Summer Lane

DAY ONE

A Short Collapse Series Companion Adventure

For anyone who has survived.

You are a fighter.

Prologue

Elle slipped through the door of the apartment building. It had been raining for hours. Her backpack had rubbed red, raw marks on her shoulders. She could hear the echoes of the Klan’s cries against the buildings, carrying all the way down Santa Monica Boulevard.

She looked at the gun stuffed into her belt.

She couldn’t believe she’d found it. Hidden in someone’s abandoned apartment, in nearly perfect condition. It was a 1911, a Smith and Wesson. Heavy for a girl her size, but better than nothing. It was something Uncle would have liked to shoot. Something classic. Something that packed a punch.

She moved toward the dark staircase in the building. Her backpack clanked. She had filled it with boxes of ammunition. She’d found no food today, but she’d found plenty of ammo.

Elle climbed the staircase, feeling her way down the hall. The building was silent. The quiet was terrifying, stifling. Something in the building creaked. She spun around, taking the gun out of her belt. It was so big—so heavy. But it gave her a sense of security to grip it.

The darkness was comforting, too. In the beginning, when the lights went out and the electricity had died, she was afraid of the dark. Now she embraced it. She could hide in the dark. She could get away from people who wanted to hurt her.

“I know you’re in here.”

The voice was raspy, broken. Slurred.

Elle felt for the safety on the gun, made sure it was off. She held it in front of her, taking a few steps backward, further down the hall. The stairs groaned under the footsteps of the man coming up the steps.

“Come on, girly. Stop playing games. Let’s just get this over with.”

Elle’s gun was loaded. There were five bullets in the magazine. But it was dark, and she could miss five times. That was the worst-case scenario. And the gunshots would bring more of the Klan. She would be surrounded. Dead.

Her hands shook.

“You’re close, I can smell it,” he said.

Elle stifled a gasp. He couldn’t be more than ten feet away.

“Ah,” he said. “There you are.”

Boom, boom, boom.

His footsteps were heavy, coming closer. Elle kicked open the apartment door to her right. It swung open, flooding the hallway with gray, rainy light. She saw his face — weathered, grizzled and beaten. His eyes were bloodshot, a crazed smile on his face. Elle pulled the trigger. The gunshot was deafening in the silent confines of the apartment building.

The gun kicked back, jerking Elle’s hands into the air, making her stumble. But the shot was straight and true. The man toppled to the ground, collapsing in a misshapen heap on the ground. He didn’t scream, didn’t moan. He was just quiet.

Elle lowered the gun, standing near the doorway of the open room, trembling like a leaf. Several minutes passed. She crept closer to the man and tapped his shoulder with her shoe. Nothing. She pushed him on his side. The gunshot had hit him right in the forehead. He’d died with his eyes wide open, glassy and bloody. Shocked.

Elle jumped backward, looking at his dead body.

She let out a strangled sob.

She had killed for the first time, and she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

Part One: The Hunt

Chapter One

California Interstate 5 and Highway 99 Merge — Tehachapi Mountains

It was cold. Fog hung freezing and heavy in the air, pressing down on Elle’s chest. She knelt on the ground and traced her finger along the edge of a tire track. It was clearly imprinted in the mud. She looked around.

Walls of fog were on every side, closing in.

Eating her up.

She kept her eyes on the ground, barely able to follow the tracks without losing all sense of direction. It was eerily silent. There was no noise, no thrum of distant traffic or passenger jets flying overhead.

All was silent.

All was dead.

Elle’s shoes were caked in mud. Her lips were cracked. She was running low on water. For three days she had been following the tracks, hoping that they would end at some point. But no. They had veered off the Interstate 5 highway and into the countryside, zigzagging through country roads and back into the dirt again.

Elle stopped. She put her hands on her knees and coughed, licking her lips. She sat on the ground, hanging her head. Her chest heaved and her eyes closed. She loosened the leather strap across her chest, the one holding the sheath that reached across her back. It kept her katana — her sword — safe and easily accessible.

She was exhausted.

She popped open the water canteen and swallowed the last bit of liquid.

She tucked the canteen back into her jacket and adjusted the straps on her backpack. She had no idea where she was, no idea what time it was. It could be early morning — it could be late afternoon. Halfway delirious, she’d lost track of time.

It wasn’t like her to lose track.

But starvation did that to you.

She forced herself forward, following the tracks. She stumbled and fell on her palms, drawing blood. She stayed there on all fours, tears in her eyes.

She was tired. So tired.

Tired of fighting, tired of tracking.

Tired of surviving.

She remained staring at the ground. Everything seemed to melt together. She was tired. Did she have to keep going? She could curl up into a ball and sleep forever, shutting her eyes to the hollow mess this world had become.

No, I have to get up. For Jay, and Georgia… and Flash.

Familiar names. Friends’ names.

It was what Elle needed to get up and keep trying.

The United States had changed. Last year, a technological attack destroyed the very fiber of modern society. An EMP, they called it. An electromagnetic pulse. It took out computers, cars, cell phones, everything. In a single instant, the entire country was thrown into the stone age.

And then they came. Omega. A foreign army — a shadow invasion force, creeping quickly into the states, enslaving the population, executing whomever they deemed “non-contributing” members of society. Los Angeles and other heavy population centers were exterminated with chemical weapons, leaving nothing but empty husks of cities, taken over by Omega forces and roving, violent gangs — the dregs of civilization.

Elle had been living in Beverly Hills, California, when it all went down. She was a martial arts enthusiast, a gymnast. A freshman at Beverly Hills High School, the daughter of wealthy socialites. That all changed the moment the power went out. Elle’s mother had sent her to live with her aunt and uncle on a ranch in the Tehachapi Mountains, hoping that this disaster — this invasion — would blow over quickly. Surely the United States military would step in and stop this madness.

But they hadn’t.

Eventually, Elle returned to the city on her own, searching for her family.

What she found was a Los Angeles that had turned into an archaic battleground between Omega and bloodthirsty gangs. She learned the hard way what it meant to survive, and to fight. She became a part of the city, a shadow, hardly seen, never heard.

And then she met the bunker survivors. Jay, Georgia, Pix and Flash, juvenile delinquents who had survived the invasion in a bunker deep under a correctional facility. Elle’s alliance with the mangy, unorthodox group of kids was a surprise to her. She had never thought she would become attached to anyone again.

Together, they decided to head toward Sacramento, California. It was a rumored safe haven, a United States military stronghold. California militias and the National Guard were protecting it.

They had been so close to reaching Sacramento when they were attacked by Omega. Pix was killed. Jay, Georgia and Flash had disappeared, and Elle was left to track them down. Somehow, they had been taken by a local militia group — and Elle was determined to rescue them before something bad happened.

Elle had few supplies left in her backpack — limited water and two granola bars. It was more than most people had, but still. The Tehachapi Mountains loomed dark and ominous to the south, rising into the sky. The fog had lifted enough so that it hovered just above the tips of the lowest hills. Plains of golden grassland surrounded Elle as she looked at the freeway lanes, a twisted assembly of concrete and faded signs.

It was early morning. The sun was bright, but the temperature hovered in the low forties. Elle shivered in her dark jacket, looking down at her damp, dirty running shoes. She hadn’t been able to find the road that the trucks took. All of the tire tracks and footprints at the freeway interchange blurred into one smear of mud and burnt rubber. She searched for the most recent overlay of tracks. That would tell her where her friends had been taken.

Empty cars were scattered along the edge of the lanes, but for the most part, the road was empty. It was desolate, a reminder of the fall of civilization.

Elle crouched low behind a guardrail, on the edge of an overpass. An oil tanker had overturned here. The remains of its black, burnt carcass lay on the road. The inferno that had engulfed the vehicle after its fall had melted pavement.

Elle puzzled out her next move.

Which way did they go? Where am I supposed to look now? I’m back at the mountains. This entire thing was a waste of time! I’ll never be able to find them.

She shook her head.

She knew looking for Jay, Georgia and Flash was a fool’s errand. She’d come all this way and still couldn’t find a sure sign that they had passed through. She should turn north and head toward Sacramento and try to find a safe haven. Her chances of survival would be better if she started now, before the most brutal part of winter set in.

Elle knew this. It was the logical choice, the smart choice.

And Elle had learned to play it smart. Emotions needed to be set aside.

She closed her eyes. She could see the smoldering remains of the Suzuki jeep, the dead body of small, harmless Pix. The smattering of golden graffiti on the crashed Omega vehicle. The dead troops.

Elle felt like there was nothing she could do. Wandering around aimlessly would get her killed, too. She had to reevaluate. She had to move on.

Elle shuddered.

She would do what she had to in order to survive. She would head north. She would keep an eye out for her friends. She would hope. And that was all she could do.

Chapter Two

Elle stared at the front door of apartment 1 C. The C had fallen off, a brass letter on the carpeted floor. The hallway was dark, rays of gray light falling through slits in the roof. Elle held the Smith and Wesson in her hand, shivering in the cold.

She pushed the door open. It was unlocked. A bad sign.

A stab of regret shot through her chest as she surveyed the apartment. Familiar furniture had been overturned. Books were scattered across the floor. Glass cases had been smashed. Pictures had been torn from the walls. Anything of value had been stripped from the room.

“Mom?” Elle whispered.

Nobody answered.

California was a primeval wasteland. The dead orchards stretched for miles, branches snapping, dust scattered into the air. Fog hung gray above Elle’s head, making the world around her look colorless and drained.

She followed California Highway 99, walking parallel to the road, concealed in the shadows, keeping an eye on everything around her. Listening for voices and footsteps. After months of living in the city, the empty quiet of the vast abandoned Central Valley was eerie. Unsettling.

I should have stayed with Aunt and Uncle at the ranch, she thought. I never should have gone back to Los Angeles to find my family. It was a mistake.

She sighed.

It was all too late. There was no reset button.

Elle paused and opened her backpack, slipping a faded map into her hands. It showed the main highways and roads. She traced the route to Sacramento with her finger. It was a straight shot from here to the city if she could follow the road the entire way. About three hundred miles. On foot.

Elle put the map away and kept moving. At mid-afternoon, she stopped, dropped to her stomach. There was something up ahead. A flicker of movement, a flash of dim color in the gray. Her heart raced in her chest, fingers trembling. It was the adrenaline pumping through her veins.

Movement could mean people. And people almost always meant danger.

She saw the flicker again. It was a flash of orange. Up ahead, to the right of the freeway, a small rest stop sat parallel to an off-ramp. It was an old gas station, and several orange flags were mounted to the awning above the dirty gas pumps. They hung limp in the still air. Elle stared. A group of crows hopped across the awning, one of them pulling at the fabric of the flag.

Elle released a breath.

Stupid birds…

There was an old jeep parked next to the station. Beside it sat a dented blue pickup. They both looked like they’d been sitting there since the EMP.

Elle stood up. She wondered if there was any food or useful junk left inside the gas station store. She was running low on supplies and she was out of water. She had no choice but to look inside. She walked down the off-ramp, using what minimal cover she could find. She paused at the intersection, sinking into a crouch behind an abandoned VW bug. Above the door of the gas station store, a wooden pallet had been spray painted with the words:

TRADE DEPOT

WE BARTER GOODS AND SUPPLIES

It was so… cheesy. Elle blinked. Would someone actually be stupid enough to set up a store in the middle of an apocalyptic wasteland? With the threat of bandits and looters hanging over their heads? Elle studied the building. Most of the windows had been covered with slats of wood. It was already dark outside, and she noticed strips of dull, orange light flickering through the cracks.

People. There are people here.

Elle chewed on her bottom lip.

Stupid girl. You could have been killed!

She hated making mistakes. She needed to get back to the freeway, away from the store. And she needed to do it without being seen.

“All right, don’t move.”

Elle froze. She braced herself for a gunshot, a quick blow to the head.

“Turn around slowly and keep your hands in front of you where I can see them.” It was a woman’s voice. Raspy and demanding.

Elle turned around, heart beating in her throat.

The woman was tall and thin, sinewy. Greasy strands of gray-blonde hair hung down her shoulders, sticking to a loose tee. A long, oversized skirt billowed around her waist.

“That’s right,” she said. “Keep your hands right there.”

The woman grasped a shotgun. The weapon looked bigger than she was, the stock jammed into her bony shoulder, her finger hovering over the trigger.

“You here to barter?” the woman demanded.

Elle blinked. Her breath came shaky. She slowly nodded.

“What do you have?” she continued.

“Um.” Elle cleared her throat. She didn’t have anything of value. Nothing. “I’ve got food. And… well, that’s it.”

The woman stared at her. Elle stared back. The tension was thick enough to cut with a knife. Elle’s hands started to shake. Her gun was hidden just under her coat, holstered in her belt. She could reach it fast, if she had to. The katana on her back would not move quickly enough against the woman’s shotgun.

“You were watching us,” the woman said. “You planning to steal stuff?”

“I don’t steal other people’s stuff,” Elle replied. “I was just looking for supplies.”

The woman kept the shotgun trained at Elle’s chest.

“Please,” Elle said. “Just let me go.”

The woman’s arm began to shake from supporting the weight of the gun with her forearm. “If you’ve got goods to barter,” she said, lowering the barrel of the weapon, “you can come inside and look around. But then you’ve got to be on your way.”

Elle nodded.

The shotgun was now pointed at the ground, and Elle’s fingers twitched.

Grab your gun and make a run for it, she thought. Or…

The woman took several steps forward, limping. Ragged, muddy boots scraped the ground. “Come on,” the woman said. “We don’t have a lot, but it’s probably more than you got in your pack.”

She tromped past Elle, hauling the shotgun over her shoulder. Elle raised an eyebrow. Should she follow her? She thought of her empty canteen. Dehydration was deadlier than going hungry for a few days. Maybe she could barter for something valuable…

Elle cautiously followed the woman into the store. The woman opened the door and stepped inside, into the shadowy building. Elle paused at the threshold, taking a deep breath. A dark, slumped figure sat in a chair in the back, snoring loudly. Rows of shelving were stacked with produce boxes and plastic jugs of water.

Elle stepped inside.

“How do you stay alive?” Elle whispered. “Don’t people try to take this stuff from you?”

“Tried and failed,” the woman replied. She walked behind the main counter. About a dozen packs of cigarettes were beneath the protective glass. “If you know the right people, the wrong ones stay away and let you mind your own business.”

Whatever that means.

“What about Omega?”

“Like I said, if you know the right people, you can do what you want.”

The store smelled of wet dirt and rotting feed. Odd, considering there were no animals in sight. Elle walked straight to a small aisle of metal shelving. There wasn’t much left here, except a few thin blankets and containers of sealed crackers.

“I need water,” Elle said.

“What have you got?”

The woman leaned over the counter, and it occurred to Elle then how young she actually was. She couldn’t be older than twenty. Her skin was pale, eyes sallow.

“I’ve got a map,” she shrugged.

“A map is useless to me,” the woman replied. “Got food? Bullets, maybe? Everybody wants bullets.”

Elle had bullets. A limited amount, and she wasn’t about to trade those for anything. Even water. Ammunition was almost more precious than food.

“No,” Elle said. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have anything I want, then,” the woman said. “You’d best be on your way.”

The snoring figure in the back of the store choked, coughed, and continued snoring again. Elle looked at the small jugs of water. Her parched throat and bloody, cracked lips wanted them so bad.

“Hey, you’re not one of those kids what got picked up by the Slavers, are you?” the woman asked. There was suddenly fear in her eyes. She backed up several feet from the counter.

“Slavers?” Elle narrowed her eyes. “I haven’t heard of them.”

“You’ve never heard of…” the woman trailed off, raising an eyebrow. “You come from the South?”

“Los Angeles,” Elle replied carefully.

“That would explain the clothes.” The woman gave Elle a once-over. “You should be careful, girly. They’re everywhere, looking for lone travelers. Picking them up, one by one.”

“Who?”

“The Slavers.”

“Who are the Slavers?”

“You’re from L.A. right?” the woman says. “You’ve got big gangs down there. We’ve got Slavers here. They round up the weak ones and take them off.”

“Where do they take them?”

“The desert.”

“Why?”

“How should I know?” she shrugs. “Why do people enslave each other to begin with? Power, I guess. There’s a rumor going around that there’s something big in the desert. Something the militias can’t stop.”

“What is it?”

“I don’t know. Nobody really knows.” The woman shakes her head. “They’re dangerous though. Better be on the lookout for them. They dress like local militias, draw people in. And then they take you.”

Elle shuddered.

And then she thought of the overturned jeep and of Pix’s dead, bloody body. The haphazard golden star spray-painted across the chassis of the charred vehicle. Militia, she’d thought. Now… she wasn’t so sure of that.

“Where exactly do the Slavers take their prisoners?” Elle asked.

The woman pushed a greasy strand of hair behind her ear.

“You don’t want to go there,” she warned.

“I didn’t say I was going there.”

“I can tell.” The woman placed her hands on her hips, exhaling heavily. “Who are you looking for? It’s written all over your face, girly.”

Elle blinked. “I’m just asking a question.”

“The desert. San Jacinto Mountains,” the woman replied. “You know. By Palm Springs and all that. Pretty much abandoned, so I’ve heard. Slavers took it over. The real militia doesn’t have time to worry about what’s going on in a dried-up area of California and Omega sure as hell don’t care, either. So it belongs to the Slavers.”

A bolt of electrified adrenaline shot through Elle’s body.

So that’s where Jay, Georgia and Flash had been taken. No wonder she’d lost their trail. They weren’t in Los Angeles. They weren’t in the Central Valley. They were in the desert.

“How far is it from here?” Elle asked.

“A few hundred miles, at least.” The woman raised an eyebrow. “Don’t go, girly. You’ll wind up dead.”

“Thanks, but I can handle myself.”

Elle swung her backpack around and dug down, reaching for her map. She pulled it out. It was a crude depiction of the California Central Valley and the highways running in and out of the southern area of the state.

“That won’t do you any good,” the woman said. “Here.”

She reached under the counter and pulled out a folded piece of paper. Elle took it. It was a bigger map — a detailed one.

“I don’t have anything to trade for it,” Elle replied.

“Just take it.” She smiled. “And the name’s Sienna, by the way.”

Elle nodded, but she didn’t offer her own name. It didn’t feel right.

Not yet, anyway.

“Thank you,” she said instead.

“That’s Bob,” Sienna continued, gesturing to the snoring figure in the back of the darkened store. “He doesn’t notice anything these days.”

Elle looked at Bob, the silhouette of a man slumped forward in a chair, surrounded by empty bottles of booze. “Husband?” Elle asked.

“Brother,” Sienna answered.

Elle opened the map and spread it across the floor, kneeling down to study it. Sienna was still behind the counter, watching. Elle felt a twinge of fear, being alone in a building with two people who could very well be plotting her death… but despite that fear, she stayed where she was. She had a gun and a katana. If something happened, she was well prepared for it and she could move faster than Sienna.

She would win any fight they brought to her.

Chapter Three

“So. You’re not a thief. You’re not a carjacker,” Elle said, smiling slightly over the flames of the small campfire. “What are you, Jay?”

Jay shrugged, dark eyes glimmering against dark skin.

“Why do you have to keep it a secret?” Elle pressed.

It was late. The night was cold. Georgia lay asleep next to Flash and Pix, a tangled mass of blond curls and long legs.

“Because,” Jay replied, “secrets are the only things I have left.”

Elle pressed her lips together.

“You know,” she said, “my family was rich. Before all of this. Before Day Zero, when everything went insane.” She shook her head. “Didn’t do us any good. When the EMP hit, our bank account just stopped existing. There was nothing my parents could do to stop it. My dad and my older brother. They died in the first two weeks, trying to get food from a grocery store that was overrun with looters.” Elle leaned her chin against her knees, staring at the fire. “All of it — civilization, I mean. It took five thousand years to build it and two weeks to tear it apart. It’s depressing when you think about it.”

Jay turned his gaze from the fire, looking at Elle.

“It didn’t surprise me,” he said. “That’s what man is. We’re just as feral as any wild animal out in the forest. We just like to pretend we’re not. And when something happens to shatter the illusion, everyone acts so shocked.”

“So you believe people are inherently evil?”

“Basically.”

“But what about us? We’re not evil. We’re just trying to stay alive.”

Jay shook his head. He lowered his voice.

“But look at what we have to do to survive,” he whispered. “We kill.”

“In self-defense. You said yourself that there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Of course there’s something wrong with it!” Jay’s voice went up a notch, and Elle flinched. “It’s not right. To have to kill someone so that you can stay alive? To keep them from killing you for the same reason? It’s chaos. It’s…” He trailed off, rubbing his temples with his fingers. He looked tired, weary. “It’s mankind,” he said at last. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

They said nothing for a few moments, until the unearthly howl of coyotes broke the silence. “We’re all going to die in the end, aren’t we?” Elle whispered.

Jay looked in her eyes.

“In the end,” he replied, “everybody dies.”

It was late. Elle sat with her back against the wall in the corner of the general store, watching Sienna. The woman sat on the floor near Bob, who was still completely passed out. Sienna slowly cleaned the empty bottles of booze and lined them up along the wall, counting them under her breath.

Elle wondered who the siblings had been before the EMP.

She wondered if they’d had family. If they’d been married.

Elle shook herself. She had to focus. She looked at the map. She’d spread it out on the floor, marked her route with a red pen from her backpack. From where she was, the San Jacinto Mountains were over two hundred miles south. It was an intimidating length to travel, especially since she had no car. Not even a skateboard. There were many ways to reach the mountains, but even if she did, the Slavers could be anywhere in those hills. It would be a wild goose chase. A ghost hunt.

And then there was the possibility that Elle would find the Slavers, but Jay, Georgia and Flash would already be dead. That was her worst fear. To go all that way… and be too late.

Stupid EMP. If I had a car, all of this time I would spend walking to the desert would be completely out of the picture.

Something hit Elle in the chest.

Her heart raced and she leaped to her feet, whipping the katana out of the scabbard. It slid out and flashed through the air. She held it steady, inches from Sienna’s pale face. The woman jumped backward and pointed at the floor, speechless.

Elle flicked her gaze down. A protein bar lay on the ground.

“For you,” Sienna whispered. “I thought you might be hungry.” She held out a plastic water bottle. “And thirsty.”

Elle’s paused, gripping the handle of the katana. She slowly lowered the sword. She didn’t know what to say. She’d expected an assassination attempt. Not food.

“Thanks,” she said quietly. And then, “Sorry.”

Sienna nodded, swallowing.

“If you… well, if you make it back alive,” she said, “well, make sure you’ve got better stuff to trade.”

Elle didn’t move.

“Okay.”

Sienna shivered, gesturing at the door. “Winter is coming,” she said. “You might not make it alive to San Jacinto.”

“I might not make it alive anywhere.”

“But two hundred miles or more. On foot. It’ll take weeks.”

“I’ll figure something out.”

“You don’t have the supplies for it.”

Elle sat down, never taking her eyes off Sienna or Bob.

“What else have I got to live for?” Elle whispered under her breath.

If Sienna heard her, she said nothing.

“You can take what you need this time,” Sienna said. Elle looked up sharply. This woman was offering supplies for the journey?

Sienna nodded, walked to the back of the store, took a seat near Bob, and laid her shotgun across her lap. Elle stuck her hands in her pockets, her left hand closing around the handle of her Smith and Wesson. There were ten rounds in the chamber. A full magazine. The dull flicker of candlelight illuminated the walls.

Elle waited until Sienna was asleep, and then she made her move.

Elle moved silently. She stuffed her backpack with a pile of protein bars from the shelves, shoving as many water bottles as she could into the rest of the space. She took a box of Band-Aids and a small bottle of antiseptic. There was nothing else she needed. Nothing that she could find here, anyway.

She cinched her backpack tight around her shoulders.

She held her breath, pausing at corner of the general store. She felt a twinge of guilt. She was, after all, taking off into the night without saying goodbye. Elle curled her fingers into fists.

Why do I have to suddenly have a conscience about this?

Behind her, a row of glass-paneled refrigerator doors lined the wall. Elle bit her lip. Hmm. This might work. She dragged her finger through the thick layer of dust over each door, concentrating. She stood back and admired her handiwork.

HAD TO GO. TOOK SOME STUFF. WILL COME BACK WITH A PROPER TRADE FOR YOU AND BOB. I PROMISE.

- THE GIRL WITH THE SWORD

Yes. That was fine.

She glanced one more time at Bob and Sienna’s sleeping forms.

“See you,” she whispered.

She slipped through the hallway in the back of the building, pushing an emergency exit door open. The cold, biting air slapped her cheeks. She pulled her hood over her head and quietly shut the door. The flat landscape of the Central Valley lay around her. The safety of Sacramento was north. The warring gangland of Los Angeles was due south. And the Slavers… well, they were southeast, bringing their prisoners to the San Jacinto Mountains. Elle would have to travel through the smaller highways to reach the mountains. Her supplies wouldn’t last long. She would have to catch rainwater and eat whatever she could find; rats, lizards, bugs. She might perish in the desert. Her body might be left in the desolate wasteland, dissolving into the nothingness of the plain.

Elle sighed.

She knew what she had to do. It wasn’t going to be easy.

Chapter Four

The highway stretched on endlessly, curving southeast out of the Bakersfield area of California. What might have taken an hour to reach in a car would take an entire day on foot. The fog had finally lifted, and the golden brown of the grassy land was illuminated. Elle just stood there, in the center of the southbound lane of Highway 58, taking it all in.

It looks like velvet, she thought. Miles and miles of golden velvet.

It was beautiful, but daunting. The road was completely deserted. Unlike the roads in and out of Los Angeles, this highway was empty. There was no sea of cars, no evidence of catastrophic vehicle collisions. It was just… abandoned. It was wide and lonely. A strong, cold wind whipped across the valley floor and tossed Elle’s short black hair.

“It could be worse,” Elle muttered.

Elle tucked her head and began walking. It was a boring, monotonous march. The scenery was breathtaking. The rolling, golden mountains spread out in every direction, making Elle feel little more than an ant, a speck in the universe. The weather was clear and cool now, and the endless quiet and openness of the region seemed to make Elle’s thoughts echo loudly in her brain. She struggled to quiet her doubts and fears, so she began searching for patterns in the hills and pictures in the clouds to soothe her overactive mind.

The map that Sienna had given her was tucked firmly into the inside pocket of her jacket. She had memorized the route in case she lost it. Highway 58 to Highway 14, to Highway 215 to Highway 10. It was a convoluted route, one that she had mapped out in order to avoid traveling in the up-and-down, steep terrain of the mountains all the way to her destination. It was the easiest way. The entire journey would take about a week if she stayed on schedule.

What are you going to do when you actually find Jay and the others? She mused. You’re not dealing with the Klan anymore. The Slavers are an enemy that you’re unfamiliar with. Are you sure you want to risk your life like this? You could be on your way to Sacramento.

No. Elle had already decided what she was going to do. Life might have gone to hell in a handbasket since the EMP, but this… this gave her life some meaning. A purpose, she guessed. Something to do. More than just simple survival. Survival was a necessity. Everybody was surviving. But helping others? That was a rarity now. People just didn’t do it as much as they used to, because helping someone else meant risking your own life.

Elle kept walking.

Her steps were a rhythmic plod. She kept her head down, shielded from the harsh wind. She wished she had sunglasses. It would protect her eyes from the wide, sunny plain. But there was nowhere to get sunglasses… so she kept moving, tying a loose scarf from her backpack around her forehead and mouth, shading her face.

It struck her how empty the plain was. It scared her, too. She was a moving object on a still stage, prey for any hunter who was keeping his eyes open. She occasionally stopped and kneeled near the center guardrail, studying the road behind her and around her. She saw no one, so she would continue on.

The silence was eerie, too. Without Jay, Georgia or Flash chattering on about something in the background, the loneliness of the valley sunk in. It was different than Los Angeles. In the city, even the silence of abandonment was broken by the cries and fights of the Klan and Omega. Here… there was nothing. It was beautiful, but it was empty.

Elle shuddered.

And she kept walking.

“So, enlighten me, shadow warrior,” Georgia drawled, stopping to catch her breath. Her long, curly yellow hair bounced in the breeze. They were scaling the side of a small hill in the Tehachapi Mountains, escaping from Los Angeles. Heading toward Elle’s aunt and uncle’s ranch.

“Enlighten you about what?” Elle asked.

“How come you’re so mysterious. I mean, with the warrior mojo and all that.” Georgia wrinkled her nose. “Were you a doomsday prepper or something?”

“A prepper?” Elle laughed softly. “I wish.”

“But you handle yourself… well. Better than us. And we were street kids.” Georgia shrugged. “We all thought we were tough, you know? Me running drugs, Flash and Pix hacking credit cards, and Jay… well, we ended up doing time for it, so the universe killed us with karma, I guess. But still. All of this? It’s a new world. How come you adapted so fast?”

Elle looked ahead. Jay was farther up the side of the hill, in front of Flash and Pix, struggling along, panting and grunting.

“I guess I’m one of the lucky ones,” Elle deadpanned.

“You’re not lucky. You’re just cold.”

Elle stared at Georgia. The tall girl broke her gaze and nervously scratched the back of her neck. “I didn’t mean it like that,” she said.

“Yeah,” Elle replied, “you did.”

“Listen, Elle—”

“You’re not wrong, Georgia.” Elle frowned. “I know what I am. I’m okay with it.”

It was such a lie. She wasn’t okay with anything.

They were living after the apocalypse for God’s sake.

“So are you ever going to tell me what Jay’s story is?” Elle said, clearing her throat. “Or is it still a terrifying secret?”

Georgia cracked a wry grin.

“He’s a man of mystery,” she replied. “I should let him tell his own story.”

“He won’t talk.”

“You two are a match made in heaven.”

Elle rolled her eyes.

“I don’t like him, if that’s what you’re trying to say.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

Elle’s cheeks warmed. “I actually kind of thought you guys were together.”

“Me and Jay?” Georgia smirked. “That will be the day, my little friend.”

“Ah.” Elle looked at Jay again. “But he likes you. I can tell.”

Georgia said nothing for a long time.

Then, “You think so?”

Elle smiled.

“Yeah. I think so.”

Many sour experiences with looters and vandals had taught Elle to stay away from abandoned rest stops. The general store in the valley with Sienna and Bob had been a freak thing. She hadn’t been thinking straight. She’d been starving and dehydrated. She blamed it on that.

Blame it on anything you want, she told herself. It was still stupid.

So Elle stood on the edge of a massive truck stop. How many idiotic gas stations was she going to have to look at now that Day Zero had destroyed the world? This one was unusually large. There were six rows of pumps and an oversized red barn, the general store. The windows had been broken out. The entire store had already been looted.

That’s when she saw the star.

It was gold, five-pointed and sloppy. It was spray painted on the ground, obnoxious. The color was bright, though. It was fresh. Very fresh. Elle bent down and touched it.

I don’t believe it, she thought.

They were marking their trail.

The yellow stars were the breadcrumbs and Elle was the bird.

She stood up. Had there been other stars that she had missed along the way, zoned out and glued to the monotony of putting one foot in front of the other? No. She would have noticed. She had been looking for a clue. Something.

Well. At least she knew Sienna had been telling the truth.

She was headed in the right direction.

Elle walked to the back of the barn gas station store. She stopped dead in her tracks. It was a graveyard. The plot was riddled with dozens of old graves, covered haphazardly with piles of dirt. Someone had made a crude wooden cross and forced it into the ground.

It was silent. Very, very silent.

Elle grabbed the side of the red barn. There was so much death here. Yet someone had gone to all the trouble to give the people who had died in this place a grave. Who would do that? Not the Slavers. Not Omega.

Maybe there was a militia in the area. A real militia.

A school bus sat behind the plot of dirt. It was streaked with dried blood. Windows were shattered and there were rows of bullet holes riddled throughout the side, making the name of the school illegible.

Elle shuddered.

She walked closer to the bus, taking each step with caution. The driver door was hanging open, broken. It had been forced. Elle took a step into the bus. She pulled her scarf over her nose and mouth, climbing up. She stopped at the front of the aisle. The seats were empty. There were no children, no bodies. Elle sighed, relieved. She walked down the aisle. There were random notebooks and pencils — even a computer tablet with a shattered screen. In the last row, she sat down.

For a split second, she imagined herself on a bus in Hollywood, on her way to Beverly Hills High School. Not that Elle’s mother would have ever allowed Elle to ride a bus — they’d had a private driver for that — but still. The image was normal. Something from the old world.

Something glinted out of the corner of Elle’s eye. She tensed and drew back. And then she laughed aloud. A pair of cheap aviator sunglasses lay on the floor.

She grinned and put them on.

How fortuitous. She walked out of the bus, back into the sunlight. The sunglasses were a little bent, but she didn’t care.

Ask and you shall receive. That’s what her mother had always said.

A toy-hauler trailer lay on its side beyond the bus, hidden behind a concrete garbage building. The truck itself was painted black, unmarked. The windshield on the truck hauling the trailer had been smashed open. It looked like it had been lying there since the EMP. Elle walked around the rear of the trailer. The rolling door had been forced open by someone, leaving a gaping hole. It looked dark inside. Elle squinted and walked closer, peering into the maw of the trailer. There were tires and mechanical parts. It smelled of old rubber and WD-40 inside.

Elle climbed into the trailer. It was cool, but she could clearly see the outline of boxes and tools. It looked like someone had rifled through the entire truck, taken what they needed, and then taken off. Had Omega done it? Probably not. Omega had no use for tools or supplies scavenged from a place like this. They had enough troops and weapons to take over the most powerful nation on Earth… they didn’t need to forage.

Elle walked to the back of the trailer, where it was darkest. There were piles of boxes here, most of them empty. And in the very back, just out of view, was what looked like a wheel. She wrapped her hands around the wheel and pulled. She managed to drag it forward a few inches. The seat was worn and torn, but still usable. It was painted white with strips of green on the sides. Elle pulled it out of the pile. She forced the kickstand down with her foot. She walked in a circle around the bike. It didn’t weigh much more than Elle, and it wasn’t much bigger than her, either.

She tapped the tires. They were solid.

The bike was in good condition. It had been shielded from the elements inside the truck, protected from rain and harsh sunlight. Elle wondered if this truck had been full of bikes when the EMP hit…

Elle looked around, hyperaware of her surroundings.

She knelt down and popped open the gas tank. She took a quick sniff. There was gas. How? She shook her head. A new dirt bike with a tank of gas was still no good to her in a post-EMP world. She paused, wondering… this truck had been sealed when the EMP hit, judging by the way the truck had slid off the road. It hadn’t been totaled until after Day Zero, in the chaotic aftermath of the electromagnetic pulse.

Elle wheeled the bike out of the truck, into the sunlight. She checked her surroundings again, stopping to listen for any unnatural sounds. There was nothing, so she continued.

She threw her leg over the seat of the bike. Living in Beverly Hills as a child, she hadn’t had any major experience riding bikes or ATVs, but she knew enough to start the bike. She flipped the ignition switch. There were no indicator lights, and it appeared to have a dead battery. Elle bit her lip. She knew that with gas in the tank and an otherwise undamaged engine, she could roll-start the bike. She looked down, searching for the kick-start.

Nothing. She tried jamming her heel into the starter again. Again, nothing. She grappled with it several times, rolling the bike forward when the engine suddenly sputtered and roared to life, a fierce contrast to the unearthly silence of the truck stop. It smelled like gasoline.

Elle gripped the handles tightly. She leaned on her left leg, casting a final glance behind her. She snapped the throttle; the bike rumbled with power. She looked at the handlebars, puzzling out the different levers and gauges. It made little sense to her — but she was smart enough to figure out the basics.

She had only two theories as to how this bike had survived the EMP. One, it had been protected from the destructive electromagnetic wave while ensconced in the metal trailer or two, it was an old enough bike to forego an electronic starter. Probably the latter.

That would explain why it still works, she thought absently.

She shifted into first gear with her left foot, releasing the clutch. The bike leaped forward. Elle yelped, surprised. She let off the throttle and the bike slowed, puttering and spitting. She tested her weight on the bike again, getting a feel for it.

She twisted the throttle again, wobbling onto the road. Elle leaned forward, into the wind. She accelerated quickly as she shifted gears, dizzy with the speed. The rush of moving so quickly was just as exciting as it was terrifying.

She kept her body low, pressed close against the bike. The road became a blur of black pavement below her feet as the highway opened before her, clear and wide. She kept a firm grip on the handles, not wanting to lose control. Her balance was good, but she was unfamiliar with the finer points of handling the bike.

A bolt of excitement shot through her.

She was moving so fast. She could cover a massive amount of distance on this thing. She glanced at the speedometer. 45, 55… 60 miles per hour! It seemed incredible after spending days walking hundreds of miles.

Elle smiled and whooped loudly.

Below her, the bike purred and whisked her along the highway.

Chapter Five

Elle was a lone figure against the desert plain. She stood and looked at the dirt bike, leaning on its stand in the middle of the empty highway. It had run out of gas an hour ago. A bitter sweep of cold wind stung her cheeks, blowing dust across the road. Elle tightened her fingers into fists. There hadn’t been any cars for miles, nothing to siphon gas from.

Well. She had no more fuel. She had taken the bike as far as she could.

“Thanks for the memories,” she muttered.

It was late evening. Temperatures were dropping. Elle tucked her head between her shoulders and walked against the wind.

The Mojave Desert. A barren, desolate wasteland in this post-apocalyptic world. It seemed to stretch endlessly in every direction, broken only by the occasional highway marker and bouncing tumbleweed. The sky was incredibly clear. As the sun set, the stars came into view. She could see the Milky Way and the Big Dipper. Bigger constellations that she couldn’t name swirled above her head. She felt like a speck in a snow globe, exposed and tiny.

As the night wore on, a thin layer of ice crusted over the top of the road. Elle’s fingers froze. Her face was numb. Bits of ice stuck to her eyelashes. She was bundled up in her jacket, wrapped in layers of clothing. It was barely enough to keep the cold at bay.

Up ahead, she could make out the shape of bushes near the side of the highway. She approached it, slowly. It was a small clump of brush. She kicked it, ready for something — maybe an animal — to come running out. There was nothing. She dropped to her hands and knees and crawled into the middle of the brush. It was itchy and sharp. Branches scraped against her face. She pulled her hood tighter and shoved her hands in her pockets. She unzipped her pack.

There was a wool blanket rolled up. It was one of the heavier items that she had been lugging around. Many times she had almost discarded it because of the inconvenience, but tonight she was thankful for it. She wrapped it around herself and slapped her backpack on the ground, using it as a pillow.

She closed her eyes and tried to rest.

Morning came quickly. Elle snapped awake. Her lips were stiff, her joints were frozen. She stretched out her fingers and sat up. The brush was dusted with frost. The sun was rising in the east, behind the distant Tehachapi Mountains. It’s a beautiful scene, Elle thought. But it would be even more beautiful if she weren’t so cold.

She rifled through her supplies, staying inside the mediocre warmth of the shrubbery. She took a quick drink of water, ate an energy bar, and closed her backpack. Time to go. She took comfort in the fact that she had enough food to last for at least two weeks before she would need to hunt or scavenge — but only if she was wise, eating only as needed, not as wanted.

She crawled out of the brush and stood up, taking the sunglasses out of her pocket. She glanced at the map that Sienna had given her. She was following Highway 14. She had cut off a huge chunk of her journey by utilizing the dirt bike, but she still had another one hundred and seventy miles to go. It would take her four or five days on foot, she estimated.

A long time.

The sun rose, shedding a little bit of warmth on the desert. The highway began to curve. On the right side of the road, a sign read:

ROSAMOND: EDWARDS AIR FORCE BASE.

Elle pulled out her map. She found Rosamond and touched it with her finger. It was a little town, halfway across the desert. It was near Edwards Air Force Base. Elle didn’t think that there was any United States Military left there, and she didn’t want to risk finding out if Omega had taken over the base.

She would follow the highway through the city. It was the fastest route, and she doubted that a city in the middle of the desert would be populated with dangerous gangs like the Klan.

Elle passed the green directional sign. She glanced behind her shoulder and stopped. There was a gold star painted on the back of the sign.

Another breadcrumb, Elle thought.

She quickened her pace, encouraged. At least she knew she was heading in the right direction. This was good news. As she moved, she noticed a faint scent in the wind. It smelled like smoke from a fire. She took another sniff. Yes, it was definitely smoke.

Elle cautiously moved forward. The smoke was being carried toward her. That could only mean that it was coming from the city of Rosamond. She rounded the curve in the highway. The small town was little more than a collection of square buildings, a sore thumb against the sweeping flatness of the desert. The highway ran straight through the center.

In the middle of the road, piles of rusty vehicles were on fire. The flames leaped high into the air. Black, acrid smoke billowed into the sky. Shadowy figures moved around the outside of the burning vehicles. Elle’s heart dropped to her stomach as she retreated back around the curve of the highway. What are they? Elle thought. Slavers? Gang members? Omega?

She didn’t know. Definitely didn’t want to find out.

Elle dropped behind cover and pulled out her map. There had to be a way that she could bypass the city without being seen by whatever psychopaths were burning cars in the middle of the street.

She traced her finger along the highway. She could walk around the west side of the city. It would cost her an extra three miles, but it would be safer than risking running into murdering thugs. She had a katana and a gun, but she was only one girl. It was better to play it safe.

She folded the map.

She would take the detour.

“Honey, don’t forget your backpack,” Mom said.

It was early morning. The first day of school. Elle was a sophomore today. She grabbed her backpack, sitting on the dining room table. Their apartment was perfectly clean, perfectly organized. White walls and shelves, framed pictures of modern art and stacks of historical books on the coffee table.

“Will Samuel drive me to school every day again this year?” Elle asked, lacing her sneakers. She was fifteen, small for her age. Her hair was black, short. Her skin was pale. “Because it’s kind of embarrassing, mom. The other kids’ parents actually drop them off.”

She looked pointedly at her mother.

“You know I don’t do that,” Mom replied. “Quit complaining. You should be thankful to have a driver. Not everyone is so privileged.”

“Or spoiled,” Elle murmured. She swung her backpack over her shoulder. “I’ve got gymnastics after school today.”

“Don’t be late.”

“I won’t. I’ve got Samuel to drive me.”

Mom stepped out of the kitchen, dressed in a pristine, all-white business suit. Her jet-black hair was slicked into a tight bun.

“You know, Elle, this could be a good year for us.”

“How so?”

“Well, Jerry called me. He said I’ve got an audition for that new television show I’ve been talking about.”

Elle bit her lip. Her mother was an aspiring actress. Her father was a wealthy celebrity lawyer. And Elle… well, she was just herself. A busy but lonely child being shuttled from school, to tutors, and to her mother’s acting auditions. Her older brother, Johnny, had taken the rebellious route — he was currently doing time for drunk driving.

Elle was the youngest child. The quiet one. The one who had to be driven to school every day by a private driver in a Mercedes. All paid for, compliments of her wealthy father, a man who was only sometimes home.

“I hope you get it,” Elle said, forcing a smile. “When’s the audition?”

“Next week. If I get the part, the show starts filming in January.”

“Cool.” Elle’s cellphone buzzed. It was Samuel. “I gotta go, Mom.”

“Have a good day.”

“You too.”

Elle left the house, casting a final glance at her mother. She was still standing in the kitchen, staring out the window, holding a cup of coffee in her hands. It stung, seeing her like that. Lately, Mom had been tense and distant. It was Dad’s fault. There were times when he would be home for a month — and then he would be gone for two. Where he was exactly, Elle wasn’t sure.

But she was pretty positive it wasn’t good.

He gave Mom money to live comfortably — very comfortably — showing up just enough to keep her happy. Elle was an afterthought. She didn’t have much love for her father. She was protective of her mother and sympathetic to her troubled brother.

But outside of that, she was alone.

Surrounded by people, but completely alone.

The wind whistled through the ghost town. Elle stared at it, a chill crawling up her spine. A collection of old wooden buildings stood against the backdrop of the desert hills. Most of the glass was missing from the windows. Dirt roads curved between the buildings. It was silent and eerie.

Elle approached the first building on the hill. It was falling apart. Boards had rotted on the front porch. The glass in all of the windows was gone. Weeds grew through the floorboards.

Some of the buildings farther up ahead were made of metal, now rusty shades of brown and gray. Elle walked past the first building. She’d bypassed the city of Rosamond, avoiding the looters in the streets. And now she was here, exploring the remains of a ghost town.

The roofs on almost all of the buildings had caved in. What looked like water tanks were placed throughout the little town, rusted and empty. On the outskirts of the road, piles of wood and twisted metal laid in random heaps. Wooden tracks had been cast aside, along with metal carts and the remains of pickaxes.

This was a mining town, Elle realized. No wonder it looks so old.

She looked at her map, but she couldn’t find any indication of a mining town marked there. It was probably one of those off-the-radar tourist traps before the EMP. Somewhere that was supposedly haunted and people sat in their cars for hours, hoping to get a glimpse of a ghost and post a picture to their social media feeds.

Elle was so beside herself that she laughed.

Things used to be so simple.

She kept walking, scoping out the town. Maybe she could find a place to stay the night. The houses were old, but it was better than sleeping in a bush. It would be warmer and safer.

Elle looked ahead and stopped dead in her tracks.

At the end of the road, just past a big metal building, was a dog. He was beautiful, silently standing there, watching Elle.

Elle didn’t move.

The dog didn’t move.

Elle took a deep breath. The dog cocked his head, tilted his ear. He was a German Shepherd, honey colored with swaths of black. And then he barked. It wasn’t an obnoxious bark, nor was it a warning bark. It was different.

Desperate, Elle thought.

He barked again, shaking his head and trotting back and forth on the road. He wasn’t growling. Just talking. Elle moved closer and he became more excited. She kept her right arm held straight out, but her left was within easy reach of the katana strapped across her back, beneath her pack.

Just in case.

As she got closer, the dog backed up, barking again. Elle raised an eyebrow, hesitant. What if this was a trap? The dog looked healthy, well-fed. Somebody had to be taking care of him.

She paused and drew the Smith and Wesson from the belt on her waist. The dog watched her, wary, but continued to back up. She kept the gun in plain sight, snapped the safety off. She didn’t want to be caught with her guard down.

The dog kept moving around the edge of the metal building. Elle followed. The dog stopped in front of the steps of one of the older mining houses. The roof was still intact, but the rest of the edifice was in shambles.

The dog climbed the steps and paused at the door, whining softly. Elle’s heart sped up, hammering against her rib cage. What was he trying to tell her? Was she walking straight into a death trap?

“What is it, boy?” Elle asked.

The dog’s whine became more intense, more desperate.

What the hell, Elle thought. Might as well.

She climbed the steps and followed the dog through the open doorway. The house creaked under her footsteps. It was a single-room cabin. The windows were missing. Pieces of the wall had rotted away. It smelled like mildew… and blood.

Elle looked at the dog, sitting silently in the corner, beside a still human form. She gripped her gun and held it defensively, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

“Who are you?” she said, her voice raspy.

No answer. She took a step closer. The dog whined again.

She lowered the gun and walked toward the figure, cautiously touching his leg with the toe of her shoe. Nothing. Her eyes adjusted to the shadowy interior of the building, and she could see the man clearly. He was wearing black combat fatigues and a white shirt. The shirt was stained with blood. He lay on his back, sweat running down his misshapen, swollen face. His chest barely moved with each labored breath.

“Hello?” Elle said. Her hand hovered just above her head, within reach of the katana handle. “Are you okay?”

The man coughed. He turned his head. Elle braced herself for an attack, but it never came.

“Ah, Bravo,” he sighed. “Good boy.”

Elle blinked.

“Sorry,” he said. His voice was strained. “My dog is intent on helping me.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Don’t worry about it.” The man shifted, groaned softly, and returned to his original position. “So. Are you friend or foe, kid?”

Elle raised an eyebrow.

“I could ask you the same question,” she replied.

“Fair enough.”

“You got a name or what?” Elle asked.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours.” The young man winced and leaned his head against the wall, sweat slipping down his face. “Ladies first.”

The dog stood near his feet, tense.

“I’m Elle,” she said at last, standing her ground.

“Nathan.”

“Nathan?” She shrugged. “You don’t look so good.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve been shot about nine times. That should do it.”

Elle shook her head.

“How’d that happen?” she asked.

“Omega,” he replied, wincing again. “They’ve got a nasty bite.”

“Yeah, I’ve seen it.” Elle took a step closer. The dog lowered his head, growling softly. “Hey, your dog looks like he wants to eat me.”

“He probably does.” Nathan waved his hand. “Down, Bravo. Relax.”

The dog pulled back a little, taking a defensive stance between Nathan and Elle. Nathan’s clothes were soaked in blood. His hands were slick in the stuff. It ran down his arms and pooled on the floor.

“I can help you,” Elle stated. “You can’t do this yourself.”

Nathan took several great, heaving breaths and dropped his arms.

“I could,” he said, cracking a tired smiled. “But I’d probably screw it up.”

“You can trust me,” Elle replied.

She heard the tinny irony in her voice. Trust. What a false word.

“Really,” Elle said. “I promise I won’t hurt you if you don’t hurt me.” Bravo growled. “And if your dog doesn’t eat me.”

Nathan laughed, then stopped.

“Okay,” he rasped. “It’s a deal.”

Elle dropped to one knee and rummaged through her pack. She pulled out her medical kit and walked to Nathan, kneeling next to his trembling form. He was wearing an armor-plated vest, but that hadn’t saved him from the onslaught that had wounded him.

“What happened?” Elle asked again.

She pulled the Velcro apart on the vest. Nathan gritted his teeth. She undid the straps as best she could and pulled the vest over his head. There were bloody bullet holes in his shirt, two near his left armpit and one near his right.

“You weren’t shot nine times,” Elle said, forcing a grin. “Just three.”

“Yeah. But there was… an explosion.” He exhaled. “Sent me flying.”

“Are you with the militias?” Elle asked.

“Technically, yes,” he replied. “I was on a routine patrol with my men. Bravo and I were checking out an abandoned FEMA camp about forty or so miles from here. We came under heavy fire. I lost all my men. Bravo and I escaped…” He laughed harshly. “We’re as good as dead now.”

“You’re going to be fine,” Elle lied.

She pulled back the layers of his jacket and shirt. Pieces of glass and twisted metal had burrowed deep into his chest, embedded in his skin. The bullets were still inside him. She bit her lip — she had no way to remove the shrapnel, no tools with which she could pull the bullets out.

Just do your best, she told herself. That’s all you can do, anyway.

Elle took a cloth from her backpack and poured some water on it, swabbing the open wounds, cleaning them with alcohol. Nathan swore under his breath.

“So it was Omega?” Elle asked, attempting to distract him from the pain.

“Omega mercenaries,” Nathan corrected, huffing. “Hired hit men. Those suckers are dangerous. They come in from all over the world, and they’re brutal as hell. They don’t fight like we do.”

Elle nodded. She understood that. In Los Angeles, the Klan was a warring faction of uncivilized anarchists, thirsty for blood and desperate for survival. The apocalyptic environment drove them to archaic measures. They had no sense of right or wrong, no code of conduct. There was no such thing as fighting fair.

Brutality ruled everything, especially war.

“Are you sure they were mercenaries?” Elle asked.

“Pretty sure, why?”

“I’m tracking a bunch of Slavers into the mountains,” she answered. “They took my friends. They disguise themselves as rogue militias and pick up civilians. Sell them into slavery, I guess.”

“We’ve heard of the Slavers,” Nathan replied, groaning as Elle swabbed antiseptic over the deeper wounds. It was several minutes before he could talk again. The dog, Bravo, stood there the whole time, watching Elle with dark, intelligent eyes.

“The real militias and the National Guard have had more to worry about than them,” he said at last. “One of these days we’ll take our men up there and wipe them out.”

“Sooner rather than later would be good,” Elle remarked.

“So they took your friends?”

“Killed one. Took three.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Welcome to the apocalypse.”

She finished cleaning the wounds, wrapping some of the worse ones in bandages. There was nothing else that she could do. He couldn’t move and there was no one else to help.

“I’ve done what I can,” she replied. “You should just stay here and rest.”

“It’s not like I can leave.” Nathan looked at Elle. “Thank you.”

Elle shrugged.

She took a water bottle from her pack and offered it to Nathan. He drank.

“So,” Elle said, sighing. “Did you become a soldier before or after Day Zero?”

“Day Zero?”

“The EMP. The invasion.”

“Ah.” Nathan coughed. “Before. I was a Marine. Overseas.” He barely managed to lift his shoulders. “Seemed the like the right thing to keep on fighting after everything went to hell here at home.”

“The whole world’s gone to hell,” Elle said, nonchalant.

“Nah, not all of it. There are people like me.” Nathan offered a broken smile. “We still believe that we can fight this thing. We keep hell from taking too much of a hold.”

“Maybe.” Elle raised an eyebrow. “How did you end up here?”

“Walked as far as I could,” he replied. “Finally collapsed in this house.”

“At least you made it to shelter.”

“Just in time to die,” Nathan said.

“You’re not going to die,” Elle replied automatically. “You’re going to be fine and—”

“Elle.” Nathan held up his hand. “I’m dying.”

Elle said nothing.

Nathan nodded at Bravo.

“This is Bravo,” he said. “But you already knew that. He’s my buddy, my brother.” He held out his hand, barely able to raise it without crumpling with pain. Bravo softly nuzzled his fingers. “Bravo is a Grade-A bomb dog. He’s been on one tour in Iraq, been trained by the best in the world. He knows his stuff.”

There was a long silence. Nathan struggled to take deep breaths. Elle guessed that one of his lungs had collapsed, judging by the way the shrapnel had hit his ribcage, digging into his side.

“Bravo is loyal to a fault,” Nathan continued. His eyes became clouded with tears. “He would die for his brothers and sisters.”

“I know,” Elle whispered. “I can see it in his eyes.”

Nathan nodded.

“Have you ever seen a bomb dog in action, Elle?” he asked quietly.

“No.”

“Let me show you.” Nathan flicked his wrist forward. “Bravo, search.” It was a stern but familiar command to the dog. He dutifully sniffed the room, as if knowing that he was doing this to comfort his dying master rather than actually looking for explosives.

He returned to Nathan’s outstretched hand.

“Usually this is the part where I hand him his favorite toy,” he said. “But I lost it when the mercenaries attacked us. Bravo likes to be rewarded at the end of a good job.” He coughed, spitting up blood. Elle hurried to wipe it up with the rag. Nathan pushed her arm away. “Forget it,” he heaved. “I’m a mess anyway.”

Elle returned to her spot on the floor.

“If Bravo ever finds explosives or something that he thinks is a potential threat,” Nathan explained, “you’ll know by the way he’ll go rigid. He’ll freeze, sit still. He’ll stare at the spot until you’ve checked it out. He’s got a highly trained nose.”

Nathan’s voice became softer and softer, dissolving into the stillness of the abandoned mining town. At last, he said, “Take care of my dog, Elle. He’s my brother.”

Elle nodded.

“And, Elle?”

She looked at him, briefly locking gazes.

“Don’t give up.”

Chapter Six

“Samuel,” Elle said. “How much longer?”

“It will take a few hours, miss,” he replied. His fine black hair was streaked with gray. Powdery ash was smeared across the sleeves of his charcoal-colored suit. Elle sat in the backseat of the Mercedes, staring out the window. They were quite a distance from the city, and she could see the outline of the Capitol Records Building from their vantage point on the hill.

“But Aunt and Uncle aren’t that far—”

“We’ve got to be careful, Elle,” Samuel interrupted. His words were harsh, clipped. “There are a lot of people who’d like to have a working car, and they’ll gladly take it from us if given the chance.”

Elle swallowed a nervous lump in her throat.

Her luggage was piled in the backseat. A box of books. A suitcase full of clothes and shoes. Her touch tablets and cellphone were at home, along with the rest of computerized technology. Nothing worked anymore. It was all gone.

“You’re going back for Mom, right?” Elle asked.

“Of course.”

The apartment complexes in Santa Monica stood square and white against the late evening sky. The penthouse level of the largest building suddenly exploded, sending a burst of fire into the air, scattering shards of glass and ashes onto the street below.

The skyline of Los Angeles emitted an orange, fiery glow. Bonfires raged in the middle of boulevards. The tips of apartment buildings were bathed in flames. The whole city appeared to be on fire. There was screaming and yelling. The white noise of the busy city had been replaced with the sounds of total chaos.

“Samuel,” Elle whispered. “I don’t think you’ll be able to make it back into the city to get Mom.”

Samuel kept his eyes on the road.

He said nothing.

Elle touched Bravo’s head, lightly scratching him behind the ears. His fur was soft. She smiled. She had made a small fire in the middle of the room. There was a small hole in the ceiling for the smoke, and the wind carried it away.

The man still lay on the floor, unconscious. Elle guessed that he was in a coma. She had cleaned his wounds, but there was nothing more that she could do.

Elle sat down. The dog was almost as big as she was. He wore a faded collar. He was silent, pensive. Guarding the man by keeping a watchful eye on Elle.

“How long have you been here?” she whispered. “Hmm? You’re a good boy.”

She patted his head. He didn’t move. He didn’t wag his tail. He just was.

Nathan was young. Maybe twenty-five or thirty years old. Elle leaned forward and checked his pulse. Still weak. She frowned. Even in the dim firelight, his complexion was completely white.

Elle sighed. Too bad the dog couldn’t talk.

“So, Bravo,” she whispered. “You hungry?”

She opened her backpack and divided an energy bar in half. The dog sniffed it hesitantly at first, then devoured the entire thing in just a couple of bites. Elle sighed.

She needed to get moving. Jay, Georgia and Flash could be dead by now.

Her conscience whispered, You can only do one thing at a time, right?

Right.

Time ticked by. Elle wasn’t expecting Nathan to live — not with the wounds he had — but she still felt a stab of bitter disappointment. She enjoyed solitude, true… but true companionship might have been nice, if only for a few days.

Uneasy and upset, Elle walked outside, standing on the rotting porch. She had wasted enough time staring at the unconscious form of Nathan, willing him to awaken. She hated to see people die like this — she hated seeing it happen.

Elle crossed her arms over her chest. Dusk was setting in. She wanted to search the rest of the mining camp for food or supplies. It was worth a shot, anyway. She began walking, her katana on her back.

“Hey,” she said, suddenly halting.

She sensed a presence. She turned around, slowly facing Nathan’s dog, Bravo. He paused, tilting his head, gauging her reaction.

“Um.” She relaxed a little. “What do you want?”

His dark eyes sparkled.

I want to come with you.

Elle raised an eyebrow. She took one step backward, then two. He walked forward and stopped when she did. Elle’s lips curved into a soft smile.

“Okay, come on,” she said.

She turned and began walking. In a few seconds, she felt the steady, easy trot of Bravo beside her. He was very quiet, but there was something about the dog that smelled like danger.

“So,” Elle continued. “This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to sweep through the houses and look for anything we might be able to use, and then we’ll circle back and sit with Nathan until he…” She trailed off, rubbing her temples. “Well. I’m talking to a dog. I’ve finally cracked.”

Bravo chuffed under his breath, throwing his head back.

“Geez, don’t act so offended,” Elle muttered.

Then don’t offend me, kid.

Elle stared at Bravo. She blinked a few times. It was almost like she could hear him talking to her, slinging back sarcasm in the silence of the desert night. She shook her head and headed for the first shack in sight. It looked as beaten down as the rest — nothing special. Elle entered through an open window, picking her way through the wreckage within. There were broken floorboards, rusty nails. It smelled of wet earth and rotting wood. Bravo entered the building with Elle, sniffing carefully, silent as the night.

They searched the entire house. There was nothing but broken glass. They moved on to the next house, searching through the emptiness for something they might be able to use — scraps of food, maybe weapons. They came up short every time.

“Well, I’m not surprised,” Elle stated.

Sunlight was quickly waning, casting black and gray shadows through the town. It seemed ghostly at night to Elle, and lonelier, in some ways, than the streets of Los Angeles.

They began walking back. Bravo stopped, a low growl in the back of his throat. Elle tensed, drawing away. She held her arm up defensively, half expecting the dog to lunge and take out a chunk of her skin.

“What’s with you?” Elle asked.

Bravo stalked forward, deliberate steps in the direction of the shadows between the buildings, the dirt road that curved through the small town. Elle followed his line of sight, but saw nothing. She lifted her hand above her head and closed her fingers around the katana, pulling it out of its scabbard.

The blade was light and balanced in her hands.

Bravo’s growl became louder, more urgent. He barked low. Elle’s heart began to race. What did the dog sense that she didn’t? A wild animal? Something worse?

“Who’s there?” Elle asked. “Show yourself.”

Her words came out shaky and uncertain. She sounded scared, and she hated herself for it. There was slight movement under the eaves of one of the buildings, and then there was something moving toward them. In the late hours of the evening, it was difficult to discern what it was, exactly. It was hunched over, close to the ground. It looked like a dog, larger and fiercer than Bravo.

And then Elle saw that it wasn’t a dog. It was a man.

She had never seen anyone in Los Angeles in this condition. He was stooped low, his hair was frayed and mottled with dried blood. His eyes held a feverish glaze as he stared at Elle and Bravo. She stood there, unmoving, looking at the misshapen man. He was terrifying. His face had been burned, one eye looked like it had been slashed out.

“What do you want?” Elle asked.

She felt a bolt of regret. She knew in that instant that no matter what she said or what she did, she would not be able to leave this place without dealing with the man. She couldn’t run, she couldn’t pretend he wasn’t there. He was now a threat, and Elle knew of only one way to deal with threats.

The man said nothing. He just stopped, slowing and watching the girl and the dog. And then, quicker than Elle could blink, he was running toward them. He sprinted with a manic energy, bolting across the open space that separated them. Elle was horrified. Her instincts held true, though, and she braced herself for his approach.

She drew the katana backward, prepared to swipe it through the air and kill the man if needed. Bravo barked louder, this time with menace. He ran forward and met the man halfway, striking like a bullet. His jaws sank into the man’s arm and he slammed him against the ground.

The man screamed. It was a raspy, desperate voice — it hardly sounded human. He grappled with the dog but Bravo was too strong. He tore into the man until he lie on the ground in a trembling, bloody heap.

“Bravo, stop!” Elle yelled. “Leave him!”

The dog paused, looked at Elle through eyes veiled with carnal instinct and military training. He pulled away from the man. Elle walked closer, studying him. Bravo hadn’t done more than tear his arm up — the rest of his body had been damaged by something else.

“What do you want?” Elle asked again.

The man looked up, shaking. Tears streamed down his wrinkled face.

“To die,” he whispered. “I want to die.”

Elle swallowed a lump in her throat.

“Who did this to you?” she asked.

He gazed straight through her, glassy-eyed. He went still.

Elle exhaled, looking at Bravo.

“You don’t mess around, dog,” she remarked. “You don’t trust anyone.” She cocked her head. “You and I might get along.”

Bravo stepped farther away from the now-dead man.

I get things done, he seemed to say. It’s my job.

Elle looked back at the man. She wondered what had happened to him. Why had he been wandering alone in the desert, burned and mutilated, left to die like a wounded animal? Had it been Omega? Had it been the Slavers?

She sighed. She would never know.

“Let’s go back,” Elle muttered.

She turned, and when she looked at Bravo, he followed her as if he understood every word she said.

The soldier named Nathan died that night.

Bravo let out a mournful howl. His master was dead. Elle buried Nathan. She found a rusty shovel in a pile of old mining equipment and dug a hole. She dug until her hands were covered in blisters and sweat stuck her clothes to her skin. She dragged his body into the hole and covered him with dirt. Bravo watched the entire thing with a baleful expression, whimpering and whining.

Elle used her katana to scrape letters into the side of the little cabin.

RIP NATHAN

HE DIED WITH HIS FRIEND BY HIS SIDE

She didn’t know what else to say. Somehow, she thought that he’d appreciate the fact that his dog had stayed by his side until the end.

“Come on,” Elle said, sheathing the sword. “You’re with me now, Bravo.”

The desert was unforgiving. Elle was determined to beat it. Bravo trotted slowly beside her. Elle wrapped a thick scarf around her face. She had taken it from the dead man’s pack. It helped protect her skin from the gritty dust and sand.

“We’ve got a long walk, dog,” Elle said.

Bravo looked at her. Nothing new to me, he seemed to say.

“You up for it?” she asked.

Well, what else am I going to do, human?

She nodded.

“Okay, then,” she said. “Let’s do this.”

Part Two: The Slavers

Chapter Seven

San Jacinto National Park — Slaver Territory

Elle ran quickly and quietly, dodging boulders and making her way through the pine trees. The smell of sugar pine and cedar was strong. The morning was crisp and silent. Elle was little more than a shadow, sprinting through the forest. And beside her, Bravo ran, too. He was quieter than Elle, his hunter’s instincts making him fast and alert.

Elle’s heart raced.

There was no stopping now.

There were no more options. This was the last resort.

48 Hours Earlier

Mount San Jacinto State Park. The sign was in good condition, standing amidst a backdrop of blue skies and mountain ridges. Elle touched the sign with the tip of her finger, just to make sure it was real. She was exhausted. Her feet hurt, her body ached. She was hungry. Days of rationing protein bars and water bottles had taken its toll. Her head throbbed and her lips were cracked.

She looked at Bravo.

Let’s get this over with, he said. You and me. This is our thing now.

“At least we know we’re in the right place,” Elle replied.

There was a gold star painted on the sign, but this time, the star was different. It was inside a circle. Elle figured it meant that they had arrived.

Hello, Slaver Territory.

This place has too many smells. Bravo shook his head, focusing his dark eyes on the horizon. Hang on. I’ve got something different.

Elle watched him. She knew what he was thinking just by looking at him. She’d learned to read his thoughts over the last few days, during the long, thankless trek across the open desert and the exhausting climb up the mountains. There were still many mysteries about this dog, but she liked to think she was slowly forming a bond with him.

Slowly, but surely.

“We should rest,” Elle said aloud. It was early morning and the temperature was frigid. The sunlight was unfiltered and bright. She squinted her eyes and returned her gaze to Bravo.

“You’re right,” she sighed. “We can’t rest. We’ve got to keep going.”

Well, I didn’t come all this way for nothing, girl, Bravo snorted.

“Don’t give me that look,” Elle complained. “I’m tired enough.”

Then let’s go!

“Fine.”

Good girl.

So that’s what they did. They kept moving, weaving through the mountain trails. It was an interesting kind of mountain range, a mix of desert and lush forest. There were pine trees and cedars, but there was also dry brush and open patches of dirt. From their vantage point on the side of the mountain, Elle and Bravo could see the desert floor far below.

“I can’t believe we walked that far,” Elle muttered.

Bravo tucked his head and trotted faster, pulling ahead of Elle.

“You’re a show-off, dog,” Elle said.

Bravo tilted his head, suddenly tensing.

I smell people.

Elle stared at him. He turned on his heel and began moving forward, silently creeping through the underbrush, threading his way through the maze of trees. The shade in the forest was chilly. Elle struggled to keep pace with Bravo. Her feet felt like blocks of cement.

She needed to rest…

And then she stopped, dropping to her hands and knees in the bushes. There was movement up ahead, voices. Bravo paused near the edge of a Manzanita bush, his ears flat against his head.

“Bravo,” Elle whispered. “Come on. Back here, boy.”

He hesitated.

Okay…

Then he turned and joined Elle.

“Good boy,” she said. “Okay, what have we found here?”

She crawled forward on her stomach, straining to see through the branches and bushes. She heard the rumbling of trucks and the clear, rough laughter of men. She stopped moving, nearly placing her hand on top of a strip of rusty barbed wire. A dozen strips of the wire had been threaded through the trees, creating a fence.

“I think we found it, Bravo,” Elle said, her voice low.

She peered through the makeshift wire fencing. There was a clearing in the midst of the forest. She saw pickup trucks and old jeeps. She caught glimpses of unshaven men in tattered clothing. Elle’s heartbeat quickened. There were a few old buildings and what looked like corrals between the trees. There were several horses and, on each tree, there was a gold star.

Slaver Territory. Bravo crouched on his haunches, seemingly giving Elle a nudge. Told you we’d find it.

“You did good, Bravo,” Elle whispered.

Of course I did. I’m a dog.

“Don’t get cocky.” Elle moved her gaze from the corrals and the trucks to the side of the mountain. There was an impressive rock face behind the encampment. It jutted into the sky, fierce and dominating.

A dirt road had been carved into the side of the mountain, winding up toward the rock. It was a new road, probably made by the Slavers.

Several trucks rumbled up the road, and in the

back of the trucks, there were people. They were

too far away to see their faces, but from here,

Elle could tell that they were packed together

like sardines in a tin can.

Prisoners? Had to be.

“What are they taking them up there for?” she whispered.

You tell me. Humans don’t make any sense half the time.

Elle offered a half-hearted grin.

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” she said.

Good plan, girl. Bravo’s eyes glimmered. Let’s do that.

“If we make it out of this alive,” Georgia said, taking a drag on a cigarette, “I’m going back to college and making something of myself.”

“I doubt colleges are going to be the first thing that’s rebuilt in society,” Jay replied, cracking a wry smile. “We’ll probably have to focus on the more basic elements of survival first.”

“I’m not an idiot.” Georgia rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying. I’d like to teach.”

“You? A teacher?”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“I just… That’s a picture, I’ll give you that.”

They were sitting on the ground, taking a brief break from the long walk out of Los Angeles. Flash and Pix sat together, silent. Elle stood apart from the group, watching and listening.

Georgia made a face.

“Hey, at least I have ambitions,” she snapped. “What would you do if you had another chance to climb the social ladder, Dr. Phil?”

Jay shrugged.

“Oh, come on,” Georgia prodded. “Enlighten us.”

Elle watched Jay’s face. It was veiled in shadow, difficult to read.

“I don’t know,” he said.

Lie. Elle knew he was avoiding the truth.

“You’re a total bore, Jay,” Georgia commented, blowing smoke into the air. “Remind me not to get stuck with you again when the apocalypse hits next time.”

Jay shrugged again.

Georgia was smiling.

Elle said nothing.

“What about you, shortstack?” Georgia asked, turning to Elle. “What would you do in an ideal world?”

“There is no ideal world,” Elle deadpanned.

“Come on, use your imagination for once in your life.”

Elle stared at her feet.

“I would have stayed in Los Angeles after the EMP,” she said. “I would have saved my family.” Georgia balanced her cigarette between her fingers.

“You’re morbid, kid,” she said, but there was sadness in her words.

Then, in a soft voice, Jay replied.

“I would have done the same thing.”

Elle slipped through the trees. She was a dark flash, and Bravo was her shadow. She had pulled far enough away from the Slaver encampment to avoid being seen, but remained close enough so that she could hear the rumble of their trucks and the garble of their voices echoing off the mountains.

“We’ve got to get to the top of that rock cliff,” Elle breathed, stopping behind a tree. Bravo panted next to her, following her line of sight. “I think they’re keeping prisoners up there. If Jay and the others are here, that’s where they’ll be.”

At least, that’s what Elle was hoping.

She could be wrong. Jay, Georgia and Flash could be dead.

Hey. Bravo nudged her with the tip of his nose. Focus, lady. We’re on a mission, remember?

Elle nodded.

The road that led up the cliff embankment was too exposed for Elle and Bravo to use. They would have to come up behind the road, sifting through the thick brush and the cover of the trees. If they were careful, they could at least take a peek at what was up there…

“Okay, let’s go,” Elle whispered.

She crept forward, keeping a close watch on everything around her. They got close to the dirt road. Elle paused. There were no trucks coming, no men. She tensed and darted across the road, vanishing into the other side of the pathway. Bravo followed her, staying close. She grinned and rubbed his head.

“We make a good team,” she said.

The growl of an engine echoed through the forest. Elle dropped to her hands and knees and pulled on Bravo’s collar. “Down,” she commanded. “Stay down!”

A diesel pickup truck blundered by on the road. It was going slow. The pickup bed was packed with a dozen or so prisoners. There were men and women — even a couple of children. Elle swallowed her disgust, peering at the men inside the cab. The windows were rolled down. A Slaver with long dreadlocks was driving, hanging one arm out the window. Two armed men sat beside him, and four or five guards trailed behind the pickup on foot, toting rifles and what looked like AK-47s.

Elle frowned.

This was not an encouraging sight.

She waited until the truck and the guards had passed them to get up and walk. The thought occurred to Elle that the Slavers were going to monumental pains to set up their encampment in the heart of the mountains, and they were bringing in dozens upon dozens of new prisoners every day.

What were they using them for? What purpose could the Slavers possibly have for prisoners? Why did they need so many of them?

There’s a rumor going around, Sienna had said. There’s something big in the desert. Something the militias can’t stop.

Elle pushed back the cloud of worry gathering at the edges of her mind and focused on the task at hand. She knew from personal experience that staying alive in hostile territory required concentration.

One wrong move and you could be dead.

Elle and Bravo followed the basic direction of the dirt road, staying hidden in the cover of the underbrush and darting from tree to tree. The hill became steeper, and Elle had to use rocks and bushes to pull herself up. Bravo’s progress was slow but sure. They both fought gravity and exhaustion as they struggled up the hill, pausing only to catch their breaths.

They rounded the right side of the rock cliff, coming close to the clearing at the top. Elle stopped. She stayed low. The road curved around the corner here, opening to a wide space that was hidden behind the large granite face. There were four large, makeshift corrals here. Each corral was built of wood and topped with sharp barbed wire. People were packed into each corral, some of them standing, some of them sitting on the ground. Some of them looked like they had passed out and were lying in the dirt, strewn at odd angles.

Slavers were walking between the corrals, armed to the teeth, dressed in black clothes, scarves tied around their faces. They looked like pirates — like mercenaries. There were guards everywhere — except on the rock. No one was guarding the rock. It was a sheer drop-off on the other side, at least four hundred feet to the bottom. A long fall to a quick death.

The guards were armed with more than just AKs. They had swords strapped across their backs, resembling medieval warriors.

“We are so dead,” Elle muttered.

She searched the corrals for the familiar faces of Jay, Georgia and Flash, but she couldn’t spot them. There was no way to see everyone. They could be anywhere.

They could be dead.

Elle shook herself.

If the kids weren’t here, at least she would have closure. At least she’d know that she had tried to do the right thing. She could live with that.

She could live with try.

At the farthest edge of the clearing, a corral was filled with younger prisoners. Elle saw a flash of dark skin and hair, faded cargo pants and a red shirt. Jay? It certainly looked like him, but from this distance, she couldn’t be sure. Near him, there was a girl with a matted tangle of blond curls. Georgia? God, the resemblance was striking. She was wearing a denim jacket, exactly what Georgia had been wearing the morning they had been taken by the Slavers.

But where was Flash?

She didn’t see him, and her heart sank. Maybe he didn’t survive the journey here. Maybe the Slavers killed him. Maybe, maybe, maybe… Elle’s heart hammered against her ribcage. She knew what she needed to do; it was simply a matter of how to get it done. Elle turned her gaze to the guards — there were too many. She couldn’t possibly sneak past them without being spotted.

“There’s only one way we’re getting out of this alive,” Elle whispered to Bravo, keeping one hand on his collar.

Bravo looked at her. You don’t say?

Yes.

She did.

Chapter Eight

The night was freezing. Elle had left her backpack with Bravo at the edge of the forest. No moon. No stars. Only a canopy of thick, dark clouds. Elle shed her coat, wearing a tee with a thermal. Her hands were wrapped with strips of tape. She touched the cold granite of the rock cliff, barely able to see the outline of the rock against the night sky.

She could do this. It would be a piece of cake.

All of those gymnastics competitions and rock-climbing lessons would come in handy.

Thanks for forcing me to be social, Mom, Elle thought sadly.

She picked up a coil of black rope that she had salvaged long ago and kept in her pack. She slung it over her head and across her chest. She had shoved a pair of wire-cutters into the pocket of her cargo pants, a small tool she had picked up long ago in the city. Her katana was strapped across her back, and the Smith and Wesson was secured in her waistband. She had ten shots in the magazine — only ten. Hardly enough to stave off a Slaver army, but it would have to suffice.

Elle found hand and footholds in the side of the rock and began climbing. It was slow, careful work. She didn’t have much light to work with, so she had to take her time. One misstep could send her down the cliff. She pulled herself up, balancing on her toes. She climbed up the far side of the rock, away from the direct view of the Slavers in the lower encampment.

You’re practically there, Elle told herself. You can do this!

She had climbed many buildings in Hollywood after the EMP — when Day Zero had turned the city into an urban jungle. She scaled walls, drain pipes and boardwalks. She was fast and quick, light on her feet. It had kept her alive.

Her fingers were freezing tonight. Elle struggled to maintain a grip on the slick, gravelly granite rock. She glanced down. The forest floor spun beneath her, a hundred feet below. She inhaled quickly and closed her eyes.

“Don’t look down,” she muttered.

Looking down could distract her.

She kept climbing, resting when the muscles in her arms burned. She found a large crevice in the rock and wedged herself into the crack, placing the bulk of her body weight on her legs, letting her arms hang loose for a moment.

Pace yourself, she thought. That’s another thing Mom had always said. Pace yourself and you won’t get so tired at the end of the game.

Sure, Dad had been the one who paid for all of Elle’s gymnastics and climbing classes… but it was Mom who came to every competition and encouraged her.

Okay, keep going, Elle reminded herself. This is not a game. This is real.

Halfway up the rock. There was no turning back now. She had to go through with this. Her heart raced, fear sending pulses of electricity through her body. One wrong move could end everything.

A gust of fresh, cold wind swept over the rock face, blowing strands of hair into Elle’s eyes. She shook them off, her fingers cramping in the cold weather. She pulled herself up to the next handhold, jammed her foot into a supporting crack, and moved higher.

The climb went slow. At last, she reached the top of the cliff. She paused… waiting. There were faint voices, and she knew that she would have to do this quickly. The granite summit had a shelf of earth and grass. Manzanita bushes grew on the edge of the cliff. Elle pulled herself up, level with the ground, peering through the bushes, her legs a hundred and fifty feet above the road below.

By the time she reached the top, her arms ached. She felt deprived of oxygen. Or maybe she was just anxious. She didn’t care. She tied the rope around the base of a small tree, keeping low. She dropped the rest of the rope over the side of the cliff. It fell almost to the bottom.

Her next item of business was the corral. She could see Jay sitting with his knees against his chest inside the barbed wire fencing. He looked cold and hungry. Dark hollow rings had sunk into his skin, beneath his eyes.

“Jay,” she said, low.

He looked up.

His face was one of utter disbelief.

“Elle?”

Elle gestured for him to be silent. She clipped through the barbed wire one piece at a time, balancing on the balls of her feet, keeping her head down. The wire was tough. Her hands ached from forcing the blades through the metal. The guards roamed between the fencing, masked shadows of the night.

Elle was determined to escape unnoticed.

“You’re here?” Jay rasped. “That’s impossible! How the hell could you possibly find us here?”

“Shut up!” she hissed, casting a wary glance over her shoulder. Nothing but bushes and a sheer cliff were behind her, but everywhere else was danger. She clipped through the last piece of wiring.

“Come on, move,” she whispered.

Jay stared at her, shocked. It was as if his brain wouldn’t process the fact that Elle was crouched before him, offering him a route to freedom. Elle reached through the slice of fencing and grabbed his collar.

“Move!” she commanded. “We will all die if you don’t get it together!”

Jay blinked. Something shifted in his eyes, and suddenly he was moving, slipping through the crack. He was weak, dehydrated and starved, by the looks of it. He struggled to get out, holding his head in his hands.

Most of the prisoners were asleep. Flash was lying in the dirt with his eyes closed. Georgia’s arm was around his small shoulders in a protective position, trying to shield him from the chill. Elle crawled into the corral, keeping her belly to the dirt, her head down. She slowly shook Georgia’s shoulders. The girl didn’t stir. She was probably used to being jostled and poked in living quarters like these.

“Georgia,” Elle whispered. “Wake up. Come on. We’re on a schedule.”

Georgia stirred, opening her bleary eyes.

She focused on Elle’s face, gasping with surprise. Elle slapped her hand over her mouth, pressing her palm against Georgia’s lips.

“Shhh,” she said. “Get Flash. Just move.”

Georgia hesitated for only a moment, getting a bearing on her surroundings, then gently woke Flash. Elle crawled out of the corral, Georgia and Flash following. They remained silent, staring at Elle like she was a ghost. Georgia touched Elle’s arm, as if trying to convince herself that the girl was real.

“You have to trust me for this next part,” Elle whispered.

She stayed low, gesturing for them to follow. She returned to the cliff, showing them the rope. “Use this,” she explained. “Climb down. Move fast. Be quiet.” Georgia stared at the rope.

“I can’t… no way. That’s a huge cliff. That’s a freaking mile!” She looked up, frantically gripping the ground. “No, Elle. There’s got to be another way.”

“Sure, you can go back through the camp and get killed by the guards,” Elle replied. “Seriously. Climb. It’s only a little over a hundred feet. Wrap the rope between your legs and over your shoulder. The friction will burn, but it will get you down to the bottom.”

“I’m going,” Jay said.

He didn’t wait for anyone’s response. He grabbed the rope, secured it over his shoulder and between his legs, slid his body down, and began descending, slipping below the encampment, using the rope as a way to steady himself. Elle peeked her head over the edge of the cliff, watching the shadow of his body get farther and farther away.

“Your turn, Flash,” Elle commanded.

Flash swallowed. His hands trembled. He was sweating.

“Don’t look back,” Elle warned. “Stay focused on what you’re doing, do you understand?”

Flash nodded.

“You’re going to be fine, I promise,” she said. “Go.”

Flash slowly lowered himself down to the granite shelf and took hold of the rope, using it to guide himself down the rock face. Jay was moving quickly. He was already halfway to the bottom. Good.

“Georgia?” Elle asked.

Georgia looked her with wide, glassy eyes.

“I can’t,” she said. “I just can’t.”

“Then you’re staying behind,” Elle stated, her voice firm. “Because I didn’t come all this way to get caught by Slavers.”

“I just—I can’t, Elle!”

Georgia’s voice pitched, echoing off the rocks. Elle froze. Georgia held her breath, covering her own mouth with her hand. She looked horrified. At first, there was nothing but silence. But a Slaver guard had caught the sound and wandered to the corner of the encampment to check on the prisoners. From his vantage point, the corral was intact and everything was silent. Elle was a creature of the shadows, invisible. But Georgia was not. She was a head of bright yellow hair reflecting in the firelight. The guard’s face was impossible to see through the hood and mask, tilting his head, walking closer. He stared in their direction for several long, terrifying moments.

Elle didn’t dare breathe. She stared at the guard’s feet, knowing that if she stared at his eyes, he would somehow be drawn to her.

And then he sprinted forward. He was quiet, unspeaking. But he had seen them, and Elle’s heart dropped like a stone to the pit of her stomach. She turned to Georgia. “Go now!” she pleaded. Georgia shook her head, rooted to the spot.

The guard pulled his sword from the sheath hanging on his belt. It was a curved weapon, glinting like a crescent moon, sharp enough to split hairs. Elle moved forward and knelt down on one knee. She pulled out her katana and leaped forward, striking an overhead blow at the guard. Her blade collided with the guard’s curved sword.

Elle’s arm ached from the impact. Her body slid backward a few inches but she stayed balanced. The guard was strong and highly skilled — a better swordsman than Elle. She realized this immediately. Elle and the guard whirled and struck, thrust and dodged. He dropped a powerful stroke at her head. She caught it, gritting her teeth. She pushed hard against the force of his blade, holding him there. It pulled her muscles.

Tears of effort sprang to her eyes from the strain. She locked gazes with the guard, his blue eyes glittering at her through the slit in the hood. He suddenly shoved her backward and Elle rolled, dangerously close to the edge of the cliff. She staggered to her feet. Georgia was standing on the edge of the cliff, staring at the drop. She looked at Elle.

Elle looked at the guard. He ran toward her. Elle darted to the side, narrowly avoiding him. She ducked left, seeing Georgia disappear over the side of the cliff. It all happened in a split second. The guard moved toward the rope tied to the tree, raising his sword. Elle saw what he was going to do. He was going cut the rope. Jay, Georgia and Flash would fall, and it would all be over.

Elle leaped forward, jamming her shoulder into the guard. The air rushed out of his lungs and he stumbled sideways. There was a long second where Elle thought that he would somehow bob back up and slash her open with his sword, but that moment didn’t come. He lost his balance on the edge of the cliff, grabbed Elle’s arm, and they both tumbled down the side of the mountain.

Elle rolled over and over herself. Her face stung, her bones crashed against objects. It was a dark blur of pain and falling and weightlessness and then hitting the earth once again. Gravity was in control. She was tumbling head over heels alongside the guard, their swords clattering behind them, clanging against the rock.

It vaguely occurred to Elle that they hadn’t fallen off the sheer drop on the cliff. If they had, it would have been one long, airy drop with a short, sudden stop at the bottom. They would both be dead, and that would be the end of it.

But they were still rolling. They were tumbling at a sharp angle, finally coming to a shattering halt on level ground. Elle’s head swam. She tried to right herself, falling over and stumbling. She held her head in her hands, tasting something sour and metallic. Blood? She spit on her hand. Yes, lots of blood.

The guard was only ten or so feet away from her, barely a shape in the darkness. There were trees everywhere. Elle wished she could find her sword. The Smith and Wesson was still jammed into her pants, somehow, but she couldn’t use that. The sound of one shot would alert the entire encampment that there was an escape in progress. She couldn’t compromise the safety of the others to save herself. The guard slowly stood up. Elle was too tired — wracked with too much pain — to take him by surprise, to kill him.

“Please, just let me go,” she said softly. “I promise I’ll never come back.”

The guard tilted his head. Stifling silence. No answer.

He lunged forward. He grabbed Elle by the hair and slammed her face against the dirt, grinding her cheek into the ground. She couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move. This was it. He was going to snap her neck — she was dead. She felt the pressure building on her spine. Her vision went starry.

There was a low scream and the pressure released. Elle wanted to scream. Was she paralyzed? Was this what it was like to lose sensation? The guard fell sideways and suddenly Elle’s vision brightened. The blood returned to her head. She clawed the dirt and forced herself upright. There was a blur of white teeth and a menacing, guttural growl. Bravo had sunk his teeth into the guard’s forearm. The guard was crying out in pain.

Bravo ripped a chunk of his flesh out, tossing it away. He growled lower, lunging again, snapping at his neck. The guard ran backward, tripping over a bush in the darkness, sprawling on his back. Bravo jumped on top of the guard and growled in his face, blood dripping from his fangs.

“Bravo,” Elle said. “Bravo, down.”

The dog’s tail twitched.

“Leave him,” Elle commanded. “Out.”

Elle slowly stood, swaying. She was dizzy. She touched her cheek. It had been slashed open during the tumble down the mountain. It stung. She could feel her lip going numb.

At the base of the sloping hill, she saw the curved sword beside her katana. She picked up her weapon and sheathed it. The guard lay on the ground, trembling, bloody. Bravo backed away, never removing his laser-like gaze from the man.

“Remember that we let you live,” Elle said. “Come on, Bravo.”

They left the guard in the silence of the woods.

Chapter Nine

Elle ran quickly and quietly, dodging boulders and making her way through the pine trees. The smell of sugar pine and cedar was strong in the air. The morning was crisp and silent. Elle was little more than a shadow, sprinting through the forest. And beside her, Bravo ran, too. He was quieter than Elle, his hunter’s instincts making him fast and alert.

Elle’s heart raced.

There was no stopping now.

There were no more options. This was the last resort.

She had stopped during the night only to tend to the cut on her cheek. It wasn’t as bad as she had thought — surface level. Enough to leave a scar but not enough to kill her. She had a medical kit in her backpack. She swiped the wound with antiseptic — it had stung worse than anything in the world — and slapped a bandage over it. The rest of her wounds could wait. All she could do was run.

Since escaping the Slaver encampment last night, the Slavers had realized that one of their guards was missing about thirty minutes after Elle and Bravo had left him at the bottom of the cliff. An alarm had rung through the stillness of the forest. They hadn’t stopped moving since then.

Elle was tracking the progress of Jay, Georgia and Flash. She had almost caught up with them. They were nearly out of the thickest part of the forest, moving toward the sloping, open mountains that led toward Palm Springs.

Dawn was just beginning to break over the hills. The desert was below Elle, and she could see three figures moving down the slope of the mountains. They were moving quickly, too. Elle’s heart lifted.

“Found them,” she panted.

About time. Bravo hung his tongue out, tired and thirsty. Elle offered him a quick drink of water. Humans move slow.

“Don’t antagonize me, I’m not in the mood.”

I’m just stating a fact. Don’t be so touchy.

Elle ignored Bravo and began her descent down the mountain. Bravo seemed to roll his eyes before following, allowing her to lead the way. Elle reached the bottom of the big hill at nearly the same time as the kids. They hadn’t yet looked behind them. They moved ahead, never stopping, never waiting.

“You know,” Elle commented, jogging. “We came all this way to rescue them and they didn’t even stop to see if the two of us were still alive. They just ran.”

What else did you expect? Bravo pointed out. They’re just children.

“So am I!”

You were born older, Elle. We both were.

Elle pondered this.

“Still,” she said. “It would have been nice.”

Yes, Bravo agreed. It would have been very nice.

Niceness was for losers and dead people in the apocalypse. Only the tough survived. At least, that was Elle’s humble opinion.

At last, Elle and Bravo caught up with the kids.

“Hey,” Elle called. “Wait!”

Jay turned around. Georgia and Flash whipped their heads backward. Flash stumbled and fell on his face. Elle couldn’t help it what she did next.

She laughed. She laughed long and hard, clutching her stomach.

“You guys are still so green,” she giggled.

“Shortstack!” Georgia cried. “Thank God, you’re alive!”

She rushed toward Elle and threw her arms around her neck. Elle stayed still, unsure what she should do with her arms. So she just stood there, arms at her sides, until Georgia pulled away.

“What happened to your face?” Georgia gasped.

Elle shrugged.

“We thought you were dead,” Jay said, shaking his head. “What happened back there? We just ran. We figured if you were alive you’d find us.”

They were right about that, at least.

“Oh, I just fell off a cliff,” Elle replied. “No big deal. Right, Bravo?”

“Whoa, you got a dog while we were gone?” Jay exclaimed.

“Hey, he’s not just a dog. His name is Bravo and he’s with us now.” Elle touched Bravo’s head. “He was a bomb dog. He can track, and he can fight.”

“He’s cute,” Georgia commented. “I mean, I’m not a huge dog person, but you know… I could be one, I guess.”

“You guys okay?” Elle asked. She looked at Flash as she said this. The boy was incredibly silent, never opening his mouth to say so much as a single word. “Flash?”

He nodded.

“He doesn’t talk much these days,” Georgia said, almost in a whisper. “Ever since… well, you know.” She paused. “It’s been tough.”

“Sorry.” Elle touched Flash’s cheek with her finger. “It’ll be okay.”

“How did you find us?” Jay asked.

“Followed the bread crumbs,” Elle replied.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Just be glad I found you at all,” she said, glancing behind her. “Come on, let’s keep walking. The Slavers will be looking for you guys for a while.”

“I can’t believe you came back for us,” Georgia said. “I mean, after everything. The argument and all that.”

“Believe it.” Elle looked at her. “So what happened, anyway? I showed up at the Jeep and there were Omega men dead, and you guys were gone. Pix was…” Elle stopped herself. “What’s the story?”

“Not long after you left,” Jay explained, “an Omega patrol from the city rolled in. They came out of nowhere. We were asleep. I didn’t even hear them coming.” He looked embarrassed to admit this. “They had us all at gunpoint. They were the ones who killed Pix — not the Slavers.”

Elle frowned.

“Then what?”

“The militia came,” Georgia picked up. “At least, we thought it was the militia. They killed the troopers. We thought we were saved, but it was a lie. It was the Slavers. They took us in a truck. There were some other people, some kids. We went for a long drive, then they dumped us in the mountains in a barbed-wire cage.” Georgia spread her arms. “It’s kind of simple, actually.”

“Okay, but here’s my question,” Elle said. “What are the Slavers actually using their prisoners for? Hard labor? What?”

“We couldn’t figure it out either,” Jay replied. “At least for the first couple of days. The guards up above on the cliff — the ones with the hoods. They’re mercenaries, hired by the Slavers. The Slavers take their prisoners and hold them before selling them to Omega to do hard labor.”

“Wow, supply and demand,” Elle remarked, disgusted. “Omega is actually purchasing slaves?”

“That’s the conclusion we came to,” Georgia confirmed.

“But if the Slavers and Omega are in this together… why would they kill the troops who shot Pix?” Elle asked.

At the mention of his dead sister’s name, Flash flinched.

“I don’t know,” Jay admitted. “Maybe because Omega was going to kill us, and the Slavers wanted the chance to sell us back to Omega. The Slavers have no rules. They’re organized, but they’re barbaric. Some of the crap we saw in San Jacinto was pretty harsh.”

Elle didn’t doubt it.

“Well, it’s about time we got our butts to Sacramento,” Elle stated. “I’m sick of running around the state, rescuing you guys.” She cracked a dry smile.

“We don’t know that’s what’s in Sacramento for sure,” Jay pointed out.

“It’s our best shot.”

He didn’t argue with that.

They faced the desert. Elle looked at Bravo. She felt a twinge of disappointment… of hurt. She had expected one of them to at least say thank you for braving the desert, for nearly getting killed by the Slavers, for everything she had done to extract them from the confines of imprisonment.

But they had said nothing.

Elle shook herself. This wasn’t about getting glory. This was about doing the right thing. She had done it. It was over now. She could get back to business. Her mind would rest easy — she hadn’t left them to die. She had saved their lives, and she could live with herself now.

Jay looked at Elle for a long moment.

“Elle…?” he said.

He opened his mouth and closed it. Elle walked a little faster.

She didn’t want him to see the bitter disappointment in her face.

The wind swept across the barren desert.

“Are we kidding ourselves?” Jay said. His lips were chapped. Dust stuck to every inch of his body, making him look like a pale ghost. “We can’t make it across this thing. It’s too far. We don’t have any water. We don’t have any food.”

“We’re all going to die,” Georgia replied dramatically. Her curly hair was matted. Her long, tall frame had become bony. The sparkle of her big, green eyes had been dulled. “Might as well find a nice place to lie down and call our grave.”

Flash said nothing. He only stood in one spot, staring at the desert with a baleful expression on his face. The horizon was marred by the dust storm. A blanket of dirt covered the sky, giving everything a brownish hue.

“We’re not going to go grave-shopping,” Elle answered. “Pull yourselves together, will you? Let’s focus on one thing at a time.”

“Like what?” Jay demanded. He spread his arms wide. “We’re in the middle of nowhere! There’s no food, no water. The Slavers are behind us. The desert is in front of us. We’re screwed.”

There was a wild light in his eyes.

“Fine. Stay here and die,” Elle snapped. “Don’t expect me to come back and bury your bodies.”

Her words were harsh and cold. Elle felt a stab of guilt and turned on her heel, walking against the wind. There was a moment of silence before she heard the sound of footsteps behind her. They were following her.

Well, of course they are, Elle thought. They can’t just give up and die.

They trudged across the wide, open space for hours. Elle had only a small amount of water in her backpack; enough to last a day or two if they were careful, but that was all.

They stopped to rest under the shade of a lone, ugly tree weathered by years of desert wind. Elle knelt to give Bravo a small handful of water. He drank it up with one swipe of his tongue, panting.

“You’re giving him our water,” Jay said, sounding surprised.

“He needs hydration as much as we do,” Elle replied.

“But we’re the ones dying.”

“Bravo is a part of our group. He’s helped keep us alive.”

“Bravo is a dog.”

Elle slowly stood up, glaring at Jay.

“Bravo is my friend,” she said.

“And what are we?” Georgia interjected. “We’re people and you’re wasting supplies on an animal. Elle, think of us.”

“I am thinking of you,” Elle answered, terse. “Bravo and I came all the way across the desert and risked our lives to save you from the Slavers. I think the least we can do is share our water with him.”

“But we need it more,” Jay pleaded. “We’ve got half of a bottle left. Don’t waste it on the dog.”

“His name is Bravo,” Elle hissed, slamming the lid on the water bottle. She shoved it into her backpack, licking her dry, cracked lips. “If you don’t want to share with him, then I don’t want to share with you.”

She zipped her pack shut and swung it across her shoulders, stalking off, Bravo beside her. She heard footsteps, turned, and caught a glimpse of Jay’s face. He grabbed the back of her pack and ripped it off her shoulders. Elle felt a shock of pain in her right arm. Jay yanked the pack away and Elle skidded across the dirt, tumbling in a heap.

“I’m taking charge of this,” Jay said.

Elle stared at him, dirt in her mouth, pain in her arm.

“You’re not thinking straight,” Elle replied, heart racing. “You’re panicking. Don’t do that, Jay. Trust me. I got across this desert to come for you guys, and I can get us back across it.”

“There is no back,” Jay laughed. It was a mean, guttural sound. “Back to what?” His crazed smile faded. “But we’re not sacrificing our lives because you’re giving all our supplies away to a freaking mutt.”

Elle looked at Bravo. He was tense. He could sense the arguing; he could smell the discord in the air. She placed one hand on his collar, kneeling on the ground. Georgia was frozen. She looked scared. Flash watched the whole thing with a deer-in-the-headlights expression on his face.

“That’s my pack,” Elle said slowly. “And I would appreciate it if you’d give it back.”

Jay’s glare was piercing. He slid his arms through the straps, shaking his head.

“Sorry, Elle,” he said. “But this is the way it has to be.”

Elle was infuriated. Her hands shook.

She had come all this way. She’d suffered through the brutality of the desert and risked her life in Slaver territory for this? For selfish, short-sighted children who were staging a mutiny?

Jay walked forward, taking his gaze off Elle. Georgia and Flash glanced at Elle, then at Jay. And they started walking, leaving Elle in the dirt.

Elle tightened her grip around Bravo’s collar.

Tell me this isn’t happening, Elle thought.

“Jay!” Elle stood up. “You will not do this to me!”

He kept walking. Georgia cast a guilty glance at Elle, but she didn’t stop walking. Anger rushed through Elle’s veins.

How dare they do this. After everything.

Elle got to her feet and sprinted across the open space between her and Jay. She slammed into him from behind and they fell to the ground in a tumbled heap. Elle jammed the heel of her shoe into his chin. Jay swore and grabbed Elle’s arm, twisting it backward. Elle cried out and sunk her teeth into his hand, biting as hard as she could. She tasted blood. Jay screamed and let go. Elle rolled to her feet and kicked him.

“After everything we’ve done for you,” Elle yelled, “you’re going to steal my stuff and leave me behind to die? Is that your brilliant plan, Jay?” She kicked him again. He grabbed her foot, slammed her against the ground.

“STOP IT!” Georgia begged. “PLEASE!”

Elle ignored her, her head spinning from hitting the dirt. She rolled sideways and grabbed a handful of Jay’s hair. She yanked on it, pulling out a big chunk. Blood stuck to her hands. Jay screamed again and attacked Elle with a maniacal energy, cursing and spitting as they rolled around in the dirt. Georgia tried to intervene, pulling on Jay, attempting to haul him out of the fight. Jay shoved her away. Flash just sat on the ground.

“Please don’t do this!” Georgia begged, tears running down her face.

Elle tuned her out. This wasn’t about doing what was right anymore. This was about survival. Bravo was watching the whole thing from the sidelines, his ears pricking forward. He paced, barking loudly.

He hardly ever barked.

Elle rolled to the side, avoiding another heavy blow from Jay. She tried to stand up but Jay grabbed her ankles and pulled her back down. Her face slapped the rocky soil and she saw stars.

Don’t hold back because he’s your friend, a little voice said. He’s trying to kill you. You need to defend yourself.

Elle’s natural survival instincts were coming out. Hadn’t she known from the beginning not to trust anyone? Hadn’t she violated her most important rule by teaming up with these idiots? And then she had gotten emotionally attached to them, finding herself on a half-baked rescue mission to save them from enslavement in the desert.

And this is how they thanked her.

Trust nobody, Elle thought. It’s me against the world.

Jay nailed Elle, pinning her against the ground, one knee on her chest. Elle coughed, struggling for breath. Bravo barked again, and this time he was on Jay, barreling into him at a full charge. Jay fell sideways as the dog attacked. Bravo dug his teeth into Jay’s arm. Jay cried out in agonizing pain. Elle struggled to her feet, coughing, dizzy. She drew her Smith and Wesson out of her jacket and held it directly in front of her, pointing the muzzle of the gun at Jay’s head.

Her hands shook.

“Bravo,” Elle said. Her voice was low but firm. Bravo released Jay’s arm and circled him, growling and flashing his teeth. Tears of pain ran down Jay’s face. Blood ran down his arm, pooling in the dirt. “Take off the backpack,” Elle commanded. “Now.”

Jay slowly slid his arms out of the straps and kicked the backpack toward Elle. She knelt down and slung one strap over her shoulder, still aching with pain and burning with adrenaline and anger.

“Let’s get one thing straight, city boy,” Elle said. “I’m in charge. I make the rules, and I decide how we ration the food. You lost the right to vote in this little democracy when you tried to break my arm about five seconds ago.” She took a step closer. “And if you try anything again, I’ll kill you.” She glanced at Bravo. “And if I don’t kill you, the dog will.”

She looked at Georgia.

“I don’t think Jay was thinking straight—” the girl started to say.

“None of us are thinking straight,” Elle replied. “It’s no excuse.”

Georgia hung her head.

“Do you understand what I’m saying, tough guy?” Elle demanded.

Jay nodded weakly, blood dribbling down his chin.

“It’s hard to believe you survived on the streets with fighting skills like that,” Elle muttered.

“I’ve killed before,” Jay said.

“We’ve all killed someone since Day Zero,” Elle replied.

“No. I killed before.” Tears slipped down his cheeks. “The reason why I was in juvie, Elle. It’s because I killed two people.”

Elle tightened the grip on the gun.

“You were in jail because you were a murderer?” Elle said, swallowing. “You never said anything about that.”

“I didn’t tell you because I knew you would make a judgment.” Jay buried his face in his trembling hands. “Everyone assumes that I killed people because I was a bad person. Because I was on the streets. Because I looked like a killer.”

“Were you a killer, Jay?” Elle asked, lowering her voice.

“I didn’t mean to be,” he whispered.

Elle didn’t move. She kept the gun where it was. She kept her eye on Georgia and Flash. Bravo continued to growl just enough to remind everyone that he was willing to take out a chunk of anyone’s arm if they made a move.

“There were three guys,” Jay said. “My parents… they owned a liquor shop. One night, three punks came in and tried to rob the cash box under the counter. I was working the late-night shift. They had guns. I didn’t.” He shook his head. “We fought. I got my hands on one gun. I killed two of them with it. The third guy got away.”

Elle said nothing.

Jay exhaled. “I didn’t mean to kill them,” he said. “But they were trying to kill me. They were trying to take my family’s money. It was all we had. It was everything.”

The wind kicked up again, whistling across the plain, blowing Elle’s hair back.

“You’re not a murderer, Jay,” Elle replied. “You did what you had to do to keep your family safe.” She lowered the muzzle of the gun. “You’ve got to do the same thing now. We can’t survive and we can’t protect each other if we’re fighting like this. We’ve got to stick together. And you’ve got to do what I say.” She slipped the gun into her jacket. “Do you understand?”

Nothing.

Then:

“Yeah. I get it.” Jay looked up at Elle, his face tear-stained. “I’m sorry.”

Elle shook her head.

“Get up and clean that bite,” she commanded. “Georgia? You take care of that. We’re wasting time.”

She turned away, aware of the heavy ache in her bones and the taste of blood in her mouth. She locked eyes with Georgia. The blond girl’s air of drama and sarcasm was gone. She looked very small; very frightened. Beside her, Flash shifted from foot to foot, counting under his breath.

Elle placed a hand on Flash’s shoulder.

“Are you okay, kid?” she asked.

Flash looked up at her, his eyes red and bloodshot.

“We’re going to die, aren’t we?” he said.

“Yeah,” Elle replied, grinning. “Someday, everybody dies.”

“So why do we care so much about survival now? If we’re all going to die… why do we try to stay alive?”

Elle patted his back.

“Because it’s what we do,” she said. “We survive.”

She looked to the desert.

We survive so that we can die in peace.

Chapter Ten

It started as a hum. It was faint, only a distant sound. And then it got louder, and Elle popped awake. Bravo was sitting straight up, his ears pricked forward.

“What is it, boy?” she whispered.

It was early morning. The sun had just started to rise above the distant mountains, filtering through the grainy air of the dusty desert. The hum turned into a small rumble. Elle stayed close to the ground. In the Mojave, they might be able to escape unseen if they stayed on their bellies, close to the ground and out of sight. There were shrubs and trails and a myriad of uneven surfaces to hide behind.

“What is that?” Georgia asked groggily, rolling on her stomach.

“An engine,” Elle concluded.

“A car?” Georgia looked alarmed. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“I’m not.”

Jay just lay on his back, staring at the sky, silent.

“What do we do?” Flash hissed.

“We stay put,” Elle answered.

“What if it’s the Slavers?”

“Then we kill them.”

Elle was startled — shocked, almost — at how easily those words rolled off her tongue. It was such a statement of fact. A truth. If the Slavers found them, she would kill them before they took them back to Slaver territory. She wasn’t going to spend the rest of her life doing slave labor for Omega, no matter what anyone said or did.

She would die first.

Flash lowered his head, a cold, steely expression on his face. It worried Elle a little, but she didn’t question it. It was about time Flash toughened up… she just hoped it wasn’t at the expense of his humanity or personality.

“Get down, Bravo,” Elle whispered, tugging on the dog’s collar.

You know we’ve got trouble coming our way, right? Bravo looked at her. His eyes were dark and serious.

“I know,” she whispered.

Georgia gave her a confused look. Elle ignored it.

“Just stay low and don’t move, whatever you do,” Elle said.

The rumbling became slightly louder. A speck appeared on the horizon. It was moving quickly. Definitely a vehicle of some sort. An Omega patrol? A Slaver truck? Elle feared the worst. It zigzagged across the desert floor. It came closer. Elle kept her head against the dirt, peering at the moving vehicle.

It looked like a Humvee. It was painted the same muted shade of brown as the desert floor. But a Humvee could be anyone — Slaver, Omega, American… there was no guarantee that they were friendly.

The Humvee got closer. The engine broke the morning stillness of the desert. Georgia tensed. Jay inhaled sharply. It was heading their way.

“It’s going to run us over,” Flash breathed.

“Don’t move,” Elle said.

“It’s getting closer.”

“Do not move.”

“Elle…”

The Humvee was coming directly toward them. It would tear right over their bodies. The engine turned into a roar. Sweat ran down Elle’s forehead.

“MOVE!” she yelled.

They jumped up and sprinted, flinging themselves out of the path of the Humvee. The vehicle swerved and slid across the dirt, sending sprays of rock and mud into the air. It screeched past them. Elle took her gun out and shouted:

“Don’t run. They’ll be able to catch us. We have to stand our ground.”

The Humvee sat there, still. The engine rumbled, but the rear of the vehicle was the only thing she could see. There were at least three people in the cab. The passenger side opened and a man stepped out, toting a rifle. He aimed it at Elle’s head.

“Drop that gun, little girl,” he commanded.

He was wearing combat fatigues. His head was shaved, his face was wrinkled.

“I’ll drop mine if you drop yours,” Elle said, her voice loud and clear.

The man’s mouth twitched.

“I can respect that,” he replied. “But I outgun you and I outman you. See?”

Two more men got out of the vehicle, armed similarly. Jay stood next to Elle, his hands fisted. Georgia stood beside Jay, and Flash stood beside Georgia.

“We’re not looking for any trouble,” Elle said. “We’re just passing through.”

“You’re a little young to be traveling alone, aren’t you kids?” the man asked.

“Welcome to the apocalypse,” Elle replied. “Kids run wild.”

“You wounded, boy?” the man asked Jay, gesturing to the bandage on his arm.

Jay didn’t answer. He only glared.

“Listen,” the man said. “My name is Lieutenant Jeremy Danes, and I’m with the California National Guard. These two here are Private Kilion and Private Yancey. We’re just patrolling the area, making sure the pond scum isn’t coming back.”

“You’re with the United States Military?” Elle asked, blinking.

“Yes, ma’am,” Danes replied. “We sure are.”

“How do we know you’re telling the truth?” she demanded. “The Slavers dress as militia to lure people in. I can’t just take your word for it.”

“No offense, kid,” Danes replied, “but you don’t have to believe crap. My men and I will leave you alone if you say the word, but I don’t think that’s what you want. By the looks of it, you probably don’t have any food and you’re sorely dehydrated. Am I right?”

Elle shrugged, still holding her gun.

“We can help you,” he continued. “But you’ve got to lower your gun.”

“I never lower my gun.”

“You’re going to have to trust us.”

“Trusting gets people killed. I don’t plan on being a casualty of blind faith.”

“It might save your life, kid.”

Elle hesitated. If Danes was telling the truth — if they really were United States Military men — then this could be their salvation. They would be rescued from the hell of the desert and the threat of Slaver pursuit.

“You’ve come from Slaver Territory, haven’t you?” Danes stated. “There was a big stir in the San Jacinto hills a couple of days ago. I’m guessing you were a part of that.”

“We’re not Slavers,” Georgia replied. “We were Slaver prisoners. We escaped.”

“I figured as much.” Danes grinned. “That’s quite a feat, escaping from the Slavers. From what we hear, they’re a pretty brutal bunch.”

“They’re monsters,” Georgia answered.

“Why don’t you come back with us?” Danes asked. “We’ve got food and water — clean clothes. The military is offering shelter to anybody who comes in clean.”

“Clean?” Elle echoed.

“Unarmed until we check you at the front gate.”

“I’m not giving up my weapons.”

“Then I guess you’re not coming with us to safe haven.”

Elle hesitated.

What choice did they really have? They could say no to these men and continue across the desert, starved and dehydrated — possibly risking recapture by the Slavers.

“Where is this safe haven of yours?” Elle asked.

“Not far. There are a lot of refugees there. People like you.”

“I’m not a refugee.”

“You’re a kid who needs help. Now take it or leave it. I ain’t got all day.”

Elle looked at Jay. His face was stone. Georgia glanced at Elle, a pleading expression on her face. And then Flash walked forward, toward Danes.

“I’ll come with you,” he said.

Elle closed her eyes, sighing.

She knew what she had to do.

The safe haven wasn’t what Elle expected. It was built under the ground, a stronghold beneath the towering Tehachapi Mountains. A chain link fence surrounded the property, guarded by soldiers on towers and mazes of concrete barriers. Georgia, Jay and Flash strained to see out the window, murmuring softly. Jay glanced at Elle. His expression betrayed worry.

Elle looked away.

They sat in the back of the Humvee, squished together in the backseat. Lieutenant Danes drove, and the two privates were keeping their gazes trained on the windows.

The inside strap of Elle’s jacket was weightless, as was the sheath on her back. She had agreed to leave her weapons in the back of the Humvee while they entered the camp — until the National Guard cleared their entry.

Elle had a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach. Nervousness? Probably. What if the National Guard didn’t let them in? What if they tossed then out on their butts, back into the harsh, unforgiving plain of the Mojave?

Well. There was nothing they could do now but see what happened.

They rolled up to the front checkpoint. Elle had never been on or near a military base before, so she wasn’t sure what she should expect. The guards conversed with Lieutenant Danes. He gestured to Elle and the others a few times, keeping his voice low. The guards peered at the kids, shaking their heads. And then they got a green light, and the Humvee rumbled through the first checkpoint, past the barriers and into the entrance to the safe haven. The structure of the building was similar to a parking garage. It was made of concrete, built into the side of the mountain. A small, bunker-like opening sloped downward, allowing vehicles to roll into a loading area. The Humvee pulled into it, cut the engine, and Lieutenant Danes opened the rear doors.

“Okay, everybody out,” he commanded.

Elle bolted, anxious to escape the inside of the vehicle. She stood on the cement flooring. An open area of Humvees, trucks and Jeeps filled the inside of the first level. White numbers were painted on the walls: 27.

“What’s twenty-seven mean?” Georgia whispered to Elle.

“Don’t know.”

The place was buzzing with activity. Bravo jumped out of the Humvee, taking his place next to Elle’s leg. She scratched him behind the ears. He was calm — extremely calm, actually. She was jealous of his self-control.

Elle’s hands were trembling with fear, so she stuffed them in her pockets.

“Alright,” Danes said. “Welcome to Sector 27, one of many National Guard strongholds in the state of California. I’m going to need you to follow me. The dog, too.”

Bravo looked up at Elle.

This is a big kennel.

She shrugged. “It’s better than being in the desert.”

I kind of like it, to be honest.

Elle hid a sarcastic smile.

They followed Danes and the two rivates through the parking garage and through a heavy metal door. The door led to a huge, double-wide staircase that descended deeper into the ground. They ended up two flights below the loading area, deep beneath the mountain. They walked through more doors and into a huge room flooded with generator-powered lights. Everything was concrete. It resembled a colorless gymnasium — minus windows and screaming cheerleaders. There were men and women lying on cots on the floor, wrapped in blankets. There were children, infants.

“This is the Refugee Ward,” Danes said. He nodded at Private Yancey and Private Kilion. They pulled away and disappeared into the ward. “This is where you’ll be able to find some food and water. See that lady in the back over there?”

He gestured to a heavyset woman with white hair. She was standing behind a table, doling out bowls of soup. “That’s Myra Linch,” he continued. “She’s in charge of the Ward. You need anything, you talk to her.”

“When are we going to get our weapons back?” Elle asked.

“We’ll talk about that later,” Danes replied.

“Or we could talk now.”

“You’re starving and dehydrated. I suggest you eat first.”

“No. I want to talk.”

Danes folded his arms across his chest, chewing on his lower lip. He tilted his head, studying Bravo. “All right. We’ll talk.” He pointed to the far corner of the room. “You three”— he waved a hand at Georgia, Jay and Flash— “go eat.” He looked at Elle. “You and the dog can come with me.”

“Hey, if you’re talking, I want to hear, too,” Jay stated.

“I didn’t ask you what you wanted,” Danes answered. “Do what I say, kid.”

Jay curled his fingers into fists. Elle touched his shoulder.

“Just do it,” she advised. “I’ll be back.”

Jay swallowed and glared at the floor as Georgia muttered something under her breath. Jay seemed to agree with whatever she said and turned away, Flash following.

“This way,” Danes told Elle.

Elle clicked her tongue and Bravo stayed close to Elle as they moved out of the Refugee Ward, into the stairwell outside. Danes leaned against the railing, a pensive expression on his face.

“Where’d you find the dog?” he asked at last.

“Why do you care?” Elle demanded, defensive. She kept her arms folded, her stance defiant.

“Kid, your dog’s name is Bravo. He belonged to Nathan Ingalls, a lieutenant from Sector Twenty-Seven.” He shook his head. “Nathan went MIA about two weeks ago, along with his dog, a bomb dog from the military K-9 units that existed before the EMP. So what I’m asking you is this: why the hell do you have Nathan’s dog?”

“You knew Nathan,” Elle stated. “He was your friend.”

“Yeah, he was my friend,” Danes replies. “Now tell me the truth, because I can throw you out of here just as quick as I picked you up.”

“You think I killed him?” Elle asked, raising an eyebrow.

Danes didn’t reply. He only waited.

“I didn’t.” Elle looked him straight in the eye. “I found him dying in an abandoned mining camp in the middle of the desert. Bravo was the one who brought me to him. I tried to save him, I swear, but there was nothing I could do. He just… slipped away.”

Danes blinked, swallowing hard.

“So he’s dead,” he said.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you took the dog?”

“The dog took me, sir. I had nothing to do with it.”

Danes smiled slowly.

“And these kids you’re with?”

“They’re just kids.”

“You’re obviously in charge of the group. What’s your story?”

“My story is just like everyone else’s. I’m trying to stay alive.”

“You’re fresh out of Slaver Territory with a bomb dog and a group of kids trailing behind you like a Boy Scout troop,” Danes remarked. “That’s no small feat.”

Elle didn’t answer.

“You and your friends can stay here,” Danes said at last. “For now.”

Elle nodded. That was fair.

“We were originally headed to Sacramento,” she said. “We heard it was safe there.”

“It’s safe for now.”

“Is it worth trying for?”

“Anything’s worth trying for, now.” He paused. “You look after your dog, Elle, and he’ll look after you.” He touched Bravo’s head, scratched him softly. “Go eat and get some rest. We’ll talk more after.”

Elle didn’t argue.

She couldn’t afford to.

“Samuel is dead,” Elle said.

Aunt and Uncle were sitting at the breakfast table. Uncle was wearing his leather duster, his flight cap stuck into the pocket of his pants. Aunt raised an eyebrow.

“You don’t know that for sure, Elle,” Aunt replied.

“Yes, I do.” Elle stepped into the kitchen, placing her hands on the breakfast table. “He was supposed to be back here with Mom two days ago. I’m telling you — he’s dead. You haven’t seen the city like I have. It’s bad. People are killing each other and—”

“I have seen the city, my girl,” Uncle interrupted. “I don’t take my plane out every day for pleasure rides anymore. I’m looking, searching. And what I’ve seen are bad things.”

“We have to go back into the city and find Mom.”

“We can’t do that.”

“How can you say that? She’s your sister! She’s your—”

“Enough, Elle.” Aunt raised her hand. Elle shut her mouth. “We have something we want to say to you.”

Elle tensed.

What could they possibly have to say to her at a time like this?

“I’m leaving,” Uncle said.

“You’re… going away?”

“Yes. I think I can help the militias in their fight against the Omega invasion. I’m going to do my duty and help end this nightmare.” He looked at Aunt, and she touched his hand across the breakfast table. “I feel called, I guess.”

“You’re leaving us alone to go join a militia somewhere?” Elle repeated.

“I’m leaving to fight for my country—”

“Don’t give me that patriotic crap. You’re leaving.”

“It’s not crap, Elle. It’s the truth. It’s not right for me to sit here and wait this out.” Uncle shook his head, running a hand through his wild gray hair. “I’m able to help, so I have to. I’m obligated.”

“You mean you’re obligated to go join a militia, but you’re not obligated to go looking for your own family lost in the city?” Elle’s vision was red around the edges — she was furious. “I can see what’s more important to you.”

“Don’t take it like that. Searching for your mother would be like searching for a needle in a haystack,” Aunt answered. “It’s not that we don’t love her — because we do, Elle. We love her so much. But we can’t help her, so this is what we can do to help. Everybody needs to play their part — including you.”

Elle stared at them. They were so calm, announcing Uncle’s departure. Announcing the acceptance of Mom’s death. How could they be like this? Didn’t they care at all?

“Fine,” Elle said. “Do what you want.”

“Elle—” Uncle began, but Elle stalked away.

“I’ll do it myself, then,” she muttered.

She would have to go back into the city, and she would have to do it alone.

Elle sat at the end of a plastic table, absently stirring the hot bowl of stew in front of her. It smelled delicious, filled with chunks of meat and pieces of vegetables. She ate slowly, savoring the flavor. It had been so long since she’d had real food. She didn’t want to make herself sick by eating too fast.

Bravo sat on the floor by her feet, eating a bowl of food provided by the woman called Myra Linch. It was a mix of old meat and cuts of fat. The dog practically inhaled it.

There were conversations all around her. Voices echoed against the underground walls. It was overwhelming. So many people in one room. So many potential threats.

Elle kept her head down and listened, trying to latch onto a single voice to focus on, to keep the clamor of the crowd from becoming overwhelming.

“…The Freedom Fighters is where it started, initially,” one woman was saying. “One of the first militia groups in the hills, a hillbilly group of rednecks, the way you’d hear the Scouts tell it. But it was effective.”

“And the Mountain Rangers?” a man asked.

“Further up in the Sierra Nevadas.” The woman paused. “Rumor is, the militias in the mountains are in a bit of trouble. They couldn’t stay hidden from Omega forever, after all. The Mountain Rangers have been fleeing — they say they’re headed toward the coastline. Monterey, maybe. Monterey is supposed to be safer than Sacramento.”

Elle frowned and took another bite of the stew.

“The militias and the U.S. Military are becoming one,” the man replied, his voice lower. “It worries me.”

“I trust our military a lot more than I trust Omega,” the woman said.

“So do I, I’m just saying…” Another pause. “Merging all of these groups of people at a time like this. Either it’s a smart move or a ticking time bomb.”

Elle shook her head. She didn’t know what to think.

“Hey, we’ve been looking for you, shortstack.”

Georgia sat down in a chair across from Elle. Flash sat directly beside her and Jay took a place on Elle’s right. “What did he say?” Jay asked.

Elle pulled herself out of the conversation behind her.

“Who?” she said.

“Lieutenant Danes,” Jay replied. “What did he say when you talked to him?”

“Oh, that.” Elle shrugged. “He said we could stay… for now.”

“What else did he say?”

“That’s about it, actually.” Elle didn’t tell them about Nathan Ingalls. For some reason, she didn’t think they needed to know. “As long as we keep our heads down and behave, they’ll let us stay.”

“But not forever. They can’t just feed hundreds of people every day indefinitely,” Georgia pointed out, smoothing her curly hair. “They’ve got to kick people out at some point.”

“People here have jobs,” Elle said, nodding toward the guards at the doors. “People contribute to the cause, and they get a place to stay and food to eat. It’s not a bad system.”

“So if we want to stay we’re going to have to work,” Flash replied.

“Yes, which is completely fair.”

“Totally.” Georgia smirked. “I’ve never had an honest job before.”

“Speak for yourself, blondie,” Jay cracked. “I’ve had lots of jobs.”

“Yeah? Name one.”

“My parent’s liquor store. I ran that in high school.” Jay swallowed his food, then suddenly stopped talking.

She understood that. She knew that pain.

“…There’s a lot of colorful characters with the militias, too.” Elle tuned into the conversation behind her once more as her table fell into morbid silence. “A mixed bag,” the woman said, laughing. “They’ve got ex-teachers and lawyers toting rifles. It’s quite an army, let me tell you.”

“You’ve seen it?” someone asked.

“I was running with the Freedom Fighters until a few weeks ago,” the woman continued. Elle barely turned her body, enough to glance long strands of white-blond hair, sandy fatigues and a denim jacket. “Good people. They weren’t born fighters, but they became fighters. Our commander, Chris Young, was the best leader the militias will ever have.”

“There’s a lot being said about him lately.”

“Rightly so. He’s a good man.”

“So how did you end up down here?”

“The Freedom Fighters split. Commander Young and the better lieutenants like Cassidy Hart and Alexander Ramos joined the National Guard in Sector 20. I didn’t like being up in the hills without Young as a leader. I came down to find the National Guard. Had some help locating them from the pilot at Camp Freedom.”

“Ah, Manny,” someone laughed. “He’s well-known, too. The crazy pilot.”

Elle suddenly stood up, whirling around. She walked to the table behind theirs and stared at the woman. She was middle-aged, with deep green eyes.

“You know Manny Costas?” Elle asked.

“Everybody knows who Manny—”

“Do you know where he is?”

The woman shook her head.

“How should I know?” she answered. “I haven’t seen him since he joined up with the National Guard. He could be anywhere.”

“But he was with the militias in the mountains.” Elle took a deep breath, her cheeks flushing. “He’s alive.”

The woman gave Elle a suspicious look.

“What are you… his grandchild or something?” she asked.

“Or something.” Elle placed her hands flat on the table. “Listen, where did you last see him?”

“Well…” The woman stopped to think, wrinkling her brow. “It was right before the Battle of the Grapevine, maybe a week ago? He was flying overwatch for the National Guard. I ended up wounded in the first round of the fight”—she held up her left arm, where in place of a hand, there was a bandaged stump—“so they sent me here to heal up.”

“So he’s still alive,” Elle said again.

“Don’t go looking for him,” the woman warned. “I can see it in your face. He’s a friend of yours, and you want to find him. But I’m telling you — don’t. The Battle of the Grapevine was hell, so I’m told. I didn’t see the aftermath but—”

“I’ve seen it,” Elle interrupted. “Dead bodies for miles and miles. But I didn’t see a biplane. Manny’s still alive.”

Elle’s heart filled with hope. Uncle was alive. He was close.

After finding Aunt and Uncle’s ranch abandoned in the Tehachapi Mountains, she had assumed that they were both dead. But now she knew for certain that Uncle had been alive just a week ago.

This was a silver lining.

This changed everything.

Elle hurried back to her own table and finished her stew, her mind working at the speed of light. Jay and Georgia stared at her, tried to pry her out of her thoughts, but Elle was focused.

“Hey, girl.”

The woman walked to Elle’s table. Elle met her steady gaze.

“The National Guard unit that was at the Battle of the Grapevine,” she continued, “the one Manny was a part of? They’ve pulled back to Sacramento, but the Mountain Rangers are based in Camp Freedom, in the mountains. That’s where Manny might be.” She nodded. “I hope you don’t do anything stupid with the information, but I felt like you needed to know.”

Elle blinked hard. Was she going to cry? No way.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

The woman walked away.

“Who’s Manny?” Georgia asked. “Somebody you know?”

“He’s my uncle,” Elle replied.

“Are you going to find him?” Jay said.

“Yes,” Elle answered. “Of course.”

Flash suddenly looked up from his stew, his eyes red.

“I’m not coming with you,” he said. “I can’t go back out there. Not this time.”

Elle sighed.

“I’m not asking you to,” she replied. “Look. I hunted you down, I found you, I dragged your sorry butts across the desert”— she grinned —“and now you’re safe with the military. Our journey ends here. I’m taking Bravo and I’m going to find my uncle. You don’t have to come with me. Stay safe here. Your chances of survival are better.”

Flash bowed his head.

“Thank you, Elle,” he said.

“So you’re going to find your uncle alone?” Georgia asked. “We were supposed to go to Sacramento together!”

“That was before you got kidnapped by Slavers,” Elle pointed out. “And before we found Sector 27.”

“There’s nothing for us in Sacramento,” Georgia shrugged. “We’re as safe here as we’ll be there.” She looked at Jay. “Right?”

Jay stared at the table, the muscles in his arm tight.

“Right, Jay?” Georgia said again.

“I don’t care,” he replied. “We’re safe now. We’re alive.” He looked at Elle. “You need to do what you can to find your uncle. Family is important now more than ever.”

His eyes were dark, glinting with suppressed emotion. Sadness and anger and loneliness. Elle folded her hands on top of the table.

“I’m leaving tonight,” she said. “But first, I need to find Lieutenant Danes and tell him that I’m leaving.”

She stood up, and Bravo stood, too.

She smiled.

She would not be leaving this place alone.

Chapter Eleven

Elle stood on the outside of the chain link fence. Sector 27 was behind her. The mountains were before her. Bravo waited patiently at her side as she stared at Jay, Georgia and Flash. Lieutenant Danes hung back near the checkpoint, watching the scene with a curious expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” Georgia said at last. “I would go with you, Elle, I really would… but I’m tired. Tired of walking, tired of fighting. Tired of getting kidnapped by maniacal sociopaths…” she cracked a wry smile. “I just want to be safe.”

“Behave yourself,” Elle advised. “No drug dealing, no cigarettes.”

“I’ll try,” Georgia laughed. “I’m going to miss you, shortstack.”

She crossed the distance between her and Elle, drawing her into a tight hug. She pulled away quickly, enough for Elle to see the tears in her eyes. Elle blinked — hard — and remained stoic.

“Goodbye, Elle,” Flash said. He nodded, reaching his hand out. He squeezed Elle’s fingers and bowed his head. “Thank you… for everything.”

“Don’t mention it,” Elle replied. “Seriously. Don’t.”

And then there was Jay. He stood there, his arms crossed over his broad chest, his dark skin glimmering against the early morning sun. He swallowed.

“Goodbye,” he said. He held out his hand.

Elle stared at it, her eyes darting back to his face, searching for some sign of humanity. For a sign of gratitude, maybe? For him to acknowledge that she had put everything on the line for this group’s survival — something that she had vowed never to do. It was a selfish desire. Elle knew this. But it didn’t change the fact. She wanted that simple validation before she left — from Jay more than anyone.

“It’s not goodbye,” Elle replied, shaking her head. “It’s just ‘see you later.’”

Jay lowered his hand, meeting her gaze.

“Yeah,” he said. “See you later.”

Elle shoved her thumbs against the straps of her backpack.

“Okay, then,” Elle said. “See you guys.”

“See you,” Flash answered.

“Yep.”

Jay suddenly took a step forward and folded Elle into a warm embrace. Georgia wrapped her arms around Elle from the side, and Flash joined in, too. It took Elle by surprise. She remained stiff for a moment, and then relaxed into the group hug. She felt a flood of warmth and happiness, of camaraderie and friendship. For the first time in her life, she felt loyalty.

The hug ended all too soon.

Georgia wiped her eyes, Flash sniffed, and Jay said:

“Thank you. None of us would be alive if you hadn’t been there for us. In Los Angeles. When the Slavers took us. You are the best friend any of us will ever have.”

Elle stared at him. She looked down, chewing on her lower lip, feeling dangerously close to crying. “Don’t just thank me,” she finally said. “Thank Bravo.”

“Bye, baby,” Georgia bawled, letting loose. She knelt down and hugged the dog, kissing his nose. “I’m going to miss you so much!”

“We all know who Georgia’s favorite is,” Jay commented.

He smiled.

“Yeah,” Elle answered. A pause, then, “We need to get going.”

Georgia got to her feet, wiping her tears away with the sleeve of her shirt.

“See you later,” she said.

“See you,” Flash added.

“See you soon,” Jay finished. “We will meet again.”

Elle lifted her chin.

“We will,” she told him. “Count on it.”

Bravo wagged his tail.

Lieutenant Danes waved from the fence, never moving, yet never taking his eyes off the group of kids. Elle lifted her left hand in a farewell wave, slipping her other hand into her pocket. She slid her aviators on her face, looking toward the mountains.

“See you,” she said one more time.

She was off again.

It didn’t take Elle long to reach the Central Valley. Her journey through the mountains was monotonous and tiring, filled with cold wind and brisk nighttime temperatures. She spent the silence of the journey talking to Bravo, reflecting on the past weeks and wondering how her life would have been different if she had never met Jay, Georgia, Flash and Pix.

“I’d probably still be in Los Angeles,” she mused. “I’d probably be dead.”

You’d definitely be dead, Bravo huffed. Without me, you wouldn’t last five minutes out here.

“Hey, I can take pretty good care of myself,” Elle retorted.

Pretty good is different than very good.

“You’re a cynic, dog.”

And proud of it, human.

Elle laughed.

The Central Valley was sunny and clear today. The mountains were behind Elle, rolling and beautiful in the light. She was getting close to her first stop.

Why are we stopping at a gas station again? Bravo wondered, casting a sideways glance at Elle. His eyes sparkled. Need I remind you that we don’t have a car and gas pumps don’t work anymore?

“You need not,” Elle replied. “I told you. I promised to finish my part of a trade.”

What kind of a trade? I hope it involves something for me.

“I don’t think people trade doggy toys anymore.”

You say that word like it’s degrading. Doggy toys are my favorite.

“Because you’re a dog.”

Thanks for noticing. I’m certainly not a cat. Bravo shook his head. This is it.

He stopped and stared at the small gas station in the distance. The general store was sitting in the open sunshine. It looked even more withered and faded since the last time Elle had seen it. Elle had amazed herself, coming back to this place. She had figured that she would bypass it, but the feeling of guilt that came along with that idea was overwhelming. She had made it across the desert and into the San Jacinto Mountains because of the supplies that she had taken from Bob and Sienna’s trading post. She had promised to bring them back a proper trade, and she had to stay true to that.

She didn’t want to be like the rest of the world.

She wanted to be good.

Elle approached the building from an angle, watching the windows, watching the roof. The area was silent. The road was empty. The dry plum orchards surrounding the station were abandoned.

I smell trouble, Bravo warned, brow furrowing.

“What kind of trouble?” Elle whispered.

Don’t know. It just doesn’t smell right.

Elle licked her lips and they ran to the corner of the building, pausing near the drainpipe. There wasn’t a sound coming from within the building. Elle pulled the katana from its sheath. She rarely used this weapon — it was something she reserved for occasions when it was necessary to be as quiet as possible.

She held it steadily in her hands, keeping a firm grip on the handle. She tipped her head forward and Bravo jogged ahead, to the door. He paused, listening. His ears remained still.

Not a sound.

Elle frowned and walked to the door. She took a deep breath and banged her fist against the metal.

“Sienna?” she called. “Bob? It’s me. The girl with the sword?”

Nothing.

“I’m back,” Elle continued. “I brought you something to finish our trade.”

Still nothing.

Elle shrugged.

“I guess this is the part where we force our way in,” Elle said.

Finally. Some fun. Bravo tensed up, snorting. You first.

Elle jiggled the door handle. The handle itself was rusted and loose. Elle pushed on the door and it swung open, slamming against the interior wall. She and Bravo remained unmoving, staring into the dark building. There were only the shadowy shapes of shelves and refrigerator doors. Elle stepped over the threshold, keeping the katana up and ready to swing.

“Sienna?”

Her eyes adjusted to the darkness of the room. She could see the note that she had left on the wall, in the dust, promising to return with a trade. Several of the shelves in the middle of the store had been overturned. Supplies like paper towels and plates had been dumped on the floor. The glass case built into the counter — the one holding cigarettes and lottery tickets — had been shattered. Shards of glass lay on the floor, twinkling as sunlight slid through the open doorway.

Danger, Bravo warned, growling. Be careful.

Elle looked toward the back of the building. The chair in which Bob had been sleeping last time was still there, and someone was sitting in it. Elle walked closer.

“Hey,” she said.

Again, there was no response.

It was a man. A baseball hat was pulled low over his face. Elle tapped his leg with the toe of her shoe. He didn’t move. She kicked the brim of the hat. It flew off the man’s head.

Elle stifled a scream. It was Bob, but his face had begun to decompose. He was dead — it looked like he had been so for a long time. His skin was a dull shade of yellow. His eyes were still open, rotted and lifeless. His hair was mottled with insects and the stench of his body was putrid. Elle doubled back and gagged, horrified.

She had seen many dead bodies in Los Angeles — but she had not been expecting it here. This was a shock. Bravo whined softly.

I tried to warn you, he said. I smelled death.

Elle steadied herself, her eyes falling to the furthest corner of the room. Sienna was laying there, her face to the wall, her long skirt strewn out like a tablecloth, covering her ratty boots.

There was blood everywhere. On the floor, on the chair, on their clothes. The entire corner reeked of the stuff. On the wall, someone had dipped their hands in the blood and smeared a message:

MILITIA SCUM DIE LIKE THEY DESERVE

JOIN THEM AND YOU WILL PAY

Elle shuddered. This was Omega’s doing. Sienna and Bob must have been working for the California militia groups. They had been caught, and now they had paid the ultimate price.

Elle stumbled out of the general store, falling on her hands and knees in the sunshine, holding her fist against her mouth. She cried quietly. The world was so cruel now. So vicious. There was death everywhere. It was all around her, in the ground, in the sky, in the water.

The invasion had destroyed everything. The days following it had only rebuilt the world on the foundation of destruction. Anarchy, murder, devastation and loss.

There was no one who would escape the days following Day Zero without heartache.

The world was burning, and there weren’t enough people left to put out the flames.

Elle dug two graves. She laid Sienna and Bob’s bodies to rest. It took hours, digging the holes behind the gas station, dragging the bodies across the dirt, and filling the hole. Bravo watched the whole thing with a solemn expression on his face.

“People keep dying,” Elle muttered, throwing the rusty shovel aside. “I bet I’ve buried more people in one week than most people ever will in their entire lifetime.”

Just because you’re the one holding the shovel doesn’t mean anything.

“It means that I was the one who dug the graves,” Elle deadpanned.

Bravo snorted and shook his head, sending droplets of moisture into the air. Elle picked up her backpack and swung it over her shoulder, taking a final look at the graves. They weren’t perfect, but at least it was a place where Bob and Sienna could rest in peace.

“Sorry I couldn’t save you,” Elle whispered. She backed away, heading toward the highway again. Bravo followed.

All of this work has made me hungry. Bravo looked at Elle with expectant eyes. Do you have anything to share with me or do I have to go hunt something?

“Wow, that’s a pathetic face,” Elle remarked, rolling her eyes. “Fine. I’ll get something for you to eat.”

She rummaged through her backpack, finding pieces of dried jerky. She handed them to Bravo. He ate quickly and efficiently, gnawing through the hard meat.

“Really?” Elle said. “Slow down. You’re eating like a slob.”

I really don’t care. Bravo exhaled in her face.

“Gross!”

He triumphantly resumed his meal while Elle snapped an old protein bar in half. She had been given food and water — basic rations — at Sector 27. Enough to last for two weeks at least. The road to the Sierra Nevada Mountains was straight and there shouldn’t be any trouble.

Shouldn’t, however, was a key word.

“Let’s go, dog,” Elle said, jumping to her feet.

I hate to eat and run.

“Too bad!” Elle grinned widely and sprinted down the freeway, a sudden burst of energy surging through her body. “You snooze you lose!”

Bravo raced to catch up with her, soaring past her in a blur of speed and agility. Elle laughed and they ran down the empty highway lanes. Elle stopped and Bravo trotted up to her, resting his head in her hands.

“You’re a good boy,” Elle said. She kissed the center of his forehead, feeling his soft fur. “I’m glad I’m not alone out here.”

Bravo’s eyes smiled brightly.

Me too.

Epilogue

The shadow of a man moved silently through the night, following the girl and the dog. There was a feverish glint in his eyes, veiled only by the darkness sweeping over the valley floor. The girl moved quickly and the dog was alert. The man couldn’t get close to the girl without making his presence known to the dog, so he hung back, enough so that they were nothing but specks in the distance, but close enough so that he wouldn’t lose their trail.

He burned with hatred, with an obsession.

True, he was on a mission, but there would be a time when he would kill the girl and the dog. It would be soon. Very soon.

All he had to do was wait.

To Be Concluded in

End of Day

The Final Installment of The Zero Trilogy

More Titles by Summer Lane

The International Bestselling Collapse Series

Book One: State of Emergency

Book Two: State of Chaos

Book Three: State of Rebellion

Book Four: State of Pursuit

Book Five: State of Alliance

Book Six: State of Vengeance — Coming June 26^th, 2015

The Bestselling Zero Trilogy

Day Zero

Day One

End of Day — Coming October 9^th, 2015

Connect with Summer Lane:

Email: summerlane101@gmail.com

Twitter: @SummerEllenLane

Facebook: Summer Lane — International Bestselling Author

Acknowledgements

Two down, one to go. What was originally conceived as a standalone novel has become a novella series, featuring a very different character from Cassidy Hart in The Collapse Series. Elle Costas is a tough cookie — dangerous and focused, but sympathetic and caring at the same time. Day One shows her slow change from a cold, unemotional apocalypse survivor to a rescuer, a companion, and a friend to Bravo, the always loyal and wise German Shepherd.

I would like to thank J.T. of Indie Editor for her help in combing through Day One and making it the best that it could be. I will never see em dashes the same way again! Thank you to Don Lane for his tips and tricks regarding rock-climbing handholds and holding a katana correctly.

Day Zero has performed so exceptionally well in the world of eBooks because of a massive community of readers and bloggers who keep the momentum going. The Zero Trilogy itself has been so blessed — and so have all of my books. This is my seventh bestseller, and I’m so incredibly thankful. I love my job. It’s crazy. I’ve got five million deadlines to meet every week (or something like that) and when I go to sleep at night I dream about the apocalypse… but it’s all worth it. God has been so good to me. I know this, and I gladly give Him the credit.

You will be secure, because there is hope; you will look about you and take your rest in safety.

Job 11:18

Email me! I love to hear your thoughts and comments on my books:

summerlane101@gmail.com

About Summer Lane

Summer Lane is the international bestselling author of The Collapse Series and Zero Trilogy. Collapse currently includes State of Emergency, State of Chaos, State of Rebellion, State of Pursuit, State of Alliance and the upcoming State of Vengeance in June 2015. Zero includes Day Zero, Day One, and the upcoming End of Day in October 2015.

Summer owns WB Publishing, a digital publishing house devoted to publishing only the most exciting adventure and survival stories. She is also a very accomplished and experienced journalist and creative writing teacher.

Summer lives in the Central Valley of California, where she spends her time writing, teaching, and writing some more. When she is not working, she enjoys visiting with friends at coffee shops, walking along the beach and hiking in the mountains.

To stay updated on all upcoming releases, visit Summer’s Official Website. An updated calendar of all releases can be found there!

summerlaneauthor.com

Praise for The Collapse Series and Zero Trilogy

“Author Summer Lane of Reedley is giving the word ‘prolific’ a run for its money.”

- The Reedley Exponent

“The [Reedley] resident is a prolific writer.”

- Fresno Bee

“Summer is fantastic with writing action, character interaction, and intensity when it comes to scenes.”

- Ruth Silver, Bestselling Author of Dead Girl Walking

“If you haven't read any, start with the first and go all the way through to the end. You will not be disappointed.”

- Andrew Carlson, Author of the Sue Series

“The author has a real knack for writing dialogue as well as action scenes, and I'd say her newest book is her most polished yet.”

- Ellisa Barr, Bestselling Author of Outage

“Great plot, great cast of characters, fast-paced, and full of twists! An awesomesauce read you should get your hands on right now!”

- Juliana Haygert, author of The Everlast Trilogy

Copyright

Copyright 2015

WB Publishing

All Rights Reserved

No part of this work may be reproduced in any form, except to quote in reviews or interviews, without the express permission of the author. Any unauthorized reproduction of this work is punishable by law.

The characters and situations in this book are fictional. Any parallel to persons alive or dead is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.