Page 13

Dax

I release my grip on Doc, watching him sag to the floor like the limp sack of shit he is. My knuckles sting, the tension still buzzing in my veins.

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Half the fucking inmates. He injected half.

“We’re so screwed,” I say, my voice low and sharp. “What the hell were you thinking?”

I don’t expect an answer that’ll make a difference. There’s no undoing this. No way to fix what he’s done.

Doc coughs, clutching his throat as he leans against the wall. “You think it’s just me? Just Sinclair?” He shakes his head, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. “It’s bigger than us. Bigger than this shit hole. We’re not the only test site.”

My blood goes cold.

“Let’s hope we’re the only one this fucking reckless,” I grind out.

Before I can think better of it, I grab him by the head and twist.

The snap of his neck is quick, clean. His body crumples to the floor in a heap, lifeless.

I should’ve let one of those monsters take him. Let him feel what he’s done to the rest of us. But that’d be one more for us to deal with, and we’re already drowning.

I stare down at his body for a long moment, fury and disgust rolling through me.

Bioweapons. Fucking bioweapons.

A sharp crack breaks through the haze in my head. Gunfire.

Of course.

I whip around, drawing my gun and heading straight for the hallway where I left Faith. My pulse hammers as I move, my boots thudding hard against the blood-slick floor.

I know Wilkes. For all his rough edges, he’s steady. Decent as any of us, uniform or not. But he can’t protect her from what’s coming. Not alone.

Half the inmates. The thought burns through me like a damn wildfire. Half the population on this rock is infected, either already dead and walking or just waiting to turn.

Faith’s face flashes in my mind. Her sharp eyes, her soft hands gripping that knife, her scent clinging to me after I carried her through hell.

She can’t be here when this place goes under.

She’s mine to protect.

Another gunshot echoes, followed by shouting.

We’re going to need every goddamn gun, guard, and inmate not already dead or infected to hold the line.

I don’t take chances as I make my way to Faith.

I shoot anything that moves wrong, looks wrong, and doesn’t talk to me.

Doesn’t matter if they had my back this morning. Doesn’t matter if they were the ones who split their rations with me or helped me keep the peace in the yard. They’re not coming back from this.

They’ll get back up, sure. But not if I put a bullet in their heads first.

The only mission now is getting Faith off this rock.

That, and killing Sinclair.

The sound of gunfire echoes down the hall, sharp and relentless. My boots skid across the blood-slicked floor as I move, every sense on high alert. My plan forms as I go: survive first, then consolidate. Weapons, survivors, and a lockdown to get some fucking control.

I kill my way to the sound of the shots, my movements quick, mechanical. Bullet to the head. Move on.

When I round the corner, my gun snaps up automatically, locking onto the figures ahead.

Wilkes.

Faith.

Her back is pressed to him, her arms raised defensively as she covers their rear. Her face is smeared with dirt and sweat, her hair a mess, but her grip on the gun is steady.

Wilkes nods toward a door, barely sparing me a glance. “We’ve got survivors gathered in there. But we’ve gotta watch these doors, injured and dead are coming back faster than we can put them down.”

A door creaks open down the hall, and I spin, raising my gun. But it’s Faith who fires first.

Her shot is spot-on, the zombie crumpling to the ground with a wet thud.

I stare at her for half a second longer than I should, the adrenaline coursing through me making it impossible to tear my eyes away. She doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t flinch.

I step closer, lowering my gun. “How many?”

“Nine,” Wilkes answers, his tone clipped. “They say no bites. Haven’t had time to check ‘em myself.”

“You alone?” he adds, his eyes narrowing.

“No survivors,” I say flatly, wiping blood off my hand onto my jeans.

“Doc?” Wilkes asks.

“Did this,” I reply, my voice like steel.

The look Wilkes gives me says he understands. He doesn’t argue. There’s no point. Not now.

Another groan echoes down the hallway, but it’s faint, coming from farther away. For the moment, we have a sliver of calm, and I use it.

“Here’s what we’re doing,” I start, my tone sharp and clear. “Who’s on solitary tonight? Anyone on the low-security blocks?”

Wilkes glances at the door where the survivors are gathered, then back at me. “Trip’s still in solitary,” he says.

Of course he is. Trip practically lives in solitary. He probably pisses off the guards on purpose just to avoid dealing with the rest of us.

“Zachs is watching solitary,” Wilkes continues. “No one else is on the block.”

“Good.”

As I speak, I step closer to Faith. My hand finds her shoulder, the need to touch her outweighing anything else. I don’t even think about it. I just need to feel her alive, warm, unhurt.

Her eyes meet mine, and for a second, the chaos around us doesn’t exist. The way she looks at me could melt steel. Relief pours out of her, unguarded and raw, and I know exactly how she feels.

I grip her shoulder tighter, steadying both of us.

“Take this group to solitary,” I tell Wilkes, my voice snapping back into command mode. “It’s the most secure spot we’ve got. Grab anyone else you see on the way.”

“Right,” Wilkes says, already moving to check the hallway.

“You seen Grip?” I ask.

Wilkes shakes his head. “Haven’t seen him.”

“Give me the block keys,” I say.

Wilkes pulls his key ring and slides the block key off, tossing it to me. “What are you doing there?”

“That’ll be our base,” I say firmly. “I’ll put her in there. Once you drop them off, have Zachs lock everyone in. Then you meet me back at the block, and we’ll go from there.”

“Go from there,” Wilkes echoes, his lips pulling into a grim line. He knows what that means. Weapons, rounding up survivors, and putting down everything, zombies and assholes, that moves.

Faith hasn’t said a word, but I feel her watching me. When I look at her again, her lips part like she wants to say something, but she holds it back.

“It’s going to be fine,” I say, my voice low but steady. It’s a lie. Nothing about this is fine. But I’ll kill everyone on this island before I let anything happen to her.