I raised the automatic rifle, aiming at the man rushing toward us. Against the undead, it might not have been enough. Against a living man, one bullet would do.

  But I never fired.

  He dropped before I could pull the trigger, falling backward with a neat hole punched through his forehead. Lily crumpled to the ground, hands clamped over her ears, trembling.

  “It’s alright. I’m here.” I rushed to her, pulling her into my arms.

  A group of strangers stepped past me toward the gate, staring at the terrified crowd inside with cold, mocking expressions. They looked like caricatures of the old world—black leather jackets draped in chains, skin crowded with grotesque tattoos, hair spiked and dyed in violent colors.

  But the clothes weren't the most terrifying part. Darkened wounds marked their bodies. Green, swollen veins branched beneath their skin. They were infected. All of them.

  At their head stood a woman in revealing clothes, a cigarette hanging from her lips. She held her gun high. She was the one who had fired the shot that killed the man.

  “So,” she smirked, “who’s the ‘bastard’ now?”

  “Lucy,” Brian stepped forward, blocking her path. “What are you doing here?”

  She exhaled smoke into his face, then crushed the cigarette beneath the heel of her pointed boot. “Still playing hero, Brian? Don’t interfere. And don’t think saving me once gives you the right to tell me what to do.”

  With a lazy flick of her fingers, she signaled the three heavyset thugs behind her. They herded everyone—including Lily and me—into the grocery store.

  They stripped us of our weapons. Lucy and her gang forced us into a circle near the entrance, facing rows of shelves that had been dragged together to block the back exit. The three men took the corners, watching us with predatory smiles. Lucy perched atop the old checkout counter like a queen on a cheap throne.

  “What do you want?” Brian asked.

  “Nothing,” Lucy said lightly. “Didn’t you kick me out yesterday? I’m just reclaiming my place.”

  “You were bitten!” someone beside me shouted.

  “And tonight,” she replied calmly, “so will you. When we turn, plenty of you who used to hunt us will join us.” She laughed under her breath.

  “There’s another way!” I cut in.

  I saw it in their eyes. Hope. Lucy tilted her head, pouting with mock curiosity. “Go on then. Let's hear it.”

  “I think I can stop the transformation.”

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  Silence. For a brief second, I saw it—the hesitation in her eyes. No matter who she was, the instinct to survive didn’t disappear.

  “You understand what you’re saying?” She stepped closer and pressed the barrel of her gun beneath my chin. “I hate being lied to.”

  “I’m sure,” I said, looking her dead in the eye. “If you give me some time. Me. Doctor Brian. And the child.”

  “Don’t screw with me!”

  When hope returns to someone who thought they were already dead, it comes back feral. Lucy paced, chewing at her thumb, eyes darting between us and the door. Finally, she nodded.

  “I’m immune,” I lied. I squeezed Lily’s shoulder quickly to keep her silent. “Not just to the airborne strain... but to the blood-borne virus. My blood contains something that suppresses the infection.”

  “How do you know?” Lucy demanded, her voice dropping to a frantic whisper.

  I told her Lily’s story—with the names changed. I explained that I needed Brian to run tests, but the proper equipment wasn’t here. I told them that they would never let me leave, so Lily could guide the doctor to her house to retrieve what we needed.

  The gang exchanged looks. Lucy finally turned to me. “One chance,” she said. “If they don’t come back, I promise you’ll die slowly.”

  “They’ll return,” Brian said.

  “I need to speak to him. About the science,” I added.

  Lucy waved a hand dismissively. Once she was far enough away, I whispered into Brian’s ear.

  “Lily is the immune one.” I saw his eyebrows shoot up and I gripped his arm. “Don’t react. Listen... Lily matters more than anyone here. She is our only hope. Take her far away. Run every test you need... but promise me, you won't hurt her.”

  “I understand,” Brian sighed, nodding solemnly.

  I knelt down and pulled Lily into a tight embrace. I pressed my forehead against hers and whispered, “Promise me, never give up.”

  I finally understood how Kael felt at Harvint Harbor. Letting go was a hundred times harder than being the one left behind. Lily didn’t cry. She held it in, kissed my cheek, and grabbed Brian’s rough hand, pulling him toward the door. A thug stepped in front of the exit, blocking my last glimpse of them.

  Five o’clock. Eight hours since they left. Long enough that I could pretend they were safe.

  The fools were still clinging to my lies. I kept them distracted, telling them the house was far, that I was too important to be abandoned. They believed me. They still looked at me the way drowning people look at a rope.

  Sometimes the many paid for the one thing that mattered. Tonight, that thing was Lily. If hell still existed, I had earned my place in it, I thought.

  Then I almost laughed. What other hell could there be, when the earth was already overflowing with the walking dead? I shook my head, much to Lucy’s confusion. She watched me like a hawk—still hopeful.

  But by six o’clock, the sky had turned pitch black. The hideous howls of the horde began to echo from outside. I saw hope die in their eyes, one face at a time.

  Lucy's smile twitched. Then her body convulsed. Around us, the infected began to lose control.

  I leaned toward the others. “We leave now. Brian isn’t coming back.” I silenced their gasps. “The big one by the kitchen door. We take him down together.”

  “The vents lead outside,” a woman whispered. “The dead crawl in there at night.”

  “They’ll be stronger than the dead,” I replied quietly. “That’s our only chance. There’s a back exit, isn’t there?”

  “Yes. Along the canal.”

  No one argued. It happened fast—howling outside, screaming inside. Seeing the thug at the kitchen door clutching his head, I moved. I vaulted the counter, reclaimed my automatic rifle, while the others rushed the guard and brought him down.

  Lucy and the remaining two lunged toward us. I fired at their feet. Warning shots. Despite everything, they were still human—barely—and I didn’t want to be a butcher.

  The heavy wooden door slammed shut between us. We shoved shelves against it. For a moment, we were safe.

  “We move,” I said.

  We turned toward the back door. But as my hand touched the knob—

  BANG. BANG.

  Something slammed against the wood from the outside. Behind us, the kitchen door began to splinter. Through the tearing boards, I saw her face. Pale. Eyes darkened.

  Lucy stared at us. Not angry anymore.

  Hungry.