"I didn't tell you before because I forgot. It isn't totally true. I mean, I've never seen it myself, but I heard about it." Alex ran a hand through his matted red hair and exhaled a shaky breath. "Sorry. Just nervous. Back at the hospital, when I heard you were trying to find a way into the base, I remembered. Near the main hall, where the leader stays, there's a door to the outside, and there's another building with these holes that go deep underground. The crazies throw shit down there-literally, shit and piss-and dead bodies they're done eating, and whatever else. I heard people talking about how it's an entrance to a mine and it comes out near a road and a river. People say you could escape through it if you found a way to climb down and could see.

"But no one knew anyone who'd escaped. There's no light and people say the drop would kill you if you jumped. I didn't believe it because it sounded like the exact kind of bullshit people tell themselves when they're going to die. I thought it was a hole into nothingness, that's all."

I looked down at the map again. The circled NF road was nearby a river. If that route in did exist, we could end the Brotherhood-Gabe-once and for all. Collateral damage seemed a small price to pay, considering we'd save the lives of everyone left in Surville, Valtown, and the small settlements.

"We won't lose that much time trying to find this mine entrance first. If it fails, we go in above ground as planned." I looked at Ghost, Lasko, and Blaze. They were the best team I could ask for, but would it be enough? "Can the town afford to lose a few guys, so we can take backup?"

"I doubt it. Don't forget the men who died trying to get to Surville. We're desperately low on trained individuals. We have a skeleton crew working the wall."

Damn. The team that went to Surville with me. A bad mix of regret and anger filled me. It was just the four of us again, maybe Ghost's friend with the explosives if we could get him to come.

"We leave tomorrow then. Someone go secure us transportation and get us resupplied." I considered asking how Arbuckle was, but after his sorry display when we were attacked, I knew there was nothing to be said.

"I'll get ready, too," Alex said.

It was cute the kid thought he was coming. Even if he hadn't been shot, there was no place for him in what we were about to do.

"No," I said firmly.

Much to my surprise, he didn't fight me. Alex stared at the ground, nodded, then left. The Z generation; always unpredictable.

I leaned back and closed my eyes. A sense of finality unlike anything I'd ever known settled over me. The unfinished business of Gabe and the Brotherhood was coming to an end.

PART II.

Now or Never.

Chapter 21.

The pain in my side was dull, and I was damned sure the ibuprofen I took wasn't working any more. Then again, in comparison to the bliss a painkiller like Vicodin gave you, ibuprofen was a sugar pill. But I needed to be sharp, even if it meant gritting my teeth against discomfort.

Outside, the sporadic late winter weather was in full swing. Rain fell from the sky by the bucketful. Dark clouds made it feel more like dusk than early morning, but far in the distance streams of sunlight broke through slivers of clear sky in the storm.

A somber mood settled over us as we loaded into the jeep that Lasko secured for us. It was a tight fit, but some of the better cars had been damaged during the attack. Despite the full load of gear, I felt grossly underprepared.

The entire population of Brickston was outside Valtown, moaning and shambling near the gates. No matter where you went in town, you heard it. Rain pelted the vehicle as we waited for the guards on the wall to draw the Zs away long enough for us to slip out. As we drove around the front, I spotted the wreck from our grenades. Mixed with the heavy rainfall, the gore and blood formed big pinkish pools of muck around the dead bodies. A handful of Zs hunched over the remains, gnawing away. It seemed desperate to me, but I didn't think zombies could really be desperate.

Highway 2 had been clear for years now, but no one ever drove on it. Cars were towed off to be used as scrap, or just shoved off the side of the road to make traveling easier. The towns got smaller the farther out you went, which meant no resources. At least that was what I'd been told. The last time I was in that area was when I left Frank's cabin to search for Blaze, and back then the bridges were down, Startup was overrun with crazies, and Sultan was trying to reclaim civilization.

Sultan and Startup were close to us, but without any need to visit them they might as well not exist. In a world where cars were breaking down, gas was running out, and there was no real need to leave the immediate area you were in, knowledge of what could be around you was limited. For all we knew, someplace in the states could be zombie free and fully up and running, like it was Before. Hell, people already dreamed up Generator Town as an emblem of hope.

The grass always looked greener on the other side. Only this time, the grass could be greener and we'd never know. This thought created a painful longing for sweets. I crushed it. I'd daydream later.

I was eager to see if Sultan thrived, becoming the cooperative town its leaders wanted it to be. If Arbuckle could make three major settlements, I saw no reason why they couldn't succeed.

The drive to the first bridge would take an hour, if everything went our way. Ghost drove, while Blaze and Lasko sat in the backseat, sharing a smoke. I'd given up on trying to stop them; they never listened. I stared out the window, watching the remains of small towns blur by, then forests, then towns again.

The highway was cracking. Tufts of grass and even a few patches of blackberry bushes crept through the rifts. The jeep lurched when it hit unseen potholes, or hydroplaned as we crossed large puddles. Our wipers were on full blast, but it barely seemed to make a difference. Ghost leaned forward as he steered, nostrils flaring and brows furrowed in concentration.

We passed by a fading green highway sign. The word Monroe had almost vanished. A spattering of bullet holes punctured it. Fields of balsam poplar trees flanked the left side of the highway, probably once used for paper, but now entirely overgrown. In the grassy field to our right were four cows. They'd become wild and had shaggy coats.

I'd never been through this part of Monroe before. We opted to take a different route on our way to Sultan last time. Driving through it now, we found a ghost town. There were no zombies, no cars, no people. Buildings stood empty and foreboding, missing glass and in need of repair.

Old military aid tents were set up in a store parking lot, tattered and flapping in the rainstorm. Military barricades were pushed aside, creating plenty of room for the jeep to navigate down Highway 2. On closer inspection, I noticed bones, picked clean by Zs and animals, on the road, in parking lots, piled up in the overgrown grass.

The entire city was picked clean. It felt hollow through and through.

"After I woke up, I came back here." I caught Blaze looking at me in the rearview mirror, and I knew she referred to the accident. "Can't believe how different it was then. Stank so bad. More than Arbuckle's people cleared out this town."

"Years of scavenging, I'd say," Lasko said. "Eventually you want anything you can get. All those nonaffiliated people come out of the woodwork when the coast was clear."

I thought I caught movement on the rooftop of a motel, but as I kept my gaze on the area nothing showed up. We lapsed into silence again as we drove, exiting Monroe and driving through fields and forest. The river that ran alongside of Highway 2 had flooded, and water climbed up the ditch on the right side. The back road I'd taken to Sultan before would no doubt be completely submerged.

After another fifteen minutes, Sultan came into view. The remains of the first two buildings we passed were nothing more than charred skeletons. A handful of small houses came and went as we neared the bridge.

Then glass shattered and everything happened loud and fast. The jeep veered off to the side, grinding against the highway safety barrier before stopping. I ducked for cover behind the dashboard as another series of gunshots bore through the windshield.

Ghost leaped out of the jeep in a heartbeat, and the rest of us followed suit. I scanned the area for our assailants as we went to the back of the jeep for cover.

The highway was raised up, and ditches on either side sloped downward into a lightly forested area near the river. The water churned wildly, creeping up to the highway more than where we were before. Its loud rushing, paired with the rain, muffled the gunshots.

But they could only be coming from straight ahead, across the bridge. I caught sight of patchwork metal and wood that mended a gaping hole in the middle of the structure. No people. I still wasn't sure where the shooters were.

Lasko leaned around the edge of the vehicle and fired. Ghost repeated her action then returned to full cover a moment later.

"At 1 and 11," she said.

Ghost nodded. They moved in synch, leaning around the jeep and firing. The gunshots at us stopped. Minutes passed.

"I think we're clear," I said.

There was no cover near the vehicle, making it a huge risk to move away from it. We fanned out in pairs, checking for more attackers.

We walked across the bridge to verify their deaths. While it felt sturdy enough, the thought of driving across it wasn't appealing. Knowing the crazies, it was held together with spit and a prayer.

The two attackers had hidden behind separate mounds of sandbags. Both twitched, minutes away from rising. Lasko stabbed each one through the eyeball, and I checked for any markings or supplies on the bodies. They were using AK-47s, and the ammo was incompatible with our own. Only a handful of rounds remained between the two of them. No side arms, no food, no packs. Besides the guns, they had nothing.

I unzipped the jacket on one, a man around my own age with a ragged beard, and pushed up his sleeves and shirt.

"I would be more surprised if they weren't from the Brotherhood," I said, as I inspected the brand on his upper chest. "Seems like a subpar guard for a waypoint like this."

"Maybe they didn't think anyone would come this way?" Lasko nudged the body with her boot. "We're in their territory now. Stay frosty."

I looked out at the rest of Sultan beyond the bridge. There was at least a foot of flood water covering the town. Some buildings rose up on inclines and were safe, like the feed store just to the left beyond the bridge. There was an old truck and a minivan in the parking lot. They were filthy, covered in dirt now turning to mud from the rain. I couldn't tell if they were usable or only abandoned.

Ghost hefted the bodies off the bridge. Soon, they were engulfed by the foaming river. "Better someone thinks they ran off."

"Is the jeep okay to drive?" I asked. "I don't want to do this on foot if I don't have to."

I welcomed moments of adrenaline. It gave brief respite from the pain in my side, but agony returned with a vengeance once I calmed down. The thought of trudging through water the rest of the way made it hurt even more.

"Windshield needs to be popped out, but it looks like the rest is intact," Blaze said.

"I vote one person drives it across," Lasko said. "So the rest of us don't have to drown if it goes under."

We exchanged looks, and everyone said 'not it' or 'not me' at the same time. It even got a smile from Ghost as we laughed.

"Look at it this way, the crazies must drive across it, so we should be okay." It seemed logical. I shrugged. "I'll do it."

Ghost and I kicked the windshield out and I got in the jeep. The engine turned over without a hitch. The three stayed back as I slowly drove across the bridge. Cold wind and rain whipped inside the jeep. Creaks and moans from the bridge didn't reassure me, but seconds later I was on the other side.

I released a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding. My brain stopped imagining how it would be to drown if I fell through, and I took a closer look at the feed store. A faint tendril of smoke drifted up from the rooftop. It was odd, but I was sure of what I saw. I pointed it out to the group as they got back in the jeep.

"Makes sense if they're camping out there during the day," Lasko said.

"Let's check it out. Use blades if possible. We need every round we've got for what's to come," I said.

The jeep moved sluggishly as we descended the incline from the bridge and entered the water. It wasn't high enough to stop the vehicle, but the steering was looser.

An entrance to the left went back up a hill. Here, the feed store was built on a raised area. Large slabs of stone, intended to be a beautifying measure, formed a wall. Now they were covered in slimy moss and tangles of ivy. Flood water lapped up against it.

I stopped the jeep at the crest of the hill. Fifty feet away was the front of the store, and on the opposite end of the parking lot were two vehicles. The front of the building had two glass double doors and one large display window. This window was covered with plywood, but the door was unbarred. Smoke still came from the roof of the building.

Around the side was a path for delivery trucks, blocked off with a heap of metal carts and shelves. Beyond it was a closed garage door.

We had two options, neither of which I was completely happy with. "Draw them out or go straight in?"

"Go in," Blaze said. "If anyone is in there, they already know we're here."

Outside, an acidic yet sweet chemical smell drifted from the building. The pattering rain matched my heartbeat. Water splashed as my boots hit puddles. I drew the kukri from my back, the weight of it comfortable in my hand, and moved forward. We flanked the doors. The smell was stronger now, almost toxic. I pulled my scarf up over my nose.

Shuffling sounded inside, and the screech of metal against metal. I leaned over, stealing a glimpse through the dusty glass door.

There was a hole in the ceiling, a few feet wide, letting in light and raindrops. Pieces of the tin roof peeled inward-a homemade vent for smoke to exit. A variety of metal tubs had dying fires built beneath them. Tables were overloaded with jugs and containers of what I figured must be chemicals. They ranged from regular house cleaners to pesticides and medicine. Five bright yellow barrels were lined up against one wall. They were making drugs.

The stupidity of humanity would never cease, even in the face of extinction.

Across the room, thick plastic sheets separated the main store from a storage area that I guessed connected with the delivery dock.

But there wasn't a soul in sight, and not many places to hide. I pulled open the door, and a painful squeak made me cringe. Warm, humid air rushed over me as I stepped in and to the side, where a cash register counter sat. Behind it was a sleeping bag on a mess of tattered rags. Cans and wrappers cluttered the area. A bottle of vodka was next to the pillow, with only a few swigs left. A porno mag was left open, its pages worn.

Blaze followed close behind as we circled the room, steering clear of the tubs. Ghost and Lasko took the other side of the small area, and eventually we met at the delivery dock entrance.

We went in, fanning out and taking cover behind whatever was available. I crouched behind a stack of wood pallets, eyes straining through the darkness. Ambient light from the main room hardly lit the storage area.

As my eyes adjusted, I found nothing but empty rusting barrels, junk, and pallets. In the center of the room were another two sleeping bags, these on top of a mattress covered in mildew. On the walls were sloppy drawings of naked women, much more prominent than the Brotherhood's emblem, which did make an appearance.

I counted three sleeping bags and only two dead crazies outside. Then I heard a crash from the front room. I dove out from behind the plastic. One of the yellow barrels was on its side, and a man crawled out then got to his feet.

He made a dash for the front doors. I crossed through the middle of the room, eyes stinging from the fumes coming off the simmering concoctions in the tubs. He was clumsy and slow, crashing through the doors and stumbling as he exited.

I was on him in a second, bringing the kukri across his back. He wore a ragged t-shirt, and the blade cut through it like it was nothing. Blood seeped from the cut, saturating the cloth as he screamed.

But it wasn't a fatal wound, just as I wanted. It was a deep scratch. I planted my foot on his lower back, preventing him from moving. He was skeletal, with sores all over his body. He flailed. It was pathetic. This guy couldn't fight us even if he wanted to, and he knew it. It was why he hid. Of course, if he'd stayed there, we wouldn't have found him. I wondered if he even realized that.

"I have some questions for you."

He stopped struggling. I hauled him to his feet and propped him up against the building. I didn't want to go back inside the drug lab unless I had to. My three companions eyed me curiously. Ghost switched to his rifle, keeping watch on the perimeter.

The crazy's eyes were dilated, looking everywhere but focusing on nothing. His breathing was ragged. "Don't let me turn. Fuckin' fuck I don't want to turn into one of them!"

I hushed him. "I promise I'll kill you quickly if you tell me what I want to know."

He nodded furiously. "Fuckin' A. I will, man!"

"You and the two guys on the bridge; is that all of you?"

"Yeah, yeah, just us. I swear."

"Are there more places like this?" He squinted, obviously not understanding the question, so I clarified. "Are there more people making drugs in other towns?"

He shook his head. "Nah, man, not any more. I'm the best cook, you know? They bring what they find here, but they don't bring so much back any more, you know?"

He groaned and pulled himself away from the wall.

I shoved him back. "How many people are guarding the route to your base in the mountains?"

At that, his eyes widened. He licked his cracked lips. "I don't know."

"Is that your final answer?"

The crazy glanced at the three of us, back and forth, then to the cars. What was he doing? Did he really think he could escape?

I crouched down, laying the kukri across my knees, making it seem less intimidating. Frank always said you catch more flies with honey than vinegar. With weak willed people like this one, sometimes a change in tactic helped. "What's your name?"

"M-Manny?" He was afraid, off-put by the change in topic.

"Manny, how did the Brotherhood find you?"