The night was quiet except for the distant humming of the fences.

  This far out from the settlement, most wouldn’t have been able to hear the fences—even the others in her unit—but only because they weren’t listening for them like she was. She liked the humming.

  After all, time had done a great deal to prove that anything that could go wrong in the world tended to do so when everything was quiet.

  Overhead, the sky had little light. There were no stars she could make out—and there hadn’t been for quite some time. The moon was there, though, crescent-shaped and casting an ethereal, pearlescent glow onto the earth. Under the moon’s light, shadows danced and stretched, moving with the trees that flanked the narrow, earth-patched road.

  A little while later, the night was lit up in gold. Chloe, groaning, raised a hand to shield her eyes from the intense glare of the headlights just up ahead.

  She alighted from the truck immediately, slinging her rifle across her shoulder before stepping onto the road. She waved once, then twice, then once again at the oncoming vehicle—a signal to ascertain whether or not it was one of theirs. The headlights flashed at her—one flash, then two, then one.

  She stepped aside, and the truck came closer and closer until it was right beside her. The driver’s side window lowered, and a man with middle-parted, rough brown hair poked his head out, the gentle night breeze ruffling his overgrown beard somewhat.

  “Chloe,” Evan greeted her, his voice rough, like vocal cords strained by several bottles of whiskey. “Anyone in before us?”

  “Just Ryan,” she answered, tone even. “Any right behind you?”

  “None that I saw on my way here. Had to split after the haul; it was too dangerous to move together. Too much noise would draw the bastards right out,” Evan responded, shaking his head grimly. “Not an easy haul today, either. They’re all over First and Wheatley now, so it took quite a bit to navigate that bloody mess. All that for a trunkful of canned tuna and tomatoes.”

  “Well, best to keep it moving.” Chloe scanned the trees on either side of the road, one eyebrow arching over the other, her ears twitching slightly as though they’d picked up on something. She glanced down the road momentarily, then looked back to Evan. “Your engine’s too loud,” she said. “Keep moving, or you’ll draw them here.”

  “Right, right.” Evan nodded. “Alright then, see you back at Rora.”

  Evan made a slight saluting gesture before steering his truck on. The sound of gravel and dirt crunching beneath his tires caused Chloe to flinch a little. She kept her eyes on his truck until, after a few seconds, his taillights vanished from view; at this point, she let out a gentle sigh.

  Small talk. A remnant of the past that the present could not accommodate.

  “You should relax,” came a voice through the piece in her left ear, accompanied by a startling crackle that caused her hand to fly to her ear. “See?” The man on the other end of the line chuckled. “You’re way too uptight about this. You made poor Evan a little scared.”

  “Lucas.” Chloe looked around, determined to find the position from which she was being observed.

  “Have you ever thought about going brunette?” Lucas asked. “I think you’d look stunning with dark hair. Even more stunning, I mean.”

  She spun then, face jerking in the direction she thought she’d heard his voice come from. “Stay off the comms,” she hissed.

  “Aw, come on. We’ve been on duty for hours. The silence is killing me!” Lucas whined.

  This time, she saw his silhouette move between the trees to the left of the road, saw the silhouette slink around a tree, saw quick movement up the tree, and then saw what looked a lot like a solid shadow sitting upon one of the tree’s branches.

  “Chloe’s right,” a different voice spoke over the comms, deeper and sterner than Lucas’s by a great deal. “Stay off the comms. No distractions.”

  “Aye aye, Captain,” came Lucas’s exasperated response. And though she couldn’t see him all that well, Chloe knew he’d rolled his eyes.

  The comms went back to quiet, and Chloe returned to the truck she’d been sitting in, unholstering the rifle once more. She sat in front, the driver’s seat, with her feet kicked up on the dashboard, the tips of her boots just inches away from the already-cracked windshield.

  The interior of the truck was pretty beat up. The leather seats had grown worn with time and stress, peeling in large patches. The compartment on the passenger’s side no longer shut completely. The rearview mirror was permanently lopsided, hanging by a single, fragile thread. On the floor were empty wrappers of cheese puffs, chocolate bars, and protein bars—all of which she’d only just eaten in the past hour.

  She had a relentless appetite—one that food did little to satisfy. When she grew particularly ravenous with no real meals in sight, junk food helped, if only by making her lose her desire to eat.

  An effective workaround.

  Someone started to whistle over the comms, and then, mixed in with the whistling, came loud crunching sounds.

  “Lucas!” everyone spoke in unison.

  “Oh, my bad, sorry,” came Lucas’s muffled response. “Squirrel was irresistible.”

  “We’ve got another incoming,” came Jon’s deep and stern voice yet again, his tone permanently brooding. “Two this time,” he added after a moment. “Two minutes apart, I’d say.”

  “Signs of trouble?” Chloe asked, exiting the truck again and stretching her hands before marching onto the road.

  “Can’t tell.” Jon went quiet for a moment. “Busted headlight on one of them. Scratches too. Could be trouble.”

  “Finally.” Lucas suddenly sounded rather alive and excited.

  “Hold on that,” Chloe said quickly, wary of just how eager the boy could get. “Stick to protocol. No moves until we have visual confirmation of the bastards.”

  “Ugh,” Lucas groaned. “Sure, whatever.”

  The first vehicle arrived a minute and a half later, its headlights not nearly as brilliant as the ones that had been on Evan’s truck. Chloe had little reason to shield her eyes this time. Again, she signaled the truck, just as she had Evan’s. The truck’s headlights flashed, signaling back.

  She relaxed somewhat and waited until the truck was just beside her. The windows were already down.

  Inside sat Leah, her brown hair down and strands stuck to her face with sweat and dirt. A bloodstained tank top clung to her, torn in places. Her bulging arms bore streaks of dried blood.

  Leah was accompanied by her sons, Tobias and Haden, as well as Crank, half-unconscious in the back, slumped against the seat. He had one hand over his chest, and Chloe could make out something wet and dark oozing between his fingers.

  She sniffed at the air, and her mouth watered instantly at the metallic scent she perceived.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Blood.

  Clean blood.

  “What happened to him?” she asked, frowning at Crank.

  “Haul was interrupted by the bastards,” Leah answered, voice shaky and filled with rage. “Had to get out and fast. He tried slowing them down and got in the line of fire. One hit. Clean, passed straight through. Given it a look and I think he’ll be fine, but gotta get him help quick, runt already had little blood in him as it was, I’d rather he not turn the back of my truck to his coffin.”

  “Any on your tail?” Chloe asked, although she already knew the answer. Blood was a deeply powerful scent to her and to them. And if it’d made her mouth water like this, then it must have done a lot more to them. They’d no doubt be on the trail.

  “Possibly.” Leah nodded, sounding a little fearful. “But it’s Mac and his boys just behind us though. Any trouble inbound is probably a little ways behind them.”

  “Alright,” Chloe said. “Go on, get to Rora, get Crank some help.”

  “You be careful,” Leah said, giving Chloe another nod before steering her truck on. Chloe watched again till the taillights had vanished, then turned around and concentrated her sights on the road ahead, awaiting Mac’s truck.

  Five minutes passed, with no sight whatsoever of the truck. Chloe bit her lips hard. “Jon. What’s going on?”

  “Dunno. Lost sight of it. Went dark,” came Jon’s response, grim and anxious. “We wait.” “Wait?” Lucas repeated. “The truck was supposed to be two minutes out. It’s been twice that long. We need to see what’s going on.”

  Chloe drew a deep breath then. A scent came to her in the air, metallic but impure. She craned her neck somewhat, listening. She picked up on the slowing rattle of an engine. Then, a groan, weak.

  “We can’t leave our positions,” Jon was saying over the comms. “There’ll be more on the way soon, important that we run the checks. Can’t let any who aren’t ours past this point, or any who’ve been bitten.”

  “Lucas, hold my position,” Chloe said, tugging at her rifle strap to fasten it around herself even more. “I’ll go check out Mac’s truck. I’ve got a lock on something, a smell. Blood, but it doesn’t smell clean.”

  “Chloe, what the hell are you doing?” Jon demanded. “We can’t—,”

  “It won’t take long,” Chloe said, already marching away from her position. She took a few steps, then heard a whooshing sound behind her. She glanced back to find Lucas standing where she’d been just a moment earlier, his white-blond hair looking almost angelic under the moonlight. In Lucas’s hand, a mangled squirrel, one he held over his mouth then and squeezed some blood from.

  He gulped the blood down, then looked in her direction and winked.

  She sighed, then turned on her heels and broke into a sprint.

  The air rushed past her as she went, trees blurring past. She took a turn off the road and into the woods, ducking hastily to avoid a low-hanging branch before leaping high, sailing over a felled tree.

  She came to a stop a moment later, at a smoking car flipped upside down, its windshield half removed. She narrowed her eyes, and the dark seemed to light up, the heat signatures of those within the vehicle visible to her. The two in the back had fairly normal heat signatures. The third, the driver, had a fading signature and it was also from him that the scent of impure blood seemed to be emanating.

  She blinked, and her vision returned to normal at once.

  “Found them,” she said, moving toward the rear of the vehicle and ripping one of the doors clean off with incredible ease before hurling it some distance away.

  She grabbed Tanner, one of the boys in the back, and pulled him out of the car. He groaned as she moved him, his eyes fluttering weakly.

  “Dad,” the boy groaned, his hands twitching.

  Chloe dragged him some distance from the car and set him down against a tree. Then she returned to the car and got Brian out. Brian woke up while she moved him, groaning and raising one hand to the left side of his head, touching some of the blood trickling down his face there.

  “The hell?” His words were slurry. “Dad. He’s hurt.” “Lucas,” Chloe said.

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Evac.” Chloe started toward the car again, moving gingerly toward the driver’s side now, aware of what she would find.

  Over the comms, Jon cursed. “Chloe, we can’t pull from our positions. We need to be on the road, keep things clear.”

  “Brian and Tanner are concussed,” Chloe said. “Car went off the road.” “And Mac?”

  “About to confirm.” Chloe crouched by the driver side, grabbed the door and ripped it off. She placed it aside gently, then knelt to examine Mac. His brown hair was blood stained, matted to his face. His plaid shirt was dirty, and reeked of sweat now. Chloe moved closer to him, placed one hand over his temple. He was getting cold…and fast.

  Mac responded to her touch, groaned slightly, and then turned his face to hers. He cracked open his eyes, his bloodshot eyes. He attempted to speak, but blood simply gushed from his mouth—dark and foul smelling.

  Chloe winced. She reached for his seatbelt, unhooked it, freeing Mac from his seat. He dropped, groaned again.

  “My boys,” he choked out, his voice rather strained.

  “They’re fine.” Chloe was examining him closely, searching for the infection point even though it already looked far too late for his condition to be remedied. “What happened?” she asked.

  “What’s it look like?” Mac managed a weak laugh, then ran a hand through his bloodied brown hair. He spat more blood from his mouth. “Haul went south, had to deal with the fuckers, one of them managed to get a good bite at the ankle. Would have cut it right off, but hard to drive a car without your feet, ain’t it?”

  “Dad?” Brian’s voice came from behind them. Chloe turned to see the fifteen-year-old groggily getting to his feet, staggering toward them. He blinked once, hard, then blinked again. “What the hell are you doing to him?”

  “Lucas,” Chloe called again. “I need them out of here.”

  “He’s fine!” Brian yelled. “He only got scratched! Let him go!”

  “Brian, buddy, think we both know this here’s more than a scratch,” Mac said weakly, managing another laugh before coughing up some more blood. His body spasmed then, suddenly and violently, his eyes rolling to the back, but only for a moment.

  “Infection’s taken root.” Chloe’s words had some finality to them. “Mac.”

  “I know, I know.” Mac nodded, coughing again. “Do what you gotta.”

  “No!” Brian yelled from behind Chloe, a clicking sound. “Let him go,” Brian’s voice came again, shaky. “Don’t make me do this.”

  Chloe turned her neck only just slightly, not fully looking at Brian. “Kid,” she said, “Put the gun down before you get hurt.”

  “I know how to use one. Get away from my dad, you animal. You’re just as bad as the rest of them!”

  She could tell he was sobbing now, just of how shaky his voice had gotten and from the sound of his breathing. She also knew that he seriously would pull the trigger if she attempted to do what needed to be done.

  “Brian put the gun down,” Mac groaned before spasming again. This time, the spasm lasted a few seconds, and while Brian’s attention shifted momentarily to his father, Chloe moved.

  Her movement was a blur. In a single motion, she’d disarmed Brian and knocked him out cold, grabbing onto him before he could hit the ground.

  “Lucas!” she called again. “Where the hell are you?”

  “He’s not coming,” Jonathan said then, not over the comms but from just behind her. She turned to see him emerge from between the trees, thin like a shadow, with greasy black hair that fell down his face. “I’ll take them.”

  “What’re you doing?” Chloe queried. “Lucas—,”

  “Is slower than I am,” Jonathan said as he took Brian from Chloe’s grasp and slung the boy over his shoulder as though he were a sack. “I can get them to Rora and come back in better time than Lucas can.”

  He made his way toward Tanner, picked the boy up with ease, and then he vanished into the shadows, boys in tow.

  Chloe waited a few seconds, attempting to find the required resolve for what she needed to do now. Behind her, she heard twigs snap. She turned in the direction of the sound, to find Mac hunched oddly by a tree, still spasming away. He was making odd choking sounds now too.

  She started toward him but only moved a few steps when his body suddenly went completely still.

  The choking halted then too and in its stead was a low, guttural growl.

  Mac spun around and took a few staggered steps toward her, his eyes permanently lolled back now, mouth hanging open, jaw having gone slack. As he moved toward her, a mixture of blood and drool dribbled from his mouth onto the earth. Twigs snapped beneath his approach.

  And then he went into a fervor, lunging at her with speed, snarling loudly as he did.

  Chloe’s face remained expressionless as she sidestepped Mac’s charge, stepping aside again to avoid his follow up, before easily ducking beneath his swatting and slashing. Mac lunged again, this time leaping at her like a predator pouncing on prey.

  She moved quickly, striking at his back with the blunt of her palm as he sailed through the air, the force of the blow knocking him to the ground. Mac hit the ground and snarled loudly and, in a moment, was back on his feet and about to pounce again, driven mindless and bloodthirsty by the rot that had set in his blood.

  Mac leaped at her again. This time, she met him with her rifle, not by taking aim and firing, but by swinging it through the air with all of her strength. With that kind of force and speed behind the swing, Mac stood no chance.

  His head went flying, blood gushing from the stump in its place, spraying onto Chloe. Mac’s head fell some distance away from her, at the base of a tree, while the rest of his body dropped right at her feet, the stump continuing to gush out blood, a puddle of his tainted blood quickly gathering at her feet.

  She remained there for a moment, rooted to the spot, Mac’s infected blood all over her. In her moment of pause, her breath grew shaky, and it was when she noticed this that she drew a deep, practiced breath. She drew another, then nodded to herself and proceeded to wipe Mac’s blood off her face with her sleeves.

  She holstered her rifle, then grabbed Mac’s torso, dragging it back to the smoking car, one she knew would be ablaze before long. She set the body by the car, then went and retrieved his head, placing it perfectly balanced atop the stump of his neck such that his body looked whole again. Then she backed away.

  The comms crackled. “Uh, Chloe? Jon, you guys copy?” “Lucas,” Chloe answered, voice low. “What is it?”

  “Got another inbound,” Lucas said. “This one’s got company.” “Servants?”

  “Uh-huh. A whole fucking swarm of them.”

  “Okay.” Chloe wiped her palm off with her shirt. “I’m on my way.”