“At this point,” said Ledger, “I don’t know. You got yourself a whole bunch of strange zombies down here in Texas. More mutations than I’ve ever seen. Tell you what, though—until now I haven’t been all that worried about the ravagers, because I figured, how many can there actually be? But if your average citizen can turn into one of them… Well, that’s a special kind of scary, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” said Spider, “it is.”
7
“HOW DID CAPTAIN COLLINS ESCAPE?” asked Benny.
Chong’s face turned bright red, and he couldn’t meet anyone’s eyes. “I… well… I guess I… um…”
“You let her go?” roared Alethea.
Lilah immediately got up in her face, but Alethea did not back down. Nix cut in between them and pushed them apart.
“He had to,” she said, then cut a look at Chong. “Didn’t you?”
Chong nodded, then hissed because nodding really hurt. “Yes. Ouch. Yes.”
They all understood it, even if they didn’t like it. Chong had been fighting a gang of fast ravagers or mutated shamblers. In a close-quarters battle, even a good archer wasn’t likely to win. Collins, however, was a tough military officer—and, despite being a vile murderer, she was alive, and their enemies were monsters. The battle lines were clear.
“She was incredible,” said Chong, his voice almost colored with admiration. “She grabbed a folding chair and just went ape on them. I went out in the hall to use my bow, and just as I got the last of them… bang. Next thing I know I’m waking up with you guys.”
“You’re lucky she knocked you out instead of taking a second to cut your throat,” said Sam, which earned him a glare from Lilah.
Then she shifted her anger to Chong. “She could have killed you, you stupid town boy.”
“Pretty sure she tried,” observed Chong.
Alethea raised her hand. “Permission to, like, totally kill her the next time we see her.”
“Granted,” said Chong. He rubbed his head.
“Do we have any idea where this… this…,” Nix began, fishing for an appropriately vile word and instead giving her word choice enough venom to kill a scorpion, “… woman… might have gone?”
“Not anyplace around here,” said Spider. “No one in New Alamo is going to help her.”
“And the base is destroyed; there’s nowhere to go,” said Gutsy.
“We can use the dogs to track her,” said Ledger. “My guess is she went to ground somewhere in town. There are a lot of empty buildings. She’s going to need rest, food, and supplies. Then she’s going to have to sneak out of here as soon as it’s dark. There may be other bases around, and she’ll—”
Gutsy suddenly shot to her feet. “Oh no!”
“What’s wrong?” Ledger demanded.
“God, I think I know where she’s going,” Gutsy cried, and then she was running. Sombra uttered a sharp bark of alarm and leaped to follow her. Ledger gave Sam a look, and then ran to catch up.
8
THERE WAS A STEADY FLOW of refugees coming in from the Broken Lands. Some were alone and half-crazed from seeing everyone they knew and loved slaughtered; others were family groups. One group of a dozen older teens and young twentysomethings had come in just after the big fight at the gate. Their camp had been down by the Rio Grande and had been overrun. Only they had survived.
Karen Peak welcomed them and, like the others before them, sent the young survivors to see Mr. Martinez, who was in charge of housing.
“I’m no Realtor, but I guess you kids can take your pick,” he said, gesturing to a row of homes inside the east wall.
“No one lives here?” asked the tall young man who acted as the spokesman for the group. He was nineteen, but his face was weathered and his eyes looked ancient. He wore a cowboy hat over long blond hair.
“No,” said Martinez. “Any house you see with a red ribbon on the door is free for the taking. Sad truth, kids, is we lost a lot of good folks in this part of town. You’ll have to deal with anything they left behind. Clothes, pictures, and all that. We don’t have enough people to clean all these houses out.”
“That’s no problem,” said the young man.
Martinez managed a smile. “It’ll be a comfort to us all to have some new faces around here. Some new life, if you take my meaning. Lot of older folks in this part of town, so having you kids here is great. Say, I never did catch your name, son.…”
“Trócaire,” said the teen with a genial smile.
“Wow, that’s a mouthful.”
“It’s Irish,” he said. “My parents moved here when I was four. Just before the plague. And this is Ténèbres.” He indicated a thin girl, a year or so younger than he was, whose long black ponytail stuck out through the opening of a red baseball cap.
“Happy to meet you, Teeny-breeze,” said Martinez, mangling it.
“This is great,” Ténèbres said. “Thanks. I hope we’re not inconveniencing you.”
“No, no, just the opposite. Great to have you.” Martìnez smiled and held his arms wide to indicate all of New Alamo. “This is your town now.”
He left them there and walked back to the town hall to fetch the next group.
“Our town,” said Ténèbres.
“Yes,” said Trócaire, smiling. “Nice to know.”
9
MR. URREA TAPPED MR. FORD ON THE shoulder. “I don’t like the look of this.”
They stood together near the entrance to the hospital, taking a short break from helping tend the wounded. The two old teachers were bent from exhaustion but straightened as they saw Gutsy and the California kids race past, with the soldiers out in front and the dogs racing alongside. The whole bunch of them vanished into the building.
“God,” said Ford, “now what?”
* * *
Gutsy was the fastest of all of them and burst into the hospital ahead of Nix and Benny.
Karen Peak was in the hall talking to a nurse, and yelled as they blew past. “What is it?” she demanded. “Did you find another tunnel, or—?”
“Collins got away,” cried Gutsy without breaking stride. “Not sure if she left town yet, but we think she might want to take Morton with her. Do you know where he is?”
Karen hurried to keep up, talking as she ran. “He finished his triage work, so he’s either in his office or out back having lunch. When he’s not working, we’re keeping him under guard and away from people.”
“Smart,” said Gutsy.
They raced through the hospital, which was still crowded with the injured and the dying. The sound of weeping filled every corner of the suite of treatment rooms and echoed down the corridors set aside for intensive care and recovery.
The only relative quiet was the research wing, where senior staff had offices next to various small labs and storage rooms. It was also where Dr. Morton’s office was. The bulk of the research data was stored there, and the entrance to the military access tunnel was hidden behind a false cabinet.