The Servant's head hit the ground with a sickening, wet sound.

  Chloe shoved its torso aside, then turned and stared at the six other Servants limping toward her, gruesome mouths agape, blood and drool trickling out as their hollow eyes lolled around in their heads. She wiped some of the blood she'd gotten on her face off, then went at the Servants.

  It took only a few seconds for her to get rid of them, going the most effective route of separating their heads from their bodies. They, after all, were technically already dead and numb to most pain, so the only way to permanently stop them was a beheading. Burning worked, too, but she wasn't a huge fan of fire.

  Aiden, on the other hand, was a pretty huge fan of scorching them. He unleashed jets of flames from the miniaturized flamethrowers attached to the sleeves of his gear, his eyes twinkling with excitement as he watched the Servants go ablaze, their screeching and groaning sounds filling the air.

  In under five minutes, they'd taken care of the Servants. Aiden had reduced his to a smoking pile of charred remains, while Chloe had left behind a trail of severed heads and headless torsos. Jonathan and Spike were more intent on dotting their Is and crossing their Ts, however, and had dealt with the Servants by tearing them apart entirely, from limb to limb, ensuring there wasn't even a single glimmer of a chance that they might still be capable of moving or spreading their infection.

  Once the Servants were gone, the four of them converged again, right in the center of the carnage, standing around a trembling Mason, stained head-to-toe in blood and Servant bits.

  "There's a few stragglers in the woods," Spike said, removing Servant bits from her bloodstained brown hair, her face expressionless as she did so. She flicked the bits aside, then looked to Jon. "Should I take care of them?" she asked, voice cold and blue eyes even more frigid.

  "Go." Jon nodded at her.

  Spike nodded back at him, turned on her heels, and then she was gone. A moment later, they heard loud grunting sounds coming from the woods, accompanied by the sickening sounds of flesh being torn apart.

  "There's the car," Chloe said, gesturing just down the road to Mason's upturned vehicle, its hood having taken a considerable dent from earlier.

  Mason made a choking sound at the sight of his destroyed car. "Gemma," he croaked.

  Aiden raised one eyebrow over the other. "Gemma?" he repeated, amusement reflecting in his chestnut-colored eyes. "You named your car?"

  "It's not mine." Mason sighed and shook his head. "Belonged to my dad. Not that it matters anymore. Can we get this over with? I'm worried I might pick up something from all of the rotten blood around."

  "Infection doesn't spread that way," Jon responded, starting toward the upturned vehicle. "It's the saliva you need to watch out for."

  Mason looked to the ground then, clearly a little scared, taking ginger steps around the puddles of blood and saliva that had been left behind. Each step they took produced a wet, splash-like sound, the soles of their shoes and boots soaked.

  They stopped when they arrived at the car, and Jon crouched by it. He reached for something dark and metallic, picked it up by its handle, and held it up, letting it dangle slightly—Mason's pistol from earlier.

  "Hey, that's mine," Mason said, retrieving it. Jon's face darkened as he got close to Jon, his gaze narrowing very quickly at the boy. Mason halted in his tracks at once. He gulped. "Uhm, could I please have my gun back?"

  "You shot at my sister with this." Jon's voice was eerily soft when he spoke. "Tried to kill her."

  "Did I?" Mason blinked, a look of terror on his face. He raised a hand to his head, scratching the back of it awkwardly. "Uhm, you know what, it was pretty dark earlier, and there was so much going on, loads of confusion…I don't really remember who I shot at or anything, and I can't remember trying to kill anyone."

  "Uh-huh." Jon tossed the pistol aside a great distance away from the car. Mason headed for it immediately. The rest of them let him—it wasn't as though he could do much to any of them with a pistol.

  Jon moved toward the rear of the car, and they followed. His face turned grim then, as did the rest of theirs because there was a large, fairly human-sized hole in the trunk, jagged and rough as if something very strong and frantic had punched itself out.

  All three of them crouched by the hole, peering into the empty trunk, which was empty except, of course, for a spare tire and a car jack.

  Mason joined them at the car, still wiping blood off his pistol. When he was done, he tucked the weapon behind him and looked to the car. As soon as he saw the trunk, his eyes widened, and his mouth opened wide. "Holy shit. What the fuck is that?"

  Chloe, Jon, and Spike turned, staring straight up at him. Mason paled quickly, and took a sensible step backward, holding up shaky hands as if to calm them.

  "Look, I don't know anything, alright?" His voice was shaky. "I told you already. There was a girl who wanted to get here and seemed on the run. I offered her help, but at the time, I swear I didn't think she was a super strong freak or anything."

  "Was she bitten?" Jon demanded.

  "What?"

  "The girl, damnit!" Jon hissed angrily, his eyes flaring. "When she came to you, did you notice any marks on her? Teeth marks? Anything that could have been a sign she was infected, turning into a Servant?"

  “N-n-no,” Mason stammered. Then, after a pause: "I-I d-d-on't know."

  "Fuck." Jon straightened to his feet.

  "You don't know?" Chloe asked, straightening to her feet and taking a menacing step toward Mason. "A random girl came up to you, asking to be smuggled, and you didn't check to see if she might have been trouble?"

  "She didn't look infected," Mason said. "She wasn't pale or twitchy or anything, you know? And she wasn't bleeding from her nose or coughing up blood."

  "But you said she looked rough." Chloe narrowed her eyes.

  "Jesus, look around; we all look rough!" Mason exclaimed. "She just looked, you know, a little rougher…like she'd been running, like she hadn't gotten enough sleep. That's kind of rough. Not the brink-of-death type of rough. Besides, are Servants even strong enough to do that?" He gestured to his trunk as he asked the question.

  "Most aren't, no." Jon shook his head. "But there are special cases. Servants who end up a little stronger, faster…maybe even smarter. Hell, even in the middle of their turn, if they go into a frenzy, their strength is heightened for a moment. If she was infected, it's plausible that she might have been able to punch or kick her way out while the change was occurring."

  "But she can't possibly be in the district," Spike said then. When they all looked at her, she gestured to the pile of Servant corpses around them. "There's a reason why these things were still out here. The fences keep them away, discourages them. If she did turn or was turning, then I think we've less to worry about, she couldn't possibly have gotten past the fences like that."

  "What if she's like us?" Chloe asked, pondering the thought. "If she's Pandoran… it'd explain how she got out of the trunk. It would also mean that the fence wouldn't do much to keep her away."

  "But why try to be smuggled in?" Jon queried. "If she were Pandoran, she could have turned up whenever and walked right in, and no one would have tried to stop her. But she didn't want to be seen. And she had an angry god on her tail. There's gotta be a reason for that."

  "Alright, we're done being nice." Chloe was in front of Mason instantly and had a firm grip on the back of his neck. "Seeing as you're the only one with even an inkling of what this girl looks like, you're on ID duty."

  "ID duty?"

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Chloe tightened her grip around Mason's neck, and the boy winced. "You're going to go around, and you're going to identify all of the corpses here."

  "Are you out of your mind?" Mason demanded. He looked to Jon and Spike. "What the hell are you two doing just standing here? Tell the crazy lady to stand down!"

  Jon and Spike exchanged looks of amusement. They shrugged at one another and simultaneously took steps backward, Jon slipping his hands into his pockets.

  "Think we'll let her handle this one," Jon said. "Best do what she says."

  Chloe's grip got even tighter. "Eventually, I'll end up squeezing so hard that I crush your neck and separate your head from the rest of your body. I might end up doing that in about five more squeezes. Do not attempt to test whether or not I'm bluffing."

  One of Mason's hands shot behind his back, reaching for his pistol. Chloe was quicker than him. She caught his hand, and without any sort of warning, she dislocated his index finger with a satisfying snap.

  Mason cried out in agony, knees almost buckling, but Chloe's grip on his neck kept him on his feet.

  "What did you think would happen?" Chloe demanded.

  "Jesus Christ, you're crazy!" Mason shrieked. "I'm not going to ID corpses for you."

  "Finger or neck?"

  "What?"

  "Which do you want broken?"

  Mason gulped. "Fine! Just stop, Jesus!"

  Chloe released him. He spun around at once to face her, still attempting to grab his pistol. He drew the pistol, aimed it right at her head, and pulled the trigger immediately.

  Click.

  Mason's face contorted into a confused frown. He stared at the gun, then at her. Growling, he pulled the trigger again.

  Click.

  Chloe chuckled and held out one hand for him to see. In her palm, the remainder of the bullets that had been in the pistol, bullets that she let rain to the floor. "Get to identifying the bodies," she said flatly, more a warning than a request.

  "And maybe I don't get mad that you aimed a gun at my sister again," Jon chimed in.

  Mason shook his head, no doubt cursing them silently, which Chloe took to mean that he was a quick learner. They'd have heard him if he'd said whatever he was thinking aloud or even just muttered it.

  "Where do I start?" he grumbled. "And do I even really have to look at their faces?"

  "That's how IDing works, genius." Spike snorted. "You're really not the brightest bulb around, are you?"

  "That's not what I meant," Mason grumbled again, stepping carefully to avoid stepping on Servant's remains. His face was irritated as he moved. "Can I just look at their hands?" he asked. "The girl had a tattoo; I just need to see which one of them has a matching tattoo."

  Chloe shifted suddenly then, and uncomfortably enough that Jon noticed, his gaze darting toward her at once.

  "Chlo?" He raised an eyebrow. "What is it?"

  Chloe moved toward Mason then. The boy retreated quickly, stumbling and almost falling to the floor, but she caught him before he could. "The tattoo," she began. "What was it? What did it look like?"

  "I don't know." Mason shrugged. "Some fucking bird or something. An eagle or a crow or something."

  Chloe's face hardened at once. She let go of Mason immediately, took a staggered step backward. "Shit," she cursed under her breath. "We're wasting our time here. She's not out here."

  "Chlo, what the hell are you talking about?" Jon looked concerned.

  "She's in the district," Chloe declared. "We saw her earlier."

  Jon appeared puzzled. He paused, folding his arms and thinking hard. After a few seconds, his eyes widened. "Shit," he said. "The girl who stole from Evan."

  "Today's your lucky day, pal," Chloe said to Mason. "Let's go find your little stowaway."

  ***

  The boy had whitish blond hair, and in the gloom of his tent and the warm, ambient glows of the lamps he'd placed on desks, drawers, and makeshift tables, he looked almost angelic. His eyes were dark and mischievous, and he was currently reclined in a lounge chair, blood bag in one hand and a worn copy of Pride and Prejudice in the other. He lowered the book so he could meet her eyes.

  Smiling curiously, he shifted in the chair, sitting up and placing book and blood bag on the table within reach. "Hey," he greeted warmly, eyes twinkling. "What are you doing here? And not to be rude or anything, but do you think you could throw the canned tuna out? It's got a pretty strong smell, and I feel like I might puke, which would also give my tent a pretty strong smell and you know… I'd like to avoid that."

  Jin looked from the boy to the can in her hand. She raised it, emptied the rest into her mouth, gulped it down, then stashed the can into her hoodie pocket.

  "That doesn't help very much, but I suppose I'll take it." The boy relaxed again in the chair, throwing his feet up on the table. "I don't think I've seen you around before," he said. "Are you here from another district?"

  Jin pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes at him. There was something decidedly clever about him despite his demeanor.

  And she knew very little of what he was saying.

  She shook her head.

  "So you're from here?"

  She took a step backward and noticed his eyes dance dangerously. She sensed he was like Chloe and her brother…and if he was, then this had to be the one they'd called Lucas—the most reckless of them.

  She took that to mean he was the most dangerous.

  "Jin," she spoke, her voice deliberately tender and shaky.

  In the chair, Lucas frowned. "Jeans?" he repeated, then stared at the pair of denims he had on. "Are you saying you like my jeans?"

  She did all she could to refrain from rolling her eyes. Instead, she pressed a finger against her chest and said again: "Jin."

  "Your name's Jean?"

  "Jin!" she said, louder this time.

  "Alright, Jin, okay." Lucas held his hands up as if to calm her. "Well, Jin, I'm Lucas. I suppose you could call me Luke or Caz, can't say I care much which you decide to go with…not that it matters. There's still the matter of you and what you're doing in my tent."

  She pulled the can from her pocket, then gestured behind her, past the tent. "Angry man. Chase."

  "Well, that's probably because you stole from him." Lucas's eyes didn't waver off of her. And when he noticed the way she seemed to stiffen under the accusation, he simply laughed. "Sorry, forgot to mention… I'm kind of awesome. I can hear things going on without even really trying to. And I can hear Evan still out there, huffing and puffing, looking for you…poor guy, really putting a bit of a strain on his heart right now."

  Jin giggled.

  Lucas smiled, as if pleased about that. "So, Jin, why did you steal from Evan?"

  "Hungry."

  "Most people are, kid." Lucas leaned all the way back in the chair, fingers tap-dancing along the chair's arms. "But most people aren't going around stealing, because we've got pretty strict rules on things like that. And when we break those rules, the punishments are pretty fucking severe."

  "Sorry?"

  "So you're not from here, and not from one of the other districts." Lucas seemed to be considering whether or not to hand her in. She was considering whether or not to kill him if he attempted that. "Don't tell me you snuck in here with the haulers this morning? Oh, Hardy's going to have Chloe's head when he finds out she missed you."

  "No," Jin said quickly, taking a sudden step toward Lucas. As soon as she moved, Lucas was no longer in the chair. The next time he spoke, his voice came from right behind her.

  "No?" He asked. "No, what?"

  Jin swirled around, eyes wide and wild, surprised by how quickly he'd moved. Instinctively, she threw a fist at him.

  Lucas's hand shot out, caught her punch. "Come on, you really thought that was going to work?"

  "Family dead," Jin said. "Nowhere to go. Tell Hardy, me out. Alone. Alone, die."

  "Oops, bummer." Lucas crossed his arms. "Hate to break it to you, but that's not going to win you any points, princess—Jin startled slightly as he uttered the word—look around, most of the people here are missing families. Time for pity parties are past. Give me one good reason why I shouldn't drag you out of here right now and let Hardy do whatever he wants with you."

  Jin stared at Lucas for a while, lips quivering, eyes slowly watering. Lucas, on the other hand, appeared completely unfazed.

  When she spoke again, her voice was cracked. "Dad kill mom. I go back out, he kill me. Nowhere to go. No family. Scared. Alone. Please, help me."

  Just then, there was the crunch of footsteps just beyond Lucas's tent. Lucas swirled around at once, placing himself in front of Jin, wide enough to mask her entirely from view, and just as the tent's flaps were drawn aside and two guards poked their heads in.

  "Yes?" Lucas raised one eyebrow over the other.

  "Err, sorry, ain't mean to bother you," said one of the guards, the tag on his uniform reading: BRADLEY. "Hardy's asked for a census, making sure we don't have any more heads in here than there should be. Seems to think there mighta been a stowaway."

  "Uh-huh."

  "You seen anything weird?" asked the other guard, Lincoln. "Feel anything weird?"

  "I beg your pardon?" Lucas did his best not to move from the spot.

  "You know, you and the others can feel stuff, can't you?" Lincoln said. "Smell anything or anyone out of place? Would make our job easier if ya did."

  "I do feel something actually." Lucas smiled in a threatening manner. "Right now? I feel pretty famished. And blood bag over there… I'm not sure how long that's going to sustain me. You do know how me and the others get when we're hungry, don't you? Especially when we're hungry and annoyed?"

  Both guards exchanged looks and gulped. "Right, sorry," Bradley said quickly. "Just thought to ask. We'll be leaving now, more counting to do."

  "Hmph."

  The guards left at once, and only a few seconds after they had, Lucas turned around to find Jin still standing there, looking slightly surprised.

  She frowned at him. "Why?"

  Lucas sighed and started toward his chair. "I don't know, man. I guess I just like trouble sometimes, and if Hardy does ever find out about this, it would be hilarious seeing him blow his top off." He dropped into the chair, grabbed the blood bag and his copy of Pride and Prejudice. "I just hope you're not irked by this though," he said, waving the blood bag.

  "No," she said softly, shaking her head. "It's fine. I guess."

  "Sweet." After a moment, Lucas grinned: "Well, don't just stand there. Take the inflatable mattress or something."

  Jin nodded at him, and trudged toward what she assumed was the mattress he'd referred too. It was confusing, though, and she had no idea what to do with it.

  Lucas, observing her while she struggled with the mattress, smiled to himself, then rose to his feet and walked toward her. He crouched next to her, helped straighten the mattress, and started to pump it. Once he was done, he straightened to his feet and gestured to the mattress with a hand. "There," he said. "I haven't got a blanket or anything because…well, I don't get cold, but I suppose I could find one later. But you ought to be cozy enough in that hoodie…oh, and FYI, I'm pretty sure it belongs to Spike, so maybe don't get seen in it."

  Jin smiled at him, nodded, and got onto the mattress, surprised at how floaty it felt beneath her.

  Lucas returned to his chair and plopped down onto it again.

  For a few minutes, there was silence in the tent, while he slurped on his blood bag and flipped through the pages of his book while Jin continued to turn in the odd mattress, attempting to get comfortable.

  Lucas interrupted the silence, just as she'd finally managed to get herself to tolerate the mattress.

  "And Jin?"

  "Yes?"

  "Sorry about your dad and mom."