food for them in the end.

“The vehicles,” Ray said when he caught up to Max. “We need them. We need to get them inside the fence.”

Max had already gone through the gate after Phil slid it open. He aimed his rifle at the men as he approached. “We’ve got a sniper on the roof!” he yelled at them. “Lay all of your weapons down!”

“Throw them in the back of the pickup truck,” Ray corrected.

Max didn’t contradict Ray—he realized that it was a better idea to have the weapons inside a vehicle, better to have them than leave them outside on the pavement for the rippers to get to. The men in the cage of the truck had already been instructed by the man with the megaphone to climb out and get down on the ground with the others.

“He’s right,” Ray told the Dark Angels as he got closer to them, his handgun aimed at them. “Our snipers can take you out in a heartbeat if you make one wrong move.”

“We just want to help,” the man who’d been yelling through the megaphone said. He turned and nodded at the four Dark Angels who still had their weapons aimed at the four Dark Angels on the ground. “Do what they said. Get all the weapons into the back of that pickup truck. Hurry!”

“Leave the keys to the vehicles inside on the driver’s seats,” Ray yelled.

The four Dark Angels did exactly as Ray ordered.

Max realized Ray was a natural leader, automatically gaining the Dark Angels’ respect and fear.

Rippers cried out, screeching. One female ripper let out a long, blood-curdling wail that seemed to roll across the cold parking lot like thunder.

The woman’s call spurred Max and Ray on.

Luke shot two more times, the cracks of the rifle shots echoing through the cold air.

Max’s walkie crackled to life. “Need to hurry, guys,” Lisa said. “A lot more rippers are coming now.”

Max didn’t reply; he could hear the approaching army well enough. Hundreds would be over the barricade of cars and trucks in a few moments, more coming from the woods beyond the fence in back of the store. Eventually they might figure out that they can climb the fence when the gate is open and the batteries are unhooked.

“All of you in a line,” Ray told the Dark Angels. “March to that gate. Get inside the fence. Max, Josh, you keep an eye on them. Guns on them at all times.”

“Thank you,” the man who’d had the megaphone said, then he led the line of Dark Angels toward the fence, all of them jogging quickly to the open gate.

“I need drivers,” Ray said as the Dark Angels hurried toward the fenced-in area. “We need those vehicles. Get them over by the fence back there,” Ray told a man with an M-16. “Keep them within Luke’s view from the roof.” Ray looked at Max. “Can you drive one of the trucks?”

Max nodded. He was past Ray in a flash. Josh hurried out to the last vehicle, the pickup truck, and got inside the driver’s seat, starting it up.

Kate hurried up to Ray, out of breath from her run from inside the store. “I’ll help. What can I do?”

“Help Max and Josh drive these trucks.”

Max got into the first Humvee just as Kate was running past him to the second one, getting inside to drive.

The smell hit Max as soon as he sat down inside. He remembered the two dead men inside, one in the back, one slumped over in the passenger seat, the door sticky with the man’s blood. He got out and opened the back door, pulling the man out onto the pavement, the body plopping down, arms and legs flapping. He saw a pistol holstered on the side of the man’s camo pants. He pulled the gun out and tossed it into the back seat. He closed the door and ran around the rear to the passenger side to pull the other man out from the passenger seat.

“What are you doing?” Ray screamed at him.

Max didn’t have time to answer. He didn’t have time to tell Ray that they would only have to drag the dead bodies out here at some later time; they couldn’t have them in the fenced-in area, not just because of health concerns, but also because it would be a big temptation for the rippers—they’d never leave the fence alone.

Luke shot constantly now, picking off rippers as soon as they breached the edge of the parking lot. He wasn’t going to get them all. Max could hear more of them coming. His nerves sizzled as he grabbed the man with the shattered head and pulled him out of the Humvee. With the adrenaline coursing through his body, the man seemed to weigh nothing, a scarecrow of straw.

Max didn’t want to crawl across the passenger seat to the driver’s seat, didn’t want to crawl across the dead man’s blood, but he was pretty sure he didn’t have the seconds to waste running around the front of the truck to get into the other side.

More shots sounded from the roof.

“Hurry!” Ray yelled.

Kate’s Humvee roared past Max’s, then Josh went by in the pickup truck.

Max got into the passenger seat, his long legs getting stuck for just a moment as he tried to squeeze into the driver’s seat from the center, an explosion of panic inside of him for just a moment. The roar of the rippers was getting louder, Luke was shooting constantly now, Kate and Josh had driven their vehicles inside the fence, where Ray was, where Phil was ready to push the gate shut.

He twisted the keys once he was finally settled into the seat. He didn’t want to look to his left at the barricade of cars and trucks in the distance, didn’t want to see the rippers crawling over them. They were so close. A few rocks pelted the door just as he got it shut.

The Humvee rumbled with power as he shifted into drive and stomped down on the gas pedal. Max drove toward the gate as more rocks pelted his truck. Luke shot at the rippers closest to him, and Max saw two of the rippers falling back from the gunshots out of the corner of his eye, arms flailing, bodies collapsing suddenly to the ground, others running and tripping over the fallen rippers.

Almost there . . . almost there . . .

Max remembered when he and Fernando had raced back from the parking lot, speeding in through the gate as the rippers chased them, when he’d gone looking for the M-16s. Fernando hadn’t panicked then, and Max wasn’t going to panic now. He was just going to keep staring straight ahead, at the wide eyes of Phil as he started sliding the gate shut, at Ray aiming his gun just beyond Phil, already shooting.

God, the rippers had to be so close.

Max was through the gate, not sure how he had fit through. Ray was shooting, emptying his gun of bullets. Luke was still shooting as fast as he could from the roof. Someone else was shooting an M-16; Max thought the shooter was on the roof, but he couldn’t be sure. He had to force himself to stop before he raced across the back area into the other fence. He stomped down on the brake pedal, the tires screeching, the truck sliding. But then he was stopped. He was inside. He was alive.

Had they gotten the gate shut in time?

He turned and saw that Phil had gotten the chain wrapped around the gate and the padlock secured. The fence was shut, and it was still electrified.

“We made it,” Max said aloud inside the Humvee. No one could hear him. He hadn’t even shut off the vehicle yet. He wanted to wipe at the tears in his eyes but he had the Dark Angel’s blood on his hands from crawling across the front seats. “We made it,” he said again, a little softer this time.

The adrenaline drained out of him in seconds, and it was replaced by fury. Now they would get some answers from these Dark Angels, answers about Petra.

CHAPTER 17

Ray

That had been close . . . too close.

Ray’s heart was still thudding, his body still energized and shaky. He kept his gun aimed at the fence as the horde got to it. He expected the rippers to slam into the fence, to push against it, through it, rippers pushing against rippers, pouring through the mesh like flesh through a meat grinder, like he’d seen in his dream.

But the rippers stopped. It was like they had learned the fence was electrified. A few grabbed at the fence, getting knocked back, screaming in pain, some convulsing on the ground, two of them knocked unconscious. The others learned from their mistakes.

They’re getting smarter.

Other rippers were all over the dead bodies of the Dark Angels that had been pulled out of the Humvees, the men torn open already. Some of the rippers at the fence were already turning back to get their share of the feast, fighting each other for a bloody scrap of meat. And some of the other rippers were still coming from the woods, rushing the fence from that side, still intent on getting the “food” that was inside the fenced area.

The group of Dark Angels looked around, wide-eyed with shock. The two men with guns on the prisoners looked antsy, like they were ready to run at the first sign of a break in the fencing.

“This way!” Ray said, hurrying up to the rear corner of the building, his eyes darting from one side of the fenced-in area to the other. “Bring the trucks.”

The fence isn’t going to hold forever, Ray thought. Maybe the electricity works for now, but eventually enough desperate rippers will get hungry enough to all climb the fence together, possibly shorting the batteries out. Maybe the dead Dark Angels in the parking lot (and the dozen or so rippers Luke had shot) would stave off the mob for now; maybe that’s why Max had taken the time to pull the two dead Dark Angels out of the Humvee before he drove it into the back area.

The Dark Angel prisoners marched willingly toward the back doors of the store at the other end of the building, guided by the two men with the guns. Ray kept his own handgun aimed at the men as they approached.

Josh, Max, and Kate drove ahead, parking the two Humvees and the pickup truck near Ray’s van. Phil and a woman were already helping them unload the guns and supplies from the vehicles. Josh had climbed the bars of the pickup to get into the bed of the truck so he could hand the weapons through the bars they’d stashed there.

Jo waited by the smaller metal door as Ray and the two men got the nine Dark Angels into a group by the trucks. The men and the one woman had their hands raised over their heads like they’d been instructed.

“Gil’s coming back with some zip ties from my office,” Jo said. “They’re for construction, but they should hold them.”

Ray nodded. He looked at Max as he came back out through the loading bay door, hopping down to take the last of the guns Josh was poking through the bars of the cage in the back of the pickup. Ray saw the look in Max’s eyes, the urge to grab the man who had negotiated through the megaphone and shake the answers out of him.

But they needed to wait. While the two men kept their weapons on the Dark Angels, Ray approached Jo. “Where can we keep these guys in here?” he asked when they were inside the loading bay.

“There’s a meeting room,” Jo said. “The doors can be locked. We can give them a bucket for a bathroom, some bottles of water.”

“Okay,” Ray said, his voice lower. “I think we should question them one at a time.”

Jo nodded in agreement. “We’ll start with the guy on the megaphone. He seems like he might be their leader. Then we’ll see if their stories match.”

Ray was thinking the same thing.

Gil came back with the zip ties. “I’ll help you with these,” he offered to Ray.

Ray took Gil’s offer. He wanted to get the Dark Angels patted down and their hands tied, then he wanted to get everyone inside the building as quickly as possible before the rippers got desperate enough to storm the fence. A few prowled the outside of the fence. One of them banged a wooden stick on the fence, realizing that he wouldn’t be shocked by using the stick. How long would it take the rippers to figure out that they could use wood to ram the fence, maybe a large branch or a log from a fallen tree, use it as a battering ram? He wondered if Jo had thought about that. Maybe not. Ray tended to think of the worst-case scenarios.

They got the Dark Angels’ hands bound in front of them, none of them giving a fight at all—it seemed like they wanted to be inside the building as much as Ray wanted them in there.

Moments later they were in the loading bay, the rollup door closed and locked, the smaller but sturdy metal door closed and locked. They marched the Dark Angels to the meeting room that Jo had talked about. It was much larger than Ray had expected. They pushed the table against the wall to give the Dark Angels more room. Some sat on the floor, but most sat in the chairs. Gil brought in two plastic buckets for them to use, setting them in the corner.

Jo locked the door to the meeting room after Gil used a cordless screw gun to attach a metal bracket so they could padlock the door to the doorframe. It wasn’t the sturdiest of locks, but it would have to do for now. They had agreed to keep at least one armed guard posted outside the door at all times.

Ray felt like he could relax for a moment, letting his energy wind down some. It was over; the Dark Angels were locked inside the meeting room, three of their trucks were parked in back and they now had a shitload of weapons, ammo, a few grenades, and a small C-4 bomb and triggering device that Ray was sure at least one of the Dark Angels knew how to use. They would inspect the trucks later after the crowd of rippers died down some.

Jo kept in contact with Lisa and Luke on the roof, making sure more Dark Angels weren’t coming.

None so far.

“It’s time to question them,” Max said when they were back in the loading bay. “Find out what they know.”

Jo agreed “We’ll do it out here. Keep them out of the store for now. I don’t want them to see what we have.”

“Sounds good,” Ray said. “I think Emma should be here when we question them.”

CHAPTER 18

Ray

It took a few minutes to set up a few chairs in the middle of the loading bay, one chair by itself for the Dark Angel being interrogated, and then a line of chairs across from that one. They’d gotten the chairs from the folding tables where they’d eaten a birthday dinner and a piece of Jo’s improvised birthday cake only an hour ago.

As a few volunteers put food away and worked in the deli kitchen, Kate stayed with Mike, Brooke, and Patrick; Kate and Rebecca tried to keep the kids interested in a board game that Josh had picked out of the pile of nonessentials in the loading bay earlier in the day. For just a moment Ray had considered letting Mike in on the questions, just as an observer. Mike needed to grow up in a hurry, needed to see the realities that were faced every day now. But Ray had decided against it. Mike had learned enough for one day: driving the van, shooting the rifle on the rooftop, and then the chaos of the Dark Angels turning themselves in; it was enough for one day, Ray thought. He decided to let Mike have a little fun and relaxation.

As they worked to get the chairs set up, Gil brought back some food and bottles of water, possible peace offerings to the Dark Angel being questioned. Ray got a notepad and a pen so he could jot down anything they could learn from the Dark Angels, and he planned on asking a few of them to draw a detailed map of Hell Town and the route from the store to the town. Ray also brought the maps he had of North and South Carolina so they could mark out the route.

Jo insisted that the doc sit in on the questioning, like Ray had requested Emma’s presence there. Josh had brought Emma. Luke was there, his pistol tucked away in his shoulder holster under his hoodie. Max was there, too—impatient to get started. Phil and another man, Hendricks, stood guard with guns.

One of the armed guards led the first Dark Angel out of the meeting room and then locked the door again. He remained guarding the door while Luke and Phil walked the man down the hall to the loading bay.

Ray watched the Dark Angel as he sat down in the lone chair without having to be told what to do. Phil cut the plastic tie binding the man’s wrists with a pair of snips. The Dark Angel rubbed his wrists, sitting back in the chair, but still tense.

The Dark Angel was at least five inches shorter than Ray and had a slight build. His hair was thinning, his skin pasty with red splotches on his cheeks. His pale skin made the DA symbol on his forehead seem darker. He looked to be in his late thirties.

Jo had suggested that Ray ask the questions. She thought it best to only have one person asking, to avoid any confusion. She had her own small spiral tablet and pen to jot down notes. She sat in one of the folding chairs between the doc and Emma. Luke, Josh, Phil, Max, and Gil stood guard.

Ray stood a few feet in front of the Dark Angel like a lawyer prosecuting a witness on the stand. “What’s your name?”

“Dawson.” He’d just gotten done shoveling down some of the food on the plate. He drank half of his bottle of water in a few swallows to chase the food down. “Thank you for the food and water.”

Ray nodded. “We’re not savages here.”

Dawson nodded, indicating that he already knew that.

“You’re surrendering yourself and your men to us?”

A hesitant nod. “Yes. Me and four others. The other four Dark Angels in that room aren’t with us. At least not yet.”

“But you and the other four, you worked together on this plan?”

“Yes. George, Bella, J.J., and Barry. That’s their names.”

Ray nodded. He could hear Jo jotting down notes, her pen scratching at the paper lightly.

“Why do you want to join us?”

“We can’t be with the Dragon anymore. He’s evil. At first he made things sound like they were going to be great, like he was helping everyone. But he isn’t. He wants total control over everything, over everybody.”

“And the Dragon never knew about your plans?” Ray asked, already suspicious. “He couldn’t see your plans in your thoughts? In your dreams?”

Dawson shrugged. “I don’t know. I can’t say for sure he doesn’t know. He never tried to stop us from leaving. I’m sure he’ll know something’s wrong when we don’t show back up.”

“Are there others like you there? Others who want to leave the Dragon?”

“Yes. A few others. A lot of the people in his town want out, but they’re scared to leave. There is no leaving. But things are beginning to break down. Some of the retrieval groups haven’t been coming back. Not too many in town know about that, but I do.”

“Why come here? If you were going to leave, why not strike out on your own?”

“Because the Dragon needs to be defeated before he gets more powerful. The Dark Angels need to be defeated. I came here because I thought you could help, thinking we could join forces.” Dawson was silent for a moment.

Ray waited—he could tell Dawson had something else to say.

“I think he’s afraid of you guys,” Dawson said.

“Afraid of us?”

“I don’t know why, but he is. He hasn’t come out and said it, but you can tell that he wants all of you very badly. He wants this store. It’s like he needs those things out of the way before he can continue with the rest of his plans. I don’t know—I just can feel that he’s afraid of you, or some of you. And anybody that makes him afraid, well, that’s the people I want to team up with.”

“How do we know this isn’t a setup to get you guys inside?”

“I guess you don’t. All I can do is ask you to believe me. To believe us.”

“How do you know the Dragon hasn’t already seen this plan of yours? Seen it in your thoughts. How do you know he hasn’t sent forces right behind you?”

“I don’t know any of that for sure, but I don’t think the Dragon can read everyone the same way. I think some are easier for him to read than others, and I think there might be some he can’t read at all.”

“I’ve wondered the same thing myself,” Jo said. “It’s like he’s a radio that can only tune in to certain stations.”

Ray looked at Emma.

“It can be that way,” Emma said like she knew Ray wanted to hear from her. But she didn’t say any more.

“What about Petra?” Max asked, taking a few steps forward, staring at Dawson. “You said she’s still okay, right?”

“As far as I know. At least the last time I saw her. He keeps her in the basement of the house he lives in.”

“The basement?”

“It used to be an apartment,” Dawson said quickly, picking up on Max’s horror. “The whole house used to be apartments. There’s a bed down there. A bathroom.”

“So . . . so he hasn’t hurt her? Cut off her fingers?”

“No. Not that I know of.”

“The Dragon sent a drone here with a box,” Max said. “The drone dropped the box off in the back. There was a cell phone inside with a video of Petra eating dinner with the Dragon. A man named Jacob was filming it. In the box there was also a bag of severed fingers.”

“He cut the fingers off of a few of the servant girls, the ones that work in the kitchens and the laundry.”

“You saw this?” Ray asked.

Dawson nodded. “One of the servants, she was with us. He cut off two of her fingers, one from each hand. After that, she tried to help Petra escape.”

“He cut off her fingers for helping Petra escape?” Ray asked.

“No. Before that, before she helped her.”

“Because he knew about their escape plan?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“What happened?” Max asked. “You said this woman tried to help Petra escape.”

“Audrey. Her name was Audrey. She tried to help Petra. Her and a Dark Angel named Scott. They got her out of the basement. They were supposed to get to an old pickup truck at a gas station outside of the town. A truck that ran. It had the keys in it.”

“But the Dragon caught them.”

“Yeah,” Dawson said. “I don’t know if someone ratted on them or if the Dragon just knew, but a Dark Angel got to the truck ahead of them and took the battery out.”

“And then?” Max asked.

“And then Jacob and some of us drove them to the fields in three trucks.”

“What’s the fields?”

“A big field where we built a wooden structure, just two large poles with a crossbeam with cables hanging down from the beam.”

“To hang them from?”

“Not hang them by their necks. By their wrists. Then they’re raised up into the air so that when the rippers come they can only get to their legs.”

“Jeez,” Josh said, swallowing hard.

“Jacob designed it,” Dawson said.

“That figures,” Luke said. “I used to work with him. He’s a sick bastard.”

Dawson glanced at Luke like he was horrified about the idea that Luke knew Jacob.

“We weren’t exactly friends,” Luke added.

“What about Petra?” Max asked, turning Dawson’s attention back to him again.

“We . . . we hung Audrey and Scott up, but not Petra. The Dragon didn’t want her to be executed, but he wanted her to watch, to see what she had done, as he had put it.”

Ray watched Dawson wince as he spoke, ducking his head a little as he talked, like he was ashamed, like he expected Max to pounce on him at any second.

“After they were hung—the traitors, as the Dragon called them—we got Petra and everyone back into the trucks when the rippers came running from the woods. I was the only one in the back of the truck with Petra. I was told to hold her head still, to make her watch as the rippers ate Audrey and Scott as we drove away.” He looked up with tears in his eyes. “You see? That’s why I had to get away. Because of things like that. I couldn’t take it anymore.”

“But Petra made it back okay?” Max said.

“Yeah. While we were in the back of the truck I whispered to her while I held her head still. I told her that I couldn’t help her escape, especially after what had just happened, but I told her I had a plan to get here to the store and to bring you back to help her, and to defeat the Dragon.”

“Yes,” Max said as if he’d been asked to go along right at that moment.

“You were here before?” Jo asked, the anger rising in her voice. “In the last attack?”

“Yes,” Dawson whispered.

“Two of your Dark Angels killed three of our people: Lance, Crystal, and Dale.”

“That wasn’t supposed to happen,” Dawson said quickly. “They were supposed to be for ransom, to get you out of the store. But . . . but they might have gotten different orders from the Dragon, or acted on their own. They might have panicked because so many rippers were coming. I can’t say for sure. But even though there are some who want to break away from the Dragon, there are still plenty of Dark Angels who are loyal to him, who believe in his power and his message. He tells them he was sent by God, that God wants us to start over, like after the flood in the Bible. And they believe him. And some of the others, they don’t know what to do; they’re just scared.”

“Three of our people were killed right out there in the parking lot,” Jo said. “And we know Petra is in Hell Town. What about Tamara, Tyrone, and Zak?”

“The ones who weren’t captured at the mole’s house were killed. Except Petra. She got away. But Jacob was sent to find her.”

“And he found her,” Luke said.

Dawson didn’t need to answer.

“But there’s another reason you wanted to leave,” Emma said.

Dawson stared at Emma. Ray could tell Dawson sensed something special about her, a power in her like the power he’d sensed in the Dragon.

“He made me do something,” Dawson said. “Before I even helped with Audrey and Scott’s execution. He was angry that we hadn’t taken your store, that the mole in here hadn’t accomplished his mission.” Dawson paused, like he wondered about the mole, like he wondered exactly what had happened inside the store that day.

No one offered an explanation about Jeff.

“We lined up in the town square,” Dawson continued. “Beside the wood platform he had built with the stocks on top.”

“Stocks?” Jo asked.

“Yeah. Wooden stocks. Like the ones they used to use in the old days in England and stuff. People would put their head and hands through the holes and be locked in place. He called me up to the stocks. I knew he wanted to make an example out of someone, and I was sure it was going to be me.”

“But you weren’t the example,” Emma said. It sounded like a question, but Ray knew it wasn’t.

“No. He made me pick one of my men. I picked a man named Lanier. I didn’t hate him. I didn’t particularly like him. I just picked him. They stripped him naked and locked him in the stocks. The Dragon told me to get my knife out and . . . and remove the brand from his forehead. He said he didn’t deserve to be a Dark Angel anymore.”

“And you did it,” Emma said.

“I had to,” Dawson answered, choking back a sob. “I didn’t have a choice.”

No one said anything.

“J.J. was there in the line,” Dawson finally said. “George too. Bella. They all saw what I’d been forced to do. I’d already been talking to George and Bella by then, and a few of the others. Forming plans to get Petra out, to overtake the Dragon.”

Ray picked up the maps of North and South Carolina along with the drawing tablet and pen. “Show us on the map where Hell Town is. And then I need you to draw a diagram of the town. Make it as detailed as you possibly can. Label the houses, the buildings, the streets, where the supplies and weapons are, where the Dragon lives.”

“Tell us where Jacob is, too,” Luke said.

Dawson took the tablet and the maps, but he didn’t start drawing yet. He looked at Luke. “Jacob lives in the same house the Dragon does, the one where Petra is.” He looked back at Ray. “The food stores are in some of the basements under the homes, locked away with fortified doors. That way if rippers ever got into the houses, at least the food and supplies would be safe.”

Ray gestured at Dawson to get going with the maps.

Dawson hesitated, staring at Ray. “I just have one request.”

“What?”

“Is there any way you can separate my people from the other Dark Angels? I don’t know if they’ll go with us, if they’ll help us take down the Dragon. I don’t know how true they still are to the Dragon. I can vouch for mine, but not them. I’m afraid they may try to attack us while we’re sleeping.”

Ray looked at Jo.

“Yeah,” Jo said. “We can do something about that.”

CHAPTER 19

Jo

Night had come. The kids were with Kate and Rebecca. Tiger was still hanging around the kids, enjoying the attention. Everything was quiet. Lisa and Wade were on the roof, on watch.

After questioning the Dark Angels, Jo had kept her promise to Dawson and split his group from the other four Dark Angels. She kept Dawson and his four locked in the meeting room with one armed guard at the door. She set the other four up in the men’s room at the front of the store with an armed guard always on duty. She left Dawson and his crew unbound, but she kept the other four Dark Angels’ hands bound in front of them with the plastic zip ties because there was no way to lock them in the men’s room.

They would be bound for tonight, at least until they could figure out what to do with them.

Jo had jotted down notes while questioning the Dark Angels, comparing their stories. The gang of five’s stories seemed to measure up pretty well against each other’s. She found all of them believable . . . well, except maybe Barry—the oldest one; he set Jo on edge just a little for some reason she couldn’t explain, like he’d go along with anything or anyone just to save his own skin.

The other four Dark Angels’ stories were pretty similar to each other. They didn’t know Dawson and the others were going to ambush them. The plan had been to ram the gate and then blow the back doors to get inside.

“Blow the doors with what?” Luke had asked one of the Dark Angels during the interrogation.

“C-4,” the man answered. “It’s in the back of one of the Humvees. It’s wired to a simple trigger detonator.”

Luke wanted to know how much C-4 they had at Hell Town.

None of the four Dark Angels claimed to know.

Luke wanted to know who had taught them how to use the C-4 and who had wired the device for them. He suspected that Jacob had shown them, or maybe they had an ex-military expert among their ranks. Someone had prepared the bomb for them and told them how to use it.

Again the four Dark Angels claimed not to know anything.

Jo wanted to know what they had planned on doing once they’d gotten inside the store. Kill everyone? Kill every man, woman, and child?

The Dark Angels kept their mouths shut, like they’d been trained in interrogation tactics. But Jo didn’t need to hear their answers; she already knew what they had planned to do to everyone in the store. Maybe a few would have been spared, taken prisoner, the few that Dawson said scared the Dragon: Emma, for sure; probably Luke and Ray; maybe even Josh and Max, Kate and Brooke. Maybe even herself. Whatever the Dark Angels had been planning, it hadn’t been good. They’d come with assault rifles, plenty of ammo, and explosives. They’d obviously meant to tie some of them up because they had a bag of zip ties in one of the Humvees, and Luke had used those on the four Dark Angels now being housed in the men’s room at the front of the store.

Joe didn’t feel too bad about those four spending the night in the cold men’s room, their hands bound, huddled in the dark together, not when she knew the death and destruction they’d been planning.

“We were only following orders,” one of the Dark Angels had said, a kid who couldn’t have been even twenty years old yet.

Jo told the kid that he had a choice—everyone did. Dawson and the others had made a choice, they had made a stand, and he could too.

But Jo realized pretty quickly that rationalizing with the four Dark Angels wasn’t going to get her anywhere.

Now Jo sat at the tables that had been set up near the long deli counters where big glass cases were mostly empty, cases that used to display meats, cheeses, salads, hot and cold food. It was quiet and colder in the store. Max sat at the table with her. Gil was with her too—he always seemed to stay close to her. Three lanterns on the table gave them a sphere of light to work in. Ray had the maps unfolded on the table and the map of Hell Town that Dawson had drawn.

“We need to get Petra,” Max said, glancing around at the others. Then he corrected himself. “I’m going to get her.”

Jo was sure Max would. All he had needed was the location of Hell Town; he had that now.

Max looked at Luke and Phil, like he was making sure they were still willing to go with him.

Luke held Max’s gaze for a moment, then he looked at Ray, then at Jo. “We need to attack the Dragon soon. We need to strike before he knows what’s happened here, that some of his men have flipped on him. If we wait too long, he’ll send another group here. A bigger group. More weapons.”

“He may already know,” Emma said.

“You sure?”

“I can’t be sure, but he must have a link with at least one of these men, like the link he had with Rose back at the cabin.”

“With all of us here now, we could pick off the Dark Angels if they came,” Jo said. “We have more people now, and more weapons.”

“They could bring more airplanes,” Ray said. “More weapons than we’ve got. They could drop bombs from the planes, or attach them to drones and fly them into the building. They could have actual tanks. They could have rocket launchers, like the one they used to hit the cabin we were in before.”

Jo didn’t say anything, silenced by Ray’s doom and gloom.

“We need to get Petra,” Max said, not willing to let it go. “If we wait too much longer, he’ll kill her. Or . . .or torture her more.”

“He’s kept her alive for a reason,” Jo said. “To get all of you there. That’s what Dawson told us.”

“We need to attack,” Luke said again. “Soon. We need to get your friend back.” He looked at Max, then Jo. “We need to kill the Dragon and end this.”

“I’m not leaving the store,” Jo said. “What we have here is too valuable. We need to protect it. And we’re not soldiers.”

“Neither are most of them,” Luke said.

“I’m staying with Jo at the store,” Gil said. “If most of you are leaving, most of the shooters, then someone needs to stay and help.”

Jo looked right at Ray.

“We’re still going to Avalon,” Ray said. “I think it’s too important. Something’s there, and that’s what we’ve come so far for.”

Everyone was quiet for a long moment.

“So we divide our forces,” Luke finally said. He looked at Ray. “You, Mike, Josh, and Emma go to Avalon. Me, Max, and Phil will go to Hell Town with Dawson and his crew. Jo and the rest will stay here and defend the store until we get back.”

Until we get back. Someone was thinking pretty positive, Jo thought.

“We’ll travel together part of the way,” Luke said, pointing at the route on the map that Ray had marked from Perry down into South Carolina, to Hell Town. “Then when we get somewhere in here,” he pointed at a spot near the border between the two states, “we’ll split up. Ray and his group will go their way, and we’ll go down to Hell Town.”

“What about the other four Dark Angels?” Jo asked. “I don’t want them here.”

“We’ll take them with us,” Luke said.

“How can you trust them?”

“I can’t. And if I need to, I’ll just kill them. But I might have an idea how to use them.”

“How?”

Before Luke could answer, a man’s scream filled the darkness, coming from the front of the store, coming from the restrooms.

CHAPTER 20

Josh

Josh’s first thought was that the man guarding the restrooms had just been killed. He guessed that one or more of the Dark Angels in the men’s room had gotten loose and gotten to the guard, beating him, or cutting him, or fighting him somehow. They would get his gun, and then they would come out of the darkness shooting.

Ray was beside Josh in the darkness, his flashlight beam knifing through the blackness, bobbing up and down as he ran toward the screams. Josh wanted to tell Ray to turn off his flashlight, to not make himself such a target, an illuminated bullseye for a Dark Angel with the guard’s gun to shoot at.

Luke was somewhere with them, running silently, a deadly predator in the night, something you wouldn’t see coming until it was too late.

The screams stopped, like they had been cut off suddenly.

Had they finally killed the guard? Sliced his throat open? Broken his neck? Were they fanning out now, the four Dark Angels splitting up to find weapons for maximum damage, at least one of them going for the rollup doors in the back?

As they got closer, Josh saw the light coming from the alcove that led to the door to the men’s room on the right and the women’s restrooms on the left. The light bounced off the walls, a flashlight beam moving around, but not too erratically. The squawk of a walkie-talkie, then a man’s voice, urgent.

It was the guard calling to Jo. Josh heard Jo’s walkie-talkie come to life somewhere in the darkness behind him. The guard wasn’t dead.

Josh reached the guard at the same moment Ray and Luke did. Luke had his silenced gun in his hand, ready to shoot, to kill. Ray shined his light at the guard, the man’s eyes bulging with fear and shock. Josh remembered the guard’s name now; it was Rodney.

“What happened?” Ray asked.

“I don’t know,” Rodney answered. “Someone just started screaming in there. I don’t know what the hell’s going on. I think they’re killing each other in there.” His words were coming quick. He seemed close to hyperventilating.

“Did you go in there?” Ray asked. “Did they get loose?”

“No . . . I . . . I don’t know.”

Luke didn’t wait for any more information from Rodney. He rushed to the swinging door of the men’s room. Ray shined his flashlight at the door, illuminating it for Luke.

“We’re coming in!” Ray called out to the Dark Angels inside.

Josh was right behind Ray.

The men’s room was dark; Jo hadn’t left them a light. She’d said that they didn’t deserve a light for what they’d been planning on doing at the store, and she wasn’t going to waste any batteries on them.

Luke kicked the door open and bolted inside with his gun aimed into the darkness. Ray was right behind him with the flashlight, lighting up the room. Josh was right behind Ray.

The Dark Angels were on the floor, three of them around one who was laying on the floor, on his back, his bound hands up to his chest, his wide eyes staring up at the ceiling, his mouth wide open.

“You kill him?” Luke asked.

“No,” one of the Dark Angels yelled back. “He . . . he just . . . he just died.”

“Died how?” Ray asked. He glanced at Luke, a quick expression that said: Stand down.

“I . . . I don’t know,” the Dark Angel said, the apparent spokesman for the trio that was left alive. “I think he might have had a heart attack.”

“Looks young to have a heart attack,” Josh said. The man on the floor was really just a boy. Probably a teenager, maybe eighteen or nineteen years old. Josh remembered the kid answering their questions in the loading bay only a few hours ago. His face was pale, eyes bulging, hands curled up into claws, the black plastic zip ties digging into his bony wrists.

“Was he the one screaming?” Ray asked.

“Yeah. He . . . he was sleeping, I guess. I think he had a nightmare.”

“He was dreaming about the Dragon,” another Dark Angel said. “He saw the Dragon in his dream. I heard him say it.”

“I don’t remember that,” the spokesman said, shaking his head to add emphasis to his statement. “He was thrashing around on the floor. Screaming. I thought he was going for the door, for the guard. I tried to stop him.”

“Then he just stopped screaming,” the third Dark Angel said, a short and pudgy man with a dark mustache and beard. “He made a groaning sound, then like a choking sound. He was clawing at his chest, at his throat, and then he just went still.”

“The Dragon did this,” the second Dark Angel said. “He came to him in his dream. Scared him to death. Made him see bad things.” He looked at the other two Dark Angels. “He’ll come for us, too. He’ll do the same thing to us.”

Josh could only imagine what the Dark Angel had seen in his dream; he knew the things he’d seen in his own dreams, things that could drive you crazy.

Others were at the door. Jo was among them, right in the doorway with a flashlight. The bathroom was lit up now: a row of sinks and then a row of urinals on one side, and then a bank of stalls on the other side. The cold room smelled like body odor, sweat, and fear.

“We need to get him out of here,” Jo said. “We can’t leave him in there with them.”

Two men behind her moved in to take the dead Dark Angel out, dragging him by his feet, one man grabbing a foot each, his bound arms dragging behind him, his head rolling back and forth along the tiled floor, his skin so pale in the flashlight beams, eyes so glassy.

“He’s going to come for all of us,” the second Dark Angel said. “All of you too.”

“Let’s get out of here,” Jo said, not bothering to hide her disgust.

“What are you going to do with us?” the spokesman for the Dark Angels demanded. “We have a right to know.”

Jo didn’t answer. She left.

Josh followed Jo, Ray, and Luke out of the restroom, walking past the guard who looked even more frightened now.

As they walked back toward the tables in the deli area, Luke spoke to Ray: “We need to leave in the morning, at first light.”

PART THREE

CHAPTER 21

Ray

As soon as the sun was up Ray helped Luke and Josh check through the two Humvees and the pickup truck again. It was cold outside, but within minutes Ray’s body was warm from the activity.

Mike was up and wanted to help. Ray put him to work getting the van ready, helping to load it up with boxes of food and drinks. Luke gave them another smaller box with two hand grenades, six glass bottles with the rags already poking out of them and a small amount of laundry detergent in the bottom of them, all they needed was the gasoline and then to be lit and thrown; Molotov cocktails ready to go. Luke had added his own box of bottles and strips of cloth for their attack on Hell Town.

Ray found more maps of North Carolina, South Carolina, and Georgia. He gave Luke the maps he’d drawn the route on, and a copy of the diagram of Hell Town that Dawson had drawn. He had already gone over the route with Luke that they would follow, selecting a crossroads in a remote area to split from each other. Hell Town was only fifty miles from Greenville, a populated city at one time, the most populated city in the area besides Knoxville, Tennessee, which was even farther away. But with those cities even that close, they had to be ready for huge hordes of rippers to be in the areas. Ray had visions of twenty thousand starving rippers on the move, devouring everything in their path like a swarm of locusts.

Ray and Luke had questioned Dawson one more time before loading the trucks this morning. His answers had all been the same. Ray wasn’t so sure they could trust him, but Luke was willing to give it a shot.

Mike loaded their backpacks into the van after the boxes of food, water, weapons, and Molotov cocktails. They’d gotten new backpacks from the sporting goods section of the store, two camouflage backpacks and one black one. Ray had repacked them and checked them twice. He made sure they each had two changes of clothes, two extra pairs of socks and underwear, an extra pair of gloves, an extra pocket knife. He also added protein bars, packs of peanuts, a large bottle of water, coffee filters, a flashlight, waterproof matches.

Along with their packs, they loaded up three blankets, a box of tools and extra parts for the van, extra hoses, a pair of jumper cables, a small toolbox, a can of Fix-a-Flat. The only thing Jo couldn’t spare was an extra car battery to take with them—they would have to find their own extra battery on the road.

They each carried a knife on them (Mike beamed like it was still his birthday when Ray gave him a folding buck knife in a leather case to attach to his belt), along with a handgun each.

They were loaded up and as ready as they could be. Wade, who used to be a mechanic, who had the most knowledge about cars, checked out the van, checking hoses, belts, tires, exhaust, gauges. Everything seemed to be fine. He helped them tape up a thin blanket over the busted-out back window. It cut off part of the view from the back, but it kept some of the cold air and noise out of the van.

Ray still had the handgun he’d gotten off the Dark Angel in the small mountain town in West Virginia. Josh still had the shotgun he’d taken from the man in Pennsylvania who had killed his family and then blew off most of his own head. They had extra ammunition for both weapons. Luke gave them an M-16 and three magazines, and two boxes of extra bullets, giving them a quick tutorial on how to use the weapon. Luke had given Mike a handgun he’d gotten off one of the Dark Angel prisoners. It was still a shock for Ray to see his twelve-year-old son walking around with a gun holstered to one hip and a large knife holstered to the other hip. For just a second he saw the vision of what his son would be in a few years: a warrior in this terrible new world they had to survive in.

Mike was pretty careful with the weapons so far, but Ray made him promise that he wouldn’t take the gun out and play with it. He even kept the magazine for Mike’s gun in the center console of the van. Luke had shown Mike how to use the pistol, a Sig Saur P226 that held fifteen rounds, without firing it. He showed him how to load the 9mm bullets into the magazine and then unload them, how to check the chamber for a bullet.

Mike looked a little nervous, but Luke assured Ray that Mike had done well enough with the .30-06 on the roof—he was a natural shot, and he’d be okay if and when he had to use the handgun.

The rippers were pretty quiet in the morning. They had once again dispersed, on the hunt for food, Ray guessed. He was sure many of them were still hanging around the gas station at the intersection and the partially constructed building. A few of them were still around the Dark Angels’ pickup truck, the bodies of the Dark Angels long ago pulled out and eaten, yet they still waited near the truck like they might find a scrap of flesh somewhere in it.

The coast was pretty clear so far. Ray figured they would be able to get out of the fence okay, maybe even across the parking lot, but then the rippers would swarm. Jo, who knew this town well, drew Ray an alternate route around the outside of the town, taking them past the apartment complex where she used to live, then out to the road that Ray had planned on traveling to skirt the town of Perry the day they’d seen the airplane shooting at the store, the day everything had changed.

Luke got his vehicles loaded with supplies, making sure he knew where every weapon was. He had the seating arrangements: He would drive the first Humvee with Dawson riding shotgun and Phil in the back. Max would drive the second vehicle behind Luke with George and Bella with him. J.J. would drive the pickup truck with Barry as the passenger and the three Dark Angel prisoners in the back, their hands still bound.

Ray would bring up the rear of the convoy in his van, following them to the crossroads just beyond the border where they would split up, Luke and his team heading west toward Hell Town, and Ray heading south for Avalon.

They were loaded up and ready now. They planned to leave in twenty minutes, as long as the spotters on the roof still said everything was okay. Ray had struggled with the idea of taking Mike with them. It was going to be a dangerous journey and it would probably be safer to leave Mike at the store. But the store could be dangerous too. Even though Luke, Max, and their band of Dark Angel defectors were going to attack Hell Town, there was no guarantee they would succeed, and either way the Dark Angels would be back to the store. The Dragon wasn’t going to give up on the store. But if something happened to Mike on this journey to Avalon, Ray knew he would never be able to forgive himself, but he also wouldn’t be able to forgive himself if he left Mike behind at the store and something happened to him, if he got captured or killed. At least Mike would be with him; he felt like he had some minute amount of control over things with his son with him. And if Mike was going to die on this journey, then Ray would die right along with him. He knew he couldn’t live in this world without Mike—he’d already lost Kim and Vanessa; Mike was all he had left. If he lost him, he was sure he’d go insane.

It was better not to think of things like that, but he couldn’t help trying to plan for them. They were realities now and had to be considered. Pretending things like death and harm wouldn’t happen was dangerous.

It was also risky taking Emma too, but he needed her—she was the only one who would be able to find Avalon now that they no longer had the map he’d lost in the cabin fire nearly a week ago. And with Emma came Josh. Ray was going to have to learn to trust Josh more. Josh had been a drug addict and a criminal, but he’d gotten over that. He had saved them a few times already.

Yes, it was going to be dangerous, but the four of them had ridden these roads in the wastelands before, and they would do it again. They would survive—Ray planned to make sure of it.

CHAPTER 22

Max

“It’s not goodbye, it’s so long for now,” Max told Kate after he hugged her.

Kate nodded and wiped at the tears in her eyes.

Jo was there as Max said so long to Kate and Brooke. Her new beau Gil was right beside her. The two of them pretended not to be a couple, but Max could tell. Hell, everyone could tell. And Max was happy for Jo. It was good for her. Good for Gil too.

Kate stood outside her tent. Brooke was beside her, Tiger by her feet.

Max looked down at Brooke. “Can I have a hug?”

Brooke nodded, wide-eyed. But she didn’t make a move.

Max bent down and scooped Brooke up into his arms. She squealed with surprise, but also delight as Max spun her around and then held her tight for a moment. “You take care of Kate, okay?”

Brooke nodded.

Max set her back down on the floor.

“You have to say goodbye to Tiger,” Brooke said in her soft voice.

Max scooped Tiger up into his arms before the cat could bolt and spun him around once, giving him a soft hug. Tiger looked annoyed but didn’t try to get out of his arms. “I’ll see you soon, Tiger. You be good.”

Brooke giggled.

Max set the cat down, then the cat took off among the tents.

“I know you’ll be back, Max,” Kate said. “I know you’ll take the Dragon down. I know you’ll get Petra back.”

Max nodded. It bothered him a little that he hadn’t been dreaming about Petra lately. It made him wonder if she wasn’t alive anymore, that they were going there to find her dead—or maybe never find her at all. And it bothered him even more that Brooke hadn’t drawn anything in the last few days, like all connections with the Dragon, and maybe even with each other, had been severed. It was like the Dragon had withdrawn and was waiting for the attack, waiting to defend himself. Like he knew it was coming.

Jo believed the Dragon knew Max’s attack was coming. She still believed the whole thing was a setup, that Dawson and his supposed defectors had come to peel off another layer of the store’s army, weakening its defenses. Mike, Emma, and Josh were being lured to Avalon by Ray. How did they know that it wasn’t an illusion put there by the Dragon, or a fantasy built on something that may or may not have been real from Ray’s friend?

Max knew Jo wanted them all to stay at the store, to keep defending the castle, but Max didn’t think it was realistic. He’d wanted to go find Petra as soon as the Dark Angels came back with Lance, Crystal, and Dale as hostages. He’d known she was still alive then; he’d felt it in his bones. And now (according to Dawson, at least) she’d gotten away from the Dark Angels at Jeff’s house when he had set them up. But then she’d gotten caught by Jacob, the man he’d seen in the video on the cell phone, a man Luke used to work with.

He felt guilty about Petra getting caught. He wondered if things would’ve been different if he would have gone to look for her right away, found her before Jacob got to her. He wished now that he would have taken a gun and a vehicle and just gone to look for her that next morning.

Then again maybe Jacob would have killed him and taken Petra anyway. Luke was afraid of Jacob—he didn’t even try to hide it. And if Luke was afraid of someone, then that person had to be a truly scary individual.

Max said goodbye to Jo and Gil, giving Jo a big hug, squeezing her hard, thanking her for everything she’d done for him and his friends.

“Just get back to us as quickly as you can,” Jo said.

Max promised that he would, but he saw the fear in Jo’s eyes, the certainty that he wasn’t going to ever come back. He had to look away from her eyes.

He grabbed his backpack and walked out to the loading bay, out to the truck where Luke and the others were waiting for him.

CHAPTER 23

Ray

The spotters on the roof radioed back that it was clear enough to leave the fenced-in area.

As long as we follow the route Jo marked out for us, taking us away from the black pickup truck the rippers had swarmed, we should be okay.

Ray was seated behind the steering wheel of the van. Mike sat in the passenger seat. Josh and Emma were in the back seat. Most of their gear was in the back. He hadn’t started the van yet—they’d all been waiting to get the go-ahead from the spotters.

And now they had it.

They started their vehicles at the same time. Luke, Dawson, and Phil were in the lead Humvee—they pulled away from their line of vehicles first. Max, George, and Bella followed in the second Humvee, and then J.J. and Barry in the pickup truck with the three Dark Angel prisoners inside the cage of bars in back. Ray followed the pickup, the truck’s engine rumbling. Their vehicles seemed so loud in the silent, cold morning air.

Ray had his own handgun on him, and Mike had the one Luke had given him. Josh had his shotgun and the M-16 ready in the back with him; he could shoot from the busted-out back window or even out through the side door if he needed to. And he had the glass bottles waiting to be filled with gasoline, and the two hand grenades Luke had given him if things got really bad.

Hopefully it wouldn’t come to that. Dawson had promised that the route they used between Hell Town and Perry was pretty rural and that the rippers along the route seemed to hang back, like they knew trying to attack the speeding convoy that was armed to the teeth was a waste of time and a waste of their lives. So it seemed that as long as they got out of Perry, they should be okay until they got closer to Hell Town.

“You guys ready?” Ray asked.

Mike nodded. He looked twitchy, ready to reach down for the gun on his hip.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Josh joked from the back seat.

Ray had begun to get used to Josh’s twisted sense of humor and his sarcastic remarks—a little bit, anyway. He knew it was Josh’s way of coping with his fear, pretending to be braver than he was. Josh had hinted that he’d spent a lot of time on the streets around some unsavory people who might kill you as soon as look at you—Ray supposed a lot of drug addicts were exposed to people like that. He was sure his brother Freddy had been exposed to people like that. And Freddy had had his own sick sense of humor, his own defenses against fear and the depressing world he had made for himself. Maybe Josh’s jokes and smart ass comments reminded him a little of Freddy, and maybe that (and the fact that Josh had wrecked his life with drugs just like Freddy had done) had made Ray hate Josh somewhat at first. But now he was glad to be reminded of his brother—he didn’t want to forget him.

“Okay,” Ray said. “Everyone stay alert and ready. Leaving the store may get a little tricky.” He looked at Mike. “Go ahead and load your gun.”

Mike moved like a spring that had been coiled, like an attack dog trembling and holding still, waiting for the command to jump. He opened the console and pulled out the loaded magazine.

Ray watched Mike push the magazine into the handle of the gun. He nodded at Mike, and his son nodded back. “No bullet in the chamber just yet,” he told him. “Just hold onto it. Keep the safety on. Don’t play with it.”

Mike gave a solemn nod.

Three of the people from the store, two men and a woman (Ray couldn’t remember all of their names, but he thought one of the men might have been named Wade), had the gate open. The man holding the gate wore the long rubber gloves in case signals to the person manning the car batteries got screwed up and the cables were hooked back up too soon, electrifying the fence.

Luke pulled out first in the lead Humvee, picking up speed immediately, the next Humvee right behind him, then the pickup truck, and then Ray in the van. He glanced at the side mirror and saw the man in the baggy rubber gloves pushing the gate shut as soon as the van’s rear bumper had crossed the threshold.

This was it. They were out. They were on their way to Avalon.

They had agreed to cross the same ditch that Ray and Gil had traversed a few days ago. The ditch was shallow enough, the mud stiff from the cold, the ragged pieces of the shrubs the only barrier between the edge of the parking lot in that area and the wide strip of grass that made up part of the restaurant’s landscaping.

The ditch was no problem at all for the Humvees—the vehicles had been designed for terrain like that. And the black pickup was jacked up on tires as big as the ones on Gil’s truck. But the van was lower to the ground. It had made it before, so Ray was sure it would get across fine this time. He wasn’t sure why he was nervous about getting stuck. He imagined the worst-case scenario (he always did), the van bogging down or a tire flattening on some unseen piece of sharp metal buried in the muck, stranding them in the middle of the ditch while the other vehicles drove away, a horde of rippers racing across the parking lot toward them, waving pipes, sticks, and knives.

He floored the gas pedal right before driving over the bits and pieces left of the mowed-down shrubs, the tires crunching over the twigs and dead leaves. He held onto the steering wheel a little tighter. He could tell Mike was holding on, too. Josh was holding onto Emma in the back. Ray wished they had a better vehicle to take to Avalon, something more like one of the Humvees, or even something with larger tires, like the pickup trucks. But the van was all they had, and it was going to have to work.

The van drove down into the ditch and climbed the other side, the quiet motor louder, the rear tires spinning in the mud for just a moment, making Ray feel a little like he’d lost control, like the van was floating just off the ground for a second. And then they were up the other side, catching up to the pickup truck, the Dark Angels in the back holding onto the bars with their bound hands, watching them with lifeless eyes.

Luke was already at the other end of the restaurant’s parking lot, pulling out onto the street, turning left, away from the intersection with the gas station, away from the black pickup truck where the rippers had feasted on the Dark Angels. Ray sped up, getting closer to the pickup’s bumper, closer to the scared men in the back. They were all looking toward the intersection as they got closer to the street—afraid of something.

Mike saw what had grabbed the Dark Angels’ attention. “The rippers! They’re coming!”

CHAPTER 24

Josh

“They’re coming!” Mike yelled from the passenger seat.

The van was past the restaurant building, and Josh saw what Mike was seeing out through the windows of the side door of the van. There hadn’t been that many rippers before, and the spotters had given them the all-clear, but now there were what looked like hundreds of rippers racing down the street toward them.

Josh had his shotgun and the M-16 Luke had given to him. He was more comfortable with the shotgun, but with the army of rippers coming he grabbed the M-16. He was surprised at how close the mob of rippers were, many of them flooding out of the gas station building and from beyond it—almost like they’d been hiding. He thought of the gas station he and the others had holed up in nearly a week ago and how the rippers had hid in the building across the street. They’d done the same thing weeks ago, hiding beyond the intersection in front of Isaac’s home while he and Isaac had watched from the attic window.

Other rippers were already flooding the Super Bea’s parking lot behind them, and some were coming out of the looted restaurant they’d just driven by, a few of them screeching, a few wailing, one of them already throwing rocks or small chunks of concrete at the van. Josh heard the sounds of gunshots coming from the roof of the store behind them. Maybe the shooters up there were hoping to distract the rippers or stun the mob for just a moment to give them a chance to drive far enough away.

Ray turned left, following the Humvees and the pickup truck. The Dark Angels in the back of the pickup held onto the bars around the bed of the truck, slumped down, nearly huddled against each other. Ray picked up speed, getting closer and closer to the black pickup’s bumper.

Josh glanced at Emma to make sure she was okay. She was tense, sitting bolt-upright, strapped in with the seatbelt, her mouth a grim line. He wanted to comfort her, to tell her they were going to be okay, but he didn’t have the time. He hurried to the sliding door window, looking out through it, ready to slide the door open if he needed to.

“Look,” Josh said, still looking out the side window. “They’re cutting across that field.”

“I see it,” Ray roared back.

Many of the rippers had already given up the chase toward the van—they were running through a field of brown, overgrown weeds, past other buildings. It was like they knew the convoy was going to go up to the light and take a right, driving down around the edge of town on that road; it was like they were thinking ahead, guessing at their most probable route so they could head them off.

Ray drove faster, staying right with the truck in front of him. Their convoy was getting closer to the dark street light at the next intersection. Luke slowed his Humvee down to take the right hand turn.

Josh watched the closest rippers running down the street after them, their eyes bulging, filthy hair flying, arms pumping, dirty hands clutching knives, metal pipes, and other weapons—men, women, and children, some screaming in rage, others in frustration.

Ray had to slow the van down more than the vehicles in front of him to make the sharp right hand turn, like he was afraid the van might tip over. Josh had to hold on, and he was glad he hadn’t opened the sliding door yet to shoot. He slipped down to the floor as the van seemed to teeter on two tires, those tires screeching.

Don’t tip over . . . please, God, don’t let us tip over.

They made it around the turn. Ray sped the van up, catching back up to the convoy. A crackle of gunfire sounded from the lead Humvee. Someone was shooting; maybe it was Phil from the back seat. The bullets mowed down the few rippers that had caught up to them.

Josh was back at the side door again, sliding it open, the cold air rushing into the van. He aimed his M-16 out through the opening, trying his best not to lose his balance, and then he pulled the trigger, holding onto the weapon tightly as bursts of gunfire erupted from the muzzle.

The gunfire was enough to back the rippers off just a little, the first row of them, the fastest and strongest among them, struck down by bullets, tumbling along the frozen ground, tripping up the others running behind them. Some of the rippers stopped running and launched rocks, but they were too far away to really do any damage.

Luke was already turning right at the next dead stop light, taking them farther out of the way of Perry where they could catch a side road back to the county road that would take them down into South Carolina and to Hell Town.

They were going to make it. At least for now.

Josh slid the side door of the van shut, still trying to keep his balance. He laid the M-16 down on the floor and sat down on the bench seat right next to Emma. She reached for him, taking his hand.

“I’m okay,” he told her in a low voice, trying to keep the waver out of it. But why bother? She would hear it. She could feel the uncontrollable tremor in his fingers, his hands, his whole body. “We’re okay,” he whispered, saying it again and again like a mantra.

Ray seemed to exhale for the first time, still gripping the steering wheel tight. Mike hadn’t moved or made a sound, still holding on for dear life.

“A lot of those rippers were running towards the store,” Josh said.

“I saw,” Ray answered and left it at that, like he was saying: What am I supposed to do about it?

Josh thought of the store. It was a strong building, built out of concrete block and steel. The fence was still electrified, the glass doors (now shattered) protected by the steel mesh and then the rows of shopping carts, boxes, and crates jammed up against them.

They’ll be safe. The rippers have attacked the store before and they couldn’t get in. Even the Dark Angels had attacked a few times and couldn’t get it.

Emma squeezed his hand harder, like she was reading his thoughts, or at least sensing his anxieties.

CHAPTER 25

Ray

Once they’d gotten outside of Perry and south of it, the threat of rippers had dropped dramatically. Mike and Josh kept looking for any rippers, but they had all relaxed quite a bit since leaving the town of Perry. Ray kept right behind the black pickup truck, their speed hovering around forty-five miles per hour. He hated following the truck, looking at the three Dark Angels inside the cage. Two of the men stared back at him every so often, but they also looked around. The other man seemed to stare the whole time at Ray with lifeless eyes, like he knew he was being led to a slaughter; he’d been the one who swore the man who had died had seen the Dragon in his dreams.

Ray thought about the rippers that had been running across the parking lot toward Jo’s store. He’d had the same thoughts Josh had had, even though Josh hadn’t expressed them. He worried that the rippers would eventually get inside. If enough of them stormed the store, they would get in.

But what could he do about it now? It sounded cruel, but he was helpless now. He’d asked Jo and the others to come with them, but she had refused, craving the supposed safety of the store.

And maybe Jo was the one who was right; maybe the store was worth protecting, worth risking your life for, maybe even worth dying for. There wasn’t much else around. Maybe there would be salvation at Avalon, but deep down inside Ray knew this was a huge gamble. He had no statistics to evaluate, no odds to gauge, no weighing of known pros and cons. All he could do was take the chance and hope they got lucky.

They drove past large areas of woods, many of the trees skeletal now that winter was fully upon them, the forest floor a carpet of rotting leaves. There were a lot of evergreen trees with plenty of brush that could still conceal rippers lying in wait. The farther south they drove, the more pines there were, and shrubs and brush that kept their leaves.

It actually felt a little warmer south of Perry even though they were still in the mountains, driving up and down rolling hills. Maybe there was a warm front coming through. The clouds had cleared, the sky a deep blue, the sunlight strong, making everything crystal clear, sharp lines of shadows and bright swaths of sunlight painted on the road.

After another hour of driving through the roads that twisted through the wooded hills, little eddies of dry leaves swirling in the wake of their convoy, Luke pulled over. They had come to the rural crossroads—no stoplights, no buildings, just a couple of street signs and large areas of grass and weeds on the sides of the road before the woods took over again only a few hundred yards away, the brush closing in toward the road again. They pulled off the road, parking in a line.

Ray rolled down the van’s window, listening for a moment, and then he shut off the engine. He looked at Mike. “Let’s get out and stretch our legs for a minute.”

J.J. bolted from the pickup truck parked in front of them, running to the edge of the woods to take a leak.

“We should try to go to the bathroom while we’re here,” Ray said.

They got out. Josh helped Emma out of the side door of the van. They went to the rear of the van.

Ray and Mike walked past the pickup. Ray felt the eyes of the three Dark Angels on him. He looked at Mike who watched the men as he walked past, like he was afraid they were going to get through the bars to him. The one man—the one who believed the Dragon had killed the Dark Angel in his dreams inside the Super Bea’s restroom, the one who had been staring at Ray the whole time they’d been following the truck—kept on staring at Mike, and then Ray, as they passed. Mike said nothing when they were out of the view of the men, and Ray said nothing either.

Luke and Dawson were out of the lead Humvee. Dawson didn’t have a weapon; Ray was sure Luke didn’t trust them with weapons just yet, not while they were driving. Ray knew Luke had his gun shoved into his shoulder holster inside his hoodie and he could draw it as quick as lightning.

“This is where we split up,” Luke said.

“You go down that road and you’ll find your way to the Georgia state line,” Dawson told Ray.

Ray knew Dawson was just trying to be helpful, but it irritated him; he already knew where he was going and he didn’t need Dawson to point it out for him. He looked at Luke, ignoring Dawson. “I hope you get him. I really do.”

“We need to,” Dawson said.

Ray and Luke looked at Dawson.

“I need to take a piss,” Dawson said like he knew he’d worn out his welcome. He left, walking around the front of the Humvee toward the edge of the woods.

“You really trust him?” Ray asked Luke in a low voice.

Luke shrugged. “Not really sure. I just need them to get me to Hell Town, then I’ll improvise a plan of my own.”

“You don’t know how you’re getting in?”

Luke shrugged again, a weary gesture. “We’ll figure it out as we go.”

Ray shuddered at the idea of not having a clearly mapped-out plan, and then a backup plan. But then again, who was he to criticize? It wasn’t like he knew what he was doing any more than Luke did. He didn’t know what was waiting for them at Avalon.

It was already almost two o’clock in the afternoon, the air already colder, the shadows from the woods stretching a little farther across the roads.

“We should get going,” Luke said. He looked at Mike. “You take care of your dad.”

Mike grinned and nodded, the pistol clenched in his hand down by his leg.

“Go try to pee,” Ray told Mike. “I don’t know when we’ll get another chance to stop.”

Mike looked wary.

“There are enough armed men here if any rippers come,” Ray told him.

Mike took off for the woods, walking between the two Humvees.

Ray turned back to Luke and offered a hand.

Luke shook it.

“If you make it back—”

“I’ll make it back.”

“When you make it back,” Ray corrected, “I’d like to ask a favor from you.”

Luke waited.

“I want you to train Mike. Turn him into a fighting machine. Teach him how to shoot better. I want him ready for anything. I want his odds of survival to be as high as they can be.”

Luke nodded. “I’ll do what I can. But Mike’s already got a fighting spirit, a natural survival instinct. You can’t teach that. Either you’re born with it or you’re not, and Mike was born with it.”

Ray knew Mike was a fighter as much as he was himself, as much as Luke was, as much as Josh and Emma were. The five of them couldn’t have gotten as far as they had for this long without that tenacity to win, to overcome, to survive.

“Thank you,” Ray said and shook Luke’s hand again.

Josh and Emma walked up. Josh shook hands with Luke and said goodbye. Emma hugged Luke and whispered something in his ear. Luke nodded like he was confirming whatever she had said or asked, his face set grimly, but Ray saw a softening in his eyes.

Mike was back. He gave a Luke a hug.

A moment later they were back in the van, everyone seated and belted in. Ray started the van and backed up a little to turn toward the road that led south.

It felt strange leaving Luke behind. Even though they’d been together for only a few weeks, it felt like they’d known each other for years. The horrors they’d been through had bonded them. And Ray realized that he had come to depend on Luke too much. That was dangerous because Luke could die at any moment . . . any of them could. They all had to learn to become self-sufficient, to rely on their own skills. They would all need to learn to shoot well, and not just with guns, but also with more primitive weapons. Eventually bullets would become scarce. Yes, they could learn to make bullets sometime in the future, but they needed to become proficient with every type of weapon even before that.

There were so many other survival skills they would need to learn: hunting, fishing, tanning, medicine, farming, foraging, building.

The thought of it overwhelmed Ray for just a moment. Unlike Luke, Ray was too much of a planner, an organizer, a worrywart as Kim used to call him. And that was good in a way, but he also needed to let go of some of that and learn to live in the moment, only planning a few steps ahead at a time.

*

Two hours later they skirted another small town, only stopping once so Ray could remap their route, trying to avoid any populated areas. But this town was unavoidable, like so many others along the way.

The buildings in the distance seemed abandoned, and so far there weren’t that many rippers as they drove by, no large groups.

Ray was pretty sure Josh and Emma were sleeping in the back; he could hear Josh’s heavy breathing, pretty close to snoring. But Mike was still awake, staring out the passenger window, watching for rippers.

“Dad,” Mike said with his gun in his hand. “Can I practice?”

Ray saw the loner that Mike had spotted. They were leaving the small town behind and entering a patch of farms and fields, with another thick patch of woods in the distance. He felt sick at the idea of his twelve-year-old son aiming a gun out the window and shooting at a human being, but he remembered how he had asked Luke to teach Mike how to shoot, how to survive.

What if Luke didn’t make it back? Who would teach Mike?

Ray nodded.

Mike rolled down the window and pointed his gun out, holding it tightly, closing one eye and doing his best to aim as they approached the ripper who walked a few yards off from the side of the road. The ripper looked like a starving and dehydrated man wandering through the desert, a man close to death; he looked like he didn’t even know where he was or what he was doing, just plodding along, maybe hoping to come across some food and water.

Mike squeezed the trigger three times. One of the shots hit the ripper in his head, pitching him forward where he landed down among the tall, dry grass.

“What the hell?” Josh yelled, waking up in the back of the van, startled and sitting up straight on the bench seat next to Emma.

“It’s just Mike practicing,” Ray said.

Josh exhaled a long sigh and whispered to Emma.

Ray couldn’t help smiling. If he couldn’t sleep, then no one else should sleep right now.

“Good shot, son,” Ray told Mike.

Mike beamed as he rolled the window back up.

CHAPTER 26

Petra

Petra woke up in the dark basement, not sure what time of day it was. She could see the very faint light coming from around the dark curtains over the basement windows, so she knew it was still daytime.

Someone was unlocking the basement door. Opening it. Footsteps on the stairs.

Petra sat up on the edge of the bed. She was still fully dressed; she even still had her hiking boots on and laced up. Hours ago she’d been walking around, pacing back and forth to get her blood flowing and to keep her alert and warm, but the pacing had made her hand and severed pinkie throb even more, so she sat down in the chair at the small table. At some point she had crawled back into bed and fallen asleep.

The bandage around her hand had spots of blood on it, but she didn’t remove the strips of gauze to look at the wound. Another servant girl, dressed in white as Audrey had been (and like Sharon, who they had strapped to a chair so Jacob could snip off parts of her body), had dressed Petra’s wound. This woman’s name was Lindsey. Petra had asked the woman her name and was surprised when she had given it to her. Lindsey had taken off the old bandages and applied some kind of cream to the short nub where Petra’s pinkie used to be, and then she had wrapped new strips of bandages around it again.

Since then Petra had been left in the basement with a half-filled gallon of water sitting on the small table. No one had brought her more water or any food.

Maybe they were leaving her down here to die.

No, she didn’t think that was true. They would eventually come down here to kill her. Or they would drag her upstairs and kill her on the back porch. Or they would load her in a truck and take her out to the fields, hang her by her wrists from the crossbeam and call the rippers to come and feast on her.

Maybe they didn’t need her anymore. Even while they had tortured her, and tortured Sharon in front of her, the Dragon had known the answers to his own questions. But it still felt like he’d been digging for something specific, prodding her brain with the fingers of his mind, looking for some secret she was hiding from him. Maybe it was the only reason she was still alive.

The Dragon knew about Dawson’s defection, and the few others who had gone with him. He hadn’t stopped Dawson. He wanted Dawson to leave, to bring the others back here. He wanted the others, as he called them, to all be here in one place so he could take them out.

Petra still had trouble believing the Dragon was so afraid of them (or us, she reminded herself), but it seemed like he was, like all of his plans were on hold until these pests were exterminated.

The footsteps were heavy on the basement steps—Jacob’s signature slow descent down to her lair. He stood on the landing a moment later, bathed in the afternoon light that came down the stairwell.

“Get up.” He was smiling, but it was an evil smile.

This is it. This is where they take me out and kill me. Or worse.

Petra was ready to die. She’d been ready for a while now. She just wished she could get one chance to kill the Dragon . . . just one chance.

“Get up,” Jacob said again in the same even tone.

Petra got up. She could hear someone at the top of the stairs by the basement door—one of the guards.

Jacob moved back to the corner of the landing, giving Petra enough room to squeeze by him and walk up the stairs.

“To the dining room,” he told her, and then he was right behind her, following her up the stairs.

There were two armed guards at the top of the steps. They moved out of the way to let Petra out of the stairwell. They followed her to the dining room where the table was set for two, just like before. The Dragon wasn’t there, just one more of his black-clad elite guards.

“Sit down,” Jacob said as he came into the dining room, the last one to enter. One guard remained at the archway to the kitchen, another at the archway to the living room, a third in the far corner where the Dragon would be seated.

Lindsey, the same woman who had treated Petra’s hand, came into the dining room with a tray of food, bowls of what looked like some kind of beef stew and corned beef hash, both probably from cans. She set the tray down in the middle of the table. She served some stew and hash onto the Dragon’s plate and then some onto Petra’s plate.

Petra had already made up her mind to refuse the food, but her stomach grumbled at the sight of it, at the smell of it. The growling of her stomach was so loud she was sure Jacob had heard it.

Jacob said nothing about Petra’s hunger; he just stood at attention, waiting. A minute later the Dragon entered the dining room from the living room. He was dressed in black, like his guards. He sat down at the head of the table. Without a word he picked up his fork and began eating. He chewed quickly, swallowed, then he looked at Petra as if he’d just noticed that she was there.

Petra sat stone-still, staring at the Dragon

“You’re welcome to eat, Petra. I know you must be hungry.”

Her stomach growled on cue.

“It doesn’t hurt me for you not to eat. It only hurts you.”

Petra picked up her fork and butter knife, cutting a hunk of potato and beef with the knife, then taking a bite of the stew. She gripped the metal utensils hard, wondering if she could get to the Dragon across the table before one of the guards or Jacob could react. She saw herself hopping on top of the table and crawling across it, pushing the food and dishes out of the way, diving at the Dragon and burying the fork and knife into his eyes.

The Dragon stopped eating suddenly, staring at her in mild shock like he’d just seen the image in her mind.

Good. I’m glad he saw it.

Petra ate her stew. She was so hungry; it must have been at least two, maybe three days, since she’d eaten anything.

“Your friends are coming for you today,” the Dragon said conversationally and then took another bite.

Petra said nothing.

“But I’m sorry to say they won’t rescue you. They’re not even going to get inside the walls.”

Petra shoveled more stew and then hash into her mouth, hopefully doing the opposite of what the Dragon had expected her to do.

“I have a little surprise waiting for them.”

Petra didn’t answer him, she ate more food, scooping up the hash with her fork and slowly lowering the butter knife down to her side.

“You don’t want to know what my plans are for your friends?” the Dragon asked, seemingly a little hurt by her apathy.

She didn’t answer. She glanced at the guard behind the Dragon; he wasn’t looking at her. She slipped the knife under her shirt, and down into the waistband of her pants. It wasn’t much of a weapon, but maybe she could sharpen it down like a shank when she got down in the basement again. She had no way of knowing if the guard behind her had seen her subtle movements. But Jacob wasn’t even looking at her—that was a good thing.

“Do you want to know what my plans are for you?” the Dragon asked.

Petra stopped eating, but she still wasn’t going to answer him. He was just baiting her, toying with her.

The Dragon seemed to grow bored with their one-sided conversation, declining to reveal his plans for her. He looked back down at his plate, concentrating on eating again.

Moments later Petra finished her food.

The Dragon was only half finished with his plate. He looked at Jacob and nodded. “She got her food. She’ll be strong for later. Take her back down to the basement.”

Jacob nodded.

“But get the knife from her that she just pocketed,” the Dragon said.

Jacob smiled. He’d seen it too.

The guard behind Petra had her up on her feet before she could even react, holding her arms behind her back—it felt like her arms were wrapped in steel bands.

Jacob’s face was close to her face; he breathed on her as he slipped his hand down into the waistband of her pants slowly. “Nice try, Petra,” he whispered as he removed the butter knife and dropped it on the table.

The guard marched Petra down the stairs to the basement. Jacob was right behind them.

Once Petra was down in the basement the guard went back upstairs.

But Jacob waited.

Petra stared at him as he stood on the landing.

“I’ll give you a hint about your future,” Jacob said with a sly smile. “We won’t need you much longer, and when this is over, when your friends are dead, I’m going to have some fun with you. Yes, we’re going to spend quite a while together.”

Petra felt sick to her stomach as Jacob walked back up the stairs, clomping his feet heavily on each step. He slammed the door shut at the top of the stairs and locked it, shrouding the basement in darkness.

CHAPTER 27

Emma

Emma calmed down a little after Mike’s gunshots and Josh’s cries of alarm. She could tell that Ray had found it amusing that Mike’s gunshots had woken Josh up. Now Mike’s window was rolled back up and Josh had settled back down next to her. Her body was achy from the cold even though Ray had the heat in the van on. She tried changing positions, stretching her legs out, even unbuckling for a little and turning onto her side on the bench seat.

Everyone was quiet for a while as Ray drove. Mike and Josh were keeping an eye out for rippers or Dark Angels, but she could tell that they were both getting tired. You could only stay at a high level of tension for so long.

She curled up a little more. Josh laid a blanket over her without saying a word. She knew she loved Josh. She fantasized what it would have been like if she could have met him before the Collapse had happened, or if none of it had ever happened.

What would her life with Josh have been like?

She was back in her condo in Washington D.C. Josh had moved in. They shared her bedroom together, making love, then cooking and eating together in the evenings. Josh got a job, probably some kind of construction job, as she continued to volunteer at the center for the blind. They weren’t rich, but they weren’t hurting for money either.

Her mother came to visit. Emma felt a pang of sorrow when she saw her mother, who had sent Ray and his family to help her. Her mother had been taken by the police. She had died.

But in this fantasy her mother was still alive. She would come over once a week to spend time with them. Mom liked Josh. Everyone liked Josh. Josh kidded around with Mom, and Mom kidded right back with him.

Today they sat on the couch watching TV. Josh was joking around, making fun of the show they were watching. Emma didn’t even listen to the show—she listened to her mom and Josh.

“When are you two going to give me a grandkid?”

“Mom,” Emma said with feigned shock, but she’d been having thoughts about it.

“I’m not getting any younger, you know.”

“Josh and I are taking our time. Right, Josh?”

Josh gave her a kiss on her cheek. “Right, baby.”

“I’m not getting any younger,” Mom repeated, but now her voice was lower and deeper, sinister. “In fact, I’m dead now. It’s too late.”

Icy fear crystalized throughout Emma’s body. She knew her mother was still somewhere near her, but she had changed. And where was Josh?

“Mom?”

Heavy and deep breathing. Close to her, getting closer.

Panic roared through Emma. She felt the urge to get up and run. “Josh?”

No answer, just the heavy breathing.

Josh wasn’t there anymore. Neither was her mom. It was only the Dragon now.

“I know where you’re going, Emma,” the Dragon said. “I’ve always known. And I know all about your friends’ little sneak attack.”

The Dragon moved silently through the living room. He was even closer now. Right beside her. She could smell his clothes, some kind of cologne he wore, the food on his breath.

“Yes, I know all about them. I know about Dawson, that fucking traitor. I let him and his rat friends come to you. I let him bring some of you back to me. I’ll take care of them, and then I’ll get to you. All of you.”

Emma needed to get away. She got up to move. She could hear the planes flying overhead, jets roaring past her condo building. She heard the bombs in the distance—they were bombing Washington D.C. She got up from her chair, ready to bolt, not even sure where she was going to run to. She remembered in that split second that the windows had bars installed over them and sheets of plywood. She’d had them installed a few weeks before the Collapse because she’d known something terrible was coming. She had tried to convince her mother that they should run, but like right now, she had no idea where to run to, no idea where a safe place would be. The terrible thing that was coming would blanket the land, blotting out the sun, covering the world, leaving no piece of the earth untouched.

The Dragon grabbed her forearm before she could get away from the chair, before she could bolt in panic. His grip was like iron, his long and slender fingers wrapping so easily and completely around her arm. There was no way she could get free now, no way she could run away.

The Dragon pulled her closer to him, yanking her off balance for a moment.

“I know who’s coming,” he said. “Luke and Max. Dawson and his traitors. They’ll all get a big surprise.”

Suddenly the Dragon let go. Emma felt like she was falling. She expected to hit part of the recliner, or maybe the edge of the table, definitely the floor, but she was just falling and falling.

She jumped awake.

Someone had their hand on her arm.

The Dragon.

No, it was Josh.

“You okay?” he whispered.

She swallowed hard. They were still driving. Everyone was quiet. She nodded.

“Bad dream?” he asked.

She nodded again. She felt like telling him about it, telling him that Luke, Max, and the others with them were heading for something terrible, tell him that the Dragon knew they were going to Avalon, that he’d known all along. But she didn’t say anything—she just let Josh hold her.

“Sorry,” Emma told him in a soft voice into his shoulder. “I fell asleep for a minute.”

“More than a minute.”

“How long?”

“At least an hour.”

It hadn’t felt like it had been that long.

The dreams came rushing back to her, the ache of loss when she was with her mother again, when she was in her old condo where Ray had lost Kim, where Vanessa had begun to turn. And then the fear when she’d sensed the Dragon near her, the helplessness about Luke, Max, and Phil. And then the falling afterwards. But now she realized that she hadn’t been falling in the dream; she’d been floating in the darkness toward something, something that was pulling her.

Avalon?

Maybe. She was pretty sure she could feel the pull of the place. She didn’t want to reach out for it now like she had in her dream, but she let herself open up to it. She could feel it. Not as strong as the dream had been, but she could feel that they were on the right path.

She let it go, closing off that part of her mind, afraid the Dragon might lock on to her again. What did it matter now? The Dragon had already locked on to her while she’d been dreaming and there was nothing she could do about it now.

But something nagged at her about the dream. The Dragon had said that he knew where they were going, but he hadn’t said the name of the place—he hadn’t said the word Avalon. Maybe he didn’t know; maybe he knew that they had run, but he didn’t know exactly where. It was a shred of hope to hold onto, but just a shred. She prayed that Luke would survive, that he would succeed in killing the Dragon, but after her dream she didn’t have a good feeling about it.

CHAPTER 28

Jo

“Jo, you need to get up here,” Lisa said from the walkie-talkie. Lisa was spotting from the roof again. She spent so much time up there, sometimes twelve hours at a time. Jo had offered to switch her out with other spotters, but Lisa insisted. She said she felt better up there, in the open air. She felt safer watching, knowing what the rippers were doing, able to see the Dark Angels if they came.

But right now Lisa sounded very scared.

“What is it?” Gil asked Jo. He was right next to her on the air mattress in her office. They had been spending some time together, getting to know each other, but taking their time. “Dark Angels?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” Jo answered as she got up to her feet, grabbing the walkie from her bookcase and pressing the button on the side. “Lisa. What’s going on? Is it Dark Angels?”

Max, Ray, Luke, and the rest of them had left for Hell Town hours ago. She’d been on the roof watching them leave. She’d seen the rippers go after their convoy, abandoning the pickup truck and whatever tiny slivers of human meat and blood remained in the hopes of new food escaping the store. But she’d also seen some of the rippers rush the parking lot of the store. They had surrounded the building. She, Gil, and Wade had picked a few of them off with rifles, hoping to back them up. And it had worked a little. Some of them had dispersed. Others were in the woods behind the store, more of them than usual. But she was sure they would scatter eventually—they usually did.

The rippers had pushed on the steel mesh behind the glass doors. A few had grabbed onto the chain-link fencing at the back of the store, shocking themselves, thrown back. Some had tried again to climb the walls of the building up to the roof, some even climbing on top of each other. But they could only get so high, and the bullets dissuaded them before they got too organized.

Gil had been worried about the rippers, afraid enough of them might push against and snap the chain mesh doors blocking off the area where the sliding glass doors had once been. He was also worried they would short out the batteries hooked up to the fence in back.

They hadn’t done it yet, she’d told Gil.

Now Lisa’s voice scared Jo—something was really wrong.

“It’s not Dark Angels,” Lisa said.

Good. Jo breathed out a sigh of relief. She’d had brief visions of the Dark Angels waiting just down the road, ambushing the convoy and then coming to the store to attack.

“It’s the rippers,” Lisa said. “They’ve moved away from the front. They’re in the back now, a lot of them in the woods.”

“They’ll stay away,” Jo said. It was the same thing she’d told Gil.

“They’re attacking the fence from the woods.”

Jo didn’t say anything. She just held the walkie in her hand, listening to the static coming from it. She looked at Gil, meeting his eyes. He looked worried. He had never stopped looking worried.

“They’ve got some big piece of a tree, like a log or something,” Lisa said. “Five or six of them are carrying it. They’re shoving it against the fence like a battering ram.”

Jo still didn’t answer. She held Gil’s gaze.

“They’ll get through,” Gil said.

“Tell me if they get through,” Jo told Lisa.

“They’re . . . they’re beating the fence pretty hard,” Lisa said. “It’s not going to last. It’s really bowing in now.”

“Hang tight,” Jo told Lisa. “I’ll be up there in a minute.” She set the walkie down while looking at Gil. “They’re using wood so they don’t electrocute themselves.” She thought of Ray’s warning, that some of the rippers would eventually learn to do that. It would only take one of them to try it, to show the others, for all of them to understand. Now they seemed to be working as a small team with one goal in mind: to get inside the store.

“They’re going to get inside,” Gil said. “It’s just a matter of time. We need to get on the roof. All of us. Do you have any rope ladders?”

Jo’s mind was reeling, but she forced herself to calm down, concentrating on Gil’s ice-blue eyes. Rope ladders . . . he was asking her about rope ladders. She nodded.

“We’ll need them to get off the roof,” Gil said.

She saw the unfinished sentence in his eyes: If we can ever get off the roof.

Jo had a few of the rope ladders stocked in the housewares area, right next to the hardware section—they were rope ladders for two-story homes in case of a fire. She always worried that they might all have to get up on the roof, maybe even eventually escape from the roof, so she’d stashed the rope ladders where she could find them.

Rifle shots cracked from the roof, sounding distant down inside the store. Lisa and the other spotters were already firing at the rippers storming the fence. The shots might slow them down, but other rippers were going to take their place. Gil was right; they were going to get in soon.

Gil seemed to identify the grim outcome in Jo’s eyes. “We need to get as many supplies as we can on the roof,” he said. “Starting with some of the tents so we’ll have places to store food and water. We’ll all have to work together quickly.”

Jo nodded. He was right. Even though she’d always been ready for this scenario, she found that she couldn’t move for a moment. She held out hope that the spotters could hold the rippers back with the gunshots, that the fence would hold and the rippers would just give up. But even if that happened, they still needed to get some of the supplies up on the roof just in case.

She picked up the walkie and pushed the button. “Lisa, are you pushing them back?”

“I don’t know,” Lisa yelled back a moment later. “I hit one of them. But there’s so many more coming. There’s a lot of them in the woods now.”

“Just keep shooting. Aim carefully. Don’t waste bullets.” We may need them later, Jo thought but didn’t say it. She knew that she and the rest in the store weren’t as good at shooting as Lance, Dale, Tamara, Tyrone, Crystal, and Zak had been, and definitely not as good as Luke. But they would have to try; they would have to take their shots carefully, while everyone else loaded the emergency supplies up onto the roof.

Jo and Gil left her office and rounded everyone up. Most were at the tent city, antsy and tense—they’d heard the gunshots on the roof. Jo explained the situation to everyone, the gravity of it.

Brooke’s eyes widened in alarm. Kate held her hand.

“They haven’t gotten through the fence yet,” Jo told the small crowd. “But we need to be ready in case they do.”

CHAPTER 29

Kate

Kate knew Jo was trying to downplay the danger of the rippers getting in, claiming that she didn’t think the rippers would get through the fence, or into the store if they happened to tear down the fence. Jo claimed she just wanted them on the roof just in case the worst happened. But Kate saw the fear in Jo’s eyes. And she felt the fear in Brooke, the energy of that fear thrumming through her hand like live electricity.

The monsters were getting in . . . the monsters were going to get them.

Gil took over for Jo, splitting people up into teams, giving them tasks to complete, telling them which supplies to grab first and take to the roof.

“Start breaking down the tents,” he said. “Roll them up. Make it easy to carry them. We’re going to need to get them up the ladder and onto the roof.”

“Come on,” Kate told Brooke. “Let’s help. We’ll be a team.”

Brooke went along willingly to their tent to help, but she wasn’t fooled by Kate’s cavalier attitude about getting the supplies together—she knew how close the monsters were.

“The rippers are getting in,” Brooke said as she watched Kate begin to dismantle the tent. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement, a fact etched in stone. She stared at Kate like she was daring her to deny it.

Kate wasn’t going to deny it. She nodded. “They’re trying, yes. They’re not in yet, but we need to be ready. And we need to hurry.”

Brooke didn’t move.

Kate kneeled down in front of Brooke, who was close to tears now. She took the girl’s hands in hers, looking into her eyes. “We just need to do what Gil and Jo say: get everything we can on the roof. We’ll be safe on the roof. They won’t get us on the roof. They can’t get up to the roof. You believe me, don’t you?”

Brooke nodded. She needed no further spurring; she was ready to help.

Kate took a duffel bag out from the tent. “We need to pack up the clothes we have and anything else you want to take. Put your drawing tablet in here.”

“What about Tiger?”

Kate froze for just a second, then she looked around. The cat wasn’t inside the tent. He wasn’t anywhere around. “Uh . . . we’ll need to get that carrying case for him. Remember the one Crystal let us use when we first got here?”

Brooke wasn’t going to let herself get distracted. “Where is he?”

“I don’t know. We’ll find him.”

“We have to take him up to the roof. We can’t leave him.” She was on the verge of panic, her voice rising.

“I know. We won’t leave him down here. We still have plenty of time.”

Do we?

As if punctuating her sentence, gunshots sounded from the roof.

“We need to get the tent down first,” Kate told Brooke.

Brooke looked around, trying to spot Tiger in the store. Kate was afraid Brooke was going to run off at any second, searching for the cat.

Kate pulled down the flexible metal rods holding the tent up. She left the sleeping bags inside and rolled the whole thing up like a giant burrito, tying it in place with ropes. Right now it wasn’t about neatness, it was about speed.

Gil rushed over to Kate, full of nervous energy, but not panicking just yet. “You’ve got your tent ready?”

Kate nodded. She saw that others had formed a line at the bottom of the ladder attached to the scissor lift, handing items to each other and up the ladder like a line of ants. Someone reached down from the skylight to pull the items up onto the roof. It was a slow process, but the only one they had for now.

“We need to get those tents up there,” Jo told the people in line. “Get them set up on the roof. We’ll get packs of bottled water and boxes of food up there next.”

Kate watched the tent she’d just given to Gil transported down the line, one guy handing it to the next woman in line, then to a man at the bottom of the stairs. A rope with a panel of wood attached to it was being built to pull up cases of water to the skylight.

More gunshots sounded from the roof. Kate swore she could hear the roar of the rippers out there, but maybe it was only a phantom nightmare sound from her imagination.

Gil, working well with Jo, was already peeling a few people away from the line to push shopping carts down the aisles, loading them with drinks, water, juices, cases of sodas. Two other people, Hendricks and Irma, were down the aisle of food, loading their carts with bagged and boxed food.

“No canned food,” Jo called out. “If the rippers get in they won’t be able to get the cans open. We might be able to get the cans later. Just the bagged and boxed food for now.”

The older man, Hendricks, was already back with his cart full of drinks, ready to load the cases onto the platform of wood so it could be pulled up.

Kate was mesmerized by how the people were working together as a team, even though they couldn’t be sure if (or when) the rippers were going to get inside the store. If the rippers got through the fence (and if they were ramming it with a large trunk from a fallen tree, it would only be a matter of time), it wouldn’t take them long to get through the rollup doors, probably ramming it with the same logs. Kate was worried once the rippers got inside that everyone down on the floor wouldn’t have enough time to get up the one ladder to the roof.

She tore her attention away from the people loading up supplies.

Brooke was gone.

“Shit.”

Kate hurried away from where the tent city used to be, a good portion of the tents gone now and already up on the roof or on their way there. Tiger usually wandered off toward the other side of the store where the hardware and housewares were, the less populated part of the store. Those areas of the store had been rearranged before Kate had gotten here, the doors to the garden department permanently blocked off. Maybe Tiger was looking for a way out of the store, or maybe he was hunting for rats and mice. Or maybe he just wanted some quiet time away from the people in the store. Kate didn’t know where Tiger had gone to, and she knew it could sometimes take hours to find him. And right now they didn’t have hours.

But first she needed to find Brooke.

“Brooke!”

Kate rushed down the aisles that still held products shoved together. She walked past the sporting goods area, past the gun cases that were empty now, all the weapons and ammo distributed among them, the rest stashed in Jo’s office.

“Brooke!”

No answer. Kate continued deeper into the store, farther away from the skylights in the middle of the building. It was murkier. Kate thought about getting the flashlight out of her pocket.

A noise. The shuffling of sneakers on the floor. Kate rounded the corner, around a mostly empty set of shelves in the area where the pharmacy used to be, passing shelves of hair products, soaps, razors, shaving creams. This was also near the pet section. Maybe Tiger liked to come to this area because he could smell the little pebbles of cat or dog food that had been dropped on the floor and swept under the bottom of the shelves. They had found Tiger in this area twice before.

“Brooke!”

“I can’t find him,” Brooke said. She stood in the darkness at the end of the next aisle where the pet section officially began. Most of the shelves were still stocked up with bags and cans of pet foods, kitty litters, pet carriers, leashes, dog and cat toys (they’d gotten a few of the toys for Tiger, but he didn’t play with them very much), and other products.

“We need to go, Brooke. We need to get on the roof.”

Brooke stared down the aisle, still looking for Tiger, pretending she hadn’t heard Kate.

“Brooke. Come back with me. I want to get you up on the roof. I’ll come back down and look for Tiger. I’ll find him, I promise.”

Brooke finally met Kate’s eyes, searching for the truth.

“The rippers,” Kate reminded her.

“I don’t want the rippers to get Tiger.”

“I won’t let that happen.”

Again, for the thousandth time, Kate mentally cursed Max for bringing Tiger to Brooke. But Kate also felt that Tiger had helped Brooke, drawing her out of her shell and giving her something to care about.

“Come on, Brooke,” Kate said, her voice lower and a little deeper, her I-mean-business voice, the same tone she used in class when the students got a little too rowdy.

Brooke stared down the aisle a moment longer, like she might catch a glimpse of Tiger. And then she looked back at Kate. “You promise you’ll find him?”

“Yes. I promise.”

Just then Jo’s voice boomed from the middle of the store on the megaphone. “The rippers have gotten through the fence. Everyone on the roof now!”

Brooke’s eyes widened, her mouth dropping open. It looked like she couldn’t breathe for a moment.

Kate grabbed Brooke’s wrist. “Come on! We gotta go now!”

CHAPTER 30

Luke

“You knew!” Dawson yelled as Luke shifted into reverse and gunned the gas, backing up into the nearest front yard of a house set forty yards off the rural, two-lane road as bullets pelted the Humvee.

When they had stopped at the crossroads to say goodbye to Ray, Mike, Emma, and Josh, Luke had the order of their convoy switched around. Instead of driving in the lead, Luke told the others he was going to be the last in the line of vehicles. The lead Humvee would be driven by George, with Bella riding shotgun and Barry in the back. J.J. would drive the pickup truck with the three prisoners in back, and Luke would follow them with Dawson, Phil, and Max in his Humvee. No one questioned his sudden rearrangement of their convoy, no one dared.

Things were pretty peaceful for most of the journey, not much trouble with rippers along the way, no sightings of any Dark Angels. But the peacefulness was shattered when they were only two miles away from Hell Town (according to Dawson), rounding a bend at the edge of a small neighborhood at the outskirts of the town.

“You knew!” Dawson yelled again.

“Shut up,” Luke growled as he sped backwards across the front yard of a long-abandoned and looted home, bending down as low as he could get in the driver’s seat as bullets pinged the metal of their Humvee. So far none of the bullets had hit the windows or the tires, but that was understandable—the Dark Angels weren’t the best shots in the world; and at first they’d been concentrating on riddling the first two vehicles with bullets.

Luke hadn’t known for sure they were going to be ambushed before they got close to Hell Town, but he assumed it might happen; in his mind it was more of a probability rather than a possibility.

Had Dawson also known the attack was coming? Was he just acting shocked right now? Maybe, or maybe not; Luke couldn’t be sure. If Dawson was acting shocked and outraged, he was doing a hell of a job.

While Luke had been driving, he’d kept his eyes peeled, looking for possible ambush sites, keeping escape options open. This retreat right now wasn’t a full-proof escape—Luke had no idea what lay beyond the backyard of this abandoned house, and maybe that’s why this spot for the attack had been chosen.

Luke got across the front yard to the side of the brick house, backing up between the house and some of the ancient oaks and pines that made up so much of the coverage in the distance around the bend and up the hill where the Dark Angels had been hiding, pulling out across the road in their military truck and pickup, firing at them without hesitation. At least the ground alongside the house was somewhat level so far without too much junk in the way. Luke already saw that there was no fence in the backyard.

When they were beyond the back corner of the house and in the large backyard, Luke hit the brakes and cut the steering wheel hard. The big vehicle spun around easily in the grass until Luke was pointed the way he wanted to go: toward the far end of the yard. He stomped down on the gas pedal, the Humvee’s motor roaring. The backyard was large and it bordered another yard up the slight hill. Luke aimed the Humvee at a narrow gap between a line of shrubs that ranged from six to eight feet tall, a natural fence between the two backyards.

“Hold on!” Luke told everyone. He clenched the steering wheel, bracing himself, keeping his foot pressed down on the gas. Speed would be the key here, but it was also dangerous because he couldn’t make out clearly what was on the other side of the thick shrubs. For all he knew there was an RV parked right beyond them, or a big shed they were about to plow into.

But what else could he do? At least one of the Dark Angels’ vehicles had chased them, bullets were still flying.

Luke rammed the Humvee through the gap in the shrubs, and in that split second he saw a bit of clear backyard beyond it. Leaves and branches cracked against the sides of the truck, but nothing too damaging, nothing even remotely slowing them down.

The next backyard was just as big as the last one, maybe even bigger with a similar long, one-story brick home in the distance. There was litter around the house, windows broken, the back door torn off. Luke sped toward the wide side yard between this home and the one next door a hundred yards away. He drove down the side yard and onto a wide driveway, passing an old blue pickup with a rusty topper on the back. He was out on the small neighborhood street seconds later, turning right, driving away from Hell Town, figuring the Dark Angels would be coming from that way, driving down a side street from where they had attacked.

“They shot them,” Dawson said. He wasn’t yelling now, and Luke had barely heard his words. Dawson’s anger was gone; there was only shock now. “All of them. Even the prisoners.”

Luke saw the Dark Angels in the back of the pickup truck again, just a split-second image burned in his mind, bullets riddling their bodies as they screamed, perhaps trying to identify themselves as prisoners before they were gunned down. But the Dark Angels sent to kill them hadn’t cared if they were prisoners or traitors; most likely their orders had been to kill everyone.

At the end of the street Luke turned left, not wanting to head out toward the street they’d been driving on before. He got to the next street and turned left.

“Rippers,” Max said.

Luke saw them: four of them running through a yard, maybe more coming from the house. But they were already driving too fast for the rippers to latch on to the Humvee, and Luke felt safer in this sturdy vehicle, more so than any other truck he’d driven so far since the Collapse.

“The Dark Angels,” Phil said from the other side of the back seat. “Over on the next street.”

Luke had seen them too—a dark vehicle that resembled the Humvee he was driving raced along the street of the next block, just visible in the gaps between homes and trees and brush—a dark blur streaking down the road, keeping pace with them. Luke drove right through a stop sign and struck a ripper peeling off from a small group, going for the attack. The ripper he’d hit flew back, a blur of tattered clothing and flying limbs, a dark face and wide eyes.

“Where’s this road go?” he asked Dawson.

“I . . . I don’t know. How the hell would I know?”

Luke wasn’t sure if Dawson had patrolled the surrounding areas of Hell Town, perhaps searching from house to house for any food and supplies still left, any scraps that the Dragon could scoop up. He didn’t feel like explaining his question—he didn’t have time.

Dawson didn’t know where they were, and Luke didn’t either. They could be heading for a dead end. But if Dawson didn’t know the area around Hell Town, then maybe the Dark Angels chasing them didn’t know, either.

Right now Luke’s number one priority was to get away from their attackers, but he also didn’t want to get too far off course from Hell Town; he didn’t want to get lost and then try to figure out their way back through a maze of Dark Angels and rippers.

He glanced out his driver’s window—the black vehicle was still keeping pace with them on the next block. Luke turned right at the next stop sign, the tires squealing. They passed a small group of rippers near a streetlamp. He sped down the street, then took another left. The streets had to end somewhere, or maybe they eventually circled back to the main road. He wasn’t sure, but he knew he needed to ditch this Humvee soon.

CHAPTER 31

Luke

It was dangerous to leave the Humvee, but it was just as dangerous to try to keep outrunning the black vehicle chasing them. Eventually the other two vehicles would join the chase. Eventually they would corner them and pick them off as they tried to leave their Humvee. Ditching it would give them their best shot, and then they would need to find somewhere to hole up for the night, which was coming quickly.

When Luke was sure he’d lost the black vehicle for a moment, he pulled the Humvee in behind a house, driving down a long concrete driveway that wouldn’t leave their tracks behind for their pursuers to spot. He pulled in behind the house, parking right next to a stand of brush and trees that hid them from the road. Scattered along the rest of the sprawling backyard in the distance were old cars, a few battered sheds, and aluminum awnings. There was even a dilapidated school bus at the far end of the yard, the bottom half overtaken by weeds and vines.

“Everybody out,” Luke told them.

“Luke, are you sure . . .” Max started.

Luke was already out of the vehicle. They needed to get inside, but not the house where their Humvee was parked. The Dark Angels would eventually find the Humvee and storm the house. It was dangerous running out here with rippers around, but it was more dangerous to stay in a house the Dark Angels would surely surround.

He opened the back of the Humvee and grabbed his pack, slipping it on. He grabbed the M-16, knowing he already had a few magazines for it in his backpack. The others were at the back of the truck, moving quickly. Max still looked unsure, ready to voice his opinion, but he didn’t. He grabbed his pack. Phil and Dawson grabbed theirs. The packs were small, with just the necessities and extra ammo. Each of them had at least one weapon on them.

Luke ran across the next yard to the next home, running up to the wall and slamming against it. The others followed him around to the back of the house. He kept looking for rippers, listening for them—they could be in any of these houses. There hadn’t been too many rippers around this neighborhood so far, only a few dozen, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t other larger groups around. As if to prove his thought, a few rippers called out in the distance.

After they made it to the back corner of the next house, Luke stopped and peered around the corner. He could see part of the street. No rippers, and no black vehicle. From somewhere nearby, maybe the next street over, he heard the black vehicle that had been chasing them, or maybe even another one of the Dark Angels’ trucks. Its engine was roaring as it raced down a street. Gunshots rang out. Rippers roared. It was all still pretty far away, but still too close. They needed to keep moving, get farther away from their abandoned Humvee.

He looked back at the other three crowded together behind him. Phil was the last in line, and he was constantly looking back, watching for any rippers running up behind them.

“Don’t shoot at any rippers unless you absolutely have to,” Luke said. He shoved the strap of the M-16 over his shoulder and pulled out his gun with the silencer on it. “I’ll shoot them until there are too many. Got it?”

They nodded. Luke wasn’t sure if he could trust them to hold their fire, but maybe they would. If they only came across a few rippers at a time, he could pick them off silently.

“We’ll keep working our way this way, and then west.” He looked at Dawson. “Right?”

Dawson nodded.

“That’s the way toward Hell Town?”

Dawson nodded again.

Luke looked around once more and then took off across the side yard to the next house, crouching down under a window at the back of that house when he got there. The others caught up to him, crowding in, but moving down toward the back door so they would be out of sight of any vehicles on the road.

“Ripper,” Phil hissed.

Luke turned and saw a lone ripper racing across the uneven backyard toward them. He looked painfully thin, his clothes ripped up, one sneaker gone, the other one untied. He had his arms out, no weapons on him. It seemed like a desperate kamikaze mission for the ripper to get some kind of food. Luke aimed and fired, the gun spitting, barely making a sound. The ripper was knocked down from a head shot.

“Shit,” Dawson whispered in awe at the shot.

Max looked through the back window of the home.

“Rippers inside?” Luke asked.

“None that I see,” Max whispered back. “I don’t hear anything.”

Luke could still hear the vehicles prowling other streets—there were definitely more of them now. He looked down at the line of houses ahead of them. Only three more homes until they came to a cross street. More houses on the other side of that street, and then what looked like a patch of woods. “Okay,” he told the others. “We stay on the move. We get across that street over there, and then we get to those woods. We keep working our way west.”

The others nodded.

They were on their way. Luke killed another two rippers while on the run. The Dark Angels might not see the dead rippers unless they drove or walked around to the back of the homes—at least that was a good thing; dead rippers would lead the Dark Angels right to them like a trail of breadcrumbs.

At the last house on the street, Luke waited by the corner. Dusk was coming quickly, the air colder, the shadows darker and more defined. The twilight gave them cover, but it also provided cover for the rippers roaming around. The Dark Angels would have to probably turn their headlights on soon. They were still driving around, speeding up and down the streets, close, but not right on the same street yet.

“Across the street,” Luke said. “Down that side yard over there. As fast as you can.”

Luke went first, running, looking up and down the street, looking for any of the Dark Angels’ trucks. Nothing so far. No rippers in the streets. Maybe some of the rippers were hiding from the trucks too. He got to the side of the house, hurrying down along the wall to the rear of the home. He peeked around the corner at the backyard. The yards next to this one both had wood fences, one newer and one that looked ready to fall down. This backyard had no fence; it would only take a short jog to get to the woods. A small screened-in back porch, the landscaping and lawn neat at one time.

Rippers howled in the twilight, one calling to the others from the area where they’d just come from; Luke wondered if that ripper had found some of their own dead. Were they calling for their forces to gather and avenge the deaths, or were they celebrating the fact that they’d found food to eat and blood to drink? Luke didn’t care—at least they were still far away.

He ran across the backyard and into the woods. The other three followed him.

It was darker in the woods than Luke had expected, but not pitch-black yet. If they hurried, they could hopefully get to some kind of structure before the night fully set in. Luke guessed they had less than an hour, maybe only thirty minutes, before it became so dark that they would have to spend the night in the woods, staying wherever they were.

Twenty minutes later, they found the edge of another neighborhood. These homes were smaller than the neighborhood they’d been in before, with a few trailers mixed in. Luke entered the first home they’d come to, getting in through a broken back door. It was even darker inside than it was outside, but a quick check proved the home to be free of rippers.

“We stay the night here,” Luke said.

Max sat down on the couch in the living room. Phil sat down next to him. They took their packs off but had their weapons close. Max opened his pack and handed out protein bars. Luke and Dawson sat down near them, Luke in a recliner and Dawson in a wood chair he’d grabbed from the kitchen.

“You knew your friends were waiting, didn’t you?” Phil asked Dawson after biting off a piece of his protein bar.

“You think I set my friends up to die?”

“I don’t think the Dragon has any problem sacrificing anyone to get what he wants.”

“I’m not involved,” Dawson said, looking from one to the next in the last light of the day. “I want the Dragon dead as much as you do.”

“Okay,” Luke whispered. “Arguing about it isn’t going to help. We need to keep our voices down. It only takes one ripper to hear us, one ripper to alert any others nearby.”

They were all quiet for a moment, chewing on protein bars and sipping water. Luke glanced at Dawson who was looking down at the floor as he ate. Luke thought it was possible Dawson could be involved with the Dragon, but he couldn’t say for sure. And if he was, then their attack mission had failed to get them all. And Luke was going to make sure the Dragon, and Dawson, paid for that mistake.

“What are we going to do now?” Max asked.

“We’ll rest for now,” Luke said. “Wait for dawn. At first light we’ll move toward the town. And then we’ve got a surprise for them.”

Luke didn’t want to talk too much about the plan he was formulating; he didn’t want the others to know, to fall asleep and then dream. He didn’t want the Dragon to see what was coming in their dreams. Luke didn’t plan on dreaming because he didn’t plan on sleeping.

CHAPTER 32

Kate

It was almost dark when Kate got up on the roof with Brooke. They’d gotten almost everyone else onto the roof along with as much food, drinks, and supplies they could get before the rippers collapsed the fence in the back of the store, the fence finally falling over lazily, dozens of rippers running across it, flattening it down even more. The tents were on the roof, but only a few of them were set up with cases of water and sodas inside to help weigh them down. There were piles of weapons, boxes of ammo, cases of medicine and medical equipment, bags of bathroom supplies. They’d set up most of the tents near the HVAC systems clustered together on the roof, something stable to tie the tents and tarps to.

More and more rippers had come from across the street, from the gas station, leaving behind the black pickup truck and the bodies they’d picked clean long ago. Many rippers congregated around the front and sides of the store, a crowd of them down there, all of them yelling and screeching, a few screaming. Many were making their way around to the back, finding the fallen fence. Kate could hear the rippers banging on the rollup door from the roof. It sounded like they were tearing it apart. Lisa was at the other end of the building, looking down at the ground with a pair of night vision goggles, her walkie-talkie in her hand.

“Are they in yet?” Jo asked on her walkie.

“They’re almost in,” Lisa answered back.

Everyone was on the roof now . . . everyone except Wade and Gil who were left down below in the store.

A moment later Wade climbed the ladder, crawling up through the skylight to the roof. He looked at Jo. “Gil said we need to get up here.”

Jo nodded in vehement agreement, her eyes wide with fear. “Where is he?”

“He’s coming.”

And then Kate saw Gil on the ladder. But he didn’t climb up through the skylight—he climbed from the ladder into the scissor lift.

“What are you doing?” Jo asked Gil. She stood at the edge of the skylight, staring down into the darkness where Gil stood.

“I have to lower the lift back down so the rippers can’t get up here. The hydraulics will allow the lift to lower but not to lift up again.”

Jo nodded again like she already knew that, but it didn’t seem like she wanted Gil doing it.

“The ladder,” Jo said. “It’s still connected to the lift.”

“I cut the ropes on the lower part of the ladder before climbing up here,” Gil said. “Just need to cut the last of the ropes.”

Gil used a knife to saw at the ropes securing the ladder to the lift. A second later the large ladder fell away, crashing down into the darkness. Gil was at the controls of the lift a moment later, pushing on the lever to lower the lift back down, the hydraulics hissing as he sank down and disappeared into the darkness

“Get the rope ladder ready for Gil,” Jo said.

Wade and a few others helped Jo tie the ladder to the closest HVAC unit with some ropes they’d brought up, and then they lowered the rope ladder down into the darkness of the store through the shattered skylight.

Brooke was with Rebecca and Patrick; she was still upset about Tiger being left in the store.

Kate ventured closer to the skylight, standing near Jo, staring down into the black rectangular hole. The lift was lowered down all the way now and had disappeared into the darkness. There were noises from below, like Gil was taking the ladder to another part of the store so the rippers couldn’t figure out how to use it.

Then the noises down in the store stopped.

But the noises at the back of the store hadn’t stopped.

“What’s he doing down there?” Jo asked no one in particular. She had her hand up to her mouth, biting her thumbnail.

Kate was starting to get a terrible feeling that Gil wasn’t going to make it up the rope ladder in time.

“If the rippers get inside, we’ll have to get this rope ladder back up,” Hendricks said.

Jo didn’t say anything.

“Jo?” Wade said. “We can’t endanger the rest of us.”

“I know,” Jo snapped.

“The rippers are in!” Lisa called out on the walkie-talkie. “They’ve pulled part of the door away. They’re coming into the store.”

“Gil,” Jo yelled down into the darkness of the store on her megaphone. “Hurry! They’re coming!”

No answer back from Gil.

He’s not going to make it, Kate thought. We’re going to hear him screaming as he’s torn apart, as we’re pulling the rope ladder back up.

Wade and Hendricks got into position to begin pulling the rope ladder up. Kate could see the jumpiness in them; they weren’t going to wait too much longer.

Jo shined her flashlight beam down into the hole, holding the flashlight with one hand, her megaphone with the other. She was right at the edge of the skylight, too close to the edge. Kate was ready to grab the back of her shirt if she needed to.

“Gil! Hurry!” Jo yelled.

“Jo,” Wade said, already grabbing his side of the rope ladder, already beginning to pull it up. “We have to get the ladder up here now.”

Kate watched Jo, waiting for her to nod, to give the go-ahead.

Jo kept shining the flashlight beam down into the store. “No, wait,” she told Wade and Hendricks. “Gil’s down there. He’s climbing the ladder.”

“More of them are getting in,” Lisa yelled. The shooter next to her began picking off rippers in the fenced-in area.

Kate could see Gil materializing out of the darkness as he climbed the rope ladder as quickly as he could. He got to the top. Jo was there to help him up and over the roof, Rodney also lending a hand, Wade and Hendricks were still at the other side of the rope ladder with a length of the rope in their hands, ready to start pulling it up as soon as Gil was off of it.

When Gil was safely on the roof, Jo started to hug him.

“Hold on,” Gil told her with a smile, waving her back.

Kate saw that Gil had something bulging in the front of his zipped-up hoodie. Tiger poked his head up out of the hoodie, looking around, eyes wide with shock.

“Found this scared little guy running around down there.”

“Tiger!” Brooke squealed and ran over to Gil and Jo.

“Careful with him,” Gil said. “He’s scared. He might want to get used to it up here.” He set the cat down on the roof.

Brooke collapsed down next to Tiger, sobbing as she pet the cat, trying to hug him. Even though Tiger was still a little freaked out, he let Brooke hug him.

Kate crouched down next to Brooke, hugging her.

“He found him,” Brooke said through her tears. “He saved Tiger.”

Kate looked up at Gil, wiping at her eyes. “Thank you,” she said in a hoarse whisper.

Jo was crying too, holding onto Gil. But Kate was sure she was crying for a different reason, happy that Gil had made it up in time.

Wade and Hendricks got the rope ladder hauled up from the skylight. They pulled it over to the HVAC unit, keeping it carefully coiled up so that it could be unfolded easily in case they needed it again.

But they weren’t going to need it for a while, Kate was sure of that. They were stuck on this roof now with whatever they’d been able to take with them.

CHAPTER 33

Jo

Hours after nightfall the tents had been set up, one of the tents was for the storage of food, drinks, and other supplies. Kate and Brooke slept in their own tent with Tiger, and the others doubled up in the tents that were left. They had one large plastic tarp that they had tied between two of the HVAC units for the others who didn’t have a tent, and for those on watch. The tarp rustled and flapped in the freezing wind, but it would keep any rain and snow off them. They had used flashlights to get things set up because the night had come so quickly. Usually the rippers would be drawn by flashlight beams shining around, but it didn’t matter tonight, because tonight it seemed like every ripper in the world had come to the store, had invaded the store, and now ran back and forth in the darkness of the parking lot, screeching and yelling in triumph.

Jo and Gil sat away from the others, both of them under a blanket, their backs against the farthest HVAC away, a metal structure bolted and strapped down to the asphalted rooftop. Jo sat close to Gil, snuggled up against him, listening to the sounds of the rippers coming from below the skylight. There were crashes down there; it almost sounded like the rippers were tipping over the shelves in the aisles. There were whoops and hollers. There was the sound of fighting, one of the rippers making a howling noise like a cat before a fight.

More rippers came to the store from the night. Some of the spotters still watched at the edge of the roof, making sure none of the rippers were trying to build a human ladder to get to the roof. Maybe Lisa was still watching with the only pair of night vision goggles they had. Jo wouldn’t be surprised if Lisa was still on watch; it was like the woman never slept. But who among them slept much anymore?

The air was cold. Even though everything she’d been trying to protect was gone, she felt a small sense of comfort being snuggled up under the blanket next to Gil. Although Gil was a lean man, he seemed to give off a lot of body heat. Maybe it was just her imagination.

She had cried for a while after she and Gil were away from the others, after it was full dark, no stars above, nothing but clouds obscuring even the tiny pinpoints of starlight and the milky glow of the moon. The wind had picked up. Maybe freezing rain was coming; maybe even snow—that would be a perfect ending to this wonderful evening. She had waited until it was too dark for Gil to see her cry, but he’d heard her. And he just held her for a while and let her cry.

“Everything . . .” Jo said when she was done crying, wiping at her tears. “Everything we’ve worked for . . . it’s all gone now.”

Gil said nothing, knowing there was nothing he could say to comfort her, just instinctually knowing that just being there next to her was enough, his arm around her, listening to her.

After a while Jo was cried out. She felt empty inside, yet somehow better.

“Thank you,” Jo whispered to Gil.

“For what?”

“For being here. For staying with us here at the store. For finding Tiger.”

Gil was quiet for a moment. He leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. Jo turned to face him and he kissed her on the lips, a long and slow kiss. It wasn’t the first time they had kissed, but it still felt electric to Jo. It reminded her of kissing Jackson down by the deli only hours before he would begin to turn into a ripper. That had been the end of something that could have been, but this with Gil now, this was something that could still be.

But the beginning of what? Their life here on the roof together? Waiting for the rippers to find a way up here, or waiting for the Dark Angels to come? Waiting to die of dehydration, starvation, or sickness? Still, it felt good to be with someone. Why couldn’t she have found someone like Gil before the Collapse?

Gil backed away, leaning back against the metal wall of the HVAC unit, getting as comfortable as he could.

Jo stared across the roof at the tarp strung between the two metal units, and then the tents beyond that—just dark shapes in the night now, barely discernable. They had gotten a lot of supplies up to the roof in the short time they’d had to work with. But was it enough? And even if they had enough to survive up here for a month, or even two months, then what? Would the rippers eventually leave once the food and drinks ran out below in the store? Would Luke, Max, and Phil defeat the Dragon and come back with Petra? Would Ray, Mike, Josh, and Emma come back with help from Avalon?

Avalon. She knew Ray believed something great was there, that salvation was there, but Jo didn’t really believe that. Not anymore. She had no hope after tonight.

“What are you thinking about?” Gil asked in his deep voice. He still had his arm around her shoulders.

“I was thinking about Ray and the others. About the place they were looking for. Avalon.”

“You think that place is real?”

Jo shrugged, moving Gil’s arm just a little. “Maybe. Ray seemed so sure of it. Even if it’s a real place, we can’t be sure they even got there. Not with all of these rippers around.”

Gil remained silent, letting her ruminate in her gloom.

“Ray asked me to go with him,” she said. “All of us.”

Gil waited for her to go on.

“I turned him down. I wanted to stay here, where it was safe. Where we had food and water, medicine and supplies, guns and ammo. Where we had block walls and metal doors. Now look at it.” She looked at Gil in the darkness. “I turned him down without asking you about it, without asking anyone else. I made the decision for all of us.”

“You can’t blame yourself. You were doing what you thought was best.”

“And I screwed up.”

“No way you could see the future.”

“Ray did. He told me the rippers would eventually get in, that they would figure out a way. He’d seen one of them banging on the fence with a piece of wood and not getting shocked. He knew they would figure it out, use bigger pieces of wood to ram the fence. I didn’t want to believe it. But he was right.”

Gil gave her a kiss on the cheek and then squeezed her a little tighter.

“I was scared,” Jo continued. “I haven’t been out there on the road like Ray has, like Kate, Max, Petra, and Brooke have. Like everyone else here. Like you. Since the Collapse, I’ve been here at this store, believing this place was an impenetrable fortress. And now I’m scared to death to be out there.”

Jo looked at the darkness at the edge of the roof, the landscape beyond hard to make out, just dark blobs in the darkness. The nightmarish sounds of the rippers floated up from the parking lot all around them, the sound of them coming from the woods, running over the fallen fence, in and out. Earlier, when it had still been light enough to see, Jo watched rippers running out of the store with armfuls of food and drinks. Maybe they were taking the supplies back to smaller groups of rippers.

“Look what the world’s become,” she said in a low voice. “Most of humanity turned into monsters from some disease, and those of us left, we’re killing each other off left and right. If there was ever a reason for humans to band together, this would be it, when there’s so few of us left.”

She snuggled closer to Gil, pulling the blanket up to her chin, leaning against him. Her eyes closed and she felt a little safer for a while.

Just make it through the night, she told herself as she drifted off to sleep.

CHAPTER 34

Mike

Mike lay on the dirty floor of the abandoned house they’d found to stay the night in. He’d grown comfortable in the sleeping bags inside the tents at the store, and now they were back to this, back to sleeping in some cold, smelly house, too scared to fall asleep, listening to every creak and pop of the rotting wood walls and ceiling, every rustle from outside in the cold wind.

He had spotted this house, just like he had spotted the house in the trees off the road that they’d stayed in when they escaped the used car lot after Luke had been stabbed by a ripper, the house where they’d found Gil. Mike had spotted this house just before dusk, seeing the rotting hulk, the sagging roof just visible above the trees. Ray had turned the van around and drove back to the long paved driveway, then through the iron gates that were stuck halfway open.

If Mike closed his eyes he could almost believe he was still in that first house, he could almost believe that they’d never left, that finding Jo’s store had just been a dream. But he knew it had all been real: the store, the food, the water, the other kids, the birthday party, the safety.

And now they were doing this again.

Mike believed his father knew what he was doing, and Emma did too, but it had been so hard to leave the certainty of safety in the store for the uncertainty of the road, and the uncertainty of Avalon.

But he was here now. Too late to turn back now.

When they’d gotten to the house it had been almost dark. They’d parked and Mike got behind the wheel while Josh inspected the house and Ray stood guard by the front porch, hidden in the twilight shadows, his gun in his hand. After Josh gave the okay sign, Mike helped Emma get out of the van and grabbed two of their bags. Ray moved the van closer to the house under a covered breezeway between the house and the four-car garage where it would be hidden in the shadows of night; he left the van pointed toward the winding driveway in case they needed to get away fast.

The house was huge. Mike figured it was some kind of mansion. It was at least twice the size of their old house. It was a wreck, but it didn’t look looted. The windows were still intact, the doors all working. His dad had been happy about that—doors that could actually close and lock. They found food in the cabinets, real food, not just a few leftover dented cans. It looked like the family that had lived here once had ransacked their own house, going through their things and taking what they could before leaving. But they’d left so much behind.

They ate chips and crackers, even though they were a little stale. Mike didn’t care. He didn’t think he’d ever eat them again. Dad squirreled away more canned food in his backpack, along with packs of peanuts and energy bars. Mike opened up cans of soda that had been stockpiled in the pantry.

After they ate, Dad wedged a piece of wood under the doorhandle of the front door. He did something similar with the back door that led to the garage. But there were French doors off of the family room that led to a massive pool area. Hedges lined the far edge of the pool deck. Beyond the hedges was a large lawn. And then the woods.

It had been a nice house once. Someone’s dream home. Mike figured wealthy people had lived here with everything they had ever wanted. But most of that stuff didn’t matter anymore.

When it was fully dark, they settled down in the family room where they could still see a little with the moonlight shining in through the plate-glass windows that looked out onto the pool deck. Dad had studied the maps earlier while they were eating, retracing the routes.

Now everyone was quiet in the darkness, lying down. Mike was sure either Dad or Josh was supposed to be awake and on guard, but it sounded like everyone else was sleeping. Mike decided he might stay awake; he would be the guard for a while tonight. Luke had given him the handgun and he had it next to him on the floor. He touched it every once in a while just to reassure himself that it was right beside him. He wasn’t tired; he had napped a little in the van. He stared at the large windows, the moonlight bright enough so that he could see everything very clearly outside, everything bathed in a milky, light blue glow. He could also make out objects in the family room: the blocky pool table, the wet bar with the large mirror behind it reflecting the moonlight, the couches against the other wall, the flat screen TV hung on the wall, two chairs in front of a dead and cold fireplace.

A rustling sound from outside.

Mike’s eyes shot to the windows and the pool beyond them, the greenish water black as night now. He studied the woods beyond the backyard, looking for any movement among the trees.

It’s nothing.

An hour passed and Mike hadn’t heard any more rustling sounds. He was still nervous, but beginning to get sleepy. He closed his eyes and slipped into a dream almost immediately.

The dream was the same one he always had these days. He was older in the dream, a man. He looked down at his muscled arms and legs, the gun holstered to his hip, a big knife (practically a machete) stuck down in a holster and strapped to his other leg with a leather string. He carried a shotgun with him.

He walked among the rubble of a destroyed building. Most of the buildings around him were destroyed, like they’d been bombed. Nobody else walked with Mike through the rubble, but he wasn’t alone; he had a dog with him, some kind of mutt that looked more like a German shepherd than anything else. He didn’t drive because he knew in the dream that most of the gas he came across had turned bad. He stopped for a moment, surveying the buildings in front of him as he hid in the shadows of a crumbling block wall. He stared at the burnt-out buildings, the metal skeletons showing through, old cars resting on rusted rims, all the rubber, leather, and cloth on and in the cars burnt away a long time ago.

He left the shadow of the wall, working his way quickly to the side of another partially standing building. He was searching for something . . . no, searching for someone. Someone he knew. That person was in trouble and he needed to save her.

But it was dangerous. Bad people were around, a lot of them. A gang like the Dark Angels. Or maybe worse.

Shots rang out in the silent air.

Mike dived behind the tower of rubble to his left, aiming his rifle at the source of the shots. He saw them, the men . . . the gang. They were coming his way.

Mike snapped awake.

It was still dark. The house still quiet.

But there was a noise.

Was anyone up and on watch?

No. They were still sleeping. He could hear all of them breathing heavily.

The noise was coming from outside, a sly noise, a sneaky movement.

Mike didn’t move from the floor as he stared out the windows. Someone was out there beyond the pool, beyond the hedges, in the backyard, a shadowy figure.

A ripper?

Maybe. But Mike didn’t think so. The person had moved a little before, but now he stood very still in the night, like he knew someone was watching him. Mike stared at the man for so long it almost seemed like the man merged into the darkness.

Mike looked away from the man, at his dad sleeping near him, his bulk visible in the darkness. Josh and Emma weren’t too far away. He wondered if he should wake them up. One of them was probably supposed to be on watch right now. He looked back to where the man had been standing, but he couldn’t spot him now in the night.

He sat up. It was almost morning. He didn’t know how he knew it was almost morning, but he did; it was like an internal clock had taken over inside of him now that he couldn’t just check his phone to see what time it was. It was amazing how the mind and body could adapt to survival whether you wanted them to or not. He got up and walked to the plate-glass windows, keeping to the side of the middle window, watching the large pool deck area, the black pool, the line of hedges and other shrubs, the wall of dark woods in the distance.

The man he’d seen earlier was gone now, but there was something out there. A few somethings. Now that he was closer to the window he could make out the objects lined up in a row, four of them gleaming in the moonlight . . . the objects nearly glowing.

A hand fell lightly on Mike’s shoulder.

Mike jumped. He turned and saw his dad standing there. He hadn’t even heard him creep up behind him.

“What is it, son?”

“Out there,” Mike whispered. “Those . . . those things.”

His dad stared for a long moment out the window, not moving a muscle, just watching. His dad knew what those objects stuck on the poles in the ground shining in the moonlight were as well as Mike did—human skulls.

PART FOUR

CHAPTER 35

Luke

Before dawn, Luke got Max, Phil, and Dawson up. Max hadn’t been sleeping, and Phil woke up with the lightest of touches. Dawson jumped up when Luke touched his shoulder, turning over and biting back a scream. It took a few seconds for Dawson to come fully awake.

“What’s wrong?” Phil asked. “Rippers?”

“No,” Luke said.

They stood in the darkness for a second, each of them listening for rippers, for the Dark Angels’ Humvees out on the streets. Everything was silent.

“It’s almost dawn,” Luke said. “We need to get going.”

No one questioned Luke.

“Rippers are least active at this time,” Luke added. “We need to get to Hell Town while we can.” He pulled out the folded paper from his pocket, opening it up and turning his flashlight on, covering most of the front of it with his hand, the light turning his fingers red, the maroon light bleeding down onto the re-drawn copy of the map Dawson had drawn of Hell Town when they had interrogated him. “Here,” Luke said, pointing down at the west wall of the town. “I want to go in there.” He looked right at Dawson.

“There’s a wall there,” Dawson told him.

“You said the Dragon’s house is here,” Luke said, pointing to the square labeled the Dragon’s house on one corner of the intersection of Elm Street and Warner Street. “It’s only a few blocks away.”

“Can’t scale the wall,” Dawson said. “Too many spotters. Too many shooters. And they’ll know we’re coming now.”

Luke pointed at the blank area outside the west wall of Hell Town. “We need to get in this area. As quickly as we can.”

“I told you, I don’t know the area around Hell Town that well.”

“He’s just stalling,” Max said. “Trying to set us up somehow.”

“Fuck you, man,” Dawson hissed, still keeping his voice low but staring right at Max in the weak reddish glow of Luke’s covered flashlight. “I’m sick of you saying that shit all the time.”

“Then fess up,” Max said. “Tell us the truth.”

“You’ve never been in these areas around Hell Town at all?” Luke asked Dawson.

The three of them waited for Dawson’s answer.

“I don’t know. Yeah. A few times. But it wasn’t like I mapped the place out or anything.”

“But you know it better than the three of us do,” Max snapped.

Luke folded the paper back up into a little square and tucked it into his pocket. “We need to go.” He looked at Dawson. “You need to remember as much as you can. We’re west and north of Hell Town right now. We just need to head southeast.”

“Maybe something will jog your memory when we get down there,” Max said.

*

Moments later they slipped out the back door of the house, out into the cold and silent air, out into the darkness. The going was slow as they made their way from house to house, then out of the neighborhood and down a narrow street through the woods. Everything was even darker among the trees. Luke stopped every so often to survey the area with his night vision goggles, the same ones he’d taken off the Dark Angels in the strip plaza near the airport where they had shot and killed Wilma. Dawson had his own pair of night vision goggles, much like Luke’s. Between the two of them, they had been able to spot any rippers around. So far they’d been pretty lucky.

They came to the next neighborhood half a mile down the road as the eastern horizon lightened up just a bit beyond the mountains in the distance. They waited for a moment behind a large block and stucco wall at the entrance to the neighborhood, hidden even more by the mature landscaping all around the sign. The housing development looked like something that had been built in the 70s: long, one-story homes with low roofs, lots of trees and shrubs everywhere, lots of cars and trucks in driveways, lots of stuff on porches and in backyards, accumulations from decades of living.

Luke looked at the other three, their breath misting up in front of their faces in the cold air. He was sure they were heading in the right general direction. He looked at Dawson in the early morning gloom to see if he had any course corrections. Dawson said nothing.

A moment later they were at the side of the first house. A few rippers slept on the back porch. Luke was sure there were more of them inside. They hurried down the litter-covered street, staying close to the front yards on the one side of the street, still using the cover of darkness to move. But they wouldn’t have that darkness much longer.

CHAPTER 36

Josh

When the dawn came and it was light enough to see outside—only an hour after Ray had woken up to see Mike staring out the large window—Ray was ready to go outside to take a closer look at the skulls perched on top of the wooden poles stuck in the lawn beyond the line of hedges. He had given Mike the keys to the van and told him to stay inside and watch Emma. Ray and Josh went outside. Ray hung back closer to the house, covering Josh as he crept alongside the hedges, getting closer to the skulls with his gun in his hand.

The sun hadn’t risen all the way above the trees yet and there was a twilight feel to the world, light enough to see but many areas were still dark with shadows.

Josh watched the woods all around them as he got closer to the skulls, trying to look everywhere at once. Josh didn’t believe the skulls had been left by rippers. But someone had left them. Mike said he’d only seen one man, but Ray seemed to believe there was more than just one person out there. And Josh seconded that.

There were no noises in the woods, no noises near the house except for a few birds chirping, a squirrel running around through the dry leaves and then scrambling along a tree branch.

It couldn’t have been rippers, Josh thought as he inched closer to the macabre line of trophies. They wouldn’t display the skulls like this, sticking them onto poles. Dark Angels? Possibly. But Josh figured the Dark Angels would just hide outside and shoot at them as soon as they left the house, or maybe they would just break in and start shooting.

A chill ran through Josh’s body as he got closer to the skulls. Then he stood only a few feet away, just beyond the corner of the last hedge at the far edge of the pool deck. His skin tingled. He swore someone was watching him, but he couldn’t see anyone in the woods.

He concentrated on the four skulls pushed down onto the wooden poles shoved into the grass. The skulls were clean, almost polished, the bone gleaming in the early morning light. The wooden sticks were smooth, like they’d been sanded down. There was nothing else there. No words written on the skulls, no notes attached to them, nothing on the ground.

It was time to get the hell out of there.

Josh hurried back, running alongside the hedge on the east side of the pool deck. He reached Ray. They locked eyes for a moment. Josh didn’t say anything; he didn’t have to.

A moment later they were back inside the house. Mike and Emma stood next to each other. Both of them had their backpacks on. Mike had his dad’s backpack in his hands. They were both ready to leave.

“Rippers?” Emma asked.

“I don’t think so,” Josh told her. “I didn’t see anyone out there.”

“We need to go,” Ray said.

Emma seemed to stare at Ray. Josh knew that she’d heard the tremor in Ray’s voice; she could hear his fear. Josh could see it.

They hurried from the family room into the formal living room and then out the front door, down the porch, then the walkway to the van. Ray kept an eye out as he jumped into the driver’s seat. Mike got into the passenger seat. Josh threw the bags and blankets in the back through the open side door, then he helped Emma inside and onto the bench seat. Ray started the van as Josh got in and slid the side door shut.

Ray started the van and drove out from under the breezeway, driving toward the long driveway. Josh had his M-16 ready in case he needed it.

“What was out there?” Emma asked Josh as Ray drove down the long driveway.

“Skulls,” Josh said.

Ray was quiet and tense as he drove down the winding drive a little too quickly. Josh looked out the side window at the woods whipping by. He couldn’t see anyone out there in the early morning light.

“Skulls?” Emma said.

“Skulls on sticks,” Mike told her. “Four of them. All stuck in the ground. In a line.”

“The old skull-on-a-stick trick,” Josh said, forcing a fake laugh. No one was laughing with him.

“Who left them there?” Emma asked.

“I saw a man,” Mike said, turning around to look at Emma as Ray turned from the driveway onto the road, speeding up. Ray seemed to relax a little now that they were farther away from the house.

Emma faced Mike, waiting for him to continue.

“I saw a man last night when I woke up. Right before morning. It was dark, but I could see him.”

“Only one man?” Josh asked.

“Yeah,” Mike said. “That’s all I saw.”

“What was he doing?” Emma asked.

“Just standing there.”

“Watching the house?”

“I think so. It seemed like it.”

“But you don’t think he was a ripper or a Dark Angel,” Emma said, directing her question at Ray.

“Not a ripper,” Ray said. “A ripper wouldn’t have stood so still for so long, watching the house. And he probably would’ve attacked, or he would’ve been with a pack. Same thing with the Dark Angels.”

“Unless the Dark Angels are watching us,” Josh said. “Following us.”

“Following us why?” Ray snapped.

“Maybe they’re following us to Avalon.”

“How would they know about that?”

Josh shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m just spit balling ideas here. Maybe the Dragon knows about Avalon. You know, from our dreams or something.” He looked at Emma for help.

Ray shook his head no—dismissing the idea completely.

“It’s possible,” Emma said.

“What’s possible?” Ray said.

Josh stared at Emma.

“It’s possible the Dragon may know about Avalon,” Emma said.

“You think he knows?” Ray asked, not disguising the panic in his voice. “Why didn’t you say something already? We could be driving into a trap.”

“She said it’s possible,” Josh said, jumping to Emma’s defense.

“I don’t know any of it for sure,” Emma said with just the first twinge of anger in her voice. “I’m just guessing about a lot of this, just like you are.”

Ray was quiet for a moment.

“We just need to be ready for it,” Emma said.

Ray nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“If it’s not rippers or Dark Angels leaving the skulls on a stick, then who did it?” Josh asked. “The skulls, they were clean. Too clean. Almost like the flesh had been boiled off of them.”

“What are you trying to say?” Ray asked.

“Cannibals,” Josh said. “I think someone ate those four people and kept their skulls for trophies. But not rippers. I didn’t see any claw or knife marks. The skulls were clean, unbroken, undamaged.”

“You think there’s a group of cannibals running around out there?” Ray asked, not hiding the sarcasm in his voice. “That’s what you’re trying to say?”

“Maybe just one or two, but yeah, there could be a whole group of them.”

CHAPTER 37

Ray

“Here,” Emma said. “Turn here.”

Ray saw what she was talking about, a dirt drive off to the right. Since leaving the house with the skulls propped up on sticks in the backyard early this morning, Ray had driven farther up into the mountains, climbing a narrow road that wound up through the hills, through the dense trees. He’d been following Emma’s lead—she could sense where they needed to go, like she could see the path lit up in her dark world, following a sixth sense that Ray couldn’t fathom.

They hadn’t seen many rippers since leaving the house, only a few at the edge of one town they skirted. No signs of Dark Angels, either. And no signs of the cannibal group that had left the skulls behind. The land was silent, the trees and brush thick, a forgotten road where no one had lived. Ray wondered if the government had bought up all the land around Avalon to keep people from stumbling onto it. It was quite possible.

Ray turned onto the dirt drive and the van climbed the steep grade, the road twisting and turning through the trees.

After a sharp bend, the dirt road turned to smooth pavement, the trees and brush cut back, not so close to the road anymore. A metal gate blocked the road a hundred yards ahead of them. Ray pulled up to it and stopped. A big red stop sign was attached to the metal bar across the road, with other signs on the side of the road declaring that this was government property and to turn around unless authorized, warning of stiff fines and maximum jail times of fifteen years for trespassing.

Ray left the van running as Josh opened the side door and got out. He had the bolt cutters in one hand, his M-16 in the other. Ray looked at Mike in the passenger seat. “You stay here. Keep watching for anything. Be ready to jump in the driver’s seat if you need to.”

Mike stared back at him with wide eyes, but he nodded.

Ray got out and caught up to Josh, who stood in front of the gate.

“What’s wrong?”

“Chains are already cut,” Josh said.

“Someone’s already been here. Going in or coming out.” Ray wasn’t sure if that was a bad sign, or maybe a good sign that someone had been here at Avalon recently.

Ray helped Josh push the gate all the way open. It didn’t squeal or make a noise as they pushed the thick metal bar with the stop sign attached to it to the side of the road. Ray looked at the woods, searching for movement, listening for the sound of pounding feet on the forest floor. But there was nothing, not even the rustling of rodents in the dead leaves or birds chirping, everything seemed to be holding its collective breath.

Right up this road, Avalon might be waiting. Ray had only been searching for this place for a short time, but the journey felt so much longer than that. He felt like a weary traveler who had braved oceans of time to reach a promised land.

Echoes of conversations with Luke and Jo haunted his mind: What if Avalon isn’t what you think it is?

What? Salvation?

What then? He still had to try. What else could he do? But now, at the moment of truth, doubts were flooding his mind. Maybe they should have stayed at the store. Or maybe he and Josh should have gone to help Luke and Max take down the Dragon. He was so scared he had made a really bad decision coming here.

“Seems pretty quiet,” Josh said.

Ray nodded in agreement. He looked back at the van, its engine running—the only sound; no other sounds coming from up the road, still no sounds coming from the woods.

They hurried back to the van and got in. Ray drove through the open gate, the van climbing the slight hill easily into the thick woods. He drove around sharp bends in the trail, the trees and brush even farther back from the road now. Ray rounded the next turn and saw the glimpse of a clearing through the trees in the distance, the woods beginning to thin out. He drove out of the woods onto a vast plain at the top of a gigantic and nearly flat hill, like a grass-covered mesa. Other hills and mountains stood in the distance, trees everywhere. In the middle of the field, a few hundred yards away, was a small white building inside a high chain-link fence with barbed wire strung across the top in coils.

“It’s the same,” Ray whispered as he drove into the field. “The same place I saw in my dreams.”

Ray drove across the field, looking all around, pulling up to the gates in front of the chain-link fence. A chain was wrapped around the two gates, padlocked. He wondered if he should wait near the woods for a while, watch the building. But there were no rippers in the fields. That didn’t mean that there weren’t rippers watching from the trees. Or Dark Angels.

Ray and Josh got out of the van, leaving it running. They hurried to the double gate. With both doors opened, they could drive the van inside the large fenced area easily.

“This gate’s locked,” Josh said. He had the bolt cutters with him, but he was hesitating. “The gate was unlocked on the road, but this gate is locked.”

Ray knew what Josh was getting at: Why would someone cut the chain on the gate blocking the road, but not the one on this gate?

“Looks new,” Josh said, nodding down at the padlock.

Too many questions buzzed through Ray’s mind. He stared at the small building in the distance, the only building inside the fenced area. The roof was flat and layered with what looked to Ray like solar panels. A large satellite dish sat inside its own small fenced-in area a few hundred yards away, a group of solar panels fixed high up on metal poles. There were metal signs attached to the fence everywhere declaring this site as government property, prohibiting trespassing, and warning of the same severe penalties. The grass was tall inside the fenced area, weeds taking over. There were a few empty dirt parking areas off to the right, no cars or trucks parked inside. The field all around them was nothing but tall grasses and weeds, blowing back and forth in the cold wind.

Ray’s skin crawled as his dreams came back to him. He saw the rippers from his dream, pushing against the fence all around them, pushing against themselves, crushing themselves, their bodies liquefying as they oozed through the chain-link. He saw Kim and Vanessa inside the fence, standing in the fog, Vanessa back to normal for a moment, telling him that they had cured her. Had that dream meant something? Did it mean there was really a cure here? Not for his daughter, not now of course, but maybe for the rest of them.

“Cut it,” Ray told Josh. They weren’t going to waste any more time standing in front of the gates.

Josh went to work snapping the chain in a few places. Ray helped Josh push the gates open, each of them pushing a gate against the weedy ground, forcing them open. Ray went back to the van and got in while Josh waited inside the fenced area. He drove in and parked in one of the dirt parking spots at the far end of the fenced area. He shut off the van and got out.

Mike got out and opened the side door for Emma while Ray opened the back doors of the van. They got their backpacks out, slipping them on, making sure they had all their weapons.

Josh grabbed the box of glass bottles, filling two of them with gasoline and stuffing the rags back down inside. He taped the tops of them again so the gas wouldn’t spill out and stuffed them into the pockets of his backpack. “Just in case,” he said with a humorless smile.

When they were sure they had everything, they closed the van’s doors and looked at the building. Ray glanced at the fields all around them. He still didn’t see any movement anywhere, didn’t hear any sounds.

Maybe they were alone here.

They walked across the weedy field of grass to the door of the small building. Ray looked up at a camera poking out from under the eaves of the flat roof, one on each corner of the building, both aimed toward the front door, neither one of them moving, no tiny red lights flashing. Ray waved at the camera to the left, smiling. He was trying to look as friendly as possible, but he wondered how friendly they could look with guns in their hands.

“We’ve come to Avalon,” Ray said, hoping there was a hidden microphone somewhere. “I worked for the CDC in Washington D.C. A man named Craig Schuller was my supervisor. He told us about Avalon. He said there would be help here.”

Ray paused, waiting to hear the door unclick or open. He waited to see a red light shining on either camera. He waited for a voice to respond.

Nothing.

Ray looked at Josh. He checked the door, pulling on the handle.

“Locked,” Josh said.

Ray looked back at the camera. “My name is Ray Daniels. My son here is Mike. That’s Josh and Emma over there. We’ve come down from Washington D.C. to find this place. Let us in, please.”

No reply. No noises. No sounds.

A voice in Ray’s mind began to whisper: Nobody’s answering because nobody’s here. This isn’t Avalon. This is just some outpost to collect meteorological data or some kind of satellite station. This isn’t the bunker you’ve been looking for. Does this place look like a bunker?

“Please, we need help. We have other people at a store. A Super Bea’s. They have food and water there. We’re not with the Dark Angels or any other gangs. We’re good people.”

Still nothing but silence.

Ray waited a moment longer and then sighed. He looked at Josh. “Can you open it?”

Josh studied the door for a moment. “I can try.”

Ray walked away as Josh started working on picking the lock of the door. He pulled out a screwdriver and a few other smaller tools from a small pouch inside his backpack.

Emma walked over to Ray.

“This isn’t it,” Ray whispered.

“It is. Something’s here, I know it.”

Ray wanted to believe Emma; he knew he should believe her. But the doubt was crushing him now. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d made a big mistake coming here, maybe the biggest mistake of his life. He couldn’t help feeling like they were being watched. Not by the cameras—no, those were just dead pieces of metal and plastic now—watched from the woods in the distance.

“You get the door unlocked yet?” Ray asked Josh over his shoulder.

“This isn’t a trailer door, you know,” he snapped.

Ray turned back around, still watching the woods in the distance as the minutes ticked by.

“Got it,” Josh sang out. He shoved his tools back into his backpack and slipped it on.

“Get back away from the door,” Ray hissed at Mike as Josh picked up his M-16 and opened the door. Ray stood beside Emma with his gun in his hand as Josh entered the darkness of the small building. He was inside for a moment. Ray could see Josh’s flashlight beam shining around inside through the open door.

A moment later Josh came back to the doorway.

“What is it?” Ray asked him.

Josh shrugged. “There’s nothing inside except an elevator door.”

CHAPTER 38

Ray

Ray stood next to Mike and Emma in front of the elevator door. Josh was farther back by the door that led outside—he’d left the door ajar. They all had their backpacks on, their weapons in their hands. The inside of the small building was clean. Josh was right, there was nothing else inside the building except the one elevator door; there were no other doors, none leading to a set of stairs down below or even a closet. No windows. No posters or signs on the walls, no furniture. Nothing except two small dark cameras up on the ceilings in the corners, the elevator door with a keypad next to it and an upside down triangle above the door—the triangle was upside down because the elevator only went one way: down.

The lights flush with the ceiling were dark. There were no lights on the keypad or the triangle above the elevator doors, no little red lights blinking on the security cameras. The inside of the building was cold, but at least it was a little warmer than outside.

This place is dead, Ray thought.

Josh peeked out through the partly opened door, watching and listening in case rippers or Dark Angels were moving in. Ray wished they would have thought to bring their own padlock and maybe another length of chain. They could have locked the gates shut, locking themselves inside.

But what did it matter? If they couldn’t get down to the bunker, then what did any of it matter?

“Should we try the button?” Mike asked.

“There’s no button,” Ray told him. “Just that keypad. Needs a pin number punched in.” He sighed. “But it doesn’t look like there’s any power to this place, so it doesn’t really matter.”

“Everything’s still clear out there,” Josh said.

Ray thought of getting back in their van. And then what? Driving back? Staying the night in the same house, waiting for the man and his skull collection to show up again? Back to the store, back to the fighting? He felt like crying, like screaming, like breaking something. He had bet everything on this. He’d been so sure about this.

Craig’s voice from the dream he’d had recently came back to him: You think I knew what the hell I was talking about, Ray? I was turning into a ripper. I was talking gibberish.

Yeah . . . gibberish. That’s what it all had been.

They couldn’t stay here tonight. If rippers or Dark Angels came up the road through the woods (or a gang of cannibals) they would see their van inside the fence. They would be sitting ducks inside this building.

He looked up at the camera to his left. “Hello? If you’re down there, please let us in. We can help. We’re good people. We have supplies. A whole store of them. And we’re fighting the Dark Angels. Fighting the Dragon. We’ve got people going there to kill the Dragon right now.”

Even if there was someone down in the bunker below, Ray wasn’t sure they would know who the hell Dark Angels and the Dragon were. Maybe they’d been down there since the very beginning of the Collapse; they would have no idea how the world had changed so suddenly.

Then again, maybe no one was down there at all.

Maybe I’m just talking to a dead camera.

Ray stared at the camera for a long moment, then turned away. He walked over to Josh, who was still peeking out the door that he’d left cracked open, staying on watch. Emma was near him, standing beside the wall. He wanted to ask Emma what to do. She was the one who had told him to take the dirt road up through the woods and onto this hill; she’d known where this place was even though he’d lost the map in the cabin fire. But just because she knew where the place was didn’t mean there was anyone down there now. Maybe whoever used to be here had fled this place; maybe they had gone back home, wanting to get back and protect their families like everyone else had wanted to do.

“Still good out there?” Ray asked Josh.

Josh pushed the door open a little wider, poking his head out and looking at as much of the field as he could see. Josh seemed tense; he knew they could be trapped inside this small building if a horde of rippers or a troop of Dark Angels came. He shook his head. “Looks clear so far,” he answered.

Again, Ray’s dream came back to him. He knew the part about seeing Vanessa and Kim was just a dream, but the part about the rippers surrounding the fenced-in area, pushing against it, thousands of them coming out of the fog—that felt more real, like some kind of portent of things to come. He felt jittery, ready to get back in the van and leave. At least get outside of this fence and back down the road where they might have some kind of chance.

“Hey!” Mike said. “Something happened.”

Ray turned around.

Mike stood in front of the elevator doors, moving out of the way of the keypad. He had a strange expression on his face, like he couldn’t make up his mind how to feel: confused, scared, thrilled. The keypad was lit up.

“What did you do?” Ray asked, hurrying over to his son.

“I don’t know. I . . . I touched it. I didn’t think it was going to light up.”

“Did you press some numbers in?”

Mike shrugged, getting the same look he usually got when he thought whatever answer he gave was going to get him into more trouble.

“I’m not mad,” Ray said quickly, shaking his head a little as if to prove his words were true. “I just want to know what you did.”

“I . . . I just started pushing some numbers. I didn’t think it was working anyway, so I figured why not just start pressing some numbers.”

“Okay,” Ray said.

The red upside down triangle lit up. The sound of quiet motors and activity behind the metal walls and elevator doors could be heard. A moment later there was a ding and the doors opened.

Josh was over in a flash, Emma right behind him.

They stared at the empty elevator car.

“Holy shit,” Josh whispered.

Ray stared inside the elevator. The car looked like most of the other elevator cars he’d been in, like the ones at the CDC building: wood grain paneling on the bottom half of the walls, mirrors on the top half to make the car seem roomier, a metal handrail drawing a line between the two surfaces, flat and brown carpeting on the floor, lights shining down from a false ceiling above. Ray saw their four reflections staring back at them from the back wall, four haggard and frightened people.

The car was just waiting there, the doors wide open.

“What do we do?” Josh asked.

“How did that elevator come up?” Ray asked. “No way Mike just happened to punch the right code in. The chances of that are . . .” He let his words trail off.

The doors began to close. Josh reached in with a hand to block one of them, opening them back up again. The doors were wide open, the elevator waiting.

“Should we get in?” Josh asked. “Go down there?”

“What if we can’t get back up?” Ray had a sudden crushing fear of being trapped underground.

“Power’s working,” Josh said. “Must be a way back up. Maybe you don’t have to punch in a code to get the elevator back up.”

The doors began to close again. Josh put his arm inside. As soon as one of the doors touched his arm they opened back up smoothly, almost soundlessly.

Ray looked at Emma. “What do you think, Emma?”

“I think we should try. This is what we came for. Maybe someone is watching us on those cameras. Maybe they heard you and sent the elevator up for us.”

Ray had thought the same thing, but he couldn’t be sure, and he hated not being absolutely sure.

“Okay,” Ray said. “Let’s try it. We’re all in agreement?”

Josh and Emma nodded. Ray looked at Mike. He knew his son was scared, but he also looked excited at the same time, ready to embark on the next part of their adventure.

“Okay,” Ray said again and stepped inside the elevator first.

Josh had to block the elevators doors from closing again, and then Emma and Mike entered the elevator.

They were all inside the large elevator; all of them fitting inside easily even with their backpacks on and the guns in their hands. Ray watched the doors close. There was no keypad inside the elevator, no buttons to push, so maybe there was only one floor below, one destination that they could go to.

The elevator began going down.

CHAPTER 39

Luke

It had taken almost an hour to get close to the western wall of Hell Town, but Luke had it in his sights now. He was crouched down by the back corner of a house on Warner Street, a large group of shrubs in front of him, concealing him from the spotters and shooters patrolling the wall. Luke had only spotted two Dark Angels above the top of the wall, walking along some kind of platform behind the wall, some kind of scaffolding that had been set up—that’s what Dawson had told him. Luke thought there would be more Dark Angels watching the wall, but maybe the Dragon had sent most of them out to search for them.

Max, Phil, and Dawson were near him, crouching down and hiding. The rippers had become a little more active, some of them screeching and calling out in the cold morning air, but they hadn’t seen any near them yet.

Luke had chosen this house to watch the walls of Hell Town because it was close—only five hundred yards or so away from the wall where Warner Street seemed to disappear right underneath the wall of mismatched panels of wood and corrugated metal attached to 4x4 posts and metal supports. He’d also chosen this house because, after a forty minute search of the other houses in the area, he’d found a vehicle that he could use to ram the wall. It was a large Chevy van, older, but the battery still had power and it had sounded like it would turn over after he had bumped the key just enough to hear the starter engage. Luke found some lengths of old rope in the attached garage and tied it to the steering wheel after positioning the van behind the large group of shrubs. The other end of the rope was loose, but it was ready to be secured to the center console with a slipknot as soon as they needed to do it. Luke had used a shorter length of the rope to tie a brick to the gas pedal.

The van was almost ready to go now. He looked at the others with him to make sure they were ready, too. They all stared back at him in the shadows of the shrubs. Luke had whispered the plan to them at the back of the garage while they hid in the shadows from the view of the wall and from any rippers that might be nearby. Max would drive the van. Luke would be in the passenger seat. Dawson and Phil were going to run down through the yards to the left, keeping under the cover of trees and any other cover they could find as they got closer to the wall. And they should be pretty safe because the Dark Angels were going to be too focused on the van speeding toward them rather than looking around for anyone else.

The plan was to drive halfway to the wall, then secure the rope, keeping the van driving straight. Max was going to jump out of the van on his side and Luke would jump out of the passenger side. They would have their packs on, their weapons with them. Max would try to join up with Dawson and Phil once the van was through the wall, trying to pick off the Dark Angels that came to help the other two.

And Luke had his own plans once he was inside Hell Town.

Phil and Dawson moved through the backyard with their rifles in their hands, keeping low and hiding behind any cover they could find. Max got in the driver’s seat of the van and Luke got into the passenger seat. They both eased the doors shut.

Luke looked at Max who was poised to twist the ignition key and start the van. “You sure you can do this?”

Max nodded.

Luke didn’t bother to question Max any further—he had volunteered to drive the van. Luke figured it might be better for one of the other two men to do it—they were both younger—but Max was adamant about being the driver. Luke wasn’t going to argue with him.

Max started the van and pulled out onto the street after shifting into drive, pressing his foot down on top of the brick tied to the gas pedal, the engine already racing as the brick drove the pedal down. Luke pulled the rope down, straightening the steering wheel so that the van could drive straight down Warner Street and right into the wall. He pulled on the slipknot after securing it to the center console and the van was on its path, gaining speed quickly, the motor roaring.

Shouts came from the wall, and then bullets flew. One bullet hit the windshield, passing right between them. Either the Dark Angels were better shots than Luke had expected, or it was a lucky shot. The bullet had been too close. It was time to go.

Luke pulled out one of the hand grenades and pulled the pin, tossing it into the back of the van. “Time to go,” he told Max.

They both jumped out at the same time.

Luke had no way of knowing if Max had made it out okay, if he had landed without breaking an arm or a leg, or knocking himself unconscious. All Luke could do was worry about himself right now, and his own mission. He was out into the rushing cold air, then down on the ground, rolling and rolling, bracing for the impact of a bullet. For a few seconds he had no idea where he was exactly, but he popped up onto his feet and ran toward the other side of the road, diving down behind a car that had run up onto the sidewalk and into a row of shrubs that used to be neatly trimmed, a little wall around the tidy front yard of a home. The car provided some cover from the Dark Angels’ bullets.

A second later . . . an explosion. First, the van colliding with the wall, then a split second later the hand grenade going off inside the van. The shouts of the Dark Angels had been cut short, and now Luke couldn’t hear them anymore. But he could hear the rippers that had been riled up by the explosion. He needed to move fast.

Moments later he was through some backyards, then down another side street. He was farther back along the wall a few minutes later. He found what looked like a weak spot in the Hell Town wall. There were no Dark Angels along the top of the wall—none that he could see, anyway. He still had to be careful, even though he suspected that all available Dark Angels would be rushing toward the explosion: all hands on deck. And the other Dark Angels patrolling would be coming back soon, giving up their search because their prey had already attacked.

Luke had the other grenade with him. He pulled the pin and tossed it at the base of the wall. He hurried back behind the side of the brick house that was only twenty yards away from the wall. He counted down the seconds, and then the hand grenade went off. The explosion wasn’t as loud or powerful as Luke thought it was going to be. He’d felt some of the shock wave, but wondered if it had even caused enough damage to the wall.

He hurried around the corner of the house, approaching the gigantic smoking hole in the torn metal panels of the wall. Yes, it had done enough damage.

Luke was through the tear in the metal as quickly as he could, careful not to cut himself on the sharp lips of the opening. He needed to get in before Dark Angels came to investigate this explosion. He had a rough idea of the map in his mind as he hurried to his right, getting behind a house right away. He would work his way along this back area of the town and then back toward the middle where the Dragon’s house was. Where Jacob was.

CHAPTER 40

The Dragon

The Dragon knew things were beginning to end, he had sensed it for a while. Not the final ending, no not at all, but it would be an ending to this town he had created.

But he had other plans.

He had sent a group of Dark Angels to wait along a bend in the road to ambush the convoy coming their way: a convoy of traitors. The Dark Angels had killed the traitors in two out of the three vehicles, but they had failed to kill the ones in the last Humvee, the ones that the Dragon had wanted the most.

The Dragon wanted to punish those Dark Angels who had failed, hurt them, maybe even kill them. He wanted to tear his house apart. He wished he would have sent Jacob with them, but he thought he needed Jacob near him. That had been a bad miscalculation on his part. He hadn’t predicted future events well enough. God gave few the gift of prophecy, but those prophecies were often riddles that needed to be deciphered and figured out, and this time he had failed as miserably as his own men had, and therefore he also deserved the blame.

Even though the town would soon be lost, this wasn’t over at all. He was meant for this, to lead humanity back into the light. This was just a setback, just God testing him, making sure he was up to this task. And the Dragon would gladly take that challenge.

The Dragon was with Jacob and only one guard, a tall and lanky soldier that the Dragon had requested specifically. All other guards would need to be on hand to help the Dark Angels when the traitors got inside—because they were coming soon. Jacob was antsy. The Dragon knew Jacob wanted to be out there looking for Dawson and the others from the store who were with him: Luke and Max.

“Our home is under attack,” the Dragon told Jacob and Pete, the guard he had requested to be by his side now at the end.

“It’s only a few of them,” Jacob smirked.

“But Luke’s with them.”

Jacob grew suddenly cold, an expression that would weaken most men’s knees. But the Dragon wasn’t most men.

“I’ll get Luke,” Jacob growled. “Don’t you worry about that. He’s good, but I’m better. I’m the one who trained him.”

The Dragon nodded. “Yes, I know,” he said, at least to appease Jacob. He wasn’t sure who was going to kill who, and it didn’t really matter. He wanted Jacob with him, but if he couldn’t have him, then that was God’s will. He had others with him, others waiting in other places, more forces that could be gathered after this town had burned down.

Jacob still didn’t look happy about his skills being doubted, but the Dragon had a surprise for Jacob, something that would definitely make him happy. “We don’t need Petra anymore.”

A cruel smile on Jacob’s lips, a dark desire in his eyes.

The Dragon nodded again at Jacob. “We don’t have a lot of time. You can do what you want with her.”

Jacob was off.

The Dragon felt naked and exposed without Jacob as he left their meeting room in the building off of the main square. Jacob would head back to the house to do the horrible things to Petra that he had been imagining. The Dragon had ordered Jacob to kill Petra, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Jacob disobeyed that order. He was almost sure of it, but he also knew that Luke and Max would be coming for Petra. And when they did, Jacob would be there to greet them.

This also gave the Dragon time to make his escape plan, because he knew that the moment of escape was slipping away. The town was going to go down. Maybe the remaining Dark Angels would be able to kill Luke, Max, Dawson, and the other man with them, but it wouldn’t matter. There would be too many breaches in the walls, too many places the rippers could get in. And once that happened, it would be every man for himself.

Yes, this was a test, but how many tests did God have to put him through?

Haven’t I proven myself enough?

God didn’t answer and the Dragon felt ashamed for his moment of doubt, his moment of weakness. God would understand his faltering moments; God knew a man’s heart, a man’s true motivations. God knew the Dragon wanted to make this world a better place for the survivors, to bring the thousand years of peace prophesized in the Word of God.

The Dragon turned to Pete. “We need to go.”

“Yes, sir. Where to?”

The Dragon had a pickup truck stashed a mile beyond the far end of the Hell Town in a mechanic’s garage. Only a few Dark Angels and Jacob knew about it. The truck was stocked with supplies. The gas tank was full. The battery was working well. The tires were inflated and had plenty of tread. It was a large vehicle, able to traverse grass and mud as well as the pavement of the streets, big enough to ram anything (rippers) out of its way. The pickup was his escape vehicle, and now it was time to escape, to get to the next part of his plan: Avalon.

He also had a handgun tucked into a holster on his hip, extra magazines in the pack he would bring. Pete, the personal guard going with him to his escape vehicle, had an AK-47 assault rifle.

An explosion rocked the day, the ground rumbling. There were gunshots and shouts, rippers alerted in the distance. The wall had been breached. The end was here.

“Time to go now,” the Dragon told Pete.

CHAPTER 41

Petra

What the hell was that?

Petra sat up in bed in the basement. She’d been lying down, too nervous to sleep. She knew the Dragon would be coming for her soon. He didn’t need her alive much longer. Or, more likely, he would send Jacob down to finish her off, to do the things he’d been fantasizing about doing to her.

The house had shuddered from the explosion somewhere nearby, the wood ceiling creaking, dust sifting down through the floorboards above.

She jumped out of bed in the darkness. She was hungry and cold. Her hand was throbbing, the ache creeping up her arm; she wondered if it was getting infected. She was tired, so tired of it all. But she wasn’t quite ready to give up yet. Anger kept her going, the anger at the Dragon, and at Jacob; she wasn’t sure which one she hated more.

And now an explosion. It gave her hope. Maybe Dawson had been telling the truth. Maybe he had gotten to the store and they had sent people here to save her, and to kill the Dark Angels and the Dragon, to cut off the head of this snake. Maybe she would even get a chance to do it.

A flash of light illuminated the dark basement, the door at the top of the stairs opening, the daylight washing down the stairs.

Someone was coming down the stairs.

It was Jacob.

Her body tensed. She wasn’t sure if she was ready to run or fight, but she was ready to move, her nerve endings standing on end, sizzling just under her skin, her heart thumping. There was nowhere to run, so she would have to fight.

The footsteps down the stairs were quick and light, hurrying down the steps.

Jacob was finally coming to kill her. Maybe torture her first. She knew he was an expert fighter—he had bragged about it enough—but she would fight back like no one he’d ever fought with before. She’d gouge out his eyes, bite and scratch, kick and claw, anything she had to do to hurt him.

A woman in white appeared at the landing of the stairs, only a few steps up from the basement floor, bathed in the light that almost made her look angelic. For just a moment Petra thought her mind had cracked and she was hallucinating. The certainty of Jacob coming had been so strong that it took her a second to realize that a different person stood at the bottom of the stairs . . . it was Lindsey, the woman who had changed her bandages.

“Come on,” Lindsey hissed. “We have to go.”

Petra hurried toward Lindsey. She still felt shaky, the world around her surreal, like she was stuck in some kind of heavy-liquid dream that she couldn’t wake up from.

“What’s happening out there?” Petra asked.

“Someone drove a van through the west wall. The van exploded. There was something inside it.”

Petra didn’t have to ask who had done it. “Where are we going?”

“We have to go,” Lindsey said, speaking quickly but still in hushed tones. “A lot of people are running. The rippers will get in through the hole in the wall now.”

Petra felt a cold chill run through her veins like ice. She hadn’t even thought about the rippers getting in. She saw the rippers tearing Scott and Audrey apart again in her mind as they hung from the cables attached to the crossbeam. There had been hundreds of them coming from the woods that day. There could be hundreds coming from the houses all around the town. Maybe thousands of them.

“We need to hurry.”

“Where’s the Dragon? Where’s Jacob?”

Lindsey shook her head quickly, the movements of a nervous bird. “I don’t know. I think they’re in the meeting hall in the town square. They’re not here right now. There aren’t even any guards. The Dragon has sent most of them to either look for the traitors that came back or to guard the walls.”

Petra didn’t need any other coaxing. “Okay. Let’s go.”

Lindsey flew up the stairs and Petra was right behind her. The day was cold and gray, but the daylight still bright enough to hurt her eyes. She winced for just a second as they entered the kitchen from the basement door.

“Out the back,” Lindsey said as she cut her eyes toward the archway that led into the dining room.

Petra followed the woman’s gaze as she followed her across the kitchen to the back door. There was nobody in the dining room. No guards like Lindsey had said.

Lindsey pushed the back door open and hurried out onto the long back porch. Petra was right behind her. She couldn’t help looking at the two wooden chairs that had been left on the porch, the chair she had been tied to and the chair Sharon had been tied to. Large puddles of blood stained the floorboards under Sharon’s chair, the dried blood so dark now, seeped down into the wood. Sharon was dead now. Jacob had finally, and mercifully, killed her after cutting off so many parts from her.

She couldn’t think about that right now. This was a second chance to escape, and she wasn’t going to get caught this time.

In the background Petra heard the yells of the Dark Angels and guards, maybe some of the townspeople, machinery and trucks moving. And even farther away—but not far enough—came the sound of the rippers approaching. A lot of them. The smell of smoke was already heavy in the air; the fire from the exploded van must have spread to the nearby homes, maybe roaring across the lawns now.

Lindsey got to the screen door. She was through it in a flash, not bothering to hold it open for Petra. She was down the set of three concrete steps and down onto the backyard, running toward the next yard. She turned and stopped, staring at Petra, waiting for her.

“Come on,” Lindsey hissed, her eyes wide, her face drained of all color, her lips bloodless with fear and the cold.

Petra was about to catch up to Lindsey, but she froze when a bullet ripped into Lindsey’s head, whipping it back, her hair flying. She collapsed, her head hitting the ground so hard, her body going still instantly, steam rising up from the wound in her forehead.

She hadn’t even heard the gunshot.

Jacob stepped out from behind the end of the six-foot high row of shrubs with his gun in his hand, a silencer attached to the end of it. “Going somewhere, Petra?” he asked.

CHAPTER 42

Ray

A crushing panic was trying to set in as Ray rode the elevator down to Avalon. He was doing his best to push it away, but the panic had come on so suddenly and so strongly. He’d always been somewhat claustrophobic, and he’d never particularly liked elevators even though he had worked in a building with elevators and had ridden one every day. But this was different. This elevator was plummeting far below the ground. And he didn’t know how far. There were no floor numbers on the computer screen above the doors, just a series of red dots running across the black screen like a never-ending tickertape readout. He didn’t trust the electricity in this bunker. Maybe the electricity and this elevator were being automated by a barely-functioning computer. Maybe the electricity was hit-or-miss right now. He had visions of being trapped inside this dark elevator when the power went out suddenly.

He needed to calm himself down.

The elevator finally slowed down and stopped. The dots on the black computer screen above the doors stopped streaming by. For a few excruciating seconds they were stuck and Ray fought a geyser of panic rising up inside of him as he waited for the doors to open. He was afraid the doors would never open and the world would go dark.

The doors swished open.

Ray didn’t hesitate—he was out through the doorway in a flash, out before the others, stepping into some kind of gray lobby area with a huge desk along the right side of the room. A black swivel chair was behind the desk—no one sitting in it. A few fake plants were in the corners of the large room. It was murky, but not too dark. Soft light came from rectangular fixtures set flush into the walls near the ceiling.

Josh held Emma’s hand as they stepped out of the elevator. He still had his M-16 in his other hand, his backpack on. Mike had his pack on and his gun was in his hand. He looked around with wide eyes after stepping out of the elevator.

“Don’t touch any buttons,” Ray whispered at Mike.

Mike just nodded.

The lobby was bigger than Ray had expected. It looked more like an office building than a bunker. He could almost feel himself believing that he wasn’t several stories underground.

At least the electricity was working down here, the lights still on. More lights lit up a wide hallway off the lobby, doors on each side of the hall, all of them closed. Everything was uncluttered and sterile, but Ray noticed a light coating of dust everywhere. The room was much warmer than the ground above them, but not like it was heated. The air smelled stale.

The elevator doors closed. Ray turned around and stared at them. The triangle above the doors didn’t light up so maybe that meant the elevator was still there, still waiting behind the closed doors. He hoped so. There were dark circles in the corners recessed into the metal walls like the lights: cameras.

“Hello?” Ray called out.

No answer.

He looked up at the camera in the corner up by the ceiling. “Hello?”

Still no answer.

The place felt empty. It felt abandoned.

“Everybody be careful,” Ray whispered at the others. He clenched his handgun, his backpack straps pulled tight in case he needed to run or move quickly.

Josh nodded. He still held Emma’s hand.

Ray had made sure the safety on Mike’s handgun was off. He looked at Mike. “You don’t use that unless you absolutely have to. Understand?”

Mike nodded, eyes still wide.

“Where is everyone?” Josh asked. “I thought you said this place . . .” He let his words trail off.

“I don’t know,” Ray answered. He wondered if someone was down here, if someone had sent the elevator up to bring them down. There was no sense being quiet or sneaky if someone had sent the elevator up to them—they’d already seen them.

“Hello?” Ray called out again, his voice echoing in the room. The ceiling was high, and that made his claustrophobia a little more bearable. The room was large, the hallway off of it very wide. He wanted to say something else besides hello. The phrase “we come in peace” came to mind. He wanted to convey that they weren’t here to hurt anyone, but it would sound ridiculous coming from a group where three out of four were holding weapons.

“Thank you!” Ray finally yelled, his voice reverberating back from the walls. “Thank you for sending the elevator up for us. I know this place is called Avalon. I’m assuming it’s part of the CDC. I used to work for the CDC. My name is Ray Daniels.”

No answer. No voice coming from an intercom. Nothing except the far-away sound of machinery running, perhaps air handlers recirculating the air.

Ray looked at Mike, then at Josh and Emma. They all looked back at him, even Emma seemed to be watching him; it felt like it, anyway. He looked back at the opening to the wide hallway, but then he marched over to the desk in front of the wall to his right. He went behind the desk and moved a mouse on the desktop. The slim computer monitor standing on the desk remained dark. He opened drawers, looked through stationary and supplies. There wasn’t much in there.

“Let’s check the rest of the place out,” Ray said.

They followed Ray through the archway into the wide hall, the lights flicking on as soon as they entered. There were two doors in the hallway almost directly across from each other. Each door looked sturdy, made of metal with chrome handles. To the side of each door was a keypad with a scanner for an ID card. The keypad and scanner were dark. The door to the right was locked. The door to the left opened easily enough, lights coming to life as Ray opened the door and stepped inside.

It was some kind of meeting room. He held the door open so Josh, Emma, and Mike could enter. He wasn’t going to let the door close. He didn’t think the door would lock from the inside even though it needed a keycard to open from the outside; the doors in the offices in the CDC building in Washington didn’t lock when you were inside, so he didn’t think these would, either. But still, he didn’t want to take any chances.

A large table dominated the middle of the room with comfortable, plush office chairs all around it. At the far end was a big whiteboard attached to the wall, and a monitor that could be lowered down from the ceiling. The walls were metal and painted a dull gray, the Berber carpeting tan.

They left the meeting room and ventured farther down the hall, the lights coming on as they walked.

Two more doors faced each other from across the hall, both of them locked. A nameplate above the door to the right read: Computer Room. The door across the hall was labeled: Lab 1.

“This one’s locked,” Josh said after wrenching down on the metal door lever, pulling on it.

Ray led them down the hall to another hallway that branched off to the right. The short hall opened up to a large dining area. A cafeteria-style serving line was at the far end of the room, two doorways beyond the serving line must lead to the kitchen, Ray figured. The chairs around the tables were all pushed in, the tables clean. The metal rails of the cafeteria line were shiny, the bins behind plastic sneeze shields were empty and immaculate. Yet the smell of cooked food lingered in the air, making Ray’s stomach ache with hunger.

“Where is everyone?” Josh asked.

“I don’t know,” Ray said. “But someone was here recently. You smell the food?”

“I smell it,” Emma said.

“Me too,” Mike added, smiling.

They entered the kitchen. The smell of cooked food was stronger in the kitchen. But there was an underlying smell under everything that sickened Ray’s hunger, an all-too-familiar odor these days, the smell of blood, of death, of rotting flesh somewhere under the strong scent of cleaning agents.

A door led to a large walk-in pantry stocked with cans, boxes, and bags of food.

“Jackpot,” Josh whispered. “It looks like some of the food has been taken, but not too much.”

“It seems like a lot of people were here,” Ray said. “But it’s like they all left.”

“At least food and supplies are here,” Josh said, looking at Emma. “And it’s safe here. The power still works. Probably from those solar panels on the roof or some kind of generator.”

They left the kitchen area, then the dining area. After walking farther down the main hallway, they found another hall off to the left that led to sleeping quarters; all of the rooms had bunkbeds inside. Back out in the main hallway again, they explored further and found another lab with an even sturdier door and a biohazard sign on the outside of it. This door was locked. They found restrooms, storage closets full of supplies, a gym, a media room, and other locked doors with no signs on the outside of them. They found rooms, but no people.

“The place is empty,” Josh said with astonishment.

They walked back down the main hall toward the shorter hall that led to the dining area.

A noise from behind them stopped them.

They turned.

A man stood twenty feet down the hall aiming a rifle at them.

CHAPTER 43

Ray

“Don’t move,” the man down the hall said, still aiming his rifle at them.

“Take it easy,” Ray said, not moving a muscle. “My son is right here. And this is Josh and Emma. Emma’s blind. We haven’t come here looking for trouble.”

“Put your weapons on the floor,” the man said.

“Okay,” Ray said, nodding at Josh and Mike, then looking back at the man. “Okay. We’re doing it. Just take it easy with that gun.”

The man didn’t reply. He couldn’t be more than five foot five, maybe not even as tall as Mike. He had a slight build and dark, thinning hair that was combed back and a little long in the back. He wore dark pants, hard shoes, a button-shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, the shirt untucked and wrinkled. He was tense, clutching the rifle hard, trembling. He had large, bulging eyes, a five o’clock shadow, straight and even white teeth that seemed brighter in contrast to his olive complexion.

Ray leaned down and set his gun on the floor. Mike did the same right beside him. Josh set the M-16 down.

“Okay,” the man said, relaxing just a little. “Just . . . just kick them forward. Out of reach.”

Ray nodded and kicked his gun. It slid along the slick floor. Mike kicked his a little harder and it slid farther than Ray’s gun had. Josh did his best to kick the M-16 forward, but the weapon was heavier.

“Go ahead and back up,” the man said. “Back up a few more steps.”

“What’s your name?” Ray asked. “You know our names. You saw us on the camera, didn’t you?”

The man didn’t answer.

Ray backed up. The others backed up with him.

The man ventured forward, hesitantly at first. He bent down and picked up the two handguns first, stuffing them into the waistband of his pants, barely fitting them in. He picked up the assault rifle and scuttled back a few feet. He lowered his own rifle, relaxing a little more now.

“I’m Ray Daniels,” Ray said. “I worked for the CDC in Washington D.C. This is my son Mike. This is Josh and Emma. We’ve come looking for Avalon. This is Avalon, isn’t it?”

The man sighed. “Sorry. I just needed to get the weapons from you.”

“We understand,” Ray said. “What’s your name?”

“Gerald. Dr. Gerald Dubois.”

“Okay, Dr. Dubois,” Ray said.

“Please. Just Gerald. I’m not a doctor anymore. There are no doctors anymore. No scientists. No degrees. There’s nothing anymore.”

Ray didn’t want to argue with the man. “Okay, Gerald. This is Avalon, right?”

“Yes,” Gerald said.

“This is part of the CDC?”

Gerald nodded.

“A bunker?”

“A bunker of sorts. An underground lab, really. There are a few of them around. How did you hear about this place? The clearance is pretty strict. I don’t remember you ever being here.”

“I’m not a doctor or a scientist,” Ray said quickly. “I’m . . . I was an accountant. My supervisor, Craig Schuller, he was the one who told me about Avalon. When the Collapse began, he called me before the cell phones went out. He told me to get my family to his house, that he had information. The phone was breaking up at the time, but he had mentioned the word Avalon. We went to Craig’s house, but Craig and his family were already dead. I looked up anything I could find about Avalon on his laptop. I found a map to this place.”

Gerald just nodded, not saying anything, still holding the two rifles down by his side.

Ray had decided to leave out a few details, including that Kim had died and Vanessa had turned into a ripper along the way to Craig’s house. He had left out the part about Craig killing his own family in their garage after he realized he and his family were turning. There would be time for those details later.

“I don’t know a Craig Schuller,” Gerald said. He seemed to be struggling through his memories, perhaps the name had rung a bell, but that was from an earlier world, a lost time, and now those things didn’t matter anymore.

“We’ve come a long way to find this place,” Ray said. “We were hoping . . . hoping for—”

“What?” Gerald asked with a sigh. “You were hoping for salvation? For a rescue crew? Some kind of civilization left? A cure to the Ripper Plague?”

Ray didn’t answer; he only nodded.

“Sorry,” Gerald said, frowning. His apology sounded sincere.

“We came for answers,” Ray said. “Craig said the answers would be here.”

Gerald shrugged. “I might have some answers, but maybe not the ones you’re looking for.”

Ray didn’t want to push it just yet. He nodded again. “Any help would be appreciated.”

“You guys have already toured the place,” Gerald said. It didn’t sound like a question; it sounded like Gerald already knew, like he’d been watching them on different cameras. “It’s nothing too special. Just a basic underground lab.”

“Are you the only one here?” Emma asked.

Gerald stared at Emma for a moment, and for that moment Ray wasn’t sure he was going to answer her question. “Yes.”

“Where are the others?” she asked.

“Turned. Dead.”

They were silent for a moment.

“We have supplies here,” Gerald continued. “I guess you’ve seen that already. We have food. Are you hungry?”

“Yes,” Josh practically shouted.

Mike blurted out a laugh.

Gerald seemed caught off guard by Mike’s sudden laughter. He smiled. “You guys seem safe enough, but I’m just going to store these weapons away, if that’s okay with you.”

“If it makes you feel better,” Ray said.

Gerald walked back down the hallway and used a keycard from his pocket to swipe a panel next to a door. He opened the door and set the weapons inside, and then closed it again. He walked back down the hall. “Let’s go to the kitchen.”

Ray and the others followed Gerald down the hall to the dining room and cafeteria, then to the kitchen. He went to a walk-in refrigerator and pulled out sandwich fixings. “How about a sandwich? Some soup?”

“That would be great,” Ray said.

“You’ve got bread?” Josh asked.

“Yeah. Frozen. I take out a loaf every so often. We’ve got meats, cheeses, some tomatoes and lettuce left. Onions. Make whatever kind of sandwiches you want.”

*

Thirty minutes later they had finished their sandwiches and soup.

Ray sat back in his chair, full and satisfied. He drank down the rest of the iced tea that Gerald had brewed.

“When I saw you on the camera, you said you came from a store,” Gerald said.

They hadn’t talked much while eating, growing a little more comfortable with each other. Gerald had given them time to eat. But now it was time to get down to business.

“Yes,” Ray said. “We’ve been traveling south from West Virginia. We were in a cabin there and we left to find this place. On the way down, in North Carolina, we came across people in a store. It’s called a Super Bea’s.”

Gerald didn’t seem to recognize the name.

“It’s like a Wal-Mart,” Ray explained.

Gerald nodded for Ray to continue.

“A woman named Jo runs the place. She was the manager there. Everyone else she knew has died or turned. She’s managed to keep the rippers out of the store. There’s a lot of food and drinks and supplies there. Maybe a year’s worth for the people there. Maybe more. There are also guns and ammo. Medicine.”

“How did she keep the rippers out?” Gerald asked.

“There were safety steel wire screens that they pulled across the front of the store. I’m guessing they were put in place in case of looting or a hurricane. The rippers were able to break the glass, but they weren’t able to get through the steel mesh. She also had the people there ram a lot of the stock in front of the mesh doors, boxes and pallets of stuff, barricading it, making it stronger. The back area is fenced in and they hooked the fence up to several car batteries to electrify it.”

“That’s pretty smart,” Gerald mumbled.

Ray nodded in agreement. “They secured a ladder onto a lift so they could get through one of the skylights up to the roof. They have spotters and shooters on the roof, looking out for rippers.”

“And Dark Angels,” Josh said.

Ray watched Gerald’s reaction when Josh mentioned Dark Angels, but Gerald didn’t comment about them.

“We have the store for now,” Ray said, “but the Dark Angels want it. They want the supplies inside. They are a large gang led by a man who calls himself the Dragon.”

“Have you heard of the Dark Angels?” Emma asked point blank.

Gerald shook his head. “I’ve been down here since the Collapse began.”

“Do you know what happened?” Josh asked Gerald. “Do you know how the Ripper Plague started? Why it started?”

Gerald just sighed.

“When I was looking up information on Craig’s laptop,” Ray said, “it seemed like there wasn’t an explanation for the plague. No bacterial or viral infections found. No proteins or any other kind of toxins or pathogens.”

“I heard the same thing,” Josh said. “I was in a FEMA camp right at the beginning. Well, actually, they arrested me and forced me to go to the camp. While I was in there I talked to someone who claimed to be a scientist, and he’d said the same thing, that no one knew why or how this plague had started.”

“Is it true?” Ray asked.

Gerald nodded. “Sort of. We’ve figured out some things, but the answers are very strange.”

Ray sat back in his chair waiting for Gerald to continue. This was what he had come to Avalon for.

CHAPTER 44

Josh

Josh watched Ray as he hunched forward in his seat, tense, alert, ready to hear the reason for everything. But then Josh looked at Gerald. He could already tell from the scientist’s expression that the answer wasn’t going to be so simple.

“It’s true,” Gerald said. “It’s true that we never found any bacterial or viral infections to explain the Ripper Plague. No rogue prions, like Mad Cow Disease would show. No pathogens of any kind. All toxin reports came back clean.”

“So you don’t have an explanation?”

“Not exactly. We did finally find something strange, though.”

“What?”

“The Ripper Plague is some kind of genetic manipulation.”

“Genetic manipulation?” Josh asked.

“There have been significant changes to the genetic codes of all rippers we tested. Every one of them.”

“How?” Ray asked. “What kind of manipulations?”

“We don’t know how. It seems like the genes in the rippers just switched off, with a few others from what is called Junk DNA switching on.”

“Junk DNA?” Mike asked. He almost sounded suspicious of the phrase, but he was smirking at the same time.

“Every animal has a genetic code,” Gerald explained, talking faster now, looking at each one of them one at a time, from one to the next as he spoke. “From the smallest lifeforms up to us. In the simpler lifeforms we know what each gene does. This one for growth, this one for digestion, and on and on. As lifeforms get more complex, there are sequences of genes that have no known function, seemingly random sets of genes or redundancies. When we get up to primates, and especially humans, there is quite a bit of this junk DNA, and we’ve never known what it does, what it’s there for. It’s almost like a blank slate waiting to be programmed, waiting to be evolved.”

“So almost every human on earth had their DNA manipulated all at the same time?” Ray asked.

“Well, within a few weeks. It started with a few cases here and there, but they were all over the world, people turning into rippers and we couldn’t figure out how they were getting infected, and then we knew a little later that they weren’t getting infected because there was no infection. Then it grew exponentially over the next few weeks. Two became four, four became eight, and eight became sixteen. Then thirty-two. Sixty-four. And on and on until almost everyone had turned. In these rippers, it seems that many of the genes that make us human and not animals, the genes that distinguish us from other animals, were turned off.”

Josh remembered Isaac having similar theories, some of them written down in the notebook that he’d lost at the cabin.

“You know, it’s kind of funny,” Gerald said, but he wasn’t laughing or even smiling. Nothing about this seemed remotely funny. “We’ve been looking for evidence of a missing link, the link between humans and apes, the being between the two, a being not totally ape but not totally human. And I think we’ve found it. The rippers. That’s what apes evolved into. And that’s what we have evolved from.”

“But why would we go back to that?” Josh asked. “Turn back into . . . rippers.”

Gerald shrugged. “You mean, why devolve? That’s the question, isn’t it? We were all animals on this planet. For billions of years there were dinosaurs, fish, birds, mammals. And then, rather recently, primates. And then, seemingly overnight in cosmic terms, we evolved from apes so quickly. Why? It was like genes inside of us just flipped on, and maybe some others flipped off.”

“Like the rippers,” Ray said. “But you don’t know why?”

“I have a theory. A few of my colleagues had shared my theory.”

They waited for Gerald to continue.

“It’s like there’s this clock inside of our genetic makeup. After we evolved, after genes were manipulated, or flipped on if you want to think of it that way, I believe a clock started. Humans were given a certain amount of time, let’s say a million years. Or half a million years.”

“Half a million years for what?” Ray asked.

“Maybe to get to a certain point. Maybe to get to where we could manipulate our own DNA, or our environment, the very molecules around us. We were given plenty of time to get there. And when that time ran out . . .” He shrugged his shoulders and frowned.

“Time ran out and we turned back into the missing links we used to be,” Ray said. “The rippers? That’s what you’re trying to say?”

“Maybe,” Gerald said.

“By who?” Josh asked. “It seems like you’re saying somebody manipulated our DNA. Somebody gave us a timeline to get to that point.”

“Who knows?” Gerald answered. “Maybe someone did. A creator. A god. Aliens. A conscious universe. A force, like in Star Wars, or a life force that runs through everything, like chi. Whatever you believe in. This might be the way higher lifeforms evolve all over the universe, a program built into the design, a certain time to get things right or poof, back to what you once were.”

Josh sat back in his chair, exhaling slowly. He felt Emma touch his hand, grabbing onto it, holding it. He put his arm around her, pulling her closer to him. She seemed like she was cold. Maybe she was just scared, or even in awe like he was.

“And we should have gotten things right,” Gerald said, once again, talking faster, suddenly angry. “We had plenty of time. But we were too busy fighting each other, enslaving each other, killing each other, controlling the masses. The Dark Ages set us back. It took a thousand years just to get back to what the Greeks had known before Christ was born: they knew the world was round, that matter was made up of atoms, water displacement, complex math, written language. Think of where we would be right now if we could have come together as a species and worked together for a common good, ignoring racial differences, national differences, tribalism, classism. Think of what we could have accomplished if we would have pooled our resources together from different parts of the world, all of those discoveries and knowledge shared.”

Gerald paused, shaking his head. He looked sad and alone, a man burdened with the darkness of the world. “Yes, we had plenty of time to get to that point where we controlled our own biological processes: aging, disease, death. Even the climate and celestial events. I believe we could have gotten to all those answers in the time given to us, but we failed. Maybe we got close: space travel, simple manipulation of genes, combating disease, but we should have gotten there sooner.”

“Aliens,” Josh muttered. “That’s what you’re saying, isn’t it?”

Gerald shook his head. “Not in the sense that you think of them, gray beings with big eyes and big heads flying around in spaceships. Much more amorphous than that, much more complex, beings that we can’t even begin to understand. Gods to us. Maybe they’ve set up these experiments, if you will, on millions of planets throughout the galaxy, maybe checking in every ten thousand years or so, maybe tweaking here or nudging there, but mostly staying out of it, giving us the chance to make our own mistakes.”

“Or maybe we got too close, but not close enough,” Ray said. “Maybe we got too dangerous and they shut us down.”

Gerald shrugged. “It’s possible. Maybe you’re right. Maybe we got to the point where we were about to alter DNA the wrong way and completely throw off the plan. Maybe we were getting too close to destroying our own earth. Maybe we were getting too close to colonizing the solar system and we were still too violent to be allowed to do that. Maybe we got close, but took a wrong turn along the way, and they shut us down. Or maybe the time limit is a protection for when a species gets too advanced, when they get too vain and think they are gods, too smart for our own good, destroying our own environment. Maybe they can’t let us escape the Earth and infect other planets and ecosystems with what we’ve done to our own.”

“And now what?” Josh asked.

“Maybe it starts all over again,” Gerald said.

CHAPTER 45

Ray

“What do you mean, starts over?” Ray asked.

“Maybe, like I said earlier, the genes automatically shut off when we get a little too smart for our own good. And then we evolve again, and it starts all over again. Maybe it’s a cycle, like the orbit of the planets around a sun. Maybe the rippers that survive the next hundred thousand years evolve slowly over time. They discover fire. They make tools and weapons. They domesticate animals and then learn to farm. They learn to build, to forge steel, to cure diseases. They build ships, and then factories. And then, when they get too close to the stars, the genes turn off and it starts all over again.”

The idea of it depressed the hell out of Ray. “That . . . that can’t be right. That can’t be true.”

Gerald got to his feet. “I’d like to show you something.”

“What?”

“It’s in the computer room. It’s . . . it’s kind of like evidence.”

Gerald began walking toward the door that led out to the hallway, not waiting for them to follow him.

Ray got up. He and the others followed Gerald out of the dining hall and down the main hallway, back toward the lobby where the elevator was. He stopped at the locked door closest to the lobby and swiped his keycard from his pocket across the black screen next to the door. A green light lit up and the doorhandle made a loud clicking sound. As Gerald entered the room, the lights turned on. They were in some kind of computer room. Gerald sat down at one of the computer terminals, booting up the computer screen. He clicked a few of the keys, searched for a moment through files with the mouse on the desk, then he clicked on what he wanted, pulling up an image on the computer monitor.

“What is that?” Josh asked, peering a little closer at the computer screen.

Gerald moved out of the way so everyone could see. “It’s a hammer found in Texas in the 1930s. But the hammer has been dated to be at least a million years old. Possibly quite a bit older than that.”

Ray stared at Gerald. “So you’re saying that hammer is proof this has happened before, this cycle thing you’re talking about?”

“Yes. But there’s a lot more. There are plenty of artifacts around the world that prove our civilization is much older than most scientists and historians believe. The primitive computer found off the shores of Greece. The ancient map of the world that detailed coastlines of the continents long before we should have been sailing the seas. There were the artifacts found in a Turkish cave, objects that they couldn’t have made with primitive technology, but the aging on the tools proves they are well over a million years old.”

“So you’re saying that humans, and advanced technology, have existed before here on Earth. Before we were here?”

“Yes,” Gerald said. “It seems that way. The evidence suggests that it has happened many times in the past. A civilization rises up, then fails, the people become extinct. But not exactly extinct. Just starting over.”

“Why didn’t we ever hear about this?” Josh asked.

Gerald shrugged and frowned. “It got buried. Like a lot of scientific discoveries that didn’t fit the narrative at the time—they get buried, or labeled as crackpot theories.”

Ray shook his head. This was getting too crazy for him. He needed to focus back on what was happening now. “Okay, so you were saying the rippers’ genes were manipulated.”

“I’m saying the program was already there inside of us, buried in every one of us,” Gerald corrected.

“Okay. But why aren’t we rippers? All of us standing here?”

“Who knows? Maybe we will still turn into rippers. The plague started rather slowly and then sped up. Maybe it’s just taking time for the last of us to turn.”

Ray didn’t think Gerald believed that. He waited for another answer from Gerald.

“Maybe the designers of this program had their reasons for sparing a few of us,” Gerald said. “Maybe it’s a last chance for us. Like Noah and his family, a chance to start over, to get things right this time. To learn from our mistakes.” He shrugged again. “Maybe we’ll never understand the designers’ motivations. We’re like a dog trying to read a newspaper. No matter how long we stare at the print, we’ll never understand it.”

Ray wondered if they had been changed in some way, if genes inside of them had been turned on. He thought of Emma’s abilities. The Dragon’s abilities. Even he and the others seemed to share some of the same dreams. But he wasn’t going to talk about that with Gerald just yet.

“If that’s true,” Josh said, “if we’re getting one last chance at this, then I think we’re already royally screwing it up. If the lesson is to work together, we’re already failing.”

Ray nodded. “Josh is right. The Dragon is doing what others have always done, ruling over everyone else, controlling all resources, controlling all the people. There’s only a few of us left, but we’re still killing each other. Forming tribes. Hoarding resources. Hoarding knowledge. Not sharing.”

Gerald didn’t answer, but he seemed tense every time Ray brought up the Dragon or the Dark Angels.

“Have you reached out to other bunkers?” Ray asked. “You said there were other underground labs like this one.”

“There’s no one left,” Gerald said.

“What happened to the others here?” Ray pressed. “You said they turned. They died.”

“Yeah. Some left at first. They wanted to get back to their families. Others turned. We . . . we had to kill some of them. We each swore that we would kill ourselves if we began to turn, but some of them, they couldn’t do it.”

“What did you do with the dead?” Ray asked. He’d smelled the slight odor of death and decay as soon as he had entered the bunker from the elevator, but he thought the smell would be much stronger if so many had died in here.

“We took them outside,” Gerald said.

“Wouldn’t the dead attract more rippers?” Ray asked.

“Yeah. But they couldn’t get inside.”

Ray didn’t believe Gerald. The man seemed honest at first about his explanations about the Ripper Plague, but he seemed different now.

“You’re the last one left,” Ray said. “You took all of the bodies outside by yourself?”

Gerald shook his head, stammering for an answer.

A pinging sounded on the computer.

“What’s that?” Ray asked.

Gerald stared at him, hesitating.

“What is it?” Ray said through gritted teeth.

Gerald’s face collapsed in sorrow. He shook his head. “It’s the cameras. Notifying me someone’s there.”

“Someone’s there?” Josh said. “Who? Where are they?”

“I’m sorry,” Gerald said. “The elevator’s coming down right now. They made me do it.”

CHAPTER 46

Kate

The night had been hell. It had been cold and too dark to see anything. At one point it had rained, a freezing rain that left a coating of ice on the tent. It felt so much colder inside the tent than it had in the store, no block walls on the roof to block the wind and weather.

Brooke cuddled up with Kate through the night, along with Tiger. She slept in fits, waking up every hour or so. Once she woke up screaming. Kate finally calmed her down and asked if she’d had a bad dream, but she claimed she couldn’t remember it. Kate had thought of asking Brooke right then why she wasn’t drawing anymore in her artist tablet, drawing the things she saw in her dreams. But she didn’t ask her.

Maybe she didn’t want to know the answer.

Kate hadn’t slept much through the night. She lay awake, shivering, listening to the constant roar of the mob of rippers below, ransacking the store, running in and out of the back of the store, trampling across the fallen fence, into and out of the woods all night. There were always some on guard at the edge of the roof, watching through the night vision goggles and using flashlights to spotlight the rippers. It didn’t matter if they used the lights or not—the rippers knew they were there.

When Kate finally managed to fall asleep for a few minutes, she had terrible nightmares. The Dragon didn’t haunt her dreams; these nightmares were much more disorganized, just bits and pieces of the horrors she’d seen the past few weeks since all of this madness had started.

Now it was morning, long past sunrise. Brooke had finally slept for a few hours and Kate didn’t want to disturb her. She got up and crept out of the tent. Tiger opened his eyes, watching her. For a second she thought the cat was going to follow her, but he lay back down and closed his eyes.

The freezing wind slammed into Kate when she stepped out of the tent, the fabric of the tent rippling. She pulled her hoodie around her tighter, shivering. She looked around. There were still a few spotters at the edge of the roof: two at the front of the store, two at the back. They had binoculars and rifles, but no one was shooting right now. Kate didn’t need to walk to the edge to see if the rippers were still active; she could hear them, and she could see them all over the front parking lot, across the street, at the partially constructed building and gas station at the intersection, in the woods, inside the fenced-in back area of the store.

Other spotters—Lisa and Wade—stood guard at the skylight. Wade had his rifle in his hands, aimed down into the rectangular hole. She walked over to them. The noise of the rippers was louder when she got closer to the skylight, not only their cries and screeches, the primitive form of communication they used, but also the slamming and crashing of objects down below.

When Kate got close enough to the edge, Lisa turned on her powerful flashlight without saying a word, revealing to Kate what was going on down below.

Kate’s heart seemed to stop for a moment as she stared down at the store, at the crowd of rippers moving around in the light, crawling over each other like insects. They had been dragging empty shelving and other pieces of furniture under the skylight, next to the collapsed lift, stacking pieces on top of each other, some of the makeshift structures wobbly and unsafe, but they had formed a base to build from.

“They’re trying to get up here,” Lisa said as if Kate had asked her a question.

Kate just stared at the rippers below illuminated in the flashlight beam. They worked like mindless ants. But they weren’t totally mindless. They were relentless, building nonstop, trying to build a structure tall enough to reach the skylight, like some kind of twisted version of the Tower of Babel.

“We’ve shot at them through the night,” Wade said in his deep voice, his words coming out slowly like he was in a perpetual state of shock. He was shivering as he held his rifle, aiming like he was about to shoot again at any moment. “But they drag the bodies away. We can hear them eating them. And more of them come back, building again.”

“What are we going to do?” Kate asked.

“Keep shooting if they get too close,” Jo said. “If they build it too high.”

Kate turned around. She hadn’t realized Jo had walked up behind her. Gil was beside her. Both of them close together.

“How many bullets do we have left?” Kate asked.

Jo didn’t answer. She didn’t have to. Her eyes said: We’ll keep shooting until we run out. What else can we do?

CHAPTER 47

Max

Somewhere along the way Max had lost Dawson and Phil. He was alone as he ran past houses, his gun in his hand, bullets flying, shouts behind him somewhere, the smoke from the fires getting thicker in the air.

He’d gotten through the hole in the wall that the van had created, getting through the fireball as it burned down a little, but then the fire began to spread across the tall, dry grass. He had lost Luke as soon as he had jumped out of the van as it sped toward the wall. Now he ran alone. But he’d seen the map. He knew where the Dragon’s house was, where Dawson claimed it was, and that’s where he was going.

A shot rang out, a bullet whizzing right past him. He swore he’d actually felt the crackling air in front of him as the bullet passed by inches in front of his face. He was almost to the corner of the house on Warner Street—the Dragon’s house should only be four more houses down, at the intersection of Warner and Elm. But he didn’t have time to think about that right now. He didn’t even have time to get to the corner of the house and find cover. He turned and aimed and shot.

His bullet struck home. The Dark Angel who had just shot at him crumpled down to the ground, letting out a wail as he lay on the ground, his weapon forgotten as he clutched at his chest.

Max didn’t linger. He got to the corner and then around to the back of the house. He decided he would move along through the backyards until he got to the Dragon’s house. But he needed to stop for a moment, to calm himself down. He was shaking uncontrollably. If he needed to shoot someone else at that moment he might not be able to do it.

He had just shot a man, most likely killed the man. He’d shot plenty of rippers so far, but this felt different. Even though the man had been a Dark Angel, he had still been a human being. And Max had just killed him.

Fighting back tears, Max collected himself. He needed to focus on his mission here, to get to Petra. If he had to kill more men along the way to free her, then that’s what he would need to do.

A moment later Max was on the move again, hurrying across backyards. No fences to climb over so far, and that was good. Some of the backyards had rows of shrubs separating them. He used any shrubbery and trees as cover as he made his way toward the Dragon’s house.

Next door, he saw the three-story white house, the side of it—the house he’d seen in a dream once. He studied the windows, all of them dark. No movement inside that he could see. He didn’t hesitate, he ran down the side yard to the front porch, slipping up and over the railing at the edge of the porch, hunched down by a front window and watching the street for a moment. A big SUV sped by, full of people inside. Either they were driving toward the battle or running away from it; Max couldn’t be sure. The rippers were roaring in the distance, coming this way, drawn by the smoke from the fires burning everywhere now. In moments the town would be overrun with rippers.

He didn’t have much time.

The front door was unlocked. He opened it and rushed down a wide foyer and then a hall that led off of that, the stairs to his right ascending up into darkness. Maybe someone was up there, but Max didn’t have time to check. The house was clear so far. He entered a living room, his gun clenched in his hand, then he crept toward a dining room off of the living room. He remembered the dining room, the table and chairs, the same thing he’d seen in the video on the cell phone that the drone had dropped off. He was definitely in the right place. Dawson had said that the Dragon had been holding Petra in the basement.

Max hurried through the kitchen and paused at the archway to the kitchen. The room was a mess but nobody was in it. An open door led out to the back porch and an open doorway led down to the basement. Max was about to bolt to the open door of the basement, but then he stopped. He heard noises from beyond the back porch.

It was Petra. She was yelling and fighting with someone.

He crept to the doorway to the back porch, slipping out onto the floorboards, watching the wall of screens, but all he could see from this position was the tall shrubs along the back porch. He stopped for just a second, staring at the two wooden chairs facing each other about ten feet apart, bloodstains under both chairs, but much larger bloodstains under the chair farther away.

The sight of the blood turned his stomach, but it also spurred him on. He knew he didn’t have much time now. He hurried to the screen door, slipping out and down to the steps. The shrubs were still pretty tall here, but not as tall as the others. He moved around the last of the bushes and aimed his gun at the two people at the other end of the backyard.

It was Jacob and Petra. He recognized the man from the video, he recognized his voice. He had his gun in one hand, a handgun with a barrel that seemed to be too long. He held Petra in his other hand, his fist clenched into her clothing, holding her tightly. She fought back, but he was moving subtly, just enough to be out of her way. He seemed to be amused by her fighting, like he was a bully holding a child back and stepping out of the way of futile swings.

A dead woman lay in the middle of the yard, clothed in a white dress, on her side, her face down on the ground, her hair splayed out.

This was it—this was Max’s chance. Jacob and Petra were preoccupied, still fighting with each other. They hadn’t seen him yet. Max raised his gun up, aiming, his finger on the trigger, squeezing.

The impact slammed into Max, knocking him backward. He knew he’d shot his gun; he’d felt the recoil of the weapon in his hand, he’d heard the sound of it. He hadn’t heard the sound of Jacob’s gun, but he’d felt the bullet strike him in the chest, like someone had just punched him and knocked the air out of his lungs. Only he wasn’t getting his breath back. He was trying to draw in another breath, but he couldn’t.

How did he get down on the ground so fast? Where was his gun?

He looked over at where Jacob had been. Was Jacob on the ground? Had he shot him? Had he gotten him? And where was Petra? Had she gotten away? Had he saved her somehow?

He couldn’t be sure. He stared up at the smoke-filled sky above him, the smoke drifting by like a mist. He felt blood in his throat, coating it. He knew it was rising up from his stomach, from other organs, the blood flooding them. He was dying.

Yet he wasn’t panicked. He wasn’t sure if he had shot Jacob, and he wasn’t sure if Petra had gotten away. Even if she hadn’t, Luke would save her; he was sure of that. Yeah, Luke was around somewhere. Luke would kill Jacob. He would get Petra and take her home.

Home. He thought of home. He thought of Glen. He’d had a good life with Glen. His life hadn’t always been great. His parents had disowned him. He had overcome so many obstacles. But he had clawed and scratched his way to success. And then he’d found Glen. Memories flashed by. Memories of him and Glen at the beach, at home watching a movie, joking around while doing the dishes, at the hospital when Glen’s mother was dying, the big fight they’d had about something so stupid he couldn’t even remember what it was now. So many memories.

Oh God, his life had been good with Glen. He’d been so lucky to have those moments.

“Glen, I’m coming to see you,” he whispered. Or at least he thought he’d whispered the words. He couldn’t really be sure. There was blood in his throat, a lot of it. He couldn’t swallow it down, and he couldn’t breathe. But he still didn’t panic.

A noise. Someone beside him, dragging something.

Max had just enough strength to turn his head and look at the person approaching him, dragging his leg a little. Max just stared at Jacob, too tired to fight now, to speak, to do anything. So tired and cold. He just wanted to shut his eyes and go to sleep, to think about Glen. But he kept his eyes open, staring up at Jacob as he stood over him, his gun in his hand down by his leg.

Jacob smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll get her. I always do.”

Max didn’t respond. He stared up at Jacob. He didn’t look away as Jacob aimed his gun down at his face. He wasn’t going to close his eyes. He wasn’t going to give Jacob that satisfaction.

There was a blast of light and then blackness. Max’s pain was gone.

CHAPTER 48

Petra

Petra ran. She had no choice. It had all happened in a split second. She’d been fighting wildly with Jacob, and then she’d seen the movement out of the corner of her eye, someone standing at the steps that led down to the ground from the back porch.

Max . . . he was there. Somehow, he was there.

Jacob had seen him too.

Max fired. Jacob fired. Max had hit Jacob. Somewhere in the leg, Petra thought, but she couldn’t be sure. How bad was the wound? She couldn’t be sure of that either. But she knew Jacob’s bullet had struck Max in the chest, knocking him to the ground.

Max was dead, or at least dying. There was nothing she could do for him. She ran while she had the chance, while Jacob was distracted for a second.

When Petra was a few houses away she stopped, breathing hard, holding onto the siding of the home, crouched down behind shrubs. She was crying. She couldn’t remember when she’d started crying. Her tears were for Max. She couldn’t help him. It was too late. She’d seen the wound on his chest, the blossom of blood on his shirt, the way he lay on the ground, paralyzed with shock and pain. But she still felt guilty for not helping him. Max had come to save her and now he was dead.

Rippers had invaded the town. She could hear them but she hadn’t seen any yet. She needed to get moving.

After a deep breath, she wiped her eyes and got up, creeping out from behind the shrubs. She needed to hurry—she was sure Jacob was searching for her. She ran along the shrubs then out into the backyard, crossing quickly to the next backyard. From her attempted escape with Audrey and Scott, she remembered that the far end of Hell Town wasn’t too far away, maybe another block or so. When she got to that wall she would find a way out.

Her breaths fogged up in front of her as she ran. She needed to find a weapon. A gun would be great, but anything would do. If Jacob caught her again, she needed something to fight back with. She didn’t stop at the back of the next home; she hurried around to the side yards between the two homes and then stopped abruptly.

The Dragon lay in the side yard near the house, his body stretched long, his thin arms and legs splayed out. He was dead.

She approached him cautiously. It had to be the Dragon. He was wearing the same dark pants and shirt she’d seen before, the same dark suit coat, the same boots and gloves, the same long black coat. No guns or other weapons around. She stood right beside the body, staring down at the ruined face. It looked like someone had mangled his face, maybe beating his face in with the butt of a rifle or a shotgun.

Rippers? No, it couldn’t be. They would have eaten him.

Someone killed the Dragon? One of his followers? One of his guards or a Dark Angel? Or maybe it was one of the servants that he liked to select for torture. The thought of a servant killing the Dragon pleased her. She saw vividly a young woman in white bashing the butt of a rifle onto the Dragon’s face over and over again. The Dragon would have pleaded for her to stop the first few times, gurgling through blood and shattered teeth, maybe his jaw not working right anymore. But the servant wouldn’t stop; she kept slamming the butt of the weapon down into his face over and over again, screaming in rage, her eyes wild, splatters of blood and specks of flesh painting her white dress.

The Dragon was dead. Petra could hardly believe it. She’d wanted to kill the Dragon herself, and she was disappointed just a little, but she was glad someone had done it.

She was about to move on—she needed to get going right now—but something held her there beside the body. Something wasn’t right about the Dragon. Same clothes, yes, but there was something different about his body, something she couldn’t define.

It wasn’t him. She didn’t know why she was so certain about that, but she was. This was an imposter, one of his soldiers, someone unfortunate enough to have the same body type, someone to stand in while the Dragon got away.

A different picture ran through her mind: the Dragon switching clothes with his soldier, perhaps aiming a gun at him while doing so. Forcing the man to walk and then bashing him in the back of the head with his rifle, the man collapsing to the ground. And then it was the Dragon who beat the man’s face to a pulp. But the Dragon’s eyes weren’t wild with rage like the servant woman’s; his eyes were cold and calculating, his face smooth, his expression bland; this was just a chore to be accomplished.

Spurred on by the thought of the Dragon escaping, Petra ran past the next house and got to the rear wall of the town. The smoke from the fires was getting heavier. The sounds of the rippers were closer, but she thought they were coming from the northern part of the town: maybe the rippers were running toward the open gates as some of the Dark Angels and townspeople escaped.

The wall was solid here, pieced together with sheets of corrugated steel, aluminum siding, plywood, all of it lashed to sturdy posts and metal poles. The wall hadn’t been breached, but the Dragon had gotten out through here, she was sure of it. There had to be something.

And then she saw it, a small opening between two of the wood panels. She pulled on the panel to the left—it was loose. She pushed it out of the way and crawled through the opening.

More houses, a continuation of the neighborhood that had been walled off from the town. She slipped in among the houses, running faster now. She was like a bloodhound picking up a scent. She didn’t follow footprints or any other kind of tracks, but she felt like she was following something, a beam of energy left behind by the Dragon.

Moments later she crossed a street where the neighborhood turned into businesses. The houses had been ransacked, most of the front doors wide open or torn off the hinges, windows busted out, junk pulled out of the homes onto front porches and into yards. Abandoned cars and trucks were parked in driveways, on streets, some crashed into trees and telephone poles. The Dragon and his Dark Angels had already plundered all of the homes and businesses around Hell Town, taking anything of use and stockpiling the items down in the basements of the homes inside the walls. What was out here that the Dragon wanted? He wouldn’t be running blindly, would he?

No, he would have a plan.

Petra stopped for a moment at the front corner of a home, catching her breath. She still needed to be careful. Rippers were everywhere right now; she would see some soon, she was sure of it.

Maybe she was losing her mind. Maybe that had really been the Dragon back there in that side yard; she just couldn’t accept that he’d been killed, murdered by one of his “traitors” as he called them. Maybe she was chasing a ghost right now, chasing a nightmare she couldn’t get out of her mind.

She needed to think about escape, about finding a vehicle to take, but finding one around here wasn’t going to be easy. She was sure batteries had been confiscated as well as other car parts, along with spare tires, gas siphoned from the tanks. Walking was going to be dangerous, but if she had to walk, then she had to.

Making up her mind to head east, she almost left her hiding spot, but then she froze. A banging sound came from across the street. There was a mechanic’s shop next to a few other businesses. There were no cars parked out in front of the shop, but next to the office was a row of rollup garage doors—four of them.

He’s in there. She didn’t know why she was so sure about it, but she was.

Petra darted across the street to the office. The glass door was unlocked. She opened the door, hoping there wasn’t a little brass bell attached to it. She slipped inside, the door closing slowly on a pneumatic hinge. Even though the door was glass and there were big windows, the place was murky inside. She gave her eyes a few seconds to adjust to the gloom, objects coming into view in the distance: a counter, chairs and tables for waiting customers, a TV high up on the wall, a soda machine, posters on the walls, a door behind the counter.

She hurried behind the counter and grabbed the doorhandle. The door must lead to the mechanics’ bays. She twisted the handle gently and slowly, pulling the door open.

The bays were even darker than the office, but she could make out a large pickup truck in the third bay, backed in so the driver could pull right out. The truck had big tires, all of them inflated. It was a newer truck. It looked a lot like the truck Jacob had driven to North Carolina to find her and take her here.

The truck wasn’t running. There were no sounds inside the bay. She entered. She would look for a tire iron or some kind of weapon, something to use—

Petra felt a pain explode in the back of her head. A second later she was on the oily concrete floor without remembering how she’d gotten there, how she had fallen down.

He hit me . . . he hit me with something.

She rolled over, wincing, the back of her head on fire.

A shadow loomed over her, a face staring down at her from under a hood. And for a second she was sure those eyes had just shined yellow.

CHAPTER 49

Emma

The whole time Emma had been down in the bunker, down in Avalon, she’d felt cut off from the world—not just physically cut off, which she was, but also psychically. It wouldn’t be easy for her to explain to anyone the feeling she had, but it felt like being this deep down in the earth had severed the psychic tendrils from reaching out.

But it was even more specific than that. She was sure if she concentrated hard enough, or let herself relax enough, she would be able to feel Josh in her mind. And even Ray and Mike. Maybe even Gerald. But there seemed to be something missing since she’d been down here, a constant buzzing in her mind or a sound in the background that wasn’t there anymore, and now that it had stopped it had become noticeable. She couldn’t feel the Dragon anymore.

Maybe the concrete walls and the depth of Avalon had cut off her connection with the Dragon, but she didn’t think that was it. She could still feel the Dragon from hundreds of miles away, from a thousand miles away, through hills and mountains. No, it wasn’t just the physical earth in the way, it was something else, something she almost dared not to believe. It was like the Dragon wasn’t there anymore.

Was he dead?

She couldn’t bring herself to get her hopes up, and she wasn’t going to mention it to anyone just yet, but the small flicker of hope began to burn inside of her.

Here she was in Avalon. Ray had believed in this place, believed all along that it had been real. Emma had believed too, she’d felt it like she’d felt the Dragon and so many other things. She’d felt drawn down here to this place right from the beginning. Yes, it was real. But no, it wasn’t what they had expected.

She’d felt her way along through their initial inspection of the place, Josh holding her hand much of the time. The place was big, the ceilings high, the rooms large—she’d been able to tell that from the acoustics when they spoke. The place was also empty, or almost empty as they would soon find out when Gerald ambushed them, aiming a gun at them. But everyone else was gone. Gerald said some of the scientists and workers here had left, had gone back to their families. She wasn’t sure she believed that at all, but she did believe that most (or all) of them had turned into rippers.

But how had Gerald gotten them out by himself? Had he killed them one by one? Had Gerald and the others before they turned put each dead ripper in the elevator and taken them up above until only Gerald was left? There was no denying that there had been others here, even if many of them had fled the place at the beginning of the Collapse. And there was no denying that violence had occurred down in these hallways and rooms; she could smell the subtle but lingering odor of blood and gore, maybe better than the others.

And now, when Ray had questioned Gerald’s story, wondering what Gerald’s game here was, she’d heard the quivering in his voice when he’d spoken about taking the dead out one at a time. She’d known right then that he’d been lying. Before she could say anything, before she could accuse Gerald of lying, the ping had sounded on his computer, an alert letting him know that someone was in front of one of the cameras above them.

It was too late now—the elevator was coming down.

Who was on the elevator?

She heard Ray grab Gerald, shaking him, yelling at him. “Who’s coming down here?”

“The Dark Angels,” Gerald answered. “The Dark Angels were here.”

“I knew it,” Josh grumbled.

“They . . . they were going to kill me,” Gerald said. “I . . . I didn’t have a choice. I had to do what they told me.”

“We need our weapons,” Ray said. “Now!”

Emma felt Josh’s hand on her arm, holding her tight, but not hurting her. And then they were hurrying out of the computer room and into the hallway, rushing down the hall, away from the elevator doors.

The elevator had just stopped. Emma heard the sound of the elevator car thumping down onto the floor, a soft thump, but she’d heard it. She also heard sounds behind the elevator doors: screeches, yells, bumping and jostling, clawing and screaming.

Rippers . . . there were rippers inside the elevator.

“Go!” Ray yelled.

The doors were beginning to open.

Josh hurried Emma along. She broke into a run beside Josh, trusting that he wasn’t going to let her run into a wall. She still had her walking cane that he had carved for her, but she didn’t bother using it right now. She was running, actually running. It had been so long since she’d run like this, running without fear of smashing into something.

But the exhilaration of running was short-lived. The rippers from the elevator were coming, pouring out of the car, screaming and yelling.

Josh stopped her suddenly.

“Get it open!” Ray yelled at Gerald.

Gerald rummaged in his pocket, pulling out his keycard. She heard the soft beep and then the unlocking of the door. He pulled the door open. She heard the rattling of weapons as Gerald handed them to Ray, Josh, and Mike.

The rippers were in the hallway, getting closer, a tidal wave of horror coming.

“We need to get out of here,” Ray said. “There’s got to be another exit. The elevator can’t be the only way out of here.”

“Stairs,” Gerald said, out-of-breath from his run down the hall and from fear. “There are stairs at the rear of the bunker.”

Just then a booming sound came from somewhere above them, muffled by the earth above the bunker. Emma felt the vibrations along the floor, the vibrations thrumming up through her bones.

“They’re blowing the exits,” Gerald said. “They’re trapping us down here.”

Josh had taken his hand off of Emma’s arm—she was suddenly adrift, not tethered to anyone or anything anymore, lost in a sea of darkness. She knew Josh was raising his weapon, ready to shoot. So were Ray and Mike.

“Shit,” Ray hissed.

“No,” Mike moaned.

“What?” Emma asked.

“The lights,” Josh said. “The lights just went out.”

CHAPTER 50

Luke

Luke found Max’s body by the back porch of the Dragon’s house, about twenty yards away from another dead person in the middle of the backyard, a woman. The dead woman wasn’t Petra, so maybe Petra was still alive.

There was a bullet hole in Max’s chest, and another in his forehead. Max stared up sightlessly through half-closed eyes at the smoky sky above them.

Jacob had done this, Luke was sure of it.

He glanced around quickly. Nobody else around, but plenty of activity toward the front of the town: vehicles driving, people screaming, guns shooting, rippers screeching and roaring. But nothing right around this house.

Max had come for Petra. Dawson had said she’d been in the Dragon’s house, locked down in the basement. But Max hadn’t been able to get to the basement.

Luke bolted up onto the back porch, stopping for just a moment, staring down at the bloodstains all over the floorboards under the two chairs. People had been tortured here. Maybe killed.

He was inside the kitchen a moment later, silent, moving swiftly. He darted to the edge of the archway into the dining room, aiming his gun into the room.

Nobody there.

He didn’t hear any sounds from beyond the dining room, nothing from the front of the house, nothing from upstairs. Everything was quiet inside the house, a contrast to the war going on just outside the home. Even inside, Luke could smell the smoke from the burning houses and buildings, a choking and gagging smell.

He hurried across the kitchen to the basement door. It was closed, but not locked. He opened the door, staring down the dark stairwell. He would need his flashlight. He pulled it out and turned it on.

A noise from behind him.

Before Luke could turn all the way around, he felt a shove in his back. He was tumbling down the stairs, down into the darkness, his flashlight knocked loose from one hand, his gun knocked loose from the other. Pain exploded in his body as he rolled down the steps. Someone was running down the steps behind him, kicking at him as he landed at the bottom.

Luke crawled down the last few steps, rolling over on the floor, getting up to his feet. His flashlight was on the landing, shining a bright circle right against the wall, but it still provided just enough light for Luke to see Jacob rushing him, kicking again.

A blast of pain exploded in Luke’s head. He saw a billion bright stars in front of his eyes, drowning out the meager light from his flashlight on the steps. He was close to passing out. He’d felt like this many times while fighting in the MMA ring, wobbly and weak, his head light, hard to concentrate. He needed to fight through it, get his wits about him again.

“Lukey boy,” Jacob said.

Another punch before Luke could get far enough away from Jacob. The punch landed in almost the same spot on his jaw where the kick had just landed. Luke stumbled back as the bright stars in front of his eyes faded away. Everything faded away to darkness. He was afraid he was blind, that he had already passed out.

He backed into a table, the legs of the table sliding across the floor, shoved into some kind of folding chair.

“You’ve always wanted to see who the best was,” Jacob said. He sounded like he was off to Luke’s left now, not right in front of him anymore. “You were the big-time MMA fighter, the one who was going to turn pro. But this isn’t a fight in the ring, boy. There are no rules now.”

Jacob’s voice seemed to be coming from far away, but Luke knew that Jacob was closer than he sounded. Luke tried to stay on the move, moving to his left, his arms out, both to feel his way along and to defend himself. The world was coming back into focus just a little; he was able to make out blurry dark objects in the basement with the help of his flashlight on the stairs that seemed so far away now. His gun was somewhere on those steps, too. Unless Jacob had grabbed it.

And Jacob still had his own gun—Luke was sure of that.

“I taught you,” Jacob said.

Crack. Luke felt another blow to his head, this one from the other direction. Then a kick to his leg that felt like it had shattered his knee. Luke fell down onto his good knee for just a moment, his hands still up to ward off the next punch or kick.

“I taught you how to really fight, how to really shoot, how to really kill. I know all the tricks. All the secrets.”

Luke didn’t have enough time to get his foggy brain going again. If this would have been a fight in the octagon, he would have backpedaled, he would try to get away for a few seconds until his mind cleared. But this wasn’t the octagon, as Jacob had pointed out, and he was going to have to recover quickly or he was going to die.

“Petra,” Luke said.

That seemed to stop Jacob for a moment.

“Petra?” Jacob said. “You’re worried about Petra? She’s dead. Been dead. I had a lot of fun with her. You can believe that.”

Another kick to Luke’s leg. But Luke was able to partially block it. Jacob had groaned after the kick. Something was wrong with Jacob. Was he hurt? Luke thought he could smell blood, but it was probably his own blood pouring down from his mouth and a cut over his right eye, which wasn’t helping with his vision any.

“You’re crazy,” Luke said, backing up into some kind of wooden chest in front of the bed, bumping into it, throwing himself a little off-balance for a moment. “You’ve always been crazy.”

Jacob didn’t attack, but he was standing close enough. Luke wondered if Jacob had had enough of this. He was obviously hurt. Either Luke had hurt him with a punch, or maybe Jacob was hurt from before. Maybe he was done playing around and he had his pistol out, aimed at him.

“We could work together,” Jacob said. “Just like we used to.”

Luke pushed himself away from the chest and the bed, circling back to his right, but he was limping badly now from the kicks to his knee that he hadn’t seen coming. Jacob sounded like he was limping too as he tried to keep up with him.

“We could run this place together. We could run this world.”

“What about the Dragon?” Luke asked.

“Forget about him. We take him out. I’ve been waiting for the right time. We have an army now. We could run everything. We could be kings. Gods.”

Luke bumped back into the table and the chair. He gripped the back of the chair. It was a metal folding chair. He gripped it so hard he was beginning to pick it up off the floor just a little.

“Fuck you,” Luke said.

“I’m serious,” Jacob said, taking a shuffling step closer. He was just a dark blob in Luke’s vision now.

Luke spat out blood and phlegm. He only had one chance here. Jacob was close to firing his gun, there was no doubt about that.

“We could do it, run things here. No Dragon. No Vince. Just us calling the shots for once.”

In an explosive movement, Luke picked up the chair and threw it at Jacob. It wouldn’t be enough to knock Jacob down, or probably enough to even really hurt him, but it was all Luke could do to gain some kind of advantage.

Luke didn’t wait; he launched himself at Jacob right after the chair. He expected to hear the spitting sound of Jacob’s gun, to feel a bullet tunnel into his body.

No shots were fired.

Luke was on top of Jacob and the chair, twisting around and on Jacob’s back as he tried to turn over. Luke had his arms around Jacob’s neck, pulling back, bending Jacob up and then around. Luke was underneath Jacob a second later, still behind him, holding on as tightly as he could, choking him. Jacob’s arms flailed, punching and elbowing at Luke. He thrashed his legs, trying to find purchase on the concrete floor, trying to twist his body around so that he could slip out of Luke’s grasp.

But Luke wasn’t going to let go.

It seemed to take forever, but Jacob finally quit struggling. He had passed out.

Luke didn’t let go. He kept the chokehold, squeezing tighter and tighter. He held onto Jacob until his arms ached, until they felt like they were going to lock up. He held on until he was sure Jacob was dead.

The roar of the rippers was louder above the basement ceiling, but it didn’t sound like there were any in the house yet.

But it wouldn’t be long.

Luke wriggled out from under Jacob’s body and got to his feet. His left leg was sore from the kicks he’d taken, but he could fully put his weight on it. He shuffled toward the stairs, toward his flashlight aimed at the wall, a big spot of bright white light on the paneling. He climbed the few steps to the landing, the gray daylight pouring down the half-open basement door. His gun lay on the third step up from the landing. He reached for it.

A sound from the basement. Jacob was moving in the darkness beyond the steps.

Luke’s body seemed to move on its own. He had the flashlight in his left hand, his gun in his right hand, aiming both at Jacob in the middle of the basement floor. Jacob had his gun in his hand, trying to sit up, trying to aim it. Luke pulled the trigger twice, the gun spitting, the bullets slamming into Jacob’s forehead, knocking him back down to the floor with a loud thump.

Jacob was dead . . . really dead.

Luke hurried up the stairs. He could hear at least one ripper in the house now. Hopefully at the front of the house. Luke was out through the basement door and out onto the back porch. He ran past the two wooden chairs, the bloodstains underneath them, past the sagging screen walls and the peeling white paint, past Max’s body sprawled out on the grass near the walkway. He wanted to do something about Max, move his body somewhere, but there was nowhere Luke could hide Max that the rippers wouldn’t find him.

A moment later Luke was running across the backyard as best he could, running east, toward the wall on that side of the town. When he was three backyards away from the Dragon’s house, he found himself running with some panicked rippers. The fires were closer now, the smoke heavy in the air, so heavy they could barely see each other.

Rippers had gotten to the fence before Luke and pulled some of the panels away, opening up several gaps in the fencing. They were scrambling through the holes, getting away from the fire like panicked forest animals. And Luke was just one more of those animals, his face bloodied, his body bruised. He was outside the fence in a flash, moving toward a copse of trees. Only four rippers followed him, chasing him, the others heading north and east. Luke headed south. When he was among the trees and the shrubs, he turned and shot the rippers, all four of them, the gun nearly silent in all the noise. He crouched down behind some brush and reloaded the magazine.

Moments later he stood up and stared at the walls of Hell Town in the distance, smoke billowing up above the fencing, even some of the flames licking at the trees near the edge of the town. He watched it for a moment and then he hurried to the nearest building, finding a place to hide, finding a place to watch for rippers, waiting for the right time to leave.

CHAPTER 51

Petra

The Dragon was going to kill her, Petra was sure of that. He had known she was following him, had waited for her behind the door, waiting to attack, to hit her with something, to kill her.

The Dragon stood above her, looming in the darkness of the large mechanics’ garage. He looked like a solid shadow in the gloom. He held an assault rifle in his hand, down by his side now, the weapon he’d struck her with.

Petra lay on the floor, still dazed for a moment. The back of her head blazed with fiery pain, and there was wetness in her hair, blood leaking from the wound. But she hadn’t lost consciousness. It had been close for a second; she’d sensed the world around her closing in, an oncoming blackness that was about to swallow her up, but she fought back against it and the darkness drew back.

“It wasn’t supposed to be this way,” the Dragon muttered. He backed up a few steps away from her.

She wasn’t sure if he was talking to her or to himself. She waited on the stained concrete floor for the Dragon to swing the rifle down at her, to hit her again and again with the butt of the weapon until she was dead. She was ready to fight back, to kick at his legs, but she needed to wait until just the right moment.

And then the right moment came.

A window inside the mechanic’s office shattered. The Dragon darted to the open door to the office, easing it shut and locking it, leaning his rifle against the wall next to the door as he fumbled with the lock on the doorknob with his gloved hands. The rippers screamed and yelled from inside the office, just beyond the closed door.

Petra scooted forward along the dirty floor while the Dragon’s attention was on the door. The floor was littered with trash and tools—she found a tire iron; she grabbed it. She kicked out as hard as she could at his knee, pouring every bit of strength she had into the strike.

The Dragon cried out, dropping down to one knee, trying to muffle his own scream at the last second.

Petra was up and on her knees in a flash, the tire iron in her hand. As the Dragon reached for the AK-47, she swung the tire iron down at his outstretched hand, smacking it. She heard the cracking of his bones as the metal struck his wrist. He collapsed onto the ground, holding his wrist, his mouth open in a silent sob, still trying not to make any noise.

Petra didn’t care if the rippers heard them. She only cared about killing the Dragon. If the rippers broke in and killed her, then so be it; at least the Dragon would be dead.

She kicked the AK-47 out of the way and then swung the tire iron down and hit the Dragon’s forehead before he could bring his cradled hands up to defend himself. He went rigid for just a second, like he’d been electrocuted, then he was limp, falling backwards onto the floor, his legs bent underneath him, tissue and cartilage tearing from his awkward fall back. He was out, but just for a second. A gash had opened up on his pale forehead—his own DA brand to wear—the blood pouring down the side of his face. His eyes rolled back for a moment, then focused again somewhere up at the ceiling.

He moaned, clawing at the inside of his coat, trying to get his broken hands to grab the gun holstered there.

Petra hit him again in his hands, bones crunching. “That’s for Sharon,” she told him in a harsh whisper.

The Dragon cried, cradling his injured hands and wrists together, straightening out his long legs and then drawing them up to protect his groin and torso.

Petra struck him again and again. Once in the knee, another one in his arm, one in his shin. She hit him as hard as she could, over and over again.

She stopped swinging the tire iron, breathing hard, staring down at him. He was moaning louder now, sobbing, not worried anymore about the rippers hearing them.

Petra hadn’t been concentrating on the rippers. She hadn’t heard any more shattering glass, and it didn’t sound like any of the rippers were in the office now. None were at the door to the office or at the rollup doors. Maybe the small mob of rippers had moved on.

“This wasn’t the way it was supposed to happen,” the Dragon whispered, staring up at her with wide eyes, his mouth drawn down into a frown. “This wasn’t God’s plan. This wasn’t the vision He showed me.”

“You’re delusional,” Petra said. “You’re nothing but a monster. An insane monster. Just like all the other monsters I’ve seen.”

The Dragon’s eyes widened as she brought the tire iron up again and swung it down at his face. He raised his ruined hands up to protect himself, but the tire iron got through, slamming down onto his nose, smashing it down flat with a big crack. He howled in pain.

She brought the tire iron down again and again until he was silent, until he was limp and unconscious. She hit him again and again, his hands plopping down to his sides, his body still. She hit him until his face turned to mush, until it was caved in like the man she’d found earlier.

Finally she stopped, breathing hard, sweating a little even though it was cold inside the mechanics’ bay. The tire iron was slipping out of her hand from her sweat and the blood splattering it. She let it drop down onto the Dragon’s chest. She didn’t bother checking his pulse. He was dead, and if not, he would die soon.

A wave of dizziness came over her, and for just a moment she was sure she was going to pass out, collapse to the floor beside the Dragon, laying there, just another piece of meat for the rippers to find. She walked on weak legs and bent down, picking up the AK-47—it felt so heavy. She stumbled over to a large toolbox on wheels, leaning on it, letting it support her for just a moment.

“Come on,” she whispered to herself. “Come on, hold on.”

Her body felt weak. Her nerves tingled, her hands almost numb from striking the Dragon over and over again. Her stomach turned, then convulsed. She waited to vomit, but there was nothing in her stomach except water—the only thing she’d been given in the last few days.

“Come on, hold on.”

She closed her eyes, afraid the darkness might bring the blackout on even faster, but she wanted to close them for just a second. She listened, concentrating on any sounds coming from the office where one of the windows had been shattered, concentrating on any sounds coming from outside. She heard rippers out there, but they all seemed far away now, at least a block or two away. Maybe they were rushing toward the town, the walls, the smoke and the fires. Or maybe others were running away, afraid of the fires.

“You’ll be okay . . . you’ll be okay.”

She was crying. She used one hand to wipe at her face, her other hand holding the weapon. She knew she should fish the pistol the Dragon had been reaching for out of his coat, but she didn’t have the energy. She wasn’t crying for the Dragon, not at all. She didn’t feel one bit of empathy for him. Maybe he believed he was committing his atrocities for the right reasons. Maybe he’d gone insane after the Collapse, maybe all of them had to one degree or another, but she wouldn’t let it be an excuse for him. He had hurt, he had stolen, he had killed. And now he was gone.

Jacob was still out there. Jacob wasn’t dead. He would come after her, as relentless as The Terminator, like a robot killer that wouldn’t quit looking for her, a monster that couldn’t be stopped. She imagined him stalking her, following her tracks, or perhaps even following her energy, honing onto it like the Dragon would have.

The thought of Jacob getting close spurred her into action. She was still scared of Jacob finding her, but at least she had a weapon now. Could she outshoot him? Probably not, but she’d sure as hell try.

She looked over at the big black truck parked in the third bay, the nose of the truck only two feet away from the rollup door, ready to pull out of the garage and escape. She pulled her hand away and stood next to the tool box for a moment, making sure she was strong enough to stand on her feet, strong enough to walk.

A moment later she was shuffling across the floor, avoiding other toolboxes, pieces of equipment and hoses strewn across the floor. She made her way slowly even though the rippers were getting louder outside, maybe getting closer. She grabbed a stack of rags from a bench and wiped at her face. She put the rag against the back of her head, the rag soaking up the blood a little.

Maybe she had a concussion. She was almost sure of it. The light-headedness was coming back, the waves of dizziness. She felt like she was higher off the floor than she should be, like her feet were floating a few inches above the concrete, like she was drifting along through the air, not really walking.

She got to the truck, holding onto the side of the bed. Her legs felt weak and more tingles buzzed along her skin, a wave of darkness passing in front of her eyes.

“Hold on,” she whispered, closing her eyes as the world spun. “Hold on.”

After a few slow, deep breaths, exhales of breath misting up in front of her, she moved down the side of the truck to the front. She was going to need to get the garage door open to get out. Once the door was open, any rippers around would spot her in front of the truck. She would only have seconds to get into the truck.

Maybe she should wait.

Another window in the office shattered. There were only going to be more and more rippers coming around. It was now or never.

She slid the lock on the side of the garage door open. The sound was so loud, but not nearly as loud as the rumbling of the door when she lifted it up, pulling as hard as she could, pushing it up until the momentum took over and the door rolled all the way up.

Petra didn’t look outside or even aim her weapon—she didn’t wait around to see if any rippers were running toward her; she just assumed they were. A sudden energy overtook her, an urge to survive, to not be cut apart and eaten alive. She had the AK-47, but she didn’t know how many bullets were left—not enough bullets for all of the rippers out there; she was sure of that.

She grabbed the doorhandle of the truck, wondering if it was locked, wondering if the Dragon had the keys on him, wondering if she had just made a terrible mistake.

The door opened. She swung it open and tossed her assault rifle inside and got in the truck, slamming the door shut, locking it.

The rippers were coming. She could hear their roars. They’d heard the garage door open, maybe even seen it. Now they were coming.

“Where are the keys?”

Petra checked the ignition, then the seat, the visor. She found a key fob with one large key attached to it in the center console. She grabbed it, stuck the key into the ignition and twisted. The truck started right up, rumbling with power.

She looked out the windshield as she shifted into drive, her foot on the brake pedal.

At least twenty rippers were rushing across the street toward the mechanic shop’s parking lot, waving sticks, pipes, knives, machetes, chunks of rocks. They were men, women, and children. Different ages, different people at one time, but they all looked like monsters to her now, all of them grubby with caked dirt and blood, all of their eyes wild with hunger and a thirst for blood.

She stomped down on the gas pedal, the back tires spinning on the concrete, screeching, smoke filling up the back of the bay. Then the tires grabbed and the pickup shot out through the open door, striking the first of the rippers, mowing them down before the others could get out of the way. Rocks and sticks thumped against the sides of the truck, but none of the windows broke. Petra held onto the steering wheel with both hands, screaming as she drove onto the street, as she turned right, then stomped on the gas pedal harder, picking up speed. Leaving this place. Going back to the store.

CHAPTER 52

Ray

Ray held the pistol in his hands, but it was too dark now to see where to shoot. He had given Mike his gun, the Sig Sauer that Luke had given him. He’d made sure the safety was off, and Mike had chambered a round. Josh had the M-16, but he’d been beside Emma, still holding onto her, making sure she knew he was right there. Ray didn’t know if Gerald had grabbed the rifle that he’d aimed at them when they had first seen them in the hallway, right in this same spot. Ray hadn’t had the time to worry about Gerald, he’d been concentrating on the rippers exploding out of the elevator at the end of the lobby, and then rushing down the hall toward them.

And then the world had gone dark.

Mike had groaned, fighting back a scream.

Emma wanted to know what had just happened—Josh told her the lights had just gone out.

“Stay where you are,” Ray told them. “Don’t fire yet. I’m getting my flashlight out.”

They didn’t have time. Any second now the rippers would be on top of them, tackling them in the dark, knocking them down, stabbing and beating at them, tearing at them. Ray’s fingers trembled as he pulled the flashlight out of his pocket, still trying to keep his gun in his hand, trying not to drop either his gun or the flashlight on the floor. He didn’t want Josh and Mike shooting right now, not knowing where everyone was. Josh could shoot Mike, or Mike could shoot them. It was pitch-black inside Avalon now, an impenetrable darkness, they couldn’t trust their shooting.

Josh and Mike held off shooting, fighting back the panic. It seemed like it took Ray hours to get his flashlight out and turned on, but finally a light beam lit up the hallway, illuminating a horror show coming straight at them: wide eyes, flashes of metal weapons, dirty and bloodstained skin, torn and tattered clothing, the smell of gore and shit, the roar and screeches of animals.

“Now, Josh!” Ray yelled.

Josh shot the M-16, a burst of gunfire that threatened to pop Ray’s eardrums. He didn’t have a second to wait. He pushed at Gerald, still trying to keep the light pointed at the rippers, some of whom had fallen from the gunshots. Others were backing up, some ducking into the other hall that led to the dining area and the kitchen.

“Where do we go?” Ray yelled at Gerald.

Gerald pulled away from Ray, rushing across the hall to the next door, opening it. Ray had no choice but to pull the flashlight away. Josh had stopped firing. Some of the rippers were down, some dead and some dying, but not all of them.

“Mike,” Ray said. “Where are you?”

“Here,” Mike answered in the darkness.

“Grab on to me, Mike. Get Emma. We need to follow Gerald into the room.” Ray was right on Gerald’s heels, afraid the man was going to lock the door, lock them out in the hallway.

Ray got Mike and Emma inside the next hallway Gerald had escaped to, then he waited in the doorway, turning the flashlight back toward Josh who was only a few feet away, staring down the dark main hall with his M-16 aimed.

Roars and screeches came from the darkness, sounds of pain as they died from gunshot wounds; others were sounds of rage and hunger.

“Now!” Ray yelled again at Josh.

Josh opened fire, holding the weapon tight as it bucked in his hands, the muzzle fanning back and forth, bullets pelting the dead rippers on the floor, bullets dotting the metal walls. Then Josh was out of ammo.

Ray kept the flashlight beam shining down the hallway, but it wasn’t powerful enough for them to see everything, just lighting up the small area of the hallway in front of them. He swore he saw movement somewhere in the darkness beyond the fallen bodies on the floor, but he couldn’t be sure.

“Let’s get inside the room,” Ray told Josh. Ray was already in the doorway, holding the metal door open for Josh to get inside. Josh backed up, still aiming his weapon even though he didn’t have any bullets left in it. Then he followed Ray inside the room.

Ray closed the door, shining his light down at the doorhandle. “Is there a lock on this door, Gerald?”

“No,” Gerald answered back from the dark.

“Where are we?” Ray asked, turning and shining his light around. They were in another hallway.

“This hall leads to the sleeping quarters,” Gerald said.

Ray remembered walking down this hall earlier before Gerald had aimed his rifle at them, before they had talked to Gerald about the Ripper Plague.

Movement beyond the door, harsh whispering sounds and grunts. Some of the rippers were still alive and coming this way, more cautious now after being shot at. Ray shined his light at Mike and Emma, making gestures to get down the hall.

There was no way out of this hall—Ray remembered that now. The hallway had doors on each side that led to the sleeping quarters like Gerald had just said, the hallway coming to a dead end about a hundred yards at the other end. It looked almost like a miniature version of the main hall outside the door.

Gerald helped Mike and Emma into the first room on their left as Ray and Josh backed up slowly from the closed door, both watching the door. Josh pulled out a magazine from his backpack and loaded it into the M-16. Ray kept his flashlight aimed down at the floor, not pointing it at the door because he didn’t want the rippers to see the light shining underneath the door, but maybe in this complete darkness they would be able to see the faintest of lights. He wanted to turn the flashlight off, but not yet, not until they got into the sleeping quarters Gerald had just gone into with Mike and Emma.

A horrifying thought came to Ray. If Gerald was working with the Dark Angels all along, what would stop him from taking Mike or Emma hostage to save himself? A panic rose up inside of Ray: equal pressures from the rippers in the main hall and the possibility of Gerald hurting his son. He rushed into the room, again wondering if Gerald would close and lock the door.

Ray shined his flashlight around the room. Emma was at the far end, against the wall between the two bunk beds on each long side of the room. Mike was right in front of her with his gun in his hand like he was guarding her. Gerald stood in the middle of the room with his weapon down by his side. He looked defeated, like he was giving up already.

After Josh was inside, Ray closed the door.

“No locks on this door, either,” Ray hissed at Gerald as he shined the light at his face.

Gerald squinted, his eyes nearly shut.

“Why did you bring us into these rooms?”

“They were the closest to the storage closet,” Gerald said. “Right across the hall. We had to go somewhere. We had to run.”

Ray exhaled a long breath, trying to calm down. “There are other rooms where the doors lock?”

“Yeah, but none of the locks are going to open with the electric out. All the rooms that need a keycard are going to stay closed.”

That closed off a lot of choices, Ray thought. “So we can’t get into any of the locked rooms, and we can’t lock any of the doors in the other rooms? That about sum it up?”

Gerald nodded.

They were all quiet for a moment. Ray listened, standing closest to the door. It didn’t sound like any of the surviving rippers were in the hallway outside the bedrooms yet. But it would only be a matter of time before one of them stumbled into the door and got it open. There were some rippers still alive in the main hall—he could hear them beating on the walls or doors, some of them screaming and yelling.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Ray said. “We need to think of something else, somewhere else we can go to be safe, or somewhere we can pick off the rippers as they come to us.”

“What about the air ducts?” Josh said, shining his flashlight up at the big vent on the wall above Emma and Mike.

“Maybe,” Gerald said.

“How big are the ducts?” Josh asked Gerald.

“I don’t know,” he answered.

“I bet they’re commercial ductwork, maybe big enough to crawl through,” Josh said. “We could get to one of the locked rooms. Get down inside. The rippers wouldn’t be able to follow us inside.” He laid his rifle on a lower bunk and climbed up to the top bunk, holding onto the wall to peer into the vent with his flashlight.

Ray watched Josh, waiting for his assessment.

Josh sighed. “Well, we’ve got some good news and some bad news.”

“What is it?”

“Good news is that they’re big enough to crawl through, but not for all of us. Definitely not you, Ray. Probably not me or Gerald, either.” Josh got down from the bed. “Maybe Emma could do it . . .” He let his words trail off.

“I’ll do it,” Emma said. “I can get to the nearest locked room.”

“You won’t be able to get down from the duct,” Josh said, shaking his head, dismissing the idea already. “You could fall and break your neck.”

“I’ll do it,” Mike said.

“No,” Ray said immediately before he’d even thought about it.

“I can do it, Dad.”

Ray sighed again. He looked at Gerald. “You’re sure they blew the stairway exit?”

Gerald shrugged. “Seems only logical to me. It’s our only way out besides the elevator. Now that the power is out, we can’t use the elevator either.”

“There isn’t some kind of backup generator here?” Josh asked.

“Ran out of diesel fuel a week ago,” Gerald said. “And it was too loud anyway. It was probably how the Dark Angels found us in the first place.”

“So . . . what? Some kind of solar power?” Josh asked.

Gerald nodded. “One of the technicians, Bradley, he showed me how it worked. Showed me the schematics on the computer. My guess is that the Dark Angels up there cut the cords or disconnected them to the solar panels on the roof of the building and the other ones near the satellite dish.”

“But they might be able to be repaired,” Josh said.

Gerald shrugged.

“I’m sure of it,” Ray said. “The Dragon, he wants this place. Who would turn down a bunker, and all the supplies, food, and equipment here?” He looked at Josh. “You got some kind of idea about getting the solar power working again?”

“Maybe,” Josh said. “But we need to get out of these bedrooms, get somewhere safe first.”

As if to punctuate Josh’s point, the banging noises from the rippers were louder now—they were getting closer.

“Dad,” Mike said. “Let me do it. Let me help.”

Ray didn’t want to send Mike up there, but he found himself nodding before he realized what he was doing. “Okay.”

CHAPTER 53

Mike

As soon as Mike crawled up into the vent, he had regretted volunteering himself. But he couldn’t back out now, and once he was inside the ductwork, it would probably be very difficult to literally back out at all.

Before Mike climbed up into the vent, his dad formed a plan with Gerald. Gerald said the nearest locked room would be the lab—it was almost right on the other side of the sleeping quarters wall, so at least it wouldn’t be too far of a crawl through the ductwork.

“He’ll be making some noise when he’s in the ducts,” Josh said.

“Yeah, but we’ll be the ones in danger,” his dad said. “Mike will probably be into the other room by then.”

Mike didn’t like thinking about leaving his dad and the others behind as he crawled through the metal ductwork; it made him think about the dreams he’d been having lately, where he was the only survivor in the future, where no one else he knew was still alive. He wondered if those dreams had been some kind of vision of the future. He wondered if this was how he was going to be left alone, if this was how his dad and the others were going to die with him stuck in an air duct, alone in the dark.

The thought of it summoned a panic attack that nearly overwhelmed him. It didn’t help that he was already inside the duct, the metal walls so close around him. All he could do was crawl along, pushing his flashlight ahead of him a little every time he crawled, the light barely lighting his way. He had shoved his gun down into the back of his pants and left his backpack with his dad who promised to bring it along with him when they came to the door.

Mike didn’t like that part of the plan, that he would open the door for his dad and the others after they ran down the hall—but it was the only way they could get there, and he would be the only one who could open the door for them. They were going to wait ten minutes and then leave, hoping that would be enough time for him to get to the door and be waiting by it, waiting to hear his dad’s special knock.

But what if he didn’t make it? What if he got lost up here in this maze of ductwork? What if he fell through into the wrong room, down into the wide hallway?

He couldn’t think of that. He just needed to keep pressing forward. Gerald and Josh had come up with a route they were sure would get him to the lab. He would have to make a right-hand turn (probably the only way he would be able to go, Josh guessed), and then possibly a left-hand turn to get him into the lab. When he got to the next vent, which would be either in the wall of the ductwork or in the floor of the ductwork looking down into the lab (again, Josh thought it was more likely the air duct would be in the floor), then he could remove the duct with the tools Josh had given him, the ones he had stuffed down into the pockets of his pants.

The panic tried to rise up into him again as he crawled along, the flashlight barely knifing ahead into the seemingly impenetrable darkness. The metal he crawled along seemed thin, popping and crinkling as he moved along. It didn’t feel all that sturdy and he braced himself for a sudden fall, a sudden crash down through a ceiling. He tried to be quiet, but couldn’t help grunting with effort as he dragged himself along.

To quell the sudden panic, he thought of himself in his dreams—the older person he would become one day, the taller and stronger person, the warrior who knew no fear, the seasoned fighter of rippers and gangs, the man who was going after someone he knew in that ruined city in his latest dream, saving someone. And he was helping to save his dad, Josh, and Emma right now.

He had to do this. There was no choice.

He came to the right hand turn that Josh had predicted. Turning in the duct was much more difficult that he had expected. Crawling along the straight passages was hard enough, but trying to turn his body was almost impossible. He got his arms and head around, trying to twist onto his side so he could fold his body together to make the turn.

And then he got stuck.

For a moment he couldn’t move. He couldn’t go forward and he couldn’t go backwards. He had seen a preview before for a movie where a man had gotten stuck in some kind of cave system, stuck between two massive rocks, unable to move. He swore to himself that he would never watch that movie, and here he was suddenly living it.

Mike wanted to scream, to lash out, to fight and kick. His breathing was out of control, his heartbeat racing and thudding in his chest.

The flashlight was in front of him, pointing at the wall. He could hear noises in the duct, the noises of the rippers. They were banging on walls and doors, screeching and yelling, maybe even fighting with each other. It sounded like they were right beneath him, like they could hear him in the ceiling and they were following along, waiting for him to fall, or figuring out where he was stuck so they could tear the false ceiling panels away to get to the duct he was trapped in.

Suddenly he could move. He wasn’t sure how he had done it, but a moment later he was around the corner, his arms pumping along, forearms on the floor of the ductwork, elbows pulling him along, dragging his legs behind him.

He picked up speed down the straightaway, hoping like hell he was going in the right direction.

God, don’t let me get stuck up here. Don’t let me die up here.

He came to the next turn, and this time he took the left hand turn, following Josh’s guesses, hoping and praying that Josh was right. This time making the turn took less time; he seemed to have learned how to fold his body around the tight corner a little better. And this one was a T, so there was a little more room.

Once he was fully in the straight section of the ductwork again, he moved along faster, pushing his flashlight ahead of him, being careful with it, afraid it might hit the wall too hard and break the lens. Being stuck in this ductwork in the dark scared him more than just about anything, and he didn’t want to think about it.

It felt like he was climbing up an incline, the effort of pulling himself along harder than before. Maybe the ceiling in the lab was higher than the other rooms. He was beginning to sweat with the effort of crawling along, the panic squeezing him tighter and tighter.

Where was the vent? He should have come to one by now. Everything else Josh had said had been right, so where was the vent? Had he made a wrong turn? There would be no way to go back, to turn around.

He pushed his flashlight ahead and it made a strange sound, almost a musical sound as it slid over the metal vent screen. He reached out and felt the vent. He’d found it. It took him a moment to turn the screws with the pliers that Josh had given him, but at least the screws came out easily enough.

When the vent was all the way loose it swung down and open, swinging back and forth on the hinges silently. He had to push some kind of thick filter out of the way. It fell down to the floor without much of a sound. He shined his light down at the floor. There were lab desks, counters, sinks, equipment, computers. Almost right below him was a desk. It wasn’t too far down, not that far of a drop.

Mike tried his best to crawl past the vent and lower his legs down. His legs dangled out of the vent opening. He was about to lower himself a little more, trying to grab a hold of the sides, but then he was out of the vent before he even knew what was happening, crashing down to the top of the desk.

The noise of his fall had been so loud. He was on the floor without remembering rolling off the desk. He popped up quickly, making sure he was okay, making sure he hadn’t broken any bones. It was so dark in the room, everything swallowed up in darkness except for the one beam of light shining out from his flashlight on the floor. In his fall, the flashlight had slipped from his hand and rolled away on the floor, but at least it still worked.

Thank God.

He hurried to his flashlight and picked it up, shining the light beam up at the ceiling. Part of the ceiling panels had torn away in his fall, the opening of the vent much larger now, pieces of what looked to him like some kind of Styrofoam all over the floor.

“I’m okay,” he whispered. “I’m okay.” He couldn’t help smiling. He wanted to shout with joy at his victory, at surviving, but he didn’t.

Instead, he hurried across the vast room to the metal door, waiting by it, waiting to hear his dad’s special knock. He hoped he hadn’t taken too long crawling through the vents. He had no idea how long he’d been up there.

“They’ll make it,” he whispered after shutting off his flashlight and plunging himself into instant and total darkness. He didn’t want to be alone in the dark—he was scared of it—but he also didn’t want the rippers to see the light under the metal lab door.

“They’ll be here soon,” he repeated. “I know it.”

CHAPTER 54

Ray

It was time to go. They had waited long enough, giving Mike more than enough time to get through the ducts and down into the lab.

If he made it.

Of course he made it, Ray scolded himself. He couldn’t allow himself to think like that.

Ray had his gun ready. Josh had his M-16 ready, another magazine stuffed in his jacket pocket. Gerald had the same rifle he had aimed at them earlier when they’d first met him.

“You know how to use that gun?” Ray asked Gerald as they got ready to leave.

“Yeah,” he answered.

Ray wasn’t sure Gerald was telling the truth. “You didn’t know this was coming? You didn’t know the Dark Angels were going to send rippers down here?”

“No. I swear I didn’t.”

Ray still wasn’t sure what to believe with Gerald, but he couldn’t worry about that right now. They needed to get out into the main hallway and then down to the next door. It wasn’t that far, but in the pitch-black darkness with rippers roaming around, it seemed like miles away.

Mike was waiting for them.

Ray would go first, shining the way with his flashlight. Then Josh and Emma, and Gerald at the back of the line. Josh gave Gerald his flashlight to use so he could shine the light behind them, and Ray would shine the light ahead of them so Josh could see to shoot.

“You shoot behind us only,” Ray told Gerald. “Not forward. I don’t want you accidentally hitting one of us.”

Gerald nodded like he understood, but his eyes seemed glazed over, like he wasn’t completely present. Ray had seen that glazed look many times before—recently in Josh, and before in his brother Freddy. He wondered if Gerald had taken something to help himself “deal” with what was going on.

The plan was set: Just be as quiet as possible, no turning on the flashlights unless they had to, and most importantly, just keep moving. The travel would be slow, but maybe they could get down the hallways without the rippers even knowing. It was pretty quiet out there now; maybe the rippers had moved on, exploring other areas of Avalon—maybe they’d even found the food in the kitchen; that would keep them occupied for a while. Even Emma said she hadn’t heard any rippers in the hallways in the last ten minutes.

“Everyone ready?” Ray asked.

Josh and Emma nodded. Gerald gave a reluctant shrug.

“Ray,” Emma whispered. “Let me go first.”

“What?” Josh hissed, still trying to keep his voice low. “No.”

“We’re going to be traveling in the dark,” Emma said. “You said we could try to make it there as far as we could without the flashlights. As soon as you turn those lights on the rippers will see them if they’re anywhere nearby. I can lead us along in the dark, get us as far as we can get, and then you can turn on the lights and shoot only if you need to.”

It made sense. Ray looked at Josh.

“I vote no,” Josh said.

Emma laid a gentle hand on Josh’s arm. “You two need your hands free for your flashlights and guns. I need to do something to help. You’re in my world now, a world I’ve known for most of my life. I can do this, guide us there, maybe without using the guns or the lights.”

Josh was hesitant, looking back and forth from Ray to Emma. Finally he nodded.

Ray restructured the order of their line. “Emma, you’ll go first. Josh will be right behind you. I’ll be right behind Josh with the flashlight and my gun. Gerald, you’ll be behind me. Remember, only turn on your flashlight if you really have to. We walk. We don’t talk. We don’t make a sound.” He looked right at Emma. “We’re going out this door. To the right, to the door at the end of the hall. Taking a right out that door, then down the hall to the next door on the right.”

Emma nodded quickly. “I remember.”

Ray felt a small pang of embarrassment. He was sure Emma could navigate this place far better than they could in the dark. “What about your cane? It will make noise.”

“I can use it silently, just above the ground, waving it back and forth to make sure there’s nothing in front of me that I’m going to walk into. I’m going to move along the wall, staying close to the wall, using it as my guide. Everybody keep one hand on the wall.”

Ray nodded. “Okay. Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s line up by the door,” Ray said. “Emma first. Then I’m going to turn off the light.”

Emma went to the door and wrapped her hand around the knob, ready to open it.

Ray shut off his flashlight, plunging them into the cloying darkness. A bright ghostly light seemed to float just ahead in his field of vision—the memory of the flashlight. For just a second Ray thought he could still see in the darkness.

Emma opened the door without a sound, quiet as a cat burglar. Josh was right behind her, holding loosely onto her shirt. Ray was right behind Josh, reaching out and touching his back every few seconds and then feeling along the metal wall. Gerald was a few feet behind Ray—he would have the route mapped out in his mind as much as Ray would.

It’s only a short distance. We can make it.

They were in the narrower hall between the doors of the sleeping quarters. It was silent and chilly, the air already getting a little colder since the electricity had gone out. They walked along slowly and as quietly as they could, but it still sounded so loud to Ray’s ears. The banging noises continued somewhere deeper in Avalon, rippers banging on metal walls and doors, maybe trying to get into the locked doors.

Moments later they were at the door that led out to the main hallway. Emma eased the door open, taking almost a minute to get out the door and for their line to get moving again. Josh gripped his M-16 tighter, making small rattling sounds, his hiking boot scuffing the floor just slightly. Ray’s thumb was on the flashlight button, ready to click it on in a nanosecond. Gerald was a step behind Ray; he could hear the man’s heavy breathing. He wanted to tell Gerald to breathe more quietly, but they couldn’t talk right now.

They were all in the main hallway now. Ray could smell the acrid smell of their earlier gunfire and the smell of blood and gore. He remembered the dead bodies down the hall and wondered if they were before or after the door to the lab: he wasn’t sure.

A noise sounded from somewhere behind them. Ray couldn’t exactly pinpoint the noise, couldn’t tell exactly how far away it was, but he knew it was from somewhere behind them. It had sounded like someone moving in the darkness, someone hurrying toward them.

It’s just your imagination. That’s all—the darkness is getting to you.

Ray’s hand gripped tighter on his gun. He was shaking from an overdose of adrenaline, his body wanting to move, to bolt, but his mind reining it in, trying to control it like a wild horse.

They moved along, little by little, getting down the hall, Emma not making a sound.

The noise behind them was a little louder. Someone was definitely coming their way.

Gerald made a small whimpering sound; he’d heard the noises behind them too. Ray wanted to whisper not to turn on the light—they weren’t too far away from the lab door now.

The sounds were getting closer. Josh and Emma had to have heard them. There was no mistaking it for imagination now; the rippers, at least a few of them, had been waiting in the darkness, waiting for their prey to come out and reveal themselves. They’d heard them, figured out where they were, and now they were sneaking up on them.

Gerald was breathing harder and harder, making that whining sound deep in his throat again. He clicked Josh’s flashlight on, turning around, his rifle in one hand as he shined the light behind him, down the wide hallway.

Ray just had time to get the word “No” out, but it was too late.

Gerald screamed as he shined the flashlight, illuminating the hallway just behind them. Two male rippers materialized from the darkness, knives in their grungy hands, the light winking off the sharp blades, off their wet, wild eyes, their mouths open in a snarl as they attacked Gerald, who tried to get a shot off, pulling the trigger, the shot going wild, the booming sound echoing up and down the hallway.

The other rippers would hear it and come running.

Ray turned his flashlight on, shining it at Gerald first. Gerald had dropped his flashlight as he tried to get both hands on his rifle, but the rippers were on him too quickly, tackling him, one of them stabbing the knife into Gerald’s arms, slicing at him, ripping cloth and then flesh underneath, severing muscle, nerves, tendons. Gerald dropped the rifle, screaming as he fell to the floor under the weight of the two rippers.

“Go!” Ray yelled, shining his flashlight forward. A few dead bodies lay ahead of them, but not as many as Ray had remembered. Maybe some of them had only been injured, or maybe some had been playing dead. A ripper emerged from the dining hall doorway. Ray shot at him and the ripper ducked back in.

Emma was still moving down the hallway, her cane flicking back and forth in front of her now that she didn’t have to worry about making noise. Josh had let Emma go so he could keep both hands on the M-16, trying to aim it, but Ray’s light was erratic, bouncing around as he tried to shine it everywhere at once.

“Dad! Josh! Emma! Come on!”

It was Mike. Oh God, Mike was out in the hall. What was he doing out in the hall?

Another ripper, or maybe the same one, poked his head out of the dining room hallway again. Josh was about to shoot, but Ray’s light was still too unsteady.

Another light shined diagonally from across the hall. A gunshot sounded a second later. The ripper was knocked back against the wall, blood exploding from a bullet wound in his face. He slid down to the floor.

Mike had shot the ripper. He stood in the doorway to the lab with his flashlight shining.

They were so close to the lab door now, so close to Mike.

Gerald kept screaming from behind them.

Mike kept his flashlight on, guiding Josh and Emma toward him. He stayed in the doorway, keeping the door open so it wouldn’t lock on him.

Ray looked behind him, shining his flashlight down the hallway. One ripper was still on top of Gerald, both of them on the floor. Gerald’s rifle and flashlight were out of reach. The other ripper was charging. Ray shot the ripper three times, finally knocking him down.

Emma got into the lab first, and then Josh was there, guarding the door as Mike held it open. Josh hadn’t shot the M-16 yet, and Ray was thankful about that, afraid one of the bullets from the machine gun fire might hit him. He was at the door a second later, his flashlight a sphere of light in this world of utter darkness.

More rippers were coming from different areas of Avalon. They had spread out too far, but they would be back in the main hallway in seconds.

Josh hurried inside the door. Ray was right behind him. Mike closed the door. Ray shined his light down at the doorknob, wondering if it had a lock on it.

There was no lock.

The rippers were at the door, jigging the doorknob, pounding and beating at the door, screeching in rage and frustration. The door held. It was locked.

Ray turned and hugged Mike, holding onto him tightly, tears slipping out of his eyes, his throat raw. “You did great, Mike. So great. So proud of you.”

Mike pulled away, jittery with adrenaline. He beamed in the flashlight’s glow. “I fell out of the ceiling.” He aimed his own flashlight up at the hole in the ceiling above a desk, pieces of the drop ceiling all over the desk and the floor.

“You did awesome, buddy,” Josh said. He held Emma, holding her close. She was smiling at Mike, nodding in agreement.

“We’re safe now,” Emma said.

Yeah, for the moment, Ray thought. But what were they going to do now?

CHAPTER 55

Luke

Luke had rested inside the house for only a few minutes. He’d shot four of the rippers when he had escaped Hell Town, getting lost in the fog of the smoke from the fires, getting away from the rest of the rippers. He’d gotten into the first house he’d come to, getting in through a busted window. He had crouched down inside the house, gun in hand, waiting for the rippers to come.

While he rested, he watched and waited for rippers. He knew some might be coming from any direction, but quite a few had run east, out toward a gas station where the town thinned out, roads leading to more rural areas.

For a moment he wasn’t sure of where to go. He’d come here with Max, Phil, and Dawson. Max was dead, and he was fairly sure the other two were dead too. Petra, the woman Max had come for and the woman he’d seen in his dreams was dead too—Jacob had told him that.

So what now? Head back to the store? Ray, Josh, Mike, and Emma were gone—they’d gone to look for Avalon. Had they found the place, or were they dead somewhere? Should he go look for them instead of going back to the store? He had no idea where Avalon was; all he knew was a road where he’d left Ray and the others led south into Georgia.

Maybe it would be better to go back to the store. If Ray and the others found Avalon, maybe they’d be back to the store eventually to get Jo and the others. Some of the Dark Angels had escaped Hell Town as it began to burn and the rippers stormed—maybe they’d gone to the store, their last place of refuge, the last place to find food and supplies.

Or maybe he should just head south, go to Florida: his original plan when the Collapse first started. He’d find some small and remote island down in the Keys, a boat, fishing gear. He’d be alone again. Maybe that’s how it should be; maybe that’s what he deserved.

While he waited by the window, he assessed his injuries. Jacob had beaten him up pretty badly, but none of the wounds limited him physically or were life-threatening. His leg was sore, his knee swollen a little, the pants tight around it, but he could put weight on it and walk okay, run if he had to. He had his handgun, one hand grenade left, a few energy bars stuffed down into his pants pockets, one extra magazine with bullets in it. He’d lost his pack somewhere along the way—he couldn’t remember exactly when.

He decided he’d head out toward the gas station, and then the woods beyond that, following the road that led east, but he would stay in the trees while he traveled. It would be dangerous, but staying here in this house wasn’t any less dangerous. There were a lot of rippers running around; it would only be a matter of time before they got into this place, before they overwhelmed him. He could only shoot so many before he ran out of bullets.

After eating one of the two energy bars he had left, he checked his gun and then moved to the back of the house, slipping out the back door into a cluttered backyard with overgrown grass and weeds that had turned brown from the winter. He moved among the hulking cars and skeletal, rusted metal pieces, getting to some brush and waiting for a moment.

It took a few minutes to get to the gas station, but he was walking slowly, taking his time. The rippers were still loud, many still running by, running away from the fires.

When the coast was as clear as it could be, Luke bolted across the intersection where a traffic light dangled on thick wires. The haze of smoke was heavy in the air, but not heavy enough to hide him completely from other eyes. He got across the street and slammed into a wall of the end business in a one-story strip plaza. He waited, catching his breath, then he moved down the front of the stores, creeping past busted-out windows and doors. Beyond the stores, the woods began, the two-lane road disappearing down into a valley, then reappearing up a hill in the distance.

He felt a little better when he was away from the buildings and at the edge of the woods. His knee still hurt, but it was actually feeling a little better the more he walked on it. He came to a side road off of the two-lane road, a dirt road leading into a vast field. He waited by the trees.

A noise . . . a vehicle was approaching.

Luke crouched down by the tree, his gun in his hand. He waited. Probably Dark Angels.

The large black pickup slowed down and then stopped at the turnoff onto the dirt road, the motor rumbling. The passenger window slid down as the truck waited there, like the driver was trying to decide which way to go. There was no one in the back of the pickup, and from what Luke could see, only the driver occupied the truck. It looked like a woman.

Luke stood up and approached the truck, his gun aimed at the driver as he walked toward the passenger door.

The truck didn’t speed away.

As Luke got closer he recognized the woman—it was Petra, the woman he’d seen in his dream when Wilma had gone away.

“Petra,” Luke said when he got to the window, lowering his gun down to his side.

She stared at him, her hands on the steering wheel, one of them bandaged with bloodstained gauze and tape. She looked weary and even angry, but not afraid.

“I’m Luke. I came with Max to get you.”

“Get in.”

Luke holstered his gun inside his hoodie and got in the truck. He closed the door but left the window rolled down.

“There’s a field out there,” she said, staring past him out the open window. “They killed people there. Hung them so the rippers could tear them apart.”

Luke didn’t say anything.

“The rack in the field was Jacob’s idea,” she added.

“Jacob’s dead.”

She finally looked at him, focusing on him, like she was finally seeing him for the first time. “You killed him?”

“Yep.”

“The Dragon’s dead.”

“You killed him?”

“Yep.”

Luke was quiet again.

Petra shifted into drive and rolled up the passenger window. She drove down the two-lane road, heading east. Luke figured she was going back to the store, but taking a roundabout way to avoid the rippers and any Dark Angels that were escaping Hell Town.

Luke didn’t say anything. He got the feeling that Petra didn’t feel like talking, and that was fine with him for now.

As they drove, Luke fell asleep. He didn’t want to sleep—he tried his best to fight it—but a dreamless sleep overtook him.

He didn’t know how long he’d been out, how long they had traveled, but Petra’s words pulled him roughly out of slumber.

“Dark Angels.”

Luke sat up stiffly, staring out through the windshield at the road in front of them. Two vehicles had just driven out of the sides of the roads, blocking their way. Two more trucks had pulled up behind them, blocking them in.

CHAPTER 56

Luke

Luke had his gun out in a flash, ready to shoot, ready to fight to the death if he had to. He was sure Petra was ready too.

A man stepped out of the truck in front of them, raising his hands up high in the air, waiting by the vehicle, staring at them.

“It’s Dawson,” Petra said.

“You know him?” Luke asked her.

“He was there when Scott and Audrey were killed in that field where I stopped,” Petra explained. “He was in the back of the truck with me. He said he was leaving the Dragon, him and some others. He told me they would come back for me.”

“They did,” Luke said. “I was with him.”

Petra didn’t say anything. Luke could see that she trusted Dawson somewhat. Luke knew he should trust the man too, but he still wasn’t too sure about him.

Petra put the truck in park, leaving the engine running.

“What are you doing?” Luke asked.

“Getting out. He seems like he wants to talk to us.” She didn’t wait for an argument from him, or for any kind of permission—she opened her door and got out, the pickup still running.

Luke got out too. He still had his gun in his hand. He could feel eyes and weapons on him at that moment. He walked with Petra, meeting Dawson halfway between her truck and the two vehicles that had blocked the road. It was quiet here, no other sounds except the rumbling motors of the trucks.

Dawson glanced from Luke to Petra and back to Luke again. “You made it,” he said with a tentative smile.

“Who’s with you?” Luke asked, glancing beyond him at the van and the pickup truck blocking the road.

“A few Dark Angels,” Dawson admitted. “But mostly the townspeople. They never wanted to be with the Dragon, none of them did. Now that Hell Town is gone, they’re ready to be on their own. I told them about you, about your store. They want to join. They want to help.”

Luke wanted to tell Dawson that everyone always had a choice, but he didn’t. “Is Phil with you?”

“No.”

“Max is dead,” Luke said.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Dawson replied, nodding and looking grim.

“The Dragon’s dead,” Petra said. “I killed him.”

Dawson stared at Petra, shocked for just a moment. “You’re sure he’s dead?”

“Pretty damn sure. I beat his face in with a tire iron.”

Luke was really beginning to like this woman.

“Luke killed Jacob too,” Petra added.

“The town is burning,” Luke said. “It’s over as long as the Dark Angels don’t get together again.”

“Nobody wants to be a Dark Angel anymore,” Dawson said. “Nobody wants to wear a brand or get tortured or killed for disobeying an order. We just want to be free. We just want to help. There aren’t that many of us, but . . .” He shrugged and suddenly looked weak and weary. “But maybe it’s a start.”

“What were you doing here?” Petra asked. “Hiding? If you wanted to get back to the store, why aren’t you there now?”

“We’re not too far from Perry,” Dawson said.

Petra nodded impatiently like she already knew that.

“We’ve already been to the store,” Dawson said. “Earlier today. We couldn’t get near it. The store’s overrun with rippers. They must’ve gotten inside the building.”

“Shit,” Luke whispered.

“But it looks like some of the people inside survived. Most of them probably. They’re all up on the roof. I saw them through a pair of binoculars.”

“They see you?” Luke asked.

Dawson shook his head. “I don’t think so. We couldn’t get close enough.”

All that food inside the store, Luke thought. All those supplies. Most of it gone now. But at least Jo and the others were okay for now. And Ray and the others wouldn’t have gotten back from Avalon by now, so there was still a chance they were still alive too.

“We need to get them,” Petra said, leaving no room for an argument.

Dawson nodded. “We’ve got a place we’ve been hiding our vehicles. It’s just down this side road back there.” He hitched a thumb behind him at the vehicles like they could see the side road from where they stood. “We’ll have to go a few miles to get to the store, to get close enough.”

*

Thirty minutes later they had driven as close to the store as they could, almost a mile away, idling the vehicles forward, hiding them among some buildings and brush.

Dawson and a friend of his, a Dark Angel named Martin, led Luke and Petra on foot behind some brush to an abandoned fast food restaurant. A metal ladder led up to the roof. They climbed the ladder quickly. Martin kept watch as Dawson, Luke, and Petra crept to the other side of the roof. They all lay down, each taking turns watching the building through Dawson’s binoculars.

When Luke looked through the binoculars, he saw Jo on the roof. He saw Gil next to her. He saw Kate and Brooke. The doc. He saw other people that he recognized, but he didn’t know their names.

“We need some communication with them,” Luke said after lowering the binoculars. He glanced up at the cold, blue afternoon sky. A few wispy clouds drifted by. “How about a walkie? Jo’s got one. We could find the right channel to talk.”

Dawson shook his head. “We don’t have a walkie.”

“We can’t just drive up there, a convoy of trucks,” Luke said. “Jo and the others will think we’re Dark Angels coming to attack them. They’ll start shooting at us. I see plenty of spotters with rifles up there.”

“I know,” Dawson said.

“How about a bullhorn?” Petra asked. “We could shout at her, let her know it’s us.”

“A bullhorn will just bring the rippers over here to us,” Luke said, staring through the binoculars again, panning down to the parking lot. There weren’t a lot of rippers at the front of the store, but there were quite a few at the back of the store, in the fenced-in area. They were going in and out of the woods from somewhere in back of the store, somewhere he couldn’t see from this vantage point. Obviously they had breached the fence somewhere in back. Maybe the fence wasn’t even electrified anymore, but the gate at the side of the store was still locked, still standing.

“We don’t have a bullhorn, anyway,” Dawson said.

Luke glared at Dawson, setting his binoculars down again.

“We had to leave in a hurry, just jumping into trucks,” Dawson said like Luke had criticized him. “It wasn’t like we had a lot of time to plan things out.”

Luke didn’t say anything.

“We take one vehicle,” Petra said, “Just the four of us go. We get some kind of white flag, let them know not to shoot at us. We drive the truck into the parking lot, get close to the front of the store, tell Jo to throw down one of her walkies. So we can talk to them, make a plan with them.”

Dawson nodded in agreement. “Okay. I’ll drive.”

*

Thirty minutes later they were back at the base camp they had made, Dawson pulling the pickup truck up to where the other three trucks were parked. On the way back, they had decided to use the pickup as the vehicle they would drive to the parking lot of the store. It had the largest tires, it was the fastest and maybe the most powerful of the vehicles, and Luke and Martin could be in the back, shooting at any rippers that got near them.

They parked, shutting off the engine, saving the gas. Some of the other people were outside of the vehicles, a few of the men with dark clothes and brands cut into their foreheads stood at the perimeter of their circle of vehicles with weapons, keeping watch.

“We need to make some kind of white flag,” Petra said. “Something they will see from a distance, something that will keep them from shooting at us. They’ll be watching through binoculars, and they might recognize Luke, but we need to be absolutely sure.”

“I think there might be a sheet or a blanket in the back of the van,” Dawson said, walking toward the van.

Two men guarded the back door of the van. Luke followed Dawson and Petra. He was tense, ready to draw his gun at a moment’s notice. He still didn’t trust Dawson completely, and he definitely didn’t trust some of the other Dark Angels and townspeople at this camp. The townspeople looked lost, like refugees from a war-torn country, but the few Dark Angels among them still looked steely and hard, ready to fight.

Dawson opened the back doors of the van as the two guards backed away, their weapons in their hands.

Petra froze as the doors were opened. “What the fuck’s he doing here?”

CHAPTER 57

Petra

Petra froze for just a second and then she aimed the AK-47 she’d gotten off the Dragon into the back of the van. But she knew Luke was right behind her, and she sensed more than heard him draw his gun in a flash. She didn’t know Luke at all, but at the same time it felt like she did, and she was glad he was on her side.

“Hold on,” Dawson said, his hands out in a placating gesture, trying to calm things down.

“Why’s he in there?” Petra growled. “Why’s he in the back of your van?”

Luke was beside Petra, his gun gripped in his gloved hand, standing rock-still, a lethal force ready to be unleashed. He reminded her slightly of Jacob, and she could tell that Jacob had trained him to become the warrior he was.

“Everybody just relax a little,” Dawson said. He was speaking to Petra and Luke, but he was also speaking just as much to the two Dark Angels who had been guarding the back of the van, speaking to everyone in their small camp. “No one shoot. We can’t have any gunshots. The rippers are only a few miles away. They’ll hear any shooting.”

“Why’s he in your van?” Petra asked through clenched teeth, staring right at Dawson.

“I can explain. He’s tied up. He can’t hurt you or anyone else.”

Petra looked past Dawson at the man in the back of the van. The man was dressed in the usual dark clothing of the Dragon’s guard. His hands were behind him, bound as Dawson had said, his ankles tied together with rope. He stared back at Petra with steely blue eyes, no emotion in those eyes, no feeling, nothing. She recognized him. He was one of the guards who had been in the dining room when she had eaten dinner with the Dragon twice. He’d had the same stare when he’d been standing guard, the same one he had now.

“Why do you have him?”

“He tried to attack us when we were leaving the town,” Dawson said, talking quickly. “Martin hit him in the back of the head. We were going to leave him there to burn, to get eaten by rippers, but I told them to take him with us. We might need the information he had. I had no idea at the time that the Dragon and Jacob were dead.”

Petra watched for a reaction from the guard when he’d heard the news about his masters, but he remained still and stolid.

“We’re just keeping him as a prisoner for now,” Dawson said. “We might need him.”

Petra couldn’t possibly imagine what kind of information the guard might have, or anything useful he could contribute, but she let it go.

Dawson relaxed, his shoulders slumping just a little. He let out a long exhale in the cold air. He nodded like they had all come to an agreement. “Okay. I’ll just get the sheet out of the back.”

Petra watched as Dawson climbed into the back, searching through a few boxes of supplies. He found a folded bedsheet. It had some kind of flower print on it, but it was light enough to look like a white surrender flag from far enough away.

It took a few minutes to cut the bedsheet into a smaller flag and secure it to a pole attached to the back of the truck. Dawson made sure that Luke had an assault rifle along with Martin. He also made sure they had several magazines of ammo. The other Dark Angels complained that Dawson was leaving them without enough ammunition or weapons, but he didn’t seem to care. He explained that they would have more people and more weapons when they got the people down from the roof.

Petra knew the Dark Angels in the group were just as suspicious of her and Luke as they were of them, suspicious that once Jo and the others joined that they might exact revenge on them for the atrocities they had committed. Petra couldn’t be sure of what was going to happen, and she wasn’t going to comfort them in any way. She didn’t care. She only cared about getting Jo, Kate, Brooke, and the others down from the roof. She’d already lost everyone she’d ever known in her life. She’d already lost Max. She wasn’t going to lose Kate and Brooke, too.

She sat in the passenger seat as Dawson drove. She could have insisted on driving—Dawson probably would have relented—but she didn’t; she would have her gun handy, ready to watch, ready to shoot.

They drove away from the camp, down a dirt trail and then onto the road, building up speed. Dawson kept glancing at the instrument panel like a pilot checking the readings as he flew. He seemed nervous, but also confident in a way, like he had no other alternatives. None of them did, really.

“Thank you,” Petra said as they drove. The windows were rolled up, the heater on, the air just beginning to get a little warmer inside the truck. She felt bad that Luke and Martin had to sit in the back in the freezing wind, but hopefully it wouldn’t take too long to get to the store.

Dawson glanced at her like he couldn’t understand what she’d just said, not hiding the confusion on his face.

“For coming back for me. You told me in the back of the truck that you would come back for me. That you would go to the store and get them to come back for me. You did. You kept your promise.”

He nodded, concentrating on the road again. He looked like he was trying to keep from breaking down and crying. “Thank you for killing the Dragon. You might have saved us all.”

Petra didn’t say anything. She was happy the Dragon and Jacob were dead, but she wanted Jo, Kate, Brooke and the others saved more than anything right now. She wanted to be together with the people she knew, even if she’d only known them for a short time. She trusted Dawson now. She wasn’t so sure if Luke trusted him, but she did. The other Dark Angels, she wasn’t so sure about. And definitely not the guard they had tied up in the back of the van.

There weren’t too many rippers until they got to the edge of Perry, and then there were a lot of them. Some were sluggish, just watching, huddling in small groups. Petra thought they might have actually been too full to chase their truck, too sated from gorging on the food they’d gotten from inside the store. Why chase after prey when they could just walk to the store and eat as much as they wanted?

But some of the rippers gave chase. Some threw rocks and pieces of concrete and brick. Luke waited a while to begin shooting, waiting until they had driven past the intersection, heading for a restaurant that led to the ditch where they could get into the parking lot, a spot he had told Dawson about.

The gunfire started, both Luke and Martin squeezing off shots, but not too many, not wasting too much ammo just yet.

Dawson had been speeding, flying through the intersection, past a black pickup with bloodstains all over the pavement underneath it. He slowed down as carefully as he could with the two men in the back and turned into the restaurant parking lot.

A dozen rippers poured out of the broken doors of the restaurant, a few climbing out of the shattered windows. Luke picked enough of them off easily, backing the other rippers up.

Dawson had built up speed again through the parking lot of the restaurant, but he had to slow down as they approached the ditch. Petra heard Luke yell at Martin to hold on as Dawson drove down into the wide ditch and then up the other side, driving over the flattened shrubs.

Rippers were climbing over the cars that barricaded the parking lot to the left. Others were inside the fence, a few scaling it while others pulled at the gates, trying to open them even though they were locked.

Petra shot at a few rippers coming from the right as Dawson sped across the parking lot, driving right toward the front of the store. Luke shot at any rippers on his side, mowing them down.

“Here we go,” Dawson said, hitting the brakes as he got close to the store, turning so that he was driving in front of the building at a much slower speed, almost slowing down to a stop.

Petra climbed out of her open passenger window, sitting on the top of the door, holding on.

“What the hell are you doing?” Dawson yelled.

Petra didn’t answer. She stared up at the top of the building. She could tell Luke and Martin’s eyes were on her, but she didn’t look away from the building. She saw the spotters at the edge with their rifles. And then she saw Jo, staring down at her with wide eyes.

“Throw down a walkie-talkie!” Petra yelled as loud as she could, her voice echoing across the parking lot.

Dawson was almost stopped. Petra could tell he was antsy, that he wanted to get going again.

“Don’t you dare go!” Petra yelled at Dawson. She looked at Luke and Martin. Both men were aiming at the rippers that were coming from the other side of the parking lot and the corner of the building.

Luke shot one of the closest rippers, the woman falling down and tumbling, her long dirty hair flying, her legs and arms whipping wildly before she finally came to a stop. Others behind her slowed down, realizing they were going to get shot next. Luke held his fire, trying to save the ammo.

Jo went away from the edge of the roof, but two of the spotters were still there. One was a woman who was always on the roof, the other was a man. Petra couldn’t remember their names, but she recognized them, and she could tell that they recognized her.

“Come on, Jo,” Petra whispered to herself.

The rippers were yelling, almost like they were calling out to their masses. More were coming from around the building, alerted by the shooting. They were growing bolder as they formed into a larger group, a few of them beginning to run.

Luke shot another one, then another one. But the mob was beginning to run toward them now.

“We gotta go!” Dawson yelled from the driver’s seat.

“You just hold on one fucking second,” Petra screamed at him.

Jo was back at the edge of the roof with a walkie in her hand. She tossed it out into the air.

Oh God, Luke, please catch it.

The walkie-talkie seemed to float in the air for such a long moment, a black rectangle against the cold blue sky. It seemed to defy gravity, falling so slowly for just a second. And then it dropped like a rock.

Jo hadn’t thrown it far enough. It was going to miss the back of the pickup truck by a few feet, hit the sidewalk in front of the store and smash to pieces.

Luke threw his M-16 down and leaned out of the back of the truck, stretching his arm out as far as it would go, holding on with his other hand, Martin holding onto the back of Luke’s hoodie so he wouldn’t fall out.

Luke caught the walkie-talkie before it hit the ground. He collapsed back into the bed of the truck.

Petra beat on the roof of the truck. “Go!” she shouted at Dawson as she wriggled back down into the passenger seat through the window.

Dawson stomped down on the gas pedal, the truck’s motor roaring, the tires spinning for just a second, sending out a bark that sounded somewhat like the rippers’ screeches. He turned toward the middle of the parking lot, picking up speed. Luke had his weapon, shooting again, backing the rippers up. Dawson hit one ripper, a young man, knocking him out of the way. Petra shot at any of the rippers close enough to try to make a run for their truck.

Moments later, they were down through the ditch and then into the restaurant parking lot. But now rippers were waiting for them. Dawson turned left, driving across another row of shrubs into the next parking lot, driving through the back, then out to the road, turning left. They couldn’t go back to the right, the way they had come; they would have to take a long way around to get back to the others at their camp.

CHAPTER 58

Jo

Jo had heard the pickup truck coming before she’d seen it. One of the spotters at the edge of the roof had called out: “Incoming!”

Dark Angels? Possible. But she almost immediately ruled it out. Why would they come to attack the store with all of the rippers running in and out of it? They would know that the rippers had gotten most or all of the food inside. They would wait until the rippers had eaten their fill and left behind what they couldn’t open or eat. They would have waited until Jo and the rest of them on the roof were weak and hungry, cold and tired. And they definitely would have brought more than one pickup truck.

Jo hurried to the side of the building, near the spotters. Lisa handed her the binoculars and Jo looked through them. One black pickup truck. Two people inside, two men in the back, both with M-16s. A makeshift white flag flew from a metal pole attached to the back of the truck’s cab.

A surrender flag.

Lisa and Wade hunkered down at the knee wall with their rifles, getting ready to shoot.

“Wait,” Jo said, still looking through the binoculars, studying the truck as it sped through the intersection where the gas station was. She watched the truck slow down and turn into the restaurant parking lot, slowing down even more as it crossed the ditch into the parking lot of the Super Bea’s. As the truck got closer she studied the man in the back. She’d only known him a short time, but she knew it was Luke. She didn’t recognize the man with him—it wasn’t Max. She panned just a little to the windshield, trying to focus as the truck raced forward. It was hard to tell, but she was pretty damn sure Petra sat in the passenger seat.

When the truck was close to the building, driving up alongside it, she was sure it was Luke in the back and Petra in the passenger seat. Then Petra pulled herself up and out of the truck, sitting on the top of the door in the open window, holding on, shouting.

“God, it’s Petra. It’s really her.”

Petra told her to get a walkie-talkie, to throw it down to the truck. Jo didn’t hesitate. She got one: they only had four left. She threw it down at the truck, instantly regretting her throw. It had been too short. She should’ve let Wade or Lisa throw the walkie, or even Gil. But she hadn’t had time to explain it to anyone else. The rippers were coming, Luke and the other man were shooting, the driver was getting anxious, ready to bolt.

Somehow Luke had caught the walkie like an outfielder stretching for a fly ball, and then the driver had bolted away as Petra climbed back inside the cab of the truck. They had turned left on the street instead of right, but Jo was certain they would be okay.

Now Jo waited with the walkie-talkie in her hand. It was turned on the same channel they always used. She was waiting to hear Petra’s voice. Gil was with her. So were Kate and Brooke. They waited near the HVAC unit where she and Gil had slept last night, huddled up close to each other under a blanket. The spotters still waited at the edge of the roof, and other spotters waited at the skylight, shooting down into the store every so often when the rippers tried to build their tower to get to the skylight.

“Petra’s alive,” Kate said with wonder, hugging Brooke who smiled just a little. “Luke’s alive.”

“Max wasn’t with them,” Jo said. “Neither was Phil.”

“That doesn’t mean anything. They could still be with them.”

Jo was sure Kate was just trying to make her feel better, but she could tell Kate didn’t even believe her own words.

The walkie crackled to life. It had been almost an hour since the pickup truck had driven through the parking lot, since Petra had yelled at her to throw down a walkie-talkie.

“Jo. Come in. It’s Petra.”

“Petra,” Jo said after pressing the button. “Thank God you’re alive.” She laughed as tears filled her eyes. “It’s so good to hear your voice.”

“What happened there?” Petra asked, wasting no time with pleasantries.

“The rippers figured out how to knock down part of the back fence. They used big tree branches and part of a fallen tree as a battering ram so they wouldn’t get shocked.” She paused for just a moment, but Petra seemed to be waiting for the rest of the story. “We had time to get some supplies and food up to the roof. We got everyone up here before the rippers got through the back doors. We didn’t lose anyone. Not even the cat.”

Kate smiled, hugging Brooke a little. Tiger was right beside them, rubbing up against Brooke, meowing almost like he knew they were talking about him.

“You said the rippers are inside the building. Can they get up to the roof?”

“Not yet, but they keep trying. They keep trying to build a scaffolding of sorts out of the shelves that used to hold the groceries. We’ve been shooting down at them, but there are so many. We’ll run out of ammo soon.”

“We need to get you down from there,” Petra said. “We’re working on a plan.”

“We have rope ladders,” Jo said.

A pause from Petra.

“We used one of them to get Gil up here right after he lowered the lift.” She realized that Petra had no idea who Gil was, but she didn’t bother explaining. “We have three of them. We could anchor them to the knee wall, get down to the ground, but there are too many rippers. We were going to wait for them to scatter after the food in the store was gone, but we thought it might take weeks.”

“Rope ladders,” Petra said. “That’s good. We’ve got more people and trucks. We could come by before dark and get you guys down from there.”

Jo glanced up at the sky. It was probably mid-afternoon. Not too far away from dusk, maybe three hours if they were lucky. “Maybe we should do this tomorrow.”

No answer from Petra.

“Who are you with, Petra? I saw Luke in the back. Is Max with you? Phil?”

“Max and Phil didn’t make it. Dawson’s with us. He said he surrendered himself to you at the store.”

“Yes, him and other Dark Angels.”

“All of the other Dark Angels he was with are dead. They ambushed them right before they got to Hell Town.”

“So who are you with?”

“We’re with a few of the Dark Angels and some of the townspeople.”

It was Jo’s turn to remain silent. She glanced at Gil, then at Kate.

“They wanted to get away from the Dragon. They didn’t want to be part of it anymore. Hell Town’s destroyed. It’s burning. The Dragon’s dead.”

“Say again,” Jo said, suddenly breathless.

“The Dragon’s dead.”

“You’re sure of that.”

“I killed him myself. And Luke killed Jacob, the Dragon’s right-hand man. It’s over. The people who left Hell Town, some of them with us, they want to start over.”

“How many are there of you?”

Petra was silent for a moment, the walkie crackled with static again as Petra answered: “Fourteen of us.”

“The Dragon’s dead,” Jo whispered without pushing down the button on the walkie. “He’s really dead.”

“We’re coming to get you in an hour,” Petra said. “We have five vehicles, but we’re going to have three vehicles down in front of your store. An SUV, a pickup truck, and a van. We’re going to have one driver each in the SUV and the van, and two shooters in the back of the pickup truck. You’re going to have to use your own shooters too.”

Petra paused for a moment waiting for Jo.

“Okay,” Jo said. “Three vehicles in front of the store in an hour.”

“We’re going to use the other two vehicles for a distraction and to flank the three vehicles, using shooters in them. You’re going to need to get everything ready in an hour. Just take what you can carry in backpacks. We can’t take all of the supplies down. We’ll have to go back for them later.”

Jo nodded. “Okay.”

Gil was already up and moving, hurrying over to the tents, talking with the others, letting them know what was happening. Jo was glad he was jumping on the task, getting everyone to pack everything they could take into a backpack in under an hour was going to be quite a job. And they still had to get the three rope ladders secured to the edge of the building.

“So,” Petra said, “we’ll be there in an hour. Maybe a little less.”

“Okay,” Jo told her. “We’ll be ready.”

Jo released the button on the walkie-talkie. She didn’t want to turn it off even though it would waste the batteries—she wanted it on in case Petra called back.

Kate and Brooke stared at her. “They’re coming for us,” Kate said.

“Yes,” Jo answered.

“And what about after that?” Kate asked. “Where are we going?”

“I don’t know,” Jo told her.

CHAPTER 59

Kate

“We have to take Tiger with us,” Brooke said as soon as Jo went to help Gil coordinate the packing.

“I know,” Kate answered. She knew she wasn’t going to be able to get off this roof without Tiger. She cursed Max again for ever finding that cat, but she had to stop herself.

Max was dead. He had given his life to attack Hell Town, and she was sure he had been instrumental in some way in freeing Petra. And Petra had said she had killed the Dragon. Could that be true? Was the Dragon really dead? Maybe this war that had started right after the Collapse was really over.

She would have time to think about all of that after they were off of this roof and away from this store. The plan to get them was dangerous, but Kate knew the rippers were going to get up to the roof eventually, if not up through the skylight, then from somewhere on the outside of the building. There were ladders inside the store. Eventually they would figure out how to use them; they would take them outside and lean them against the building in the dark of night, climbing them and attacking while they slept. And if the rippers didn’t kill them, then eventually the cold would. Or maybe starvation.

Jo had been holding out hope that Ray, Josh, Mike, and Emma would get back and help them get down, but Kate knew that the four of them wouldn’t have been any match for the hundreds of rippers on the ground below.

And Ray and the others might not even be alive anymore. Kate hated thinking that, but she was just being realistic. Maybe they had made it to Avalon, and maybe they had gotten down into the bunker, and maybe there were people there that could help, and maybe they were on their way back. But that was a lot of maybes. And it was against the odds.

She’d asked Jo where they were all going after they got down off the roof. Jo didn’t know, and Kate didn’t know. They weren’t going back to Hell Town. Petra said it had been destroyed, that it was burning.

They could worry about where they were going after they got off the roof. She was sure Petra and Luke had some kind of plan. It was one thing for a person to hide in a house by themselves, or even a few people, like she, Max, Petra, and Brooke had done. But thirty people trying to hide and stay safe from the rippers, that was a different story.

She couldn’t think about that—she just needed to focus on what they were trying to do: get down from the roof. Petra’s plan seemed haphazard and dangerous. Kate knew the chances of all of them surviving, or any of them, weren’t very good.

Just focus on what we’re doing.

“We need to take Tiger,” Brooke said. “We can’t leave him behind.”

Brooke’s voice was beginning to rise into a scream, her eyes wide. She was on the verge of a temper tantrum, perhaps on the verge of a nervous breakdown. Another nervous breakdown. She’d broken down before; she’d been a broken girl when Kate had first met her down in the brick tunnels under her parents’ warehouse. It might not take much for Brooke’s mind to crack again, for her to curl up into a ball on the roof screaming.

Kate kneeled down in front of Brooke, grabbing her arms, holding them firmly but not too hard, looking straight into her eyes. “Brooke, we’re going to take Tiger. We won’t leave him behind. We’re not leaving any of us behind. We’re all going to make it down to the trucks and drive away from here. Okay?”

Brooke nodded numbly, the anger and fear in her face vanishing, her features suddenly slack. But her eyes were still alive. She was still there. Kate had been surprised at her own words, at how believable they had sounded. Maybe deep down inside she really believed they were going to get away, that they were going to survive.

“First, we need to find something to carry Tiger in.”

Brooke nodded. “The carrying case,” she said in a small voice.

“That’s a good idea, Brooke. But I don’t think we have that up here with us. Remember, Gil carried Tiger up inside his jacket.”

Brooke nodded again. “My backpack?”

“Maybe. We’re going to have to keep Tiger close by. We’re going to have to put him inside at the last second. He’s going to be scared. I want you to keep Tiger close while we pack up. Can you do that?”

“Okay,” Brooke said. She had Tiger right next to her, petting him. Tiger stared over at the tents, eyes wide, nervous about the activity that was going on.

“I’m going to help everyone else. You stay right here. I’ll bring your backpack to you. Okay?”

Brooke nodded, holding onto Tiger.

Kate hurried over to Jo. She was getting everyone organized, getting duffel bags and backpacks filled up with some drinks, food, medicine, ammo, and any supplies they could fit. Gil and two other men were securing the rope ladders to the HVAC units with other ropes and cordage, some of which they’d cut off of the tents.

A few of the tents were deflated. They couldn’t take them; they would be useless out on the road, useless flimsy houses against the rippers. The supply tent still had a lot of drinks and food inside, much more than they could carry down the rope ladders.

“Rebecca,” Kate said. “Could you and Patrick keep Brooke and Tiger company?”

“Sure,” Rebecca said. She had her backpack ready with enough for her and Patrick. The boy held Rebecca’s hand, lost and bewildered. He looked ready to burst into tears at any moment. All of this was too much for him, too much for Brooke. Too much for any of them.

Kate helped Jo carry backpacks and duffel bags over to the front side of the roof, where the rope ladders had been secured. Kate set her bags down, peeking over the edge of the roof. It was a long way down. A fall might not kill someone, but it would probably bust them up pretty good. She looked out at the parking lot. The rippers had lost interest in the parking lot, hurrying around to the back of the store, over the fallen fence and inside. There was still a lot of commotion coming from below the skylight—it sounded like the rippers hadn’t given up on stacking more shelving units on top of each other against the collapsed lift to get up to them.

“Three at a time,” Jo said.

Kate looked at her.

“There are three rope ladders,” Jo continued. “Three at a time down. Wade, Lisa, and Hendricks go down first with their rifles. They get down and stand guard with the two shooters Petra said they will have. We throw their bags down after them. Then Rebecca, you and Patrick go down one ladder, and Kate, you and Brooke go down on the next ladder. I’m pretty sure the rope ladder can hold the weight of a woman and a child. You’ll be right below the kids so they aren’t scared, so they don’t freeze up, so you can coax them down.”

Kate nodded. Jo was definitely planning this out to the last detail.

“Gil and I will go last.”

Kate stared at Jo. She hugged the woman. She hadn’t known she was going to do it, she just did it. “You’re an amazing woman,” Kate told her as she held onto her. “I’m so glad I got to know you.”

Jo pulled away. She had tears in her eyes, but she was smiling. “Don’t talk like that. This isn’t over. We’re going to make it. We’re going to make damn sure of it, aren’t we?”

Kate nodded, wiping at her own tears. “Yes. We’re going to make it.”

CHAPTER 60

Ray

Ray stood in the glow of the flashlight beams inside the lab room they had escaped into. The rippers were still outside the door, pounding on it, screeching and yelling.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ray asked Mike.

“Yes,” Mike said, nearly rolling his eyes.

Ray nodded. He was proud of Mike, proud that he had been brave enough to crawl through the air ducts to get into this room and unlock the door for them—he’d been the only one small enough to crawl through the ductwork.

Now they were safe for the moment; the rippers couldn’t get in, but they also couldn’t get out of the lab anytime soon with the rippers out there.

How many rippers were out there? Five? Ten? Had more of them come down the stairs before the exit was blown up? How many rippers had been on the elevator? Ray couldn’t remember. It seemed like a swarm of rippers had exploded from the elevator car after the doors had opened. He closed his eyes even though he still had his flashlight on, trying to remember the elevator doors opening, trying to see it in his mind again, counting the rippers rushing out. Maybe ten of them. Maybe twelve. How many people could fit in an elevator?

Ray opened his eyes as Josh pulled a chair over from one of the desks, helping Emma sit down. He grabbed a few more chairs. Ray walked over to one of the chairs without a word, plopping down, suddenly aware of how exhausted he was. Mike sat down without a word.

“How did those rippers get in that elevator?” Ray asked no one in particular. “How did the Dark Angels corral them into going in there?”

Josh shrugged. “Maybe they threw a piece of meat in there.”

Ray didn’t want to think of where the “meat” had come from. He imagined the rippers racing into the elevator, fighting each other over the piece of meat. He imagined the doors closing, the elevator lowering. He imagined the Dark Angels somewhere above them closing and locking the metal gate of the chain-link fence. He imagined the Dark Angels leading more rippers to the hidden entrance of the stairway, then blowing it up. He imagined one of the Dark Angels cutting power lines to the solar panels.

He closed his eyes again. This time he saw Gerald getting killed, playing like a horror movie in his mind. He saw the two rippers materializing from the darkness like sharks swimming up from the black depths of the ocean.

“What do we do now?” Josh asked.

“We stay here for the moment,” Ray said.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Josh answered.

“I know that,” Ray snapped.

The banging continued at the door.

“We have to kill them,” Mike said matter-of-factly.

Ray looked at his son, barely seeing his face in the darkness with their flashlights shining down at the floor, but he could hear the steely edge in his son’s voice.

“He’s right,” Josh said.

“Mike’s not going out there.”

“We’ll go,” Josh said.

Ray heard Emma hold onto Josh’s arm, the slight shifting of clothing, a rush of breath. Ray had the same fear Emma had. If he and Josh went out there, that left Mike and Emma in the lab alone. If they died . . . He didn’t want to think about that.

“We don’t have any other choice,” Josh said.

Ray didn’t want to hear it anymore, didn’t want to think about it. “I know,” he said in a low voice. “But first we need to wait. We need to wait until the rippers have gone. If we open that door right now, they’ll flood in.”

“Maybe that’s a good plan,” Mike said.

They were all quiet for a minute. Ray looked at his son again, raising the light up a little so he could see his face better, staring into his son’s eyes.

“We could open the door,” Mike said in an unwavering voice. “They rush in. You and Josh shoot them as they come in.”

Ray was already shaking his head no, already voting against it.

“He might be right,” Emma whispered.

“The only other option is to wait for them to scatter again and hunt them down one by one,” Josh said.

Ray was still shaking his head no. He wanted to stop, but he couldn’t. “I . . . I don’t know.” He had to admit that it was probably a better plan than going out into that total darkness and trying to pick them off when they spotted them. He still saw the rippers swimming out of the darkness to attack Gerald—they’d been so fast, so quiet, so deadly. Those eyes and teeth illuminated in the flashlight beam, the glint of the light off their knives.

“Dad,” Mike whispered. “We can do it.”

Mike seemed so much older just then. In the darkness his boy was hidden and Ray saw the man his son would soon become. He saw the strength in him now, the courage, the determination, the tenacity.

“We need to be careful,” Ray finally said. “We need to really think this through.”

“Okay,” Josh said. “Okay. You’re the schemer. What’s the plan?”

The wheels in Ray’s mind had already started turning. He’d been against the plan from the beginning, but he’d automatically begun to think of a way to implement it. “Someone will have to open the door. Someone will have to shoot. I’ll open the door, get away from it as fast as I can. Josh, you’ll have the M-16. You shoot at them as they come in.”

“The light,” Josh said. “Someone’s going to have to spot with the light.”

“I can open the door,” Emma offered.

“No way,” Josh said.

“I will,” Mike said. “I’ll open the door. I can get out of the way. I’ll have my light and gun. I can shine the light on them as they come in the door. That way you and Josh can shoot.”

Ray sighed. He didn’t like it, but Mike’s idea made more sense. “I could have my flashlight aimed at the door. I’ll have my gun too, but Josh will do the majority of the shooting.”

They were quiet, listening to Ray’s plan.

“Josh,” Ray said. “You’ll need to try to hit the rippers only. Try not to hit the door. We can’t have it damaged. We can’t take a chance of it not locking again.”

“Okay,” Josh said.

“Mike.” Ray turned to his son. “You don’t use your light. You open the door and then back up out of the way. They won’t see you—they’ll be rushing toward me and Josh, toward the light. You need to make sure you have a clear path from the door. You’ll have your light and gun just in case.”

Mike nodded.

“Emma, you’ll be back over there by the wall. When Mike opens the door I want you to scream as loud as you can. I want your screams to draw them farther into the room as much as the light will. Okay?”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Josh, check your gun. Make sure you’ve got it loaded.”

Josh pulled the magazine out and loaded it with more bullets, filling the magazine up and popping it back in. Ray loaded his gun. Mike had only used one bullet so far—he was on his feet with his flashlight, checking his route away from the door, making sure the path was clear.

Ray was up on his feet, his legs shaky. He wasn’t too sure about this plan, but it was the best they could come up with. The longer they waited, the more chance of the rippers scattering, and the more chance of the Dark Angels coming down here. They were probably only going to wait a certain amount of time for the rippers to do their job before coming down and checking on things.

Josh led Emma to the back of the room. She waited by the wall, ready to scream.

Ray went to the metal door and pounded on it with the edge of his fist, yelling. “You want us? You want to get in here?”

The rippers went crazy on the door, beating at it, pounding on it, metal from their knives scraping at the metal door.

Mike got in position, his hand on the metal doorhandle. All he had to do was pull down and open it hard, back away as the door swung open—but he had to do it all in the darkness while Ray shined his light on the doorway.

This didn’t feel right to Ray. He couldn’t help thinking that something was wrong, that he had overlooked some important detail.

Josh was beside Ray, to his left, his body tense, the M-16 cradled in his hands.

“Remember,” Ray told Josh, not bothering to be quiet now. “Wait a few seconds. Let them get inside the room.”

“Got it, boss.”

Ray gritted his teeth; he really didn’t need Josh’s sarcasm right now. He looked at Mike. “You ready?”

“Ready,” Mike said. He’d sounded so strong and confident before—now he sounded like a twelve-year-old boy again.

Ray took a deep breath and aimed his flashlight at the door, a spotlight illuminating the whole door, Mike just inside the circle of light, his hands on the doorhandle, ready to wrench it down and pull the door open.

“Now!” Ray yelled.

Mike pushed down on the metal lever doorhandle and pulled the door open—and that’s when things went terribly wrong.

CHAPTER 61

Luke

Luke sat in the back of the same pickup truck that Petra had picked him up in a few miles outside of Hell Town. She drove now. Martin was next to Luke in the back of the truck, both of them armed with the M-16s Dawson and his group had. They also had an extra magazine each and two boxes of bullets.

The air was freezing as they drove. Petra and Dawson had gone over the plan with everyone. The two distraction vehicles, the Humvee and the smaller of Dawson’s two pickup trucks, had a large portion of the group in them. The pickup sat three in the back seats and two in front; the Humvee sat another four in that vehicle. That left only five in the other three vehicles: three drivers and the two shooters in back of the pickup truck. The van, pickup, and SUV should be enough to hold the people from the roof, but it was going to be cramped.

Luke was quiet as they drove. Martin hadn’t said much, and that was fine with Luke. He didn’t let his mind wander; he focused on his task, as he had done his whole professional life. He didn’t try to imagine what was going to happen, trying to figure out different scenarios, he just let his mind go blank; he would be ready to react to whatever happened. He trusted his training and his skills.

Thirty minutes later they were in Perry, driving toward the intersection. There were more rippers this time, more of them riled up, like they had been expecting another attack of vehicles to come. The rocks and chunks of concrete rained toward them. Luke aimed his rifle but didn’t shoot just yet—he didn’t want to waste any more ammo than he needed to.

Petra slowed the pickup down as they neared the restaurant, turning into the parking lot.

Rippers were waiting at the ditch, maybe learning that this was the place they crossed. There still weren’t as many rippers as Luke thought there would be; it seemed most of them had rushed back into the store, still trying to gather up as much food and drinks as they could—they reminded him of Dark Angels hoarding food and supplies; maybe they weren’t so different.

Luke was up in the back of the truck, leaning over the cab, his elbows on the roof, aiming his rifle as Petra sped toward the half dozen rippers waiting for them with knives and clubs in their hands. Luke squeezed the trigger over and over again, picking each of them off. The last two tried to run but Luke got them before they even turned all the way around to get away.

Petra sped down into the ditch. Luke just got back down inside the bed of the truck to hold on as Petra climbed the other side of the ditch. The truck bounced up and over the edge of the ditch, running over the flattened shrubs that used to be the border, then onto the pavement. The van and SUV were right behind her, following her through the ditch and into the parking lot. As soon as the three vehicles were in the parking lot, the other two distraction vehicles crossed the ditch and followed them, hanging back a little and drifting farther apart.

In the lead, Petra raced toward the Super Bea’s, rushing up to the front, the same spot where they had stopped before and Jo had thrown down the walkie. Luke picked up the walkie in the back of the truck. He was sure Jo and the others had seen them coming as far back as the intersection. He saw the rope ladders falling from the front of the building, all three at the same time, unfurling and hanging down as Petra skidded to a stop.

The distraction vehicles spread out: each of them racing toward the far corners of the front of the building. Rippers were already coming. The pickup was at the left side of the building where the gate to the fenced-in area was. The shooters were up in the back, firing at the rippers.

The van and SUV stopped a few feet behind Petra, staying at least five feet apart so everyone from the roof could get in easily enough.

Three people descended the rope ladders. Luke watched them with his assault rifle ready. It seemed like they were all moving so slowly down the ladders. But a moment later the men and the one woman were on the ground. Two wore backpacks and one had a duffel bag looped over his shoulder. They all had weapons, standing guard as the next people started down the ladders: three women with two children a few rungs above them. Luke recognized the kids: Patrick and Brooke. This next group was climbing down the swaying ladders so slowly they made the first three look like speed demons.

Luke glanced at the pickup truck full of people. The men in back were still shooting as the truck turned around in a wide circle, driving back toward the rear of the parking lot to turn back toward them.

They’re shooting too much—they’re going to run out of ammo too soon.

But there was nothing Luke could do about it. He was helpless as he waited in the back of the truck for Jo and the others to get down from the roof. He could try to pick off some of the rippers if they got past the trucks, but he made himself wait.

Brooke was down on the ground, one of the men grabbing her when he could reach her. The boy had frozen up halfway down. The woman (Luke thought her name was Rebecca) stayed put on the ladder a few feet away from him, trying to coax the scared boy down. Luke could hear the boy crying.

Another woman was coming down the ladder Brooke had just climbed down from. She was going too fast. She slipped, almost fell, but she caught herself at the last second.

Patrick cried even harder as he watched the woman almost fall off.

“Just look at me,” the woman told Patrick. “We can do this together.”

The next woman was down. Another man was following her down, another man waiting at the top of the knee wall for her to get almost all the way down.

This was taking too long. If they could’ve used all three ladders maybe they could have made it, but this was taking too much time.

The rippers were coming from across the street, some coming from the partially completed building, some from the gas station at the corner of the intersection, some from the restaurant. But there were so many still behind the store, still inside the store. It sounded like there were a million of them. If they waited too long they would be overrun by them, bogging their vehicles down so they couldn’t escape.

One of the men with the rifle tried to escort Brooke toward the SUV, but she shrugged him off, bolting away from him.

What the hell’s she doing?

Brooke ran to the bottom of the ladder that the boy was on and she climbed it, shimmying up so much more quickly than she had descended it. The boy had stopped wailing, staring down at Brooke, watching her in awe like he was watching a superhero coming to rescue him.

“I’ll help you down,” Brooke yelled up at the boy who looked to be her age, maybe a year or two younger. “You follow me down. I won’t let you fall.”

The boy seemed to believe it. He started climbing down after Brooke. They were moving slowly, but at least they were moving.

Three others got into position at the tops of the ladders, ready to start climbing down as soon as Brooke, Patrick, and Rebecca were off of the middle ladder.

Martin moved to the tailgate of the truck, getting ready to aim.

“Save your ammo,” Luke told him. “Hear those rippers in the back of the store? They’re coming now. We’re gonna need that ammo.”

Martin seemed like he was going to shoot, but then he lowered his weapon.

Brooke was off the ladder, Patrick right behind her, and Rebecca.

“Over here,” Luke yelled at the three of them. “Get into that SUV.” He pointed at the black SUV right behind them.

They ran across the sidewalk toward the waiting vehicle, Rebecca getting to it first, opening the back door.

“That’s a damn amazing thing you just did,” Luke yelled at Brooke as she got to the SUV. Brooke couldn’t help smiling.

Kate was the next one down. She had a backpack on, and Luke swore he’d seen something moving inside of the pack as she ran to the SUV to get inside with Brooke.

The last ones coming down were Jo, Gil, and another man with a rifle looped over his shoulder. They were moving pretty fast, but maybe it wasn’t fast enough. The pickup truck was speeding toward them from the far corner of the store, honking its horn and flashing its lights. Luke didn’t need the warning, he saw the horde of rippers chasing the truck; it looked like there were hundreds of them.

The Humvee was coming back from the other corner of the store, another mob of rippers chasing it. Both vehicles turned toward the ditch between the supermarket parking lot and the restaurant parking lot. The van was full and it followed the two vehicles, then the SUV followed them. Only Petra waited on the last three people to get down off the ladders and into the back of the pickup. They already had a man inside the pickup who had thanked them profusely for coming to get them.

Just Jo, Gil, and the man with the rifle slung over his shoulder to go.

Luke watched the horde of rippers. Some of them had peeled away to chase the other vehicles but there were still so many coming toward their pickup.

“Come on!” the man in the back of the pickup yelled, holding on to the side.

Luke stood up near the back of the cab, his back against the rear window, aiming his M-16. He squeezed off a few shots, mowing a few of the rippers down. But the shots weren’t stopping them. They’d be here in seconds.

The man was down off the ladder and into the truck. He hunkered down, breathing hard, his rifle ready. Gil was down next, but he waited for Jo. He had his own rifle ready, aiming, shooting.

As soon as Gil fired, the man in the back of the truck fired. Martin fired. Luke fired.

More rippers were shot, falling down, tripping the ones up behind them. But another wave was coming.

Gil yelled something at Jo, encouragement it sounded like to Luke.

Jo was on the ground, hurrying with Gil to the back of the truck.

The rippers were only twenty yards away. Petra revved the truck.

The gunshots weren’t working—Luke had one last trick up his sleeve. He pulled out his last hand grenade and pulled the pin. He threw the grenade at the approaching mob as Gil helped Jo into the back of the truck. Luke beat on the top of the cab, signaling Petra to go.

Petra took off, speeding away as the hand grenade exploded among the rippers, pieces of bodies flying everywhere, screams of terror and pain filling the air.

A moment later they were at the ditch. Luke shot at rippers, but most of the horde had stayed back after the explosion, it had slowed them down just enough.

They got through the ditch and through the parking lot, catching up to the other vehicles as they raced north and then east out of town, deeper into the mountains and deeper into the woods.

CHAPTER 62

Ray

As soon as Mike swung the metal door open he fell backward.

Emma started to scream, the sound so shocking to Ray.

Two rippers from the hall rushed inside the doorway, one rushing Ray and Josh, the other turning toward Mike in the darkness to his left, hearing Mike’s movements as he crab walked back along the floor, dragging something metallic with him: either his gun or the flashlight, or both.

“Over here!” Ray yelled at the two rippers. He kept the light shining on the two rippers even though he wanted to shine it at Mike to make sure he was okay, but he couldn’t spotlight Mike so the ripper could find him—he had to practically force himself to keep the light pointed at the doorway.

There were more rippers beyond the two that had rushed inside, but those rippers were hesitating before entering, letting the first two come inside the room first. Ray was reminded of the trailer at the used car lot, how two of the rippers had entered, one at a time, fanning out, more strategic than before. The third had stayed outside, waiting for one of them to leave the trailer.

Was that what they were doing now?

The first ripper charged them, his eyes shining in the flashlight beam, arm raised, the knife clenched in his blood-soaked hand, blood caking his mouth and coating the blade of his knife, spots of blood on his chest and the ribbons of the button-down shirt that still hung on his shoulders. He’d been feasting on the dead rippers in the hallway, or maybe the fresher kill of Gerald.

Josh couldn’t wait any longer—he pulled the trigger of the M-16, knocking the lead ripper back. The ripper collapsed with a look of shock on his face, his shiny eyes going glassy.

The second ripper was going for Mike.

Emma was still screaming.

“Mike, get away from there!” Ray yelled. He kept his light aimed at the ripper as he darted across the open lab door—it took the light away from the doorway where other rippers waited in the darkness.

Mike didn’t answer; he scrambled on the floor, fumbling with the gun in his hand. Three quick gunshots. Ray’s beam of light reached his son. Mike sat on the floor, his knees up in front of him, his arms outstretched, his gun clenched in both hands; he looked like he was going to tip over backwards in that position. He stared with wide eyes at the ripper he’d just killed, his mouth a tight grimace, his expression somewhere between terror and concentration.

The ripper crumpled on the floor in front of Mike, groaning, moving, and then he was still.

“Ray, the light!”

Emma stopped screaming for just a moment to catch her breath, then she began again. It was an eerie sound in the darkness; it reminded Ray of the female rippers that wailed out a scream, almost like a siren calling the other rippers to attack. Was Emma trying to mimic that sound?

Ray panned his light beam from the dead ripper and a shell-shocked Mike back to the doorway. Two more rippers rushed in, both yelling, their voices blending in with Emma’s nonstop screams.

Josh fired his automatic rifle, fanning the gun back and forth slightly.

“Get back!” Ray yelled at Mike, his voice drowned out between Emma and the rippers’ screams and the gunfire. He didn’t want Mike to get struck with a stray bullet or a ricochet from Josh’s M-16. Even though Luke had showed Josh how to fire the weapon, he was no expert with it.

The two rippers were down just inside the doorway, both dead.

Was that it? Only four of them?

“Ray,” Josh said.

He’d seen it: a flash of movement in the dark hallway.

Josh was already bolting for the doorway, the M-16 clenched in his hands.

Ray followed Josh—he needed to spot for him or Josh would never see the other ripper coming. But he couldn’t help shining the light at Mike as he ran toward the door.

Mike wasn’t there anymore.

Ray panned the light farther down the wall and spotted Mike next to the end of a desk. He still had his gun in his hands, his flashlight poking out of his jacket pocket. His eyes were still wide, his body still tense, but he seemed okay for now.

“You all right?” Ray called out.

“Yeah,” Mike croaked.

Josh was out in the hallway, vanished in the darkness.

Emma had finally stopped screaming. Everything was quiet except for the sounds of Josh in the hallway trying to move around in the dark.

A screech from the hallway . . . running feet.

“Ray!”

Ray was out in the hall after jumping over the two dead rippers nearly blocking the doorway. In the hall Ray turned right, shining the light. No Josh. The sound was coming from the other way. He turned, the flashlight beam racing across the hallway wall and then illuminating Josh as he stood poised with the M-16 like an action-movie hero.

The ripper, a middle-aged woman with her tangled hair flying around, rushed Josh with what looked like some kind of small machete, the blade dark with blood.

Josh pulled the trigger, spraying the ripper with bullets, cutting her down in mid-step. The blast was so loud in the hallway it felt like Ray’s eardrums were going to explode. It sounded like the gun was still firing even though Josh had stopped shooting. The smell of gunfire lingered in the stale air of the bunker, but it was overpowered by the smells of blood and slaughter.

Ray kept the light aimed at Josh. He could see beyond Josh only a little; the rest of the hallway, including Gerald’s body, was swallowed up in the darkness. He spun around, shining his flashlight down the hallway in the other direction. Then he shined his light at the doorway to the lab. He couldn’t see much beyond the doorway except the two dead bodies of the rippers; Emma and Mike were in there but he couldn’t see them. He could feel the panic building inside of him. He wanted to rush in the lab and check on them, but he needed to stay where he was; he needed to keep his flashlight shining, keep listening. But he couldn’t help thinking that a ripper had slipped inside the lab somehow while Josh had been shooting. He knew it was irrational, impossible, but he couldn’t get the nightmare thought out of his mind.

Maybe he was cracking . . . his mind finally snapping.

“Hear anything?” Josh whispered.

“No,” Ray answered, shining the light back on Josh again.

“We should check around the bunker,” Josh suggested.

“Yeah,” Ray agreed. “We need to pull the bodies out into the hallway first. I don’t want to leave them inside with Mike and Emma.”

Josh turned around. He looked like he might argue that they didn’t have the time to move dead bodies around, but he didn’t.

Mike rushed up to them when they got back inside the lab. He still had his gun in his hand. “Did you get all of them?”

“We got one more,” Ray said. “We need to check the rest of the bunker.”

Mike stared at Ray.

“Where’s your flashlight?”

Mike holstered his gun and pulled his flashlight out of his jacket pocket.

“We’re going to get these dead bodies out of here before we leave,” Ray told Mike. “You shine your light so we can see what we’re doing, okay?”

Mike turned on his flashlight.

Josh was over by Emma, making sure she was okay. She walked back with him, standing by Mike.

Ray and Josh made quick work of dragging the rippers out through the doorway, each of them grabbing a foot and pulling them outside, leaving behind wide smears of blood on the floor, painting the threshold with it.

As they pulled the last ripper into the hallway, then down away from the doorway, Ray’s skin tingled with fear. An almost electrical impulse raced through his body. They worked in the weak sphere of light that Mike’s flashlight provided, but it barely pushed the darkness back. And it felt like something was sneaking up on them in that darkness.

Moments later they were back inside the lab.

“Maybe you got them all,” Mike said.

“We have to go check, Mike.”

Mike didn’t like the idea of it, but he nodded solemnly.

“You stay here with Emma.”

“We’ll be okay,” Emma said. She gave Josh a hug. “You be careful,” she whispered.

CHAPTER 63

Ray

Fifteen minutes after they had dragged the dead rippers out of the lab, Ray and Josh were in the hallway again. Mike closed the door, locking it. Josh had his M-16 in his hands, his magazine fully loaded again. Ray had his gun in one hand, his flashlight in the other.

“Let’s start with the lobby first,” Ray whispered. “Then we’ll work our way back down the hall, checking each room along the way.”

Josh nodded. “You got it, boss.”

Ray let the sarcasm slip. He walked beside Josh, the air a little better the farther away they got from the dead bodies. They walked through the archway into the lobby, passing the desk to the left with the computer monitor on top. Ray shined his flashlight around slowly.

No rippers.

They stopped at the elevator doors. The keypad next to the doors wasn’t lit up, but Ray pushed at the buttons anyway.

Nothing.

Ray counted up the rippers they had already killed. Four when they had first rushed down the hall from the elevator before the power went out. Then two more that had attacked Gerald when they made their way down to the lab after Mike had crawled through the ductwork. And just now five more. That was eleven altogether. Could eleven of them have fit in the elevator? Had some of them come down the stairs? Could there be more of them somewhere in Avalon?

He stared at the elevator doors for a moment, shining his light on them. He tried to remember how big the elevator car had been. It had fit him, Mike, Josh, and Emma easily enough. Eleven rippers wouldn’t have been such a tight squeeze, would it?

Maybe rippers had come only from the elevator and none had come down the stairs before the doors were blown. If some had come down the stairs, there could be a lot more of them roaming around in the darkness.

But so far there were no sounds anywhere else in the bunker.

They headed back down the hall, checking the doors along the way. The doors to the computer rooms were locked. Before they got to the lab and the dead bodies, they entered the shorter hallway that led to the dining room and cafeteria. They entered the large room slowly, letting the flashlight beam illuminate their way. If there were any rippers hiding in the dark, they would see them coming from a mile away.

Ray shined his light across the tables and chairs. No rippers. Nowhere to hide.

They went behind the serving tables and cafeteria rail. Ray shined his light down the galley-style kitchen area, lines of shadows racing across the counters and equipment.

No rippers.

They went deeper into the rest of the kitchen, checking around all the equipment, even in some of the lower cabinets. No rippers and no sounds.

Ray was beginning to relax a little.

They checked the pantry. No rippers inside. No rippers in the freezer or walk-in cooler.

They left the kitchen and dining area. They were back in the main hallway a moment later, moving past the dead bodies that littered the floor. They checked more doors along the way. The storage closet was locked, but the door to the sleeping quarters was open.

It took twenty minutes to check all of the sleeping quarters and bathrooms.

No rippers.

They checked the gym and the locker room. Still no rippers. All the other doors to the other labs were locked. The last door led to the stairway. They climbed the stairway, but only got halfway up when they saw the rocks, dirt, and twisted metal blocking the rest of the way.

“No way we’re going to get through that,” Josh said.

Ray just nodded, shining the beam of light at the rubble blocking the way. He was happy there were no rippers in the bunker, but they were trapped down here now until someone turned the power back on so the elevator would work. The claustrophobia pressed in on him from all sides, panic building, but he pushed it back a little. He wasn’t going to panic in front of Josh, and he damn sure wasn’t going to let himself panic in front of Mike.

“They trapped us down here hoping the rippers would get us,” Josh said. “They’ll wait for a while and come back down here and get us,”

Ray nodded again. “We can wait them out a little while. We’ve got plenty of food and water.”

“It’s going to get awful cold down here,” Josh said.

“We’ll grab blankets from the sleeping quarters.”

They left the stairwell and walked back into the hallway.

“What about the elevator shaft?” Josh said.

“What about it?”

“I could climb up the shaft. Get out through the doors. Sneak up on the Dark Angels before they come down here.”

Ray didn’t say anything.

“You know they’re coming. We know that, we just don’t know when.”

“You don’t know how many there are.”

“I’ll have the element of surprise.”

Ray sighed. He had to admit that Josh’s plan could work if there were only a few Dark Angels up there.

“There should be an emergency ladder embedded into the walls of the elevator shaft,” Josh said. “Most newer elevator shafts have them. I’ll take a light, my trusty M-16, the ammo I have.”

“Let’s rest first,” Ray said. “We’ll get some water, some food, some rest. Then we’ll talk about it.”

They were back at the lab door. Ray knocked three times on the door, then twice.

Mike opened up the door and let them inside.

CHAPTER 64

Luke

It was only thirty minutes away from sunset when Petra spotted the white church sitting alone on top of a hill, the woods all around it in the distance. A dirt road wound around the side of the hill and up to the church. There were no vehicles there, no rippers wandering around. They hadn’t seen any rippers in the last twenty minutes of driving. She pulled off the road and drove up the dirt trail, the other four vehicles following hers.

It wasn’t a huge church—just the one building with a steeple—but it was probably big enough to hold one hundred people at full capacity. Luke could almost hear the bell in the steeple ringing, the sound of a choir coming from inside.

They parked their trucks around the building, one blocking the rear doors, another vehicle on each side of the building, and the last two vehicles in front.

It was dark by the time they searched the church and then unpacked some of their supplies from the trucks, taking all of their weapons and ammo inside with them. Three of the Dark Angels agreed to take the first watch with a pair of night vision goggles and assault rifles, two spotters in front and one in the back. The two in the front had a walkie that they could use in an emergency to warn them if rippers were coming.

Everyone settled inside the church at the far end, near the stage and the pulpit. Kate and Rebecca laid Brooke and Patrick down in the second row of pews, both of them exhausted and ready to sleep. Rebecca laid with them, keeping them company. A few of the others laid down in the pews, sleeping, but most sat in the first row of pews and on the carpeted steps that led up to the stage. It was very dark inside the church with only one battery-powered lantern on low to give the barest of light, enough to just make out their shadowy presence. A faint moonlight shined in through stained glass windows, most of the panes cracked and broken, allowing the cold air to seep in.

Luke got the Dragon’s guard settled down at the end of the stage, checking to make sure his hands were still bound securely in front of him. He left the man’s ankles untied if he promised to be good.

The guard just nodded, staring daggers at Luke.

Luke sat down next to Petra. Jo and Gil sat close to each other. Dawson and Kate were there. Lisa and Wade sat next to each other. Some of the other townspeople and Dark Angels were among the group, too.

“What do we do now?” Kate asked.

“We stay here for the night,” Luke said.

“I mean after that. Where are we going after that?”

“The rippers got a lot of the food in the store,” Jo said. “But there’s still a lot of canned food they can’t get into. There are still a lot of supplies there. The rippers won’t stay there forever, at least not as many as there are now. We could go back eventually, rebuild the fence, make it stronger. Rebuild the doors. Make it a fortress again. Now, with the Dragon dead, we’ll only have to worry about the rippers getting inside.”

“Yeah, but when can we go back?” Lisa asked. “Two days? A week? A month?”

“What about Hell Town?” Kate asked.

“It’s burning,” Luke said.

“It could be rebuilt too,” Dawson suggested.

“I don’t want to live in that place,” Petra said.

“The supplies in the basements might be okay,” Martin said. “The fires might not have gotten to them, might not have destroyed everything down there.”

Luke sat still and listened to them talk. He watched Dawson and Martin, and then he watched the other Dark Angels and townspeople. He trusted Dawson and Martin somewhat—they had proved their loyalty—but he still couldn’t be sure about the others from Hell Town. He couldn’t be sure about the Dark Angels outside spotting. He didn’t differentiate between Dark Angels and townspeople; to him they were all Dark Angels whether they had taken the brand or not. He stayed tense, ready for anything. He could see the spotters outside moving away when the horde of rippers came, not warning them, allowing the rippers to get inside the church. He glanced at Petra for a moment, barely able to make out the outline of her face in the weak light. For some reason he was sure she felt the same way he did.

“Maybe we should find somewhere else safe to stay tomorrow,” one of the townspeople said, an older man who was stick-thin. He brushed at his mustache as he talked like he was wiping away sweat from his upper lip. “Somewhere safer than this.”

Luke stood up. All eyes were on him. “If we’re going to stay together as a group then we need unity. We need a leader to make decisions.”

“And you’re the leader?” the thin man sneered, wiping at his mustache. “Is that it?”

Luke would never be the leader. He’d never been a leader before and he had no intentions of starting now. “No. Jo is our leader here. For all of us. You answer to her. Anyone not okay with that is free to leave. You can take a few bottles of water, your weapons you have on you, but that’s it. If you stay, everyone will follow Jo’s orders. She’s in charge.”

Everyone was quiet as Luke sat back down.

Jo stood up and cleared her voice just a little. Gil was right next to her, still seated. “Hell Town’s burning,” she said. “The store is overrun with rippers. Food and supplies might still be salvageable in those two places, but not for a while. But there’s a place we could go, a place Ray, his son, Josh, and Emma went to, a place Ray tried to convince me to take all of you to . . . Avalon. I made the decision for all of you not to go with him. Maybe that was the wrong decision, so I don’t think I deserve to be your leader and make decisions for you.”

No one spoke as Jo sat back down.

“I’ll follow Jo,” Kate said.

“Me too,” Petra said immediately.

“You know where I stand,” Luke said.

“Same here,” Lisa said. Wade put his arm around her and nodded in agreement.

A few of the other townspeople and Dark Angels nodded and grunted that they would follow Jo.

“I guess I will, too,” Gil said with a smile. Jo gave him a playful punch in the leg.

“I appreciate all of your confidence,” Jo said, “but I’m not your leader. We’ll make all of our decisions together from now on.”

More nods and agreements from the Dark Angels and townspeople.

“We all need to do this together,” Jo said.

“What’s Avalon?” Lisa asked.

“It’s an underground lab associated with the CDC. Ray used to work for the CDC.”

A few murmurs of interest.

“As an accountant,” Jo said quickly. “He wasn’t a scientist. But one of his supervisors told him about Avalon, told him how to find it. He told Ray to go there. So, maybe we should go there too.”

A few more murmurs and glances at each other.

“So let’s go,” Kate said. “We can leave in the morning.”

“There’s just one problem,” Jo said. “Ray didn’t exactly know where Avalon was.”

Everyone was silent for a moment as her words sank in.

“Ray had drawn a map before, when he’d researched the place at his supervisor’s house, but the map got burned up with all of his other stuff in a cabin in West Virginia.”

Luke remembered the cabin exploding when the missile had slammed into it.

“So how are we going to find this place, then?” the mustached man asked with a sneer; he seemed to be pleased by this impasse.

Jo looked at Luke.

“Ray followed us halfway to Hell Town,” Luke told everyone. “We stopped at a crossroads. I know where it is. From there Ray drove south. It’s somewhere to start.”

“Yes,” Jo agreed. “Ray said Avalon was in northern Georgia.”

“Northern Georgia?” the older man griped. “That . . . that’s a pretty big area, don’t you think?”

“You think Ray found it?” Lisa asked, not bothering to hide her doubt. “I mean, you said he didn’t have his map anymore. And all the rippers everywhere . . .”

“I don’t know,” Jo answered. “Ray, along with Luke, and the others they were with, they have survived a lot. I have full confidence that Ray and his group not only survived, but that they found Avalon.”

“But you don’t know for sure,” Mustache Man said.

“I’m confident he found it,” Jo repeated.

A few of the townspeople whispered among themselves.

“Maybe we should find another building to stay in,” a woman from Hell Town suggested. “Somewhere much more remote than this.”

“Yes,” Jo said. “We could find something like that, but we won’t be able to stay there very long. Or anywhere else. Rippers will eventually find us . . . a herd of them. Maybe thousands of them. More than we can fight.”

“But we could be driving around in circles,” the man with the mustache said, a few of his townies agreeing. “It could be even more dangerous to look for Avalon than to just stay put somewhere.”

“Yeah,” the woman who had spoken up before said. “I mean, this Avalon place sounds like a great idea—if we knew where it was.”

“I know where it is,” a voice from the far side of the room said.

Luke clicked his flashlight on and shined it at the Dragon’s guard sitting at the other end of the stage. The guard squinted at the sudden light trained on him, raising his bound hands a little to block the light.

“What do you mean you know where the place is?” Luke asked him.

“Avalon. I didn’t know that was the name of the place, but the Dragon had a bunker in northern Georgia.”

“How did he find it?” Jo asked.

The guard shrugged. “I don’t know. He just seemed to know where it was. He sent Dark Angels there a few weeks ago.”

“Shit,” Luke breathed out, his stomach sinking.

“So the Dark Angels were there the whole time?” Jo said. “And if Ray and the others got there . . .” She let her words trail off.

“We still need to go,” Petra said.

Everyone looked at her.

“You came for me,” Petra said. “You had no idea if I was alive or dead, but you came for me. We need to do the same for them.”

“She’s right,” Luke said. He shined his light back at the guard. “What’s your name?”

“Nick,” the guard said.

“Nick,” Luke repeated. “How many Dark Angels were sent there?”

“I’m not sure. Probably a small group. Maybe eight to ten of them.”

“And they’re still there?”

“As far as I know. I believe this bunker was the Dragon’s escape plan if things went wrong. I don’t know much more than that. I’m sorry. But I do know where it is. I can show you how to get there.”

“You better not be lying,” Luke growled at Nick.

“I’m not. The Dragon’s dead. None of us are with him anymore. I’m with you now. All of us are.”

Luke wasn’t so sure about that.

“Okay,” Jo said and then looked at Nick. “Can you draw us a map?”

Nick nodded.

“We’ll leave in the morning,” Jo said. “Is everyone on board with that?”

Luke heard the murmurs of agreement, but he didn’t care whether all of them were on board or not. If they wanted to leave, they were free to. They would have their chance to go their own way in the morning. Otherwise, everyone was headed to Avalon.

CHAPTER 65

Josh

They had eaten and drunk water in the near-darkness of the lab. They had rested. They had slept. Josh’s sleep had been riddled with dreams, but not the nightmares of the Dragon. Not anymore. His dreams were erratic, just images and sounds that didn’t make much sense after he woke up and thought about them.

After they’d been awake for hours, with no idea what time it was, if it was day or night, Josh had to speak up.

“We need to get out of here,” Josh said.

Ray sighed—he knew what was coming.

Josh didn’t care. “I can climb the elevator shaft. Get to the top. Pry the doors open. Get outside. I can ambush any Dark Angels before they come down here.

Emma reached out and touched Josh’s forearm, holding onto it, finding his hand, cupping hers within his. He squeezed his hand around hers gently.

“Those Dark Angels aren’t going to wait forever before they come down here,” Josh said. “If they get down here, it’s going to be a shootout. They might cut the power again. They might have night vision goggles. They might have bombs. Or tear gas. We can’t take that chance. I think we should strike first.”

Ray was silent, but Josh could tell he was considering his idea.

“How are you going to climb an elevator shaft?” Mike asked, part curiosity part smart ass.

“There should be a ladder embedded in the wall, recessed in so the elevator can go up and down smoothly. All newer elevator shafts have them now. It’s a narrow metal ladder used for emergencies and maintenance.” Of course there was always the chance there was no ladder, but he would have to figure something else out if that was the case.

“Maybe Ray’s right,” Emma said. “We wait. We just wait for a while and come up with a plan.”

Josh understood Emma’s reluctance—she didn’t want him to get hurt.

“We should at least try,” Josh said, looking from Emma, to Mike, and then to Ray in the weak light of the lantern. “I could just go up there and scope things out. I’ll bring my gun, but I won’t use it unless I really need to. I’ll bring binoculars. See what’s going on up there. We need some kind of information to work with.”

“I could go with you,” Ray offered.

“I think it would be best if I went alone,” Josh said. “If something were to . . . to happen to me, you would still be here for Mike and Emma.”

Finally, Ray nodded.

*

Twenty minutes later Ray helped Josh pry the elevator doors open. Even though they had searched the bunker and were sure there were no rippers left alive, Ray wanted Mike and Emma to remain inside the lab with the door locked.

Josh found a ladder in a storage room off of the kitchen. The ladder was tall enough for Josh to reach the panels of the elevator ceiling. He pulled them away, revealing a metal door in the ceiling to get onto the top of the car. He shoved his M-16 through the open doorway and set it on the ceiling with a slight thump. He had his flashlight with him and his backpack. Inside the pack he had the extra magazine for the M-16 fully loaded with the bullets he had left, two bottles of water, a few protein bars, and a small pry bar he would use at the top of the shaft to pry the elevator doors open when he got to them. He also had a small plastic container with the two Molotov cocktails stuffed down inside that he had gotten ready at the store. He was a little loaded down with the supplies, a little more loaded down than he wanted to be while climbing a metal ladder hooked to the side of an elevator shaft, but he needed the items he had with him.

“You ready?” Ray asked.

Josh stood on the ladder, staring down at Ray. “Yeah. I’m ready.”

“You don’t have to do this,” Ray said. “We could wait a while longer. Search this place more. We could be prepared for any kind of attack they have planned. They can only come down the elevator if they get the power turned back on, or the stairs if they clear the rubble away, and we would hear them clearing away the rubble.”

“They might be waiting for reinforcements,” Josh said. “If we wait a few days, there could be a hundred Dark Angels here.”

Ray didn’t argue. Josh knew that Ray couldn’t disagree with him.

“Be careful,” Ray finally said.

Josh was going to say: “Yes, mother,” but decided not to; there was something about the look in Ray’s eyes right now.

A moment later, Josh was up through the small doorway in the ceiling of the elevator. He stood gingerly on the solid metal roof of the elevator car, making sure it was going to hold his weight. He didn’t pick up his rifle just yet. Instead, he pulled his flashlight out and turned it on, shining it all around him, and then up at the walls, the walls disappearing into darkness the farther they went up.

They were down deeper in the earth than Josh had expected.

A clattering sounded from the elevator car and then Ray poked his head up through the open panel.

Josh thought Ray had changed his mind about joining him.

“I brought an extra lantern,” Ray said, setting the lantern on top of the roof and turning it on, allowing more light for Josh to see. “Is there a ladder in the wall?” He sounded like he hoped there wasn’t a ladder.

“Yeah,” Josh said, aiming his flashlight at a niche in the wall, rising all the way up, the space recessed into the wall just enough to fit a person inside, a metal ladder bolted to the block walls inside the groove.

“Okay,” Ray said. “Just see what you can see. Don’t try to take all of them on by yourself. Maybe I can go up there with you after you scout it out.”

Josh nodded. But he had every intention of taking out the Dark Angels if he could surprise them with an attack.

Ray climbed back down the ladder without another word, leaving Josh alone on top of the elevator car. Josh picked up his rifle and slung it over his shoulder, tightening the strap as much as he could. He was going to have to climb the ladder with the flashlight in his hand at some point, but for the first fifty feet or so he would be able to see well enough with the lantern shining on top of the elevator car.

He stepped inside the large groove in the wall, grabbing the rungs of the ladder, pulling on them to make sure they were secure.

Then he climbed.

Once he was high enough above the elevator car, the light from the lantern didn’t help him anymore—it became a pinpoint of light from below, looking like a lone dwindling star in the vastness of deep space. He had to pull his flashlight out, turn it on, and try to keep climbing. He thought about shoving the flashlight down into his jacket pocket, but he was afraid he might drop it. He wished he had a strap with a light that he could attach around his head, like a miner’s helmet. He was sure that he and Ray could’ve come up with some kind of contraption like that, but it was too late now; he was on his way up.

The climbing was slow. He’d never been too afraid of heights. He’d worked plenty of construction jobs on rooftops or on scaffolding, walking planks of wood while carrying a sheet of drywall. He’d even worked on top of an elevator shaft once, tightening bolts of the metal framework above the shaft. That shaft had been five stories high, and he had to admit even back then that he’d been more than a little nervous.

This was different. It was scary because he knew that this shaft was probably a lot deeper than five stories. Maybe ten stories. Definitely enough of a drop to kill him if he fell. But it also felt different because he couldn’t see well enough around him to feel like he was that high up from the top of the elevator car. He felt swallowed up in darkness, climbing in some alien world long abandoned by its inhabitants.

He worried about the Dark Angels turning on the electricity again, the elevator car coming to life. They would have the code needed to summon the car to the top again—he was sure Gerald would have been forced to give them the code, along with any other information they requested. He could imagine the whirring noise of the elevator coming to life, the lights shining from the open door at the top of the car, the car speeding up toward him. He would be safe inside the niche (he hoped), but it would be frightening to have the car rush past him, like lying flat underneath a train as it roared by.

It was best not to think about that.

He concentrated on climbing a little higher, shining his light along the way. He slipped once and swore his heart had stopped for a few seconds, his breathing coming in ragged gasps. It took him a moment to calm down enough to start climbing again.

It seemed to take forever to get to the doors that led to the small white building, but here he was. His calves and feet were aching from climbing the metal ladder, his hands wanting to cramp up from the exertion, the fear, and the cold.

The doors were off to his right, almost too far away to reach. He stretched his arm out after hooking his other arm around the rung of the ladder, leaning out past the wall of the niche as far as he could. He got the pry bar into the middle of the doors, wedging it in and trying to pull on it. He needed to be careful, if the pry bar slipped out of the middle of the doors, then he would fall. If he fell, he would die. No question about it.

He was starting to feel that this was a stupid idea. He was debating whether he should climb back down, rethink what he was doing here. He’d almost made up his mind to do that when he heard voices coming from beyond the closed elevator doors.

And then gunshots.

CHAPTER 66

Petra

It was early afternoon when they reached the lonely road through the woods and up into the mountains; there had been no buildings around for miles. A dirt trail led off of the road about a mile before the dirt road that led to Avalon. Nick had told them they could hide their vehicles on the smaller dirt trail so the Dark Angels wouldn’t see them coming.

Nick had ridden with Luke and Petra in the lead vehicle. Petra drove, Luke rode shotgun. Nick sat with Dawson and Martin in the back, squeezed in between the two. His hands were no longer bound—it had been one of his conditions for showing them where Avalon was. But Luke and Petra had agreed that Nick wouldn’t be allowed to have a weapon.

Luke hadn’t liked the idea of leaving Nick unbound, but he went along with it, giving the man a warning about double crossing them. Again, Nick promised that he was no longer loyal to the Dark Angels.

Petra didn’t trust Nick any more than Luke did, but they needed him. Once they found Avalon, once they were sure Nick was telling them the truth, then they would figure out what to do with him. It wouldn’t bother her to tie him up again and leave him in the woods, gag him so he couldn’t call out to his Dark Angel buddies around Avalon. In fact, it probably wouldn’t bother her in the least to just put a bullet in the man’s head. He’d been one of the Dragon’s guards. He hadn’t been going along just to get along like most of the townspeople and some of the Dark Angels had; he had personally guarded the Dragon. Petra had seen him in the dining room with them when she had eaten dinner with the Dragon. She wondered if he had been one of the guards who had dragged Sharon onto the back porch, one of them who had kept her prisoner. She couldn’t remember seeing Nick’s face when she and Sharon were being tortured on the back porch—she’d been too traumatized by then. She wanted to ask him about it but was afraid of the answer he might give.

Jo and the others waited by the trucks while Petra went with Luke, Dawson, Martin, and Nick on foot through the woods near the side of the paved road, working their way nearly silently through the brush for the next mile. The other Dark Angels left behind with Jo and Kate stood guard with weapons, watching out for any rippers or Dark Angels. Petra felt nervous about leaving them in the care of the Dark Angels, but she didn’t really have a choice; they couldn’t bring all of them to Avalon through the woods—the Dark Angels at Avalon would see and hear them coming a mile away.

Nick took the lead as they walked through the woods. Dawson and Martin were right behind him. Luke was behind them, and Petra brought up the rear.

She watched Luke as he walked, watching the way he carried himself, watching his broad shoulders, his narrow waist, his long and muscular arms. In the short time she’d known him, feelings for him had begun to stir.

It didn’t really matter, she was sure that Luke didn’t feel the same way about her. He hadn’t made anything close to an advance toward her, not even much of a look in her direction.

She needed to focus on what they were doing. There was most likely going to be a battle at Avalon when they got there, a fight to the death.

Thirty minutes later they found the dirt trail that led up the hill to Avalon, but they stayed in the woods, waiting for a few minutes, listening.

Petra caught Luke looking at her, like he was gauging her reaction to the silence in the woods, waiting for her opinion. She held his gaze for nearly a full minute.

Was there something in his eyes? Something else? Could he feel the same way about her?

Her stomach fluttered a little. Her bandaged hand ached a little, the stub of her pinkie itching slightly under the bloodstained gauze and tape.

She finally nodded.

They were on the move again, following the trail higher up the hill, through the woods. They passed the gate on the trail, the gate wide open, the locks and chains removed a while ago. Faint tire tracks on the hard packed dirt proved a vehicle had driven up this trail recently.

Had to be Ray’s van, and there didn’t seem to be any other tracks.

Maybe the Dark Angels guarding Avalon had left. Maybe they had deserted. Dawson claimed there were many among the Dark Angels and townspeople who didn’t want to follow the Dragon. Maybe this group, once they were away from the Dragon, Jacob, and the elite guards, talked among themselves about leaving, going somewhere else. Starting over. Maybe none of them were at Avalon when Ray and the others had gotten here.

The idea of that dissolved away when Petra settled down at the edge of the woods, staring out at the clearing on the hilltop where a lone white building sat inside a large fenced-in area. Ray’s van was parked inside, the double chain-link gates wide open. Three Dark Angels stood guard outside the fenced-in area, all three of them holding rifles and M-16s.

“What do you think?” Luke asked Nick, who crouched down among the brush with them.

Nick shrugged. “I thought there would have been more of them.”

“Only three?” Luke asked.

“Others might have left,” Dawson suggested. “Many wanted to leave. This would have been a good place to get away.”

“Ray and the others have to be down there,” Luke said. “Their van’s here. Why aren’t the Dark Angels attacking?”

“I don’t know,” Dawson answered.

Luke looked directly at Nick.

Nick shook his head. “I don’t know what’s going on any more than Dawson does. Any more than you do. All I know was that a troop was sent to guard this place.”

“You’ve been here before,” Petra said. It wasn’t a question. She could see the recognition in Nick’s eyes.

“Yes,” he admitted. “About three weeks ago or so. Not long after we started building up Hell Town.”

“Did you go down inside Avalon?” she asked him.

“No. We stood guard outside.”

“But the Dragon went down,” Petra said. “Jacob.”

“Yeah. They went. A few other guards with them. Maybe a few of the Dark Angels.”

Petra couldn’t help believing that Nick was lying. She glanced at Luke and saw that again he was watching her, like he was waiting to hear what she had to say. She wasn’t sure what to do. Could they trust Nick? Should they tie him up? Leave him here? She was right beside Luke, so close to him she could practically feel his body heat.

“What do you think?” he whispered to her.

“I think we rush out of the woods, all of us aiming our guns at the three of them. Tell them to put their weapons down. If they aim at us, we shoot.”

“Sounds good to me,” Luke said.

Before Petra even knew what she was doing, she reached out and grabbed the back of Luke’s neck, pulling him toward her. He didn’t resist at all as she kissed him hard on the mouth. She pulled away, looking into his eyes. “I just wanted to do that in case anything happened.”

Luke stared at her, then a faint smile appeared. “I’m glad you did.”

“Let’s get this over with,” Petra said.

Before Petra and Luke could stand up, Nick was up and out of the woods, rushing toward the three Dark Angels, his hands up in surrender.

The three Dark Angels came rushing forward, their weapons aimed at him.

“We don’t mean any harm,” Nick yelled. “The Dragon is dead. So is Jacob. The town is burning. It’s all over.”

The Dark Angels were across the field, halfway to the woods. They stopped, staring in shock. They knew Nick—he was their superior, their boss. They trusted him. They lowered their weapons.

“I’m with another group, the one that defeated the Dragon. The ones that freed us. They’re in the woods. They’re going to come out now. Don’t shoot at them.”

This was their cue. Petra and Luke walked out the woods with their weapons raised, aimed at the three Dark Angels. Dawson and Martin were off to Luke’s left. The four of them moved in behind Nick.

“Put your weapons down!” Petra yelled at the three Dark Angels.

“They won’t hurt you,” Nick told the Dark Angels. “They just want you to lower your weapons.”

They were closer to Nick now, the four of them fanning out.

The three Dark Angels all looked at Nick; they stood twenty-five feet away, all of them still unsure what to do.

“It’s okay,” Nick told them. “You can trust them. They won’t hurt you. They haven’t hurt me. And Dawson and Martin are here too.” He hitched a thumb back at Dawson and Martin without turning around to look at them.

Something was wrong here. This was too easy.

“Where are Ray and the others?” Petra asked the three Dark Angels. “Have you seen them?”

No answers.

“Where are the other Dark Angels?” she barked. “Did they leave?”

Just then shots rang out. Dawson and Martin fell, Dawson letting out a cry as he crumpled to the ground, Martin was silent . . . his head blown apart.

Petra and Luke turned to fire, but it was too late. Four Dark Angels emerged from the woods, all of them armed, all of them aiming their weapons.

“Throw down your guns,” Nick growled from behind them. “If you don’t want to be killed, throw them down.”

CHAPTER 67

Luke

It was a trap. Luke wasn’t sure how Nick had known, if it had been a contingency plan they had made weeks ago, or if it was something that had been improvised at the last second. But either way, the Dark Angels had them surrounded, their weapons aimed at them.

Luke didn’t want to lay his gun down. And he could tell Petra didn’t want to lay her weapon down either. He was waiting for her, waiting to see what she would do. He was more than ready to die here right now, taking out as many Dark Angels as he could before getting his head blown off. But if they died, there would be no chance to save Ray and the others—if they were even still alive.

It was a shame. Luke could still feel the slight electric tingle from Petra’s kiss. It had been rather unexpected, but more than welcome. He was curious to see where it might lead. But none of that was going to happen now.

“All this is going to do is lead to more bloodshed,” Nick said from behind Luke. It sounded like he had moved to the side, farther away from Luke and out of the path of the bullets that might fly at any second. The other three Dark Angels had probably moved out of the way too. “We won’t kill you. You have my word on that. You had your chance to kill me and you didn’t.”

“I wish we would’ve,” Petra whispered.

“Come on,” Nick said. “You two aren’t stupid. Lay your guns down and we can talk about this. We don’t want any more of our own men to die either.”

“You didn’t mind killing Dawson and Martin,” Petra said.

“They weren’t with us anymore. They were traitors. They were the reason the Dragon got killed.”

“No, I was the reason,” Petra said. “I did it.”

“Is it true?” one of the Dark Angels asked from behind them. “Is the Dragon really dead?”

“Yes,” Nick said. “The Dragon’s dead. Jacob’s dead too. At least that’s what these two say.”

“So you didn’t see it?”

“No. But the town is burning. The rippers have gotten inside. Everyone there either died or left.”

Luke knew the Dark Angels had some kind of plan for them. It wasn’t to kill them right away or they would’ve done that already. There was something else, and maybe he could figure out a way to get to them, use their plan against them.

“Last chance,” Nick said. He sounded like he had moved even farther away now.

Luke didn’t glance at Petra. He threw his M-16 down on the ground a few feet away from him. A moment later Petra did the same.

“Take out any other weapons you have on you,” Nick said. “Nice and slow.”

Luke pulled out his pistol from inside his hoodie and tossed it on the ground next to the assault rifle. Petra pulled out a knife and dropped it.

The Dark Angels from behind them moved in closer. The ones from the woods moved in closer, all of them still aiming their weapons.

“Get down on your knees,” Nick said. “Then get down on the ground. Arms and legs out wide. We’re not going to kill you. If we wanted to do that, we already would’ve.”

Luke got down on the ground on his stomach, stretching his arms out in front of him and his legs out wide. He could hear Petra doing the same thing.

Two Dark Angels moved in, searching them for weapons. The Dark Angel beside Luke wrenched his hands behind his back and bound them together with a plastic zip tie, pulling it tight.

A moment later, the Dark Angels got Luke and Petra back up to their feet. Petra’s hands were bound too.

“Good,” Nick said. “Good. This is working out well.”

“Where’s Ray?” Luke asked. “You kill him? You kill his twelve-year-old son? Josh? Emma?”

Nick looked at one of the Dark Angels, a heavy-set man with a big bushy beard. He had a camouflage ball cap pulled down low, hiding most of the DA brand carved into his forehead. He seemed to be the leader of this troop.

“They’re down there,” the man said.

“Alive?” Luke asked.

The man didn’t answer.

“We cut the power,” the leader of the troop told Nick. “They’re down there in the dark. Elevator doesn’t work. We blew the other exit, the stairs. They’re trapped down there until we turn the power back on.”

Nick nodded. “Well, I’d say it’s time to pay them a visit.” He looked at Luke and Petra. “But we’ll have a bargaining tool, something to keep them from shooting at us.” He stared at the men. “If they’re still alive.”

The leader of the troop stared back at Nick. “We had orders,” he said tentatively, glancing at his men. “We herded some rippers into the elevator before we shut down the power. Eleven of them. Got them in there and then shut the door, pushed the code to lower the elevator.”

“You sent rippers down there?” Nick said, nodding. He didn’t seem angry, more like he was considering new possibilities now.

The leader of the troop nodded in return, glancing again at his men. “Those people down there . . . they probably didn’t survive. We should be able to go down there and kill the rippers.”

“We need to get down there,” Nick said.

Nick and the other Dark Angels walked Luke and Petra inside the large fenced-in area. Two of the Dark Angels closed the gates, wrapping a chain around them.

“Any rippers been around lately?” Nick asked the Dark Angel with the big beard.

“Not too many, and none lately. This place is pretty far out here. And there are fences down the hill there, way out in those woods.” He pointed at the woods in the distance down the slope beyond the white building at the other side of the fenced-in area.

Nick nodded as he walked closer to the building, the other Dark Angels following him, leaving Luke and Petra standing alone. The group moved farther away from Luke and Petra, huddling together.

“The town’s really burning?” one of the Dark Angels asked Nick. He was a tall, lanky man with a huge Adam’s apple that bobbed up and down when he spoke. The soldier next to him seemed very interested in Nick’s answer.

“Yes, it’s true,” Nick said. “The town is lost. But the supplies in the basements might still be okay. Some of them, at least. We can go back for them later. But this could be our home for now. Avalon. We’ll regroup. We’ll go back and round up any survivors that we can. We’ll rebuild the Dark Angels back up to what it was before.”

“But you said the Dragon was dead. And Jacob.”

“That’s what they said,” Nick barked, hitching a thumb back at Luke and Petra.

“They are,” Petra yelled at the group. “Why would we lie about it? I killed the Dragon. I beat him to death with a tire iron. He tried to escape Hell Town. He got to a mechanic’s shop where he had a black pickup truck. I followed him there and killed him.”

The Dark Angels’ eyes widened—a few of them seemed to know about the Dragon’s escape plan, or at least they seemed to believe her story.

“Even if they killed them,” Nick continued, “even if the Dragon and Jacob are dead, we could still keep going with the Dragon’s plan, with his vision. We’ve got something good here. We can start over as a society.”

“And you’ll be the leader?” the thin man asked, not hiding his wariness at the idea.

“Yes,” Nick said. “Maybe only temporarily. We could vote on a leader. There are more Dark Angels with us, a few miles down the mountain. They’ll be loyal again. And there are people from that store there too. They’ll either be loyal or we’ll kill them. We have to have loyalty. Absolute loyalty.”

The Dark Angels were quiet for a moment as they huddled together, thinking it over, their weapons slung over their shoulders or held down by their sides.

“We can do this,” Nick said. “We can start over.”

The men seemed more and more convinced, nodding, glancing at each other.

Luke’s heart sank. Maybe Ray and the others had survived the rippers down in Avalon. But even if they had, an army of Dark Angels was coming down the elevator as soon as they restored the power. Maybe it was over now. Maybe they had all fought so hard for nothing. Maybe in the end evil was going to win. The Dragon was going to win even though he wasn’t here anymore. Evil men would always win. There would always be Vincents and Jacobs and Dragons. And now there was a man like Nick to take their place.

Just as the Dark Angels were ready to move out a fiery ball flew through the air and slammed into their group. Luke knew instantly what it was: a Molotov cocktail.

The men erupted in flames. Another Molotov cocktail soared in right after the first, dropping onto the men and exploding in an eruption of flames. Gunfire erupted, the men riddled with bullets while they burned, their screams cut short as they collapsed to the ground. Two of the Dark Angels at the outer part of the group managed to get off some shots, but they hadn’t really been aiming at anything.

Luke dove at Petra, slamming his shoulder into her, knocking her to the ground so a stray bullet wouldn’t hit them. He was almost on top of her. For just a second they stared into each other’s eyes on the ground. Then Luke sat up and looked back at the bodies of Nick and the Dark Angels scattered across the ground, most of the bodies still burning. He looked at the white building, at Josh who stood at the edge of the roof with the M-16 in his hands.

“Luke,” Josh said, “saving your ass is getting to be a full-time job for me lately.”

“Shut the hell up and get down here,” Luke yelled back at him. “Get these zip ties off of us.”

As Josh climbed down from the building, Luke got back up to his feet. Petra got to her feet too.

Josh hurried over to them with his pocket knife in his hand to cut the plastic ties.

“Ray?” Luke asked as Josh sliced the plastic strip binding his wrists behind his back. “Mike and Emma? Are they okay?”

“Yeah. They sent rippers down there and then cut the power. We got all the rippers, though. We’re all okay.”

“And . . . you’re the only ones down there?”

“Yeah. There was a scientist. But the Dark Angels had gotten to him weeks ago,” Josh answered as he cut Petra free.

“This was the Dragon’s backup plan,” Petra said, rubbing her wrists.

“What about the Dragon?” Josh asked. “Sounded like those men said he was dead.”

“He is,” Petra answered. “I killed him. Luke killed Jacob. Hell Town is burning. It’s all true.”

Josh sighed, nodding. “Finally over.”

“You said the power’s out,” Luke said. “The elevator isn’t working. How’d you get up here? Are there stairs somewhere?”

“Yeah, but they blew the doors there. I climbed up the elevator shaft.”

Luke just stared at him.

“There’s a metal ladder embedded in the wall for maintenance and emergencies.” Josh shook his head. “Am I the only one who’s ever heard of that?” He looked back at Luke. “What about Jo? The store?”

“Rippers got inside,” Petra said. “Jo and everyone else got onto the roof. We got them down.”

“Where are they?”

“A few miles away. In the woods. We need to get them, bring them here, get them all down in Avalon.”

Josh nodded in agreement, suddenly smiling . . . he couldn’t stop smiling. “It’s really over. Finally over.”

A ripper called from somewhere deep in the woods. Luke stared off to the east from where the sound had come from. Maybe a group of rippers was headed this way, alerted by the gunfire, or maybe they were just moving through the woods, looking for another place to find food.

“We’ll go back down the hill and get the others,” Petra said. She looked at Luke.

Luke nodded in agreement and then looked at Josh. “You get the power hooked back up while we’re gone.”

“I’ll give it a try,” Josh said. “I can’t promise anything, you know,” he called after them. “I’m not an electrician, by the way.”

Luke didn’t respond to Josh’s excuses. He and Petra hurried across the field. They stopped to pick up their weapons and then bolted to the woods, to the dirt trail that led down the mountain to the road below.

Petra stopped Luke. “Wait a minute.”

Luke waited.

She kissed him, a longer and slower kiss this time. Then she pulled away, staring at him. “Sorry. I just wanted to do that again.”

“Fine with me,” he answered and then they were on their way.

CHAPTER 68

Ray

Five months later

Josh got the power hooked back up before Luke and Petra drove back up the hill with Jo, Kate, and the others. They all rode the elevator down, Josh calling out before stepping out of the elevator. Luke and Petra were two of the last to go down the elevator, closing the chain-link gates of the fenced-in area after getting the other vehicles inside. Someone sent up a chain and a padlock from below so they could secure the gates. There were rolls of barbed wire strung across the top of the fencing, and maybe it would keep the rippers out for a while, but not forever. Ray knew that, and he kept seeing the thousands of rippers pushing against the fence, the nightmare he’d seen in his sleep so many times since staying at Avalon.

After they were settled down in Avalon for a few weeks, things got as normal as they could get. There was electricity and food and water . . . and hot water. They ate real meals, cooked meals, not just food scraped out of a can. They had vitamins and medicine. They had a chance to rest and recuperate, for hurt ankles and knife wounds to fully heal.

The sleeping arrangements were a little tight, but some of the labs and work areas were converted into bedrooms. Many of the townspeople and former Dark Angels were willing to bunk together so couples could have rooms of their own, couples like Josh and Emma, and Jo and Gil. But there were new couples forming, new romances kindling: Lisa and Wade, Luke and Petra, and even Ray and Kate were beginning to hit it off a little, but they were taking it slow. Ray still shared a room with Mike, and Kate shared a room with Brooke.

Even though they were safe down in Avalon, there were still a lot of things to do to make them even safer. Schedules for spotters above ground were set up. One of the former Dark Angels, Talbot, used to be an electrician, and he helped make sure the power to the solar panels was kept going. He got the diesel generator back up and running again after they found some diesel fuel in a nearby town.

Besides patrolling the grounds above, there were cleaning and cooking schedules. Most everyone was already used to having jobs assigned to them either at Jo’s store or in Hell Town, so there wasn’t too much fuss about volunteering, and it seemed like everyone wanted to chip in and help in any way they could. Jo managed all the schedules. She was happy to do it, and she was good at it.

Over the next few weeks after they had occupied Avalon, they got the rubble cleared away from the emergency exit, freeing up the stairway. They also asked for volunteers to go back to Jo’s store and to Hell Town to find supplies, salvaging what could be salvaged. Luke and Petra volunteered immediately. So did Lisa; she admitted she was a little claustrophobic and couldn’t wait to get outside again. And Wade went wherever Lisa went.

Their supply runs over the next few weeks were successful. They managed to get about half the supplies from Hell Town and any canned goods and supplies that the rippers had left behind at Jo’s store. Along with the stock they had at Avalon, they might have two to three years’ worth of food and supplies. Maybe more. Ray had inventoried everything, listing all of their food and supplies meticulously in several notebooks. They planned their meals out without rationing, but Ray still kept a count of what they had left.

The last few months were mostly good. Everyone seemed happy and calm, just living in the moment. Luke and Petra seemed happy to continue supply runs along with a few others, all of them seeming to crave the danger of it, the adventure of it.

Jo and Gil got even closer. Gil and the doctor worked together to treat any wounds and to get everyone healthier. When Luke wasn’t out on supply runs, he worked with Mike, teaching him how to shoot and how to fight, keeping his promise to Ray to make sure Mike was going to be as prepared as he could be to live in this new world. Even though Mike worked hard at his training, he was still a kid, and he played with Brooke and Patrick a lot of the time. Brooke had come out of her shell more, and she seemed perfectly happy to live underground, like she felt safe. She didn’t draw things she saw in her dreams, and none of them shared dreams anymore. None of them had the prophetic dreams that they used to have. Except maybe Mike. He’d told Ray about the dreams he’d been having, the dreams where he saw himself in the future, as a man on his own in this post-apocalyptic world. Mike seemed scared of those visions, but Ray was excited about them. Because of his training, Ray was sure Mike would survive.

Things were going very well, but Ray couldn’t help thinking about the future. Yes, Avalon was a good place to get through the winter, but could they really stay here forever? He saw the Dragon’s vision to some degree, a walled town, a new civilization, starting over. It would take years, but living here at Avalon would give them those years to plan and years for the ripper numbers to dwindle. He decided to begin scouting a location to rebuild as soon as it got warmer.

There had been a few problems, reports from Luke and Petra when they’d come back from their supply runs. They had spotted a few groups of Dark Angels, men and women left over from Hell Town, but they weren’t as organized as before—they were just small groups of people staying together, trying to survive in packs.

Luke and Petra had also seen clean, gleaming white skulls posted on wooden poles in a few places between Avalon and Hell Town—the same kind of thing Ray had seen outside the house they had stayed the night in before finding Avalon. Whoever the Skull People were, whatever they were . . . whether or not they were cannibals as Josh had suggested, Ray still had to consider them a threat. Maybe not a threat now, but maybe in the future. Ray would always keep that in the back of his mind.

The rippers were still out there. The cold hadn’t killed off as many of them as Ray had expected. The rippers had learned to adapt, much as early human beings might have done during the Ice Age. Ray had written down Gerald's explanations of the Ripper Plague, as much as he could remember, anyway. Kate typed it up for him and put it into a notebook. Anyone was free to read what Ray had written down, but everyone was also free to make up their own mind about what it all meant. Gerald had claimed he and other scientists had found changes in the DNA of all humans, changes that had been waiting all this time in humanity . . .

. . . and now humanity was starting over. Maybe humanity was getting a second chance. Ray was going to do his best to make sure that he, and the others with him, didn’t waste this second chance.

AUTHOR’S NOTE:

Thank you so much for reading my book. This is the last book in the Dark Days series, and I hope you enjoyed reading this series as much as I enjoyed writing it. Although this is the last in this series, I do have thoughts of a spinoff series, something set ten or fifteen years in the future, following Mike’s story and introducing many new characters. I would love to hear your thoughts on that, if you would be interested in a spinoff series. I’m also working on a few other post-apocalyptic series, along with many other standalone books and short stories.

Being an author is a dream come true for me, and it only happens because of readers like you. I thank you from the bottom of my heart!

I would love to hear your thoughts and comments. You can reach me via email at marklukensbooks@yahoo.com

Or you can find me on Facebook at: https://www.facebook.com/Mark-Lukens-Books-670337796318510/

My Twitter link is: https://www.twitter.com/marklukensbooks

You can find my blog here: https://www/marklukensbook.wordpress.com

And please feel free to sign up for my newsletter here: https://mailchi.mp/56a39e9c3a90/marklukensbooks

ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

Mark Lukens has been writing since the second grade when his teacher called his parents in for a conference because she was a little concerned about the ghost story he’d written.

Since then he’s had several stories published and four screenplays optioned by producers in Hollywood. He’s the author of many bestselling books including: the Ancient Enemy series, the Dark Days series, Sleep Disorders, Sightings, Followed, The Exorcist’s Apprentice, Devil’s Island, and many others. He’s proud to be a member of the Horror Writers Association.

He grew up in Daytona Beach, Florida. But after many travels and adventures, he settled down near Tampa, Florida with his wonderful wife and son . . . and a stray cat they adopted (two of them now).

He loves to hear from readers! Feel free to contact him at: marklukensbooks@yahoo.com

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