"They're all over near the east gate. We haven't moved them. Been too busy making sure the fire is put out completely."

I checked my watch. It would be morning in about five hours. It gave us the perfect amount of time to check out the corpses and find somewhere to get some sleep. Lasko said she knew a bar-like facility in the new part of town we could stay at.

We parted civilly, Christine giving both of us a curt nod as we went downstairs. Ruby waited with a small burlap sack in hand. People still bustled around packing books, and kicking up dust that made my eyes water and nose itch.

"All I could rummage up was some old bread and carrots," she said apologetically, as she gave us the bag.

I didn't mind. It would taste better than the freeze dried stuff I had in my pack. We thanked her and started walking to the east gate, eating as we went.

The bread had a dry texture with an aftertaste of mold, but it was good. Surville was known for their effort in the cooking department. The carrots were washed and crisp, their bright flavor chasing away the bread's aftertaste.

It was a neat town, even in the wake of an attack. The main highway was prime space for a cramped shanty marketplace, but Christine kept both lanes clear. It made it easy for vehicles to pass from the west gate to the east if needed. The entire town layout still connected to the original storage unit layout, with everything placed on a neat grid. On our right were the long rectangular wooden buildings. To the left, behind the wall, were the storage units. This was where they stored much of their supplies, like Brickston had.

One of the gates into that part of town was open, with a long line of people waiting outside the munitions units. Each was given a gun and a few extra mags of ammo. Instead of the fear and panic I expected to see, they were holding themselves tall, their faces set in grim expressions.

They were ready to fight.

As we neared the end of town, smoke wafting in the air became more pronounced. The town abruptly stopped, giving way to a huge expanse of farmland and more hoop houses. Embers of red smoldered in the wall across the farms.

There were two outposts on either side of the gate, exactly like the empty ones we'd seen when we first arrived. Only these were obviously manned, the solar-power spotlights ablaze. One swept the forest, and the other swept the farmlands. There were lanterns set up to light the gate and surrounding area.

As we came closer, I took note of the buzzing activity. While the gate itself, reinforced with metal, was intact, the wood wall around it was blackened. A few pieces had already fallen to the ground. The area surrounding the gate had been set ablaze, too, and lazy tendrils of smoke spiraled upward from it.

There were at least fifteen people working on the gate. Some pumped water nearby, painstakingly bringing bucket after bucket, climbing ladders and dousing the wood. Others placed new planks, patching up the damage, while two men dragged bodies into a pile.

"Look," I said to Lasko, pointing at the corpses. "Let's go check it out."

The men heaved another body onto the pile and looked up as we approached. They were both sweaty, and blood flecked their clothing. Hunting knifes hung at their sides, covered in blood.

"You here to help?"

I shook my head. "Sorry, no. We need to check the bodies."

He looked at us skeptically, then gestured to the head of one. "We destroyed the brains. They aren't coming back."

I didn't want to explain the entire Brotherhood scenario to yet another person. "We're checking for symbols to verify they're associated with a bigger group of crazies."

It was perfect. So big and truthful it made it seem intimidating to ask further questions. The man sighed, nudged his friend, and stepped away from the corpses. "Hell if I care. Paul, let's take a break."

The bodies were all dressed the same, in mismatched and tattered clothing that was much too thin for the cold weather. I kicked one onto its back and studied its face. It was a woman. Her head was shaved bald, with blurry tattoos running from above her forehead to down her neck. A jagged hole replaced her right eyeball.

"Meth, maybe."

I looked up at Lasko, who also inspected a corpse. "What?"

"See the sores?" She withdrew a blade to pry open one of their mouths. I winced as teeth broke. "Ugh, gross. Definitely meth, or some kind of bathtub junk. You can smell it on them. They've got sores, rotting teeth, and the smell of it all over them." She wiped her blade against the body's clothing.

"How are they still making meth?"

She laughed. "Fuck, Cyrus, you can make meth out of anything. All they'd need is a bunch of random chemicals to cook."

Why did they come hopped up on drugs? The ones we fought in the quarry were all fine. This only proved my theory more; this wasn't an official attack. It was a scouting party, or some kind of diversion. The druggies were expendable. Send them in, fearless and high, to try and compromise the wall. They weren't meant to live or succeed.

I checked another corpse, this one male but just as thin and covered in sores. He had the same array of indistinguishable tattoos on his face and down his neck. I couldn't make out what any of them were. The ink was blotchy, and shapes and lines seeped into one another.

I pulled up his shirt. The brand was huge, spanning from his sternum down to his bellybutton and all the way across his chest. The scars themselves were old, white and shiny in the lamplight. Apparently the Brotherhood had made a bigger brand.

"There it is." I sighed. "The town is armed and on guard. They aren't sitting ducks, and at least Christine is taking precautions. We're on the same page now."

Lasko scratched her neck, the collar of her jacket shifting to show the top of Frankenstein's head. She headed back toward the town center. "I wish we knew what page that was."

The bar Lasko said we should go to was dingy and small. Exactly what I expected it to be. She met the guy, Schuler, who ran it during the early days of Surville's genesis. They survived together for a long time before they landed in Surville. He knew how to distill alcohol and decided to make a place for himself.

It was in the new part of town, in the cellar of a rations building. It reminded me of the speakeasies from prohibition times. There wasn't any sign it was there. Only a door with a set of narrow wooden steps and the smell of mash revealed the place's existence.

Yet it was surprisingly welcoming, despite the pitfalls. Schuler stood behind the counter talking to some of the patrons in a deep, soft voice. Bottles behind him lined the back of the bar. Some were brands I recognized from Before, while others might've been homemade.

An assortment of candles were spread throughout the joint, lighting the place just enough to see. Four little empty tables filled the space. I spotted another door on the opposite side of the room.

When Schuler saw us, he excused himself from his patrons, came over, and embraced Lasko. "Katie? Is that you?"

"Hey, Schuler. We need a place to crash. You got any space?"

He grinned. "You know I always have a place for you. Let me get you a drink then I'll set up the back, yeah?"

Without another word, he poured two glasses of unnamed liquid for us and disappeared behind the closed door.

Lasko leaned against the bar and threw back the shot of alcohol.

"So, Katie is it?"

She looked at me and laughed. "Lasko is my last name. Do you think Ghost is his real name? Obviously Blaze isn't her name, either."

I shrugged. "Guess not. Just never pictured you as a Katie."

The drink in front of me smelled toxic. I pushed it away. It was never a good time to be drinking. Lasko took it, tossing it back effortlessly. She slammed the empty glass down on the bar, eliciting looks from nearby patrons. "What are we going to do?"

"Help them move the books I guess, then go back to Valtown. Hopefully you can stay sober for all that." I studied her face. Her usually carefree expression was replaced with one of intense concern.

"No, Cyrus. I'm talking big picture. What we're doing now is confirming what we already suspected. We're doing all these little tasks that don't amount to anything. Not in the big picture of war."

War. War was a big word. One I didn't associate with only a few thousand people on both sides at best. When I thought of war, I thought of millions of lives. An endless battle for land or resources. Yet there it was, right in front of me. We were at war.

Lasko was right. Our new way of life faced a threat. We were at a huge disadvantage. I hated feeling helpless.

"I know. We need to get the upper hand, but I'm not sure how."

Lips pursed, Lasko tapped her fingers on the bar. "In a way, we have had small wins. We destroyed the stone quarry. Surville defended whatever this attack was, and they are ready for more."

"You forget Brickston was leveled. An entire town."

"Don't be a fatalist. Yes, that was a huge loss, but we're in a good position right now. When we get back to Valtown-"

"If there is a Valtown."

"-we'll take the offensive. We'll find their main base and make those fuckers extinct."

It was a simple train of thought, but really, it was all we could do. Lasko was right. If the remaining towns maintained a strong defense while we tried finding the Brotherhood, with the right strategy, we could stop this threat forever.

Plus, in this world, your enemy's death wasn't the only thing that benefited you. Their resources-guns, supplies-would be absorbed into the colonies.

One of the bar patrons left his friends and wandered over to us. He was a burly guy with more beard than face and stunk of the same stuff Lasko had been drinking.

"Heard you guys talking about saving the towns." He burped loudly. I took a step back as I got a whiff of what the guy had eaten for dinner. "What we all need to do, and I tell this to Christine all the time, is pack up and go to Generator Town, over the mountains. I heard they got the wind turbines all working and built a giant city there, surrounded with big walls, and it's just like how things used to be."

I couldn't help but laugh. Over the years, I'd heard my fair share about glory towns. An island that was free of zombies and the dead stayed dead. A mountain top sanctuary where zombies died on their own upon entering. A city on stilts on Lake Washington. This one was a tad more logical, but still highly doubtful.

"Yeah? Where'd you hear that from?" I asked.

He wiped his hand across his nose, holding his head high. "Around. You know. People hear things."

His companions came over. Two men the same age. All were boozed up, but the newcomers were slightly more sober.

"Caleb telling you about Generator Town?" one asked.

"I was," Caleb said. "I was telling them how we need to go. We can start new over there, like we want to."

"Hey Gareth, take him home, okay? Think he needs some sleep."

Caleb grunted, but allowed the third man to lead him out of the bar.

The remaining man apologized. "Caleb's my brother. He lost his family trying to get to Generator Town. Been obsessed about it since and drinks his sorrows away. Lot of us do that. Hell, I'd do it but it makes the memories worse. More vivid. Glad I didn't have any family for them to take."

My curiosity was piqued. "Who took them?"

"Crazies. Who else? We were camping for the night. We went to get firewood, and when we got back they were tying up the kids and wife. This was about a year ago. There were a dozen of them and we didn't have a chance." The man frowned and rubbed tears from his eyes. "One of my nephews had down syndrome. Bryce was an amazing kid. Even when things were really bad, he was happy. Partially because he didn't understand, but he was purely good. They tied him to a tree for two days and kicked him when they were bored. One day, he didn't get up. His head was bleeding. Caleb and I saw it but couldn't do anything."

His face reddened. A few angry tears trailed down his face. Lasko and I were silent, waiting for him to finish. People always had their story and it was best to let them tell it. We all did it. We all listened.

"Can you believe that? The cruelty of it all. When it started happening, every day I was shocked by people's brutality. How bad they were. Then there came a point where I thought I'd seen it all." He took a deep, steady breath. "Then Bryce. It was the worst thing I'd seen in my life. Those crazies aren't human. Not any more."

Lasko set her hand on the side of his arm. "I'm so sorry."

He blinked and looked at us like we'd just shown up. "God, I'm sorry. I came over here to save you from Caleb and look what I've done."

"Don't worry about it," I said. "What happened after that?"

"First they beat us half to death. Probably thought we were dead. I mean, we almost did die. Then they took Caleb's family and drove off."

I hoped he might have better information on the Brotherhood. Despite the disappointment, I gave him my best sympathetic expression. "That's terrible. It's good of you to take care of your brother."

"Thanks, man. I do my best, but it gets harder every day."

We were saved from further conversation by Schuler, who came from the back and called us over. Lasko excused us and clapped the man on the shoulder as we left.

The back room was actually a hallway with two doors. One appeared to be Schuler's distillery. Through the doorway, I spotted a meticulous setup, with sacks of potatoes resting against the walls. A fine layer of dirt coated the ground and piled up in the corners.

The other area was some kind of boarding room. There were two sets of bunk beds and a desk, but nothing else. The mattresses were made of hay and burlap sacks.

A window made of thick plastic was nailed over a hole that showed the street outside. I watched as sets of feet rushed back and forth.

The second my head hit the scratchy pillow, I was out.

Chapter 17.

Bright, early morning sunshine cut through the mist lingering from last night. It cast a yellow light into the boarding room and, for a split second, I felt relaxed. Lasko disagreed, but, after a day like yesterday, I found the sleep deep and rejuvenating. My body and brain needed to shut down completely.

Schuler stood at the door with two plates of food-heaping portions of eggs and potatoes. He set them on the table. "One advantage of being below rations is you get first pick of the food. Cook had lard leftover, so he fried the potatoes in it."

Damn, I might consider moving to Surville. Bacon fat? Things were nice here.

"Thanks, Schuler." Lasko swung her legs off the bed and stretched. "We'll be headed out right after we eat. I'll owe you one, hun, okay?"

"Katie, I owe you a hundred, so I think we're good." He laughed and went back into the bar.

The food was still hot. I scarfed it down, eager and ready to help hide the books and get back to Valtown.

I pulled on my boots and geared up. We were out the door in less than ten minutes, thanking Schuler again before climbing the steps and emerging outside. The air was crisp, the smell of smoke fainter than the night before.

We met the group at the first gate where we dropped off the motorcycle. Two white moving trucks with faded U-Haul emblems waited. A group of men and women, ten in total, waited for us. One of them was Dori.

"We thought you weren't going to show. It's been light out almost an hour."

"Sorry, we were wiped from yesterday," Lasko said. "I'm sure we all were."

A chorus of agreement spread through the group. Lasko was a charmer, and Dori let it go. "The mechanics gassed up your motorcycle. I know you told Christine you'd escort us, but we don't need your help. You can ride along to the spot, but we should be good from there."

Dori wasn't being contradictory. The group was well armed. Unlike her companions last night, they seemed more on guard and held themselves with awareness. I didn't mind. Lasko said we'd help them out, but I didn't think it was necessary. These people didn't need to be babysat. It was a waste of our time to stand guard while they hid crates of books.