When his eyes sparkled with tears, I knew I hit the spot.

Blaze stepped closer to me, wearing an expression of disgust and impatience. "This little druggie fuck isn't going to give us anything new, Cyrus. We're burning time."

I ignored her, eyes locked on Manny. I nodded. "Go ahead. You can tell me."

He hesitated then gushed. "I was with my girlfriend in Snohomish. We was doing really good. Not many of the dead people around. We had a good setup. They found our house and were real nice and got us to come out, but then they chained us and put us in a truck! I don't even know where Tasha is. I bet they eaten her like they were gonna me. I was good. I never been to jail, never hurt no one. Held a steady job at Les Schwab. Never done anything besides some grass, but then they got me on all this and I hate it but I can't stop."

This is what I wanted: his catharsis. The Brotherhood's way of operating was flawed, and I saw that from the beginning. Some of its followers were in it because they were naturally bad people and liked the camaraderie and safety it offered. Like those who attacked Valtown, they were inhumane monsters who'd always been that way. Others were forced, like Kevin tried to do to me, like they did to Manny. Join us or die.

Resistance is futile. Sounds familiar.

But you could never truly assimilate. Even with a gun to your head and someone telling you what to do, the real part of you always remained. Sometimes I remembered that, like now.

"The Brotherhood-they're bad people, Manny," I said. Then it hit me. I knew exactly what to say to convince him. "We want to blow them off the face of the planet so they can't do anything to you or your girlfriend any more. So they can't do it to anyone any more. Don't you want that?"

It was a stretch. Manny wasn't sure if his girlfriend was alive, but he wanted to think she was. I took advantage of that.

He choked. Spit dribbled from his chin. Definitely pathetic. I felt a twinge of sorrow for him. "I do. I really do."

I glanced at Blaze. Her smug expression faded, replaced with alertness as she realized I'd successfully interrogated the man. Without torture, I might add.

Cyrus V. Sinclair. Not a one trick pony.

"Then tell us everything you know that can help us get to the base."

Manny took a deep breath. As he exhaled, I felt the need to reel back from the scent of his lethal breath. I held steady. He was opening up, but he could shut down just as quick.

"There are road spikes all down Highway 2, but the water is covering them. I don't know exactly where, but there are at least five until you pass the Windmill. If you keep going, there's a McDonalds and an old auto shop. There are at least 30 guys there, maybe more."

Lasko groaned. She kicked the glass door, making it shutter on its hinges. "Fuck! We can't take on 30 guys."

"No, ma'am, I wasn't finished. There's a road through some houses in the hills, called Sultan Basin. Loops around a long ways to another road and reconnects with the highway somewhere near Startup, way passed that base. Might be a couple guys in campers along the way, but mostly they're there to catch stragglers still hiding out or passin' through."

"Are there people in Goldbar?"

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Yeah. Yeah, that's where they breed."

A chill ran down my spine. The image of the pregnant girl with the X branded on her stomach flashed in my mind. It wasn't possible. It was too fucking sick. "Breed what?"

Manny wrapped his arms around his bony frame "Babies."

"Holy fuck." Blaze's laugh was fraught with nerves and disbelief.

"They don't just breed them for numbers. They make them to eat."

Silence. All eyes were on Manny. His entire body trembled and it looked like he might keel over at any second. His face took on a green hue. "They keep most of 'em to raise, but sometimes they make a bunch of us eat one to show that we're loyal. I-it keeps everyone in line. You gotta know, I never wanted to do it. I never wanted to."

Lasko rammed the spiked hilt of her knife through Manny's head so quickly he was dead before I knew what was happening. Tears flowed down her cheeks as she inhaled and exhaled ragged breaths. Her hands shook as she jerked the spike free.

Ghost put his arm around her and guided her to the jeep.

I stood, dumbstruck, with Blaze beside me. "What the hell just happened?"

"Lasko had a baby before it all happened. That's why she wasn't on active duty. I knew she lost it, but I don't know how." Blaze struggled to make sense of what happened, too. "This hit a sore spot."

We still had a few hours of daylight to keep moving forward. I had been prepared to travel through the night, too. We had more information than we did before-even though Manny probably had more-and were in a good position to press on. But I'd never seen Lasko behave that way and it worried me.

"I hate saying this, but I think we need to take a break," Blaze said.

At least I didn't have to broach the subject. "I agree. Manny said there's housing up in the hills. Let's make it down the highway then we'll stop."

"What if Lasko says no?"

I looked at the jeep. Lasko leaned her head against the backseat window, eyes closed. The lively, spunky woman I knew was gone, replaced with a husk.

"I don't think she will."

Chapter 22.

The spiked chains on the highway were easy to remove once we created a system. Ghost drove while Blaze and I waded ahead of the jeep, using pieces of scrap wood to feel through the muddied waters. When we found one, we dragged it aside so the jeep could pass.

If the survivors of Sultan were alive, they certainly weren't there any more. I spotted the Xs on the doors, faded a little but still there, and some signs of their existence. But the town was abandoned. Had they been forced to join the Brotherhood? Had they died in a fight with the dead or moved on?

I was wet and freezing up to my knees. My pants and boots were water resistant, but not insulated. I hoped we'd be able to dry out before resuming the mission. Little things like that that ended up wearing you down more than the actual fight.

These days you were more likely to die of dehydration, starvation, or infection than from a Z attack.

We didn't get into the jeep until we reached a gradual hill leading out of the valley, far beyond a windmill converted into a latte stand. Manny was helpful, but there was no point in risking our safety because he seemed sincere. We drove another hundred yards until we reached an intersection and took a left. The hill was dangerously steep, and covered in leaves and pine needles from the trees pressing in on either side. The jeep slid once or twice before we reached the crest and were on relatively flat roads.

Lasko was catatonic in the backseat. She hadn't moved or spoken since the incident, even when I announced we were stopping for the rest of the day.

We drove by two huge housing developments, filled with cookie cutter homes, in hopes of finding something more secluded. The forest grew denser, and houses were spaced far apart.

"That one looks as good as any," I said, pointing to a tan colored two story home beyond a long paved driveway. It was weathered, but didn't appear to have any structural or fire damage. The windows were intact, but the front door and garage gaped wide open.

Ghost pulled to a stop near the front door. "You two check it. I'll stay with Lasko."

The house smelled like dust, which was better than rotting flesh. Debris had blown into the front entryway, piling up in the corners and around furniture. Upon walking in, we found a staircase to the right and an open living area to the left.

I went first, circling through the living room. Family portraits hung on the wall. Middle aged couple with kids. The house was tidy, with throw pillow still on the couch and knickknacks on the mantel. I'd never get over the unsettling feeling of being in a ghost house like this one. I preferred ones that were wrecked or showed signs of what happened. There was something reassuring about it. These houses held too many questions left unanswered.

Yet one thing always remained the same; the kitchen. All the cupboards were open, with not a scrap of food in sight.

We cleared the rest of the first story-a bathroom, family room, laundry room connecting to the garage-before heading upstairs. The three bedrooms and two bathrooms were untouched, likely appearing exactly as they were when the family left. Makeup sat on the counter, and a paperback rested on a nightstand.

I sat on the bed in one of the bedrooms, looking out over the expansive backyard. A stagnant pond took up half of it, then a small forest separated the home from another house. That one was burnt to a crisp, and the second story had collapsed into the first.

Blaze entered the room. "I'm going to go get them. Hopefully we don't have to carry Lasko in here."

The tone of disapproval was hard to miss. I shrugged off my pack, setting it on the bed. "You can't be too hard on her. Something terrible happened and she snapped. We've all been there before."

She sighed, leaning against the doorframe. "I know. I don't like seeing her like this is all. I thought she was..."

Tough? An emotional fortress? A version of Blaze that no longer existed?

"What?"

She clicked her tongue, perhaps thinking, then shrugged before leaving the room.

I unlaced my boots and peeled off my socks, marveling at how shriveled my damp feet looked, then placed them upside down on the floor to dry out. My pants dried faster, so I let them be.

It was still early. We had at least two hours of daylight left, and I was wide awake. I surveyed the room around me. It was the bedroom of a teenage boy. Faded posters of musicians and football players covered the walls, none of which I recognized. A desk and computer sat by the window, with a full backpack on the chair. The closet stood open, revealing a laundry basket overflowing with clothes. And a bow case.

I pulled it out from the corner and unlatched the case. Inside was a dark green compound bow. In addition to the arrows in the case, I found a few loose ones behind the laundry basket. It was nice looking. For hunting I'd guess, though the arrowheads looked like they were for target practice rather than killing. I drew the string back, getting a feel for the weight of the pull.

There was no way in hell I could kill someone with it, but I figured I could kill some time instead. I set it on the bed, rifling through the dresser and rest of the closet to find more arrows. All I found was a fifth of whiskey buried in the bottom sock drawer and a pair of shoes a little too tight, but good enough.

I put on the shoes and took my findings downstairs.

Lasko and Ghost sat on the couch. I tossed him the whiskey. A quietness settled in the group that didn't leave room for conversation. We were all waiting for Lasko to do whatever it was she was going to do. A fleeting thought crossed my mind that we might have to leave her behind.

"Where you headed, Robin Hood?" Blaze came through the front door carrying her pack and Lasko's.

"Very funny," I said. "Going outside."

I went to the dining room where a sliding glass door led to a covered patio out back. The rain had thinned out, and golden sunbreaks cut through the dark clouds. It smelled fresh and was, dare I say it, peaceful.

I stood under the patio roof, listening to the rain patter against the cloudy plastic. Forty feet away, near the pond, was a maple tree. I pulled back an arrow, aimed, and fired.

It sailed too far right, going past it, slicing into the pond.

I pulled another arrow and, as I was about to go for the tree again, spotted movement a few feet away from it. A huge rabbit rooted around in the leaves. I aimed at it, compensating for how right I shot, exhaled, and let loose.

I didn't know rabbits could scream, but this one did. The arrow pierced its hindquarter. The animal struggled, thrashing around wildly. A minute later, it stilled. I set down the bow and jogged over to it. Its chest rose and fell, eyes locked onto me as I bent down. It was dying of shock, most likely. I went to pick it up to end it, but it closed its eyes and died on its own.

Cyrus V. Sinclair, hunter. I'd add it to my Post Apocalyptic Badass resume.

I gutted it and skinned it, enjoying my solitary time outside. The pond water wasn't as nasty as it appeared, and I washed my hands in it. The cold water woke me up. I splashed some of it on my face, then rolled up my sleeves to wash my arms.

Game in hand, I returned to the house. Blaze was in the kitchen, adding a plastic basket of what looked like dryer lint to a random assortment of items on the counter. I noted a box of matches, hydrogen peroxide, washcloths, hand sanitizer, and a flat of bottled water.

"Fuck, you did that all by yourself?" She eyed the rabbit. "Good job, MacGyver."

"Figured it would be a good morale boost. And it was a really lucky shot."

I looked past her through the archway into the living room. Lasko sat on the couch drinking from the whiskey bottle. Ghost was, bless him, doing one handed pushups.

"Cased the house. The water was under the parent's bed. Thought you might want this stuff for your wound. How is it by the way?"

"Fine. It looks worse than it feels," I said. "Get a fire going. We'll cook this thing up."

I found tiny bird shaped salt and pepper shakers and dressed the rabbit. Blaze broke down the dining room chairs and found some scrap wood in the garage we used with the dryer lint to get a fire going.

Lasko watched vacantly as we moved about the house. By the time we were settled around the fire, it was almost completely dark out.

What little fat the rabbit had crackled as it dripped into the cast iron pan. My mouth watered as I inhaled the meaty scent of it. Blaze turned the pieces with care. As I looked at the group, I found it funny how fixated we all were on the tiny bit of meat roasting in the fireplace.

"When I got back from my first tour, I took my son hunting," Ghost said.

It was unusual for him to be so open, especially about his past. I found myself leaning closer, wanting to hear every word from the mysterious sniper.

Apparently Blaze felt the same. "Where did you go?"

"Just up in the Cascades. Same spot I'd go with my daddy when I was a boy. I told him, if we don't catch something to eat, we ain't eatin'. He was scared at first, but after the first day something clicked. He caught his first rabbit, skinned it, and cooked it himself. This reminds me of that. The happiness over something so small."

"When did you lose him?" I asked.

Ghost blinked slowly, as if the memory still surprised him. "Not when Z Day happened, if that's what you mean. Don't know what happened to him. Wife said I had PTSD, and when I wouldn't go in for therapy she took Jay and moved back to Texas with her family. Divorced. Never saw him after his twelfth birthday. That was two years before the dead rose."

He waved his fingertips near the fire, watching as they displaced the flame. "Didn't get my name in the service. My buddies said I was different after she took Jay, like I was a ghost of who I was. They started calling me Ghost to tease me, try and make me laugh. When the dead rose and I started meeting other survivors, I just told them my name was Ghost. I wasn't Derek any more."

"I figured you didn't get it in the service. You get nicknames if you do something stupid or are stupid," Blaze said. She took the rabbit off the fire, setting the hot pan on the floor. She doled out a single piece on plates, then walked over to the couch and put one next to Lasko. Surprised, she looked up like she didn't know we were there, and took the plate.

"My friend Frank hunted. Took me with him a few times, but I never got a feel for it," I said, then sank my teeth into a piece of rabbit leg. It was a little overcooked, but fuck it tasted amazing. "We caught some game when we were on our own, but I'd never do it for sport."

Ghost laughed. "It isn't for everyone. The smell alone, especially if you nick an intestine, is enough to put you off."

We lapsed into silence again, eating our rabbit and drinking plastic-tasting water straight from the bottles.

"I'm sorry about your son, Ghost. I'm sorry about killing that guy, too."

All eyes turned to Lasko. Shadows obscured her because she sat so far from the fire.

"Thanks." Ghost's voice was sincere and gentle.

"It's okay," I said. Damage control. You can do this. "That crazy probably didn't have much else to say anyway."

"Maybe. I can't believe what he said, and that he'd... Well, that he partook, too? I couldn't stop myself from ending him even if I wanted to."

I noted the empty bottle resting on an end table beside the couch, next to her plate. Was it enough to make her drunk? Or was she just ready to talk?