"Tina was a week old when it happened. My husband was killed in a riot two days in and I was alone. I joined a group of people in my neighborhood holding out in the community center. I couldn't take care of her alone. It was a difficult pregnancy and birth and I was in bad shape after. A couple months in, there were at least a hundred dead outside the doors. They broke in and everyone lost it. We made it out the back, but some of the fast ones caught up. This guy, fuck, I don't even remember the cocksucker's name, grabbed Tina right out of my fucking arms and tossed her to the Zs."

Tears streamed down her face, but her voice was steady and hard.

"I just stood there. I couldn't move. No one stopped to help me, because I would be a good distraction too, right? The zombies converged on my baby. They tore her up and ate every part of her. The bones, her little fucking pink hat my mom knit her. There wasn't anything left. It took seconds. When I realized she was gone, my brain went on autopilot. I caught up with the group, found the guy, and beat him to death with his own baseball bat. So when this guy, this fucker, tells us he ate a baby, I...I couldn't..."

I stood in front of her, placing my hands on her shoulders, and squeezed. "You had to do what you had to do."

She pressed her lips together in a thin line and gave a nod. "This rabbit is fucking killer, Sinclair."

And like that, Lasko was okay again. Or as okay as she could be.

We all laughed, because we had to. We had to move on from all the tragedy that fell on us. If we blamed ourselves for every unfair death, judged each other for every bad action, we'd all die.

Chapter 23.

The stitches itched. I couldn't remember if that was good because it was healing, or bad because it was infected.

I should know that. All the times I've been hurt, I should know.

I poured hydrogen peroxide on it, taking childlike pleasure in watching it bubble and fizz as it made contact with the cut. It was two inches long, stitched expertly by Valtown's best doctor. The area around it was bruised.

I pulled tape and gauze out of my pack and applied the fresh bandage. If I had someone to brag to, this story would be first in line.

It was cold but bright outside. The storm never returned during the night. Under a clear sky, temperatures dropped to indecently low numbers. I ended up piling on the blankets, laundry, and anything else I could find during the night to stay warm. Breakfast was a bottle of water and handfuls of dehydrated chicken and carrots.

Lasko was the first one downstairs. Now she waited by the door, looking almost like her usual self. Blaze and Ghost shuffled around upstairs, getting ready.

"Hey," Lasko said, her voice soft. "I know I made a bad call yesterday. It won't happen again."

I wanted to be reassured, but we were about to go through a town full of what we'd just encountered, only a million times worse. Though I would give her the benefit of doubt. Lasko needed to see I had confidence in her. "We're good."

Our companions trudged down the stairs, breaking the awkward silence. The previous day was behind us, moments of weakness forgotten.

Blaze had her map out. Kellogg Lake Road was shaded in pencil. It connected to Sultan Basin not far from where we were. The name brought back memories of my first summer in the apocalypse, where my one goal was to get to that road, to make it to Frank's cabin. It dropped down into Startup. That was where the other broken bridge was located.

"If what he said was true about the lookouts, we need to be on guard. Their objective might be to capture, not kill, but we want to be on the dealing end of death," Blaze said.

"The only good crazy is a dead one," Lasko said.

We headed out, piling into the cold jeep. It turned over on the second try. We had half a tank of gas left. It would be enough to get to Index at least, maybe most of the way up the NF road.

I pushed out thoughts of impending death and let a meditative calm settle over me as I watched the forest. It felt more like spring out there. Bright green leaves joined the mix of browns and evergreens. Sure, it meant rainstorms, flooding, and the occasional freeze when winter refused to relinquish its hold. But it also meant more food, better weather, and another year alive.

We took a right at the fork in the road, entering Kellogg Lake. Though I'd been on it before, it looked like every other bit of Washington forest road. The trees were dense on either side, occasionally breaking up for a small field or driveway.

As we came around a bend, Ghost slowed down the jeep.

"What is it?" I asked.

"See that red through the trees?"

He pointed ahead. The road ran straight for thirty yards then curved again. A small bit of forest blocked out the rest of it. Behind it was a red RV.

"How do you want to handle it?" His eyes never moved from the camper.

In the back, Blaze and Lasko checked their guns.

"There can't be that many. They probably heard us coming." An idea sprung up. I opened the door, welcoming the cool burst of fresh air as I exited. "We go to them."

"I'll stay," Ghost said. "If they come this way, they'll be suspicious if the jeep is abandoned."

The women got out and we made our way into the forest. It was muddy, my boots squelching with every step. I focused hard on stepping on logs and anything drier. I left my rifle in the pack, carrying my hunting knife instead. The blade was scratched, well used, but it was wicked sharp. It glinted in the sunlight as we walked.

Minutes later, the entire red camper came into view. It rested off the road on a patch of grass. It had been there long enough to completely kill the vegetation underneath, while the rest grew up around it. There was a rickety hunting blind nearby to the left, sitting empty. Old lawn chairs rusted around a fire pit. A grimy SUV was parked near the RV.

But there was no activity, which meant three things: they were asleep, they were gone, or they were getting ready to kill us.

I moved forward, quickly closing the gap of space between the forest and the RV, taking cover against it. Now closer, I listened. Nothing. I stared hard up and down the road. From here I couldn't see the jeep, which was encouraging. Maybe the crazies hadn't either.

I came to the edge of the RV and peered around. The front door was closed. Blaze and Lasko looked at me expectantly. I motioned for the two of them to go around the other side.

Pressing forward, we moved into position to flank the door. I made it a foot away when I heard movement inside, then a voice. It was muffled, but there were two.

The guy didn't see me as he opened the door and took one step down the detachable stairs. I grabbed a handful of his shirt and yanked him to the ground. His body hit hard. I used our momentum to swing the blade down, intent on burying it in his throat. His forearm came up just in time to block the attack, the blade instead slicing deep into his flesh.

"What the fuck is going on out here?" the second male said, but then his words turned into a yelp.

I focused on my own target and pushed his arm out of the way. Then I quickly brought the knife up and plunged it down. It sank into his right eye to the hilt. As I drew the blade out, a gush of blood spurted then pooled around his head.

I turned in time to see Blaze bring down the butt of her rifle on the second man's head. It dented his forehead inward. His twitching face grew grotesque and deformed.

We were efficient. The entire scene happened in moments. No one else came from the RV, so I surveyed the two bodies. Both were young males. Mine was fully clothed, but the other wore no shirt and bore the mark of the Brotherhood all over his body.

"One of you search the car for anything useful, and someone go get Ghost. I'll search the camper."

Lasko jogged off down the road while Blaze took the car.

The camper was filthy inside, and the sour scent of unwashed human, piss, and booze was ripe within. I lifted my scarf over my nose as I searched.

There was a double barrel shotgun and an extra fifteen rounds in a box on the kitchenette counter. Empty cans littered the floor and all surfaces. One had slept in a bed in the main room of the RV, the other on a fold out couch.

I wiped my bloodied knife on a soiled blanket before sheathing it. Then I took the shotgun, disappointed but unsurprised by the lack of resources.

Outside, Blaze finished with the SUV.

"Just this," I said, and held up the gun. "You find anything?"

"No. Keys are inside, but the car won't start."

We left the RV and met Ghost halfway, where we hopped into the jeep.

The shotgun looked old, even unreliable. I unloaded it to be safe, setting it in the backseat with the shells. "That was easy enough. If they're all like this, it won't be a problem."

"We're about halfway to Startup." Blaze consulted the map. "Do you think there's anyone there?"

"You mean Michael and Angie?" The names still stuck with me. I'd never forget those people, who thought I had nothing better to do than be their savior.

"I doubt anyone is alive. Not when the Brotherhood passes through this area so much," she said. "But it's still a good place for another outpost."

"They'll never see us. This road comes out past the city. It's the bridge we need to worry about."

We drove another fifteen minutes and finally came to the main highway again. As we turned onto it, I looked back, catching a glimpse of Startup in the distance.

Deja vu. Ghost slowed as we approached the bridge. The river was high here, too, but the bumper of a rusted Mustang peeked out of the water.

This was where it started.

Blaze's face remained neutral. She didn't seem to be affected, so neither was I.

The bridge was still broken, but to its left, where it became narrower, was a pile of cars. It looked like someone kept driving them off the road to form a dam. A jumble of rebar and concrete formed a bridge atop them. It was ridiculous and obviously unstable. Yet someone did build it, and based on the worn marks in the dirt on either side, it was useable.

An inkling of anxiety crossed over me. I never considered the crazies capable of doing more than living off resources they found. The thought of them constructing things, of having some kind of end goal, was profoundly disturbing.

Yet the proof was right in front of us. Goldbar was used for repopulation. They considered us the enemy, a threat, and were trying to eradicate us. They were building and planning.

My determination to put an end to it tripled. Collateral damage meant nothing in the grand scheme of making sure these people didn't survive. I knew many of them were like Manny-forced into the Brotherhood-but there would never be any way to know who was unwilling and who wasn't.

Ghost drove off the main road and crossed the makeshift bridge. Much to my surprise, it seemed solid and only creaked slightly as we drove across. He pulled onto the main highway again, driving until we saw the 'Welcome to Goldbar' sign, then stopped. To the right was a railroad track with a set of train cars.

"There are people here," he said. "How are we going to do this?"

"Is there any way around?" Lasko said.

Blaze's map rustled as she unfolded it. "There might be, but...Fuck."

All eyes focused ahead, where a group of men approached us from the train cars, rifles pointed. We were outnumbered three to one and sitting dead in the water. I felt even more exposed from the lack of windshield.

"Who are you?" the closest one asked, his tone authoritative and deep.

The sunglasses, hoods, and scarves they wore almost completely obscured their faces. They were dressed for the weather, with heavy rain jackets. Each had hiking backpacks on.

My mind raced. I sat stone still, my fight or flight response choosing a particularly bad moment not to work. We could try and fight them, but there were just too many. We could run, but they'd gun us down without a bit of effort.

"Get out of the fuckin' car!" Another moved forward, brandishing his gun at us.

"Quiet," the main guy said. "Please, get out of the car."

I looked at Ghost from the corner of my eye. He nodded, so I raised my hands. "We're getting out."

I moved slowly while studying the group. There was something different about the one who seemed to be in charge. He spoke well and wasn't aggressive. The men with him shifted in agitation.

Once we were all out of the car, I prepared myself to die. I'd been in a few situations where death was imminent. This one was in my top 5. But unlike the other times, I saw no way out. We were going to die now, or they'd torture us and eat us later. I couldn't bring myself to imagine the fate Blaze and Lasko faced.

The leader stepped towards us until he was ten feet away. "Oh, Frank," he said loudly. "Why didn't you say it was you?"

Confusion. My heart skipped a beat as my brain ran circles trying to figure out what was going on. Frank? As in my Frank? Who the hell was this guy? My mouth opened and closed like a fish as I tried to speak. My gut told me this guy was trying to help, so I went with it. All I managed was, "I guess you didn't hear me."

"Doc, if this is another one of your fuckin' tricks, She's gonna gut you." One of the others rushed up next to him. "This guy ain't one of us."

The rest of the group swelled like a little pack of rodents approaching us. Two branched off and inspected the jeep.

"We are," Blaze said. "We were making a delivery to Manny the cook down in Sultan and found the whole place trashed. Came back here to tell."

A chorus of groans. One man downright collapsed to his knees and wailed. Blaze's ploy served not only to distract them, but to confirm we had a bit of inside information.

"Fuck man, where are we gonna get it from now?"

"Who has a hit? I'll trade you anything for it. I'll give you both my girls."

"Quiet!" the leader shouted. He tugged down his scarf, revealing a bushy red beard. When he pulled off his sunglasses, I knew I'd seen him before. He'd aged badly. A horrific deep scar ran from his nose into the collar of his jacket, and the Brotherhood's brand marred his forehead.

Dr. Kalman! The doctor who tried to save Frank in Sultan. I'd seen him for only minutes, but I'd never forget him. For a while, I blamed him for not being able to save Frank. I never forgot a grudge. The Brotherhood must have assimilated him. Or tried to, at least, because there was no other explanation for what was happening. Kalman recognized us and was trying to save our hides. Using Frank's name was a ploy to both jog my memory and make it seem like he knew us.

Another man came up and walked circles around me. A sawed off shotgun in his hands pointed at my torso. It was the same one who questioned Kalman before. "I ain't stupid, Doc. You try smuggling people through to get over the pass all the time, and who gets in trouble for it? She ain't havin' you kilt because you gotta deliver all those bitches' babies."

The rest of them were still devastated by the loss of the drug lab. Some exchanged hushed whispers, but I couldn't pick up their conversation. They seemed uninterested in us. But it would only take this one to ruin it.

"I can prove it," I said. "Let me show you my mark."

This made him pause. "Fine, but if you pull anything, you're dead. Got it?"

I moved slowly, unzipping my jacket and moving to pull up my shirt, then thought better of it. My bandaged wounds might be cause for more questions. I opted to pull down the neck of my shirt, revealing only a portion of the brand on my chest. The cold air caused goose bumps, but I fought back a shiver. If he asked to see my companion's marks, I'd be fucked. I hoped it would be good enough for him.

"Hm. Shi-it!" He clapped me hard on the shoulder. "Sorry, bud. So many new faces 'round here I can't keep track and gotta be careful. Especially with this bleeding heart cocksucker over here lettin' people through all the time."

I hadn't understood everything he said, but I forced myself to grin and nod anyway. "Yeah, some people, right?"

"Mhm. Hey now, these your ladies?" He sized up Lasko and Blaze.

"Yes," I said, putting a bit of a cocky edge in my voice. "Both."