Page 9

A chain-link fence stretches upward, topped with barbed wire and rust. Has to be fifteen feet tall, minimum. No weak spots, and no way through.

I must stare at it too long, because Autumn crosses her arms and sighs with annoyance. The motion is stiff and awkward thanks to her injured wrist. “That fence is a death sentence. No way we’re climbing that thing with Mars like this. He had to go and blow himself up and render himself useless.”

Not the time for questions. We need a way out. “You climb. I’ll figure something out.”

“You’ll figure something out?”

I shiver when I look around the dark alley that seems to swallow more light with each passing second. I hate the darkness. That’s where memories come out to play, especially when I’m alone. “I guess I’m open to suggestions.”

She exhales a breath that’s part frustration and part exhaustion. “As much as I’d love to ditch you strange rooftop men and make a break for it, I’m not in the habit of abandoning people who help me.” She pauses to glance at Mars. “Well. Most times.”

I shift Mars off my back and lower him to the ground, then prop him against the wall. He groans but stays unconscious. He couldn’t have picked a worse time to be out of commission.

The absence of him on my back feels like removing a sandbag from my chest. I stretch my shoulders and roll out the tension, but relief doesn’t last. Not with the air this still. Not with the shadows watching.

A moan rises. It’s low, wet, and close. Something shifts in the darkness beyond the alley mouth. I tell myself not to panic. Try not to breathe too loud or think too much. Then there’s another sound. It’s not a groan or a shuffle. It’s something else.

A sharp click breaks the silence, and my attention snaps toward it. Glass crunches underfoot. Not mine, and not Autumn’s. More rotters are joining our party uninvited.

Three rotters lurch into view from the alley entrance. They’re all jagged edges and slack jaws, with their skin hanging in strips. One’s missing an eye. Another drags a leg attached by threads of sinew. They’re slow, but not slow enough.

We’re trapped. My chest tightens. My pulse picks up. I want to save bullets for true desperation, since gunshots willonly draw more and make this worse, but I might not have a choice.

“No. No, no, no,” I whisper. Sweat beads on my skin. My breath turns shallow, and my hands tremble.

The alley is a box. The fence behind us towers too high to climb, with Mars unconscious. Rotters block the front. We’re cornered with monsters in the dark.

Autumn steps closer to the fence, then turns back to me. “How do we do this?”

One rotter slides along the pavement, the scrape of its bones against concrete setting my teeth on edge. It crawls faster than it should, hungrier than the rest. My mind goes blank.

“Caspian,” Autumn’s voice sharpens and rises. “I don’t have a weapon. We need to move. Do something.”

I’m frozen in the headlights of my own terror. Panic claws up my throat, but this isn’t the time to let it win. All we need to do is get from one moment to the next. One breath to the next.

The panic almost claims me, but I’ve seen worse. I’ve survived worse. I swallow hard and force my voice to work. “We fight. Grab whatever you can.”

Autumn doesn’t hesitate, and she doesn’t cower. She could climb that fence and leave us behind to save herself. Instead, she dives for a piece of rebar near the van, her injured wrist tucked close, her grip awkward but strong. There’s something fierce and beautiful about the way she refuses to abandon us, even when survival would be easier alone. I spot a broken pipe near the dumpster and grab it with both hands until my knuckles ache.

The shadows press closer. The rotters close the distance, their feet dragging with every labored step. I plant my feet, raise the pipe, and try not to shake. One of them lunges.

Decaying fingers wrap around my foot. I drive the pipedown through its skull with a wet crunch. Bone gives way. The rotter jerks once before going limp.

One down. I drop the pipe and pull my knife from its sheath.

Three to go.

I’m cornered.

The rotters are closing in, their groans rising like a tide at the alley’s narrow throat. My heart hammers against my ribs, pulse roaring loud enough to drown out everything else. Adrenaline kicks in, white-hot and blinding.

I step forward and drop the broken pipe, which clangs against the pavement. I let my knife fall beside it and draw my pistol.

One shot. One rotter drops.

Second shot. Another stumbles as half its face vanishes in a crimson spray.

Third shot. Nothing happens. It keeps crawling toward us.