Page 12

“Solid plan. I think we should all do that. What do you guys think?”

Damon grunts, which I take as agreement.

Cole remains dead silent, but that’s nothing new.

He hasn’t spoken since he figured out my connection to Eugene.

I don’t take it personally. I know he’s not much of a talker in general, but it’s still unnerving.

After all, it took him minutes to figure out the one thing I’ve never told anyone. Not even Emily.

Damon paces in his cell, sipping the juice that I traded him for his water.

The dregs also gave me fruit, but I traded those with Benjamin for his raw carrots.

Cole had tossed another bread roll to me through the bars without a word, even though I didn’t have anything else to trade with him.

I don’t know what else the dregs gave him to eat, but I hope it’s enough because the guys need to keep up their strength, too.

I’m sipping the water when I hear Damon stumble. “You alright over there, big guy?”

He doesn’t answer. I sit up straight and stare into the darkness.

I frown when I hear him slump against the bars and let out a soft exhale.

The plastic cup of water falls from my hand and spills over my feet, but I ignore it and hurry over to Damon.

I shove my hands through the bars in search of him.

The second my hands find Damon’s broad shoulders, I feel the unnatural heat radiating off his skin.

His back is against the bars and his head slumps to one side.

My hands slide around his head until my fingers scrape through his overgrown beard in search of an answer, though I don’t know what I’m looking for. “Damon, what’s wrong? Talk to me.”

A slurred word drags from his lips. “Dizzy.”

Alarm spikes through me. “Are you sick? What happened?”

Before I can get an answer, a heavy thud echoes down the corridor.

“Benji too,” Benji groans. Then there’s the sound of his body hitting the floor.

Panic shoots through me like lightning. I scramble toward Benji’s side of the bars, but unlike Damon, he’s too far away for me to reach. Still, I shove my hands through and stretch them out as far as I can. “I’m here. Talk to me.”

Nothing.

I turn to Cole, expecting him to go down next, but his green eyes are unwavering. Then the realization hits me, and my stomach lurches. Cole reads my mind, because he growls out the same thing I’m thinking. “The food.”

The truth slams into me. “They ate my food.”

Cole’s bars rattle when he grabs them. “That means?—”

“It was meant for me,” I finish.

A sharp click echoes through the cell block and sends my pulse skyrocketing. The dregs. They’re coming.

I barely have time to think before Cole’s voice cuts through the dark. “Pretend.”

He only has enough time to hiss out the single command. I don’t hesitate. I drop to the floor and force my body to go limp. Every muscle in me screams to move, to fight, but I shove the instinct down.

This is my chance. I slow my breathing and let my head loll to the side. I make myself look as helpless as Damon and Benji are.

Footsteps thud closer. The door to my cell creaks open and rough hands grab me.

When I’m hoisted up like dead weight, I force myself not to react, even though the fingers that are digging into my arms make my skin crawl and whoever’s shoulder is digging into my ribs smells like he hasn’t showered in weeks.

It takes everything I have not to gag from the proximity.

“She’s out,” the one with the smelly, boney shoulder mutters. “Worked like a charm.”

“Good,” another replies. “Eugene can finally stop bitching about her, and we can all move on.”

A fresh wave of panic surges through me, but I keep my breathing steady. Even when the shoulder against my ribs shifts in a way that makes it difficult for my lungs to expand.

They carry me away. I count the seconds between each time a door opens and closes, each time we make a turn, creating a foggy mental map.

The air grows colder with every step. Then they stop. I brace myself when they dump me onto something hard. A table, maybe? The rough surface scrapes against my bare arms, but I don’t flinch.

The room falls silent, save for the faint murmur of voices outside. A door creaks open, and books click against the floor when someone approaches. My heart pounds in my chest, but I keep my body limp and my breathing steady, even though it gets harder to do with each passing second.

He stops beside me. I can’t feel the weight of his gaze like a physical thing. Then my pulse slams against my ribs when I hear the voice I’d rather die than hear again purr through the room.

“Still as pretty as I remember.”

Eugene’s hand brushes my cheek in a featherlight touch that feels like a brand. My stomach twists with a violence I’ve never felt. Every muscle screaming for me to jerk away, but I don’t. No matter how much my skin crawls.

I bite the inside of my cheek hard enough to taste blood in my effort to remain still. There’s a sharp knock at the door and Eugene mutters a curse before stepping away. “What now?”

The door opens and shuts, and then there’s silence. My eyes snap open and I let out a shaky breath when I see I’m alone.

My gaze darts around the room. It’s small and dimly lit, with shelves lining the walls. A single door leads out into the hall. No window.

This is my chance. I slide off the table and move fast. I creep to the door and crack it open. When the coast is clear, I bolt down the hall at full speed, but I’m not fast enough. A door swings open ahead, and I duck into a random room.

The sharp scent of burned coffee fills my nose. I’m in a kitchen. My gaze lands on a knife block on the counter in the corner next to the fridge, exactly as Damon described.

I sprint for it, grab a knife, and grip it tight.

The knife is one of the smaller ones. The metal glints faintly in the dim fluorescent light, and I consider grabbing a larger one.

Before I can, footsteps pound out in the hall, and I press myself against the counter.

Panic flares. I could attack and end this once and for all.

The thought is intriguing until three more voices join in.

There are too many of them. I whip my head around in search of a place to hide.

The pantry is missing its door. The cabinets are too small. Shit.

My eyes land on the industrial-sized fridge and I don’t give it a second thought before shoving myself inside.

This space is cramped, freezing, and I’m definitely sitting in someone’s leftover tuna salad that I’m positive has gone bad.

I can tell that from the smell alone. Rotter stench might be preferable to this.

I shift, and my left elbow smashed into a half-eaten cake.

Are there not any food storage containers in the apocalypse?

I’m sure I’ve seen some around. This is ridiculous.

The voices draw near, and I hold my breath. I can’t make out what they’re saying, not until one of them yanks the fridge door open and I freeze. Before he can look inside and see me, someone interrupts him, and he glances behind him at whoever is speaking.

“The girl’s gone.”

“How?” the dreg standing in front of me snaps.

“I don’t know, but she couldn’t have gone far.”

The dreg holding the door open sighs. “Damn it, I just wanted a sandwich.” Then he slams it shut, sealing me in the darkness.

The voices grow faint as they scatter, and I’m alone once again. Not for long, though. Now they’re all looking for me, and I can’t stay inside this refrigerator forever. My fingers tremble against the cold metal shelves.

I wait another ten agonizing seconds before pushing the door open. I tumble onto the floor, covered in leftovers. Gross. They really need to scavenge some proper containers. They’re all menaces.

After tucking the small knife into my bra where the sharp edge presses uncomfortably against my skin, I grab a second knife from the block. It’s larger and sharper. Now this one I can succeed with. The floorboards creak behind me and I whirl around.

The dreg with the busted lip stands in front of me. His sneer stretches wide, all the way to his eye that’s a really pretty shade of dark purple now. “Well, well,” he drawls. “Looks like the little mouse found herself a toy.”

My grip tightens on the knife, my breath coming in sharp, uneven bursts. “Stay back,” I warn, my voice trembling despite my best efforts.

He takes another step forward, his smirk widening. “Or what? You gonna use that? Go ahead. ”

I don’t wait for him to get closer. With a burst of adrenaline, I swing the knife toward him, aiming for his arm, but he’s faster than I expect. He grabs my wrist and twists hard enough to make me cry out. The knife clatters to the floor. I stumble back, clutching my wrist.

His laugh is low and cruel when he picks up the knife. He twirls it lazily in his hand. “Nice try, sweetheart. You’re gonna have to do better than that.”

My mind races. I glance around and search for a way out, but he’s blocking the only exit.

I’m trying to think of a way to get around him when a second dreg enters the kitchen and his voice cuts through the tension.

“We found her,” he calls out into the hallway before turning to the busted lip man.

He smacks him on the back of the head. “Eugene wants her unharmed, you idiot. Back off.”

The busted-lip dreg glares at me. His sneer falters for a moment. He spits on the floor, then shoves the knife into his belt. “You’re lucky.”

Then he pulls out a needle, lunges forward, and stabs it into the side of my neck. The room blurs and then darkness swallows me whole.

The first thing I notice is the pounding in my head. It’s a deep, throbbing ache that pulses behind my eyes.

The second is how heavy my limbs feel, like they’ve been filled with lead. A hoarse and dry groan slips from my lips and I blink against the dim light. My vision swims with gray shadows and distorted shapes.