BREN

Colin's body was laid to rest in a small mausoleum in the middle of the cemetery. His body was still fresh, probably only dead two hours ago, a bundle of flowers laid on his chest. His eyes were closed, looking serene and peaceful, and I reckoned Audrey must have something to do with cleaning him up a bit. A pool of blood had formed where he had cracked his skull, dripping over the stone coffin and onto the concrete ground.

Christ. I shuddered to think about the children seeing him, losing their father at a time like this; it was horrible. They didn't even have time to bury him properly. A deep knot twisted at the back of my heart, and I looked away from the body.

There, in his hand, I caught something shoved between his palm and belly, a folded piece of paper. I pulled it out and recognized Miguel's handwriting:

Bren,

If you see this, then stay away from Randy. He killed Colin and hurt Bernadette. I don't know why he did this or where he went, but he took Holly and Indy with him in Cora, along with our guns. We are moving to the second meeting point. I hope you and the others are still alive, and by God, I hope you all make it there. If you see Randy by any chance, consider him armed and dangerous.

Miguel

I crumpled the paper in my fist.

Randy.

I had my doubts about him, but killing his brother and then leaving his family, well, that was just cold. And the fact that he stole our stuff, too...fire lit in my belly, and I had Randy's name burned over it.

"They're at the museum," I said as I walked out of the mausoleum. "And Randy killed Colin."

"Randy? Really?" Peter asked.

I gave him Miguel's note. "Says so in the note."

"He stole our stuff. Shifty motherfucker."

"I saw fresh tire tracks leading west. The wheel marks matched Cora's," said Jun.

"That's the way to the museum, too," Peter said.

"But we don't know where Randy could have gone then. There are a lot of confusing streets from here to the museum, and he could easily lose us if we follow," I said.

"He took Indy," said Haskell. "We gotta get him back."

"I know." I looked down at his hand, now bandaged, and the bleeding had stopped. It had been half an hour now, and so far, Haskell hadn't turned yet. He didn't even look sick. When he caught me looking, he drew his hand behind his back.

"I'm fine, Bren," he said. "I don't have the symptoms yet."

"Let's not worry about that right now," Peter said. "We know you got the slow one like Luke's. If you had the other, you're already one of them in minutes."

"Thanks for the reminder," Haskell said, "but I'm feeling alright. No fever. No puking. I don't feel weak, or have a headache, or nauseated, or whatever the CDC listed as the symptoms. I'm...me. I'm not craving anyone's blood or have the urge to attack you."

Lauren flinched when Haskell mentioned the latter, and even Yousef, Alfie, and Aria seemed wary. Jun never let me know whether he thought differently, but at least I could tell he's keeping an eye on Haskell, too.

"I know, Hoss, I know," Peter said, placing his hand on Haskell's shoulder. "Should we take a rest?" Peter asked me. It wasn't for us but for Haskell.

I nodded. "Alright. Let's take five. We'll wait if the others show up. I know some of them could be on foot, too. If they don't show by then, we'll head over to the museum."

Everyone nodded and broke apart.

It seemed whenever the bite was closer to the brain or if the wound was close to being fatal, the lines between infection and turning were in less than two minutes. With Luke, he got sicker after twelve hours from his initial infection, and the bite he had wasn't even that deep, similar to Haskell's

Twelve hours.

I drilled that into my mind, watching out for Haskell the closer that deadline arrived. I had no stomach to take him out right now, not when Peter insisted on keeping him alive just yet. Haskell wouldn't make it out of Harrisburg, and the thought of leaving him to be one of the vectors was a fate worse than death.

Twelve hours was a short time, and I dreaded doing what needed to be done.

He could still be useful, I thought grimly. He could still use a gun and protect us. Yet, the doubt grew in Haskell's mind, the worry, the despair, and sooner or later, he would crack. Haskell tried to ignore it, of course, joking around, saying the bite didn't hurt and it was nothing, but the inevitable was coming. Peter and I played along even when the others were uncomfortable. I knew they wanted me to leave him behind without saying so—I could see it on their faces—to force him out of the group, but I couldn't do that to Haskell, throwing him out like trash. We've been through a lot together.

I suggested cutting off his hand, but Haskell refused. He didn't want to lose a limb, or rather, he didn't like to imagine himself a cripple. But it was either that or die, and he chose not to do it. I didn't even know if it would save him, but it was worth a try. Then again, if it were successful, he'd just bleed to death without proper medical supplies.

No matter what we did, he'd end up dead. I backed off from forcing that operation, knowing no one in the group was capable of keeping him alive after we cut his hand, and it seemed Haskell was glad we didn't have to. I didn't know if he accepted he was doomed or he was still in denial. That was up to him.

"Hey, Bren, can I talk to you?" Lauren asked, interrupting my thoughts.

I looked around and saw that Peter and Haskell were talking underneath the tree, and Peter seemed to be consoling him. I couldn't imagine what Peter must be feeling right now. He was close to Haskell than any of us. Jun and Alfie went off to scout the perimeter while Aria and Yousef found a bench they could sit on.

I turned back to Lauren. "Alright. Shoot."

"Okay." Lauren took a deep breath. "We have to talk about what to do with Haskell."

"We've already talked about it. He's coming with us."

"But he's infected."

"I can see that."

"Then, you know he's a liability. He can turn at any moment and kill one of us."

"The slow ones have very distinct symptoms. Trust me. I've seen it before. You get sicker and sicker until you're so weak you can't even move or speak clearly. Then, you turn. Haskell isn't like that yet. He can still help us."

"Aria told me you two were supposed to go to Columbia. A great school. You were going to study Biology there."

"And?"

"Then, I know you're a man of science. I'm a Biology major as well, studied how diseases worked. We can't trust him or whatever state he's in now. He's mourning himself, and who knows what his mind is doing to him with all that emotion and grief. He's a loose end, and it's gonna get us killed."

"I'll decide when to keep him or not."

"You killed Sarah, my friend. How's that any different?"

"The bite was on her neck, and it was pretty severe. I know she's going to turn in minutes, maybe seconds, so I acted out of mercy. Haskell is still himself."

"Prolonging Haskell's condition isn't mercy, Bren. It'll only lengthen the pain."

"That's not for us to decide. It's his. If the pain becomes excruciating, then I'll ask Haskell if I could end it myself." I caught sight of Jun and Alfie over Lauren's shoulder, coming out from the pathway and tailed by four other figures. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

Lauren sighed. "Alright. I'll talk to you later."

No, we won't. I didn't say it out loud.

I walked over toward Jun and Alfie, and I quickly recognized the other frat boys following behind them. Gus was at the front with Riki nestled on his shoulder. Behind him, Nash and Barry had their heads lowered, clearly avoiding my gaze. Only Russell looked me in the eye without guilt, as if offended that I was staring at him. He had run over people back at the CRA checkpoint, men, women, and children, and it hadn't shaken him one bit.

"I found them walking out from Edgemont Road," Alfie said. "They say Mavi was with them, but..."

Oh. Was. "I see. We drove past the crashed car," I said.

Gus gave Russell a dirty glare before he spoke. "We have to leave it behind after we got chased by vectors into the woods, and we've been running ever since."

"Have you seen Logan and the others on your way?" I asked.

Gus shook his head. "We didn't run into them. Sorry."

I frowned. I looked over toward Edgemont Road, just hidden behind the trees west of where I stood, picturing Logan and the others walking out of the foliage. But after a few seconds, that image faded, crashing me back to reality. I still hoped he's alive, and if I could choose again, I would have jumped out of the Humvee and stayed behind.

But I didn't. My hand curled into a fist and relaxed. I've regretted that decision all the way to the cemetery.

"We should leave now while we're on schedule," Peter said beside me. "We don't want any Alphas, the military, or even other survivors from seeing us here and bring trouble with them."

I smoothed the creases on my shirt. "Right. Let's get moving."

I made a mental note to leave a message for Logan, so I asked Peter to hand Miguel's note back and walked back to the mausoleum. With Yousef's drawing pen, I signed my name under Miguel's and folded the note under Colin's hand with the added words:

Please be safe. Stay alive, Logan Hardy.

——

RANDY

"This is just great!" Randy huffed. "Another goddamned checkpoint. Just for once, I would have loved it if everything went perfectly well!" He slammed his fist against the dashboard and stepped on the brakes.

Cora screeched into a halt just in front of an upturned car. Ahead was another abandoned CRA checkpoint. He grabbed the revolver from inside the dashboard compartment and put it at the back of his pants. He tried several times to get the weapons storage at the bottom of the floor, but it required a key—something he didn't have. None of the keys attached to the keychain worked. He reckoned Miguel must have had it, and he was tempted to go back to the cemetery and wrangled it off his fingers.

His dead fingers, perhaps, Randy thought, staring at the revolver. That's all the weapon he could find in the RV aside from the kitchen knives. But if he was going to encounter more of those monsters, he doubted four bullets could stop them.

He looked around through the windshield, making sure no survivors were going to ambush him like the last checkpoint, checking out the alleys and hiding spots around the RV. So far, he didn't catch any movement or anyone sneaking from his blind spots. At least the street was cleared out: no abandoned cars in front of the gates, not even bodies and armed soldiers guarding against the ramparts. The checkpoint gate itself was ajar; a brutalized body lay between the gap, a uniformed soldier with his back torn to shreds by those monsters. He couldn't see past the gate since it's blocked by a tarp that covered the entire length of the chain-linked gate.

He speculated if the other soldiers were still around, watching him from the windows, but he didn't see anyone there. He half-imagined someone parting the curtains from a third-floor window, but it was just his mind playing tricks.

So the monsters got here first. He wondered how far the infection had spread across Harrisburg and if the military could even regain their lost territory once Reclamation Day arrived. It was supposed to start tomorrow.

Still, he had to reach downtown before that started. He listened but didn't hear their distinct shrieks and calls for prey. All he had to do now was get out of there and slide the gate to the side. After that, he could drive away into downtown!

He strode to the end of the RV and opened the cabin door. When he opened the door, Holly retreated into the bunk bed, putting her legs and knees closer to his chest while Indy sat on the floor, growling at him. When he got to the RV, he hadn't realized someone was inside the back room until he stopped to check the barking and commotion there, only to find the damned, whiny girl and a stupid dog. Of course, she had heard everything with Bernadette, saw how he pushed the old woman out of the door and banged her head. Holly was smart enough to hide from him, but the dog gave her away, dumb little animal.

Randy glared at Indy. If the mutt ever made another step, he wouldn't hesitate to shoot him, even if he's a puppy. He wasn't perfectly trained nor could fight, and Randy wondered why Bren and the others kept him alive. Such a waste of food to keep a thing like that around. It would be a mercy to shoot him right here.

Holly realized this and grabbed Indy by the collar and held him back. "Indy. No. Stay," she said.

But they have their uses, he thought. He was glad he kept them alive rather than killing them right then and there when he found them.

He aimed the revolver at Holly. "Get out."

"What?"

"I said get out."

She looked out the window and shivered. "I don't know what you want from me. I won't do anything or get in your way, I promise! Please, don't send me out there!"

"Stupid girl, I said get out! We ran into another checkpoint, and I want you to open the gate. It's already ajar, so you won't have to do anything much but walk out of there and slide the gate open."

"But if I do that, you'll just leave me!"

Randy paused. The thought had crossed his mind, but if she made it back to safety, he could still use her as bait if things got dicey in the future. If he encountered the Alphas, he could trade her for safe passage. After all, she's young, white, and pretty. Lots of men loved taking a white girl's innocence. Hell, he could have a turn for himself! Seventeen is just a number...

"I won't leave you," he said. "Why would I leave someone who's helping me? Like you said, as long as you're not in my way, I won't hurt you. By refusing what I asked, you are in my way. Do you want this to be harder than it is?"

Holly thought about it for a moment, but she slowly nodded her head. Randy smiled. "Good. That's what I like to see."

"But I don't have any weapons."

"I can give you a weapon. And if it makes you feel better, you can bring that damn dog with you."

Indy whined a little, but Holly nodded and took him by the collar, urging him out of the room. Randy walked back a little and opened the door, gesturing for her to move. "Grab that knife there," he said, pointing at the butcher knife sheathed inside the bamboo knife block.

"A knife?"

"Weapon or no. You're choice, girlie."

Holly tentatively grabbed the blade and climbed out of the RV; Indy followed.

Randy shut the door, and Holly jumped in fright. "Hey!"

"I'm closing it just in case. If no biter gets you, then I'll open it. Now, get that gate open so we can get out of here faster!" He locked the door for good measure.

"Fine. As long as I do this..."

"Then, we're out of here."

Holly walked over to the gate with Indy close to her heels. Randy wanted to scream at her to hurry up because she was walking too slow, perhaps push the horn, but he stopped himself. He didn't want to attract unwanted attention. All he did was grunt and rolled his eyes every time the girl flinched at every little thing that moved or made a sound like the windpipes above a bookstore's front door or when something hit against the gate, but it was only the tarp flapping against a gust of wind.

"Hurry up, hurry up, hurry up," he muttered.

Holly made it to the gate, avoiding the dead body there. She slowly slid the gate open, but she stopped, looking past the gap.

She ran back to the RV with Indy close behind, slamming her fist against the door. "Quick! Let me in! Let me in!" She screamed.

"What the fuck's wrong with you? Open the damn gate!"

"I—I can't! Please!"

Her idiotic screaming and banging drew their attention. Eight distinct shrieks and the infected poured out of the gap, their eyes trained at Holly and Indy. Holly screamed and ran out of sight, and the eight vectors chased after her.

"Fuck!" Randy spat. "Stupid, stupid, girl!" Now what?

Holly and Indy grew fainter and fainter the farther they ran, taking the vectors with them.

Well, at least that took care of the monsters. Good riddance!

Randy realized he's going to open it by himself.

He made sure that there were no infected around by checking the RV's cameras. It was brilliant for those boys to have it installed and very helpful for him. He was happy to score a vehicle like this. Randy found enough courage to step out of the RV. He flinched when his feet landed on the pavement, making it all real that he's back in hell again. If he had a choice, he never wanted to leave the RV. No wonder Bren and his ilk desperately wanted to keep it for themselves. If it wasn't for that stupid girl, I could have enjoyed driving away from here!

Randy stalked toward the gate, scanning around in case a vector managed to sneak behind his back. It was only twenty steps. That's how far it was, a thing that he reminded himself of like a mantra. He shouldn't be scared when those things were already chasing the dog and the girl.

Everything was quiet. No shrieks. No other inhuman noise coming from behind the gate, veiled by a fucking tarp. If he had magic, he wanted the wind to blow it off so he could see what was behind, but sadly, he didn't have superpowers. Eventually, he reached the gate and peered through the gap.

At least sixteen bodies lay dead in the middle of the street, torn to pieces by the infected, and most of them were soldiers. Unlike the ones he saw from the previous checkpoint, their bodies weren't littered with bullets. Colin had speculated they were ambushed by other survivors or by the Alphas, but the squad assigned to guard this checkpoint seemed to have been killed by monsters.

Randy opened the gate all the way to the side, cringing with every creak, squeak, and screech of its wheels. He got slightly angry at the soldiers for not oiling the wheels better. It won't have to make a sound if they're good at their job. I guess that's why they're dead, Randy thought.

Now that the gate was opened, he went back to the RV.

He stopped in his tracks, his stomach twisting just under his ribcage.

"Fuck."

An infected—a boy no more than eight years old—stood between him and the RV. He had a bite on his upper arm, though it looked like it was healing. He had heard of infected kids before, mainly on the news, and they were supposed to be smarter than the usual monsters. For all he knew, he could be the one who took down this CRA checkpoint with those freaks.

And if he is smart enough to do that, maybe he can also be reasoned with? Randy raised his gun as if he's surrendering, slowly walking up toward the child.