After a minute of driving, Dexter and Zoe outpaced all of the constructs chasing them.

His dauntless ability had dropped at some point. He wasn’t sure when, but now he wasn’t in mortal danger he noticed the lack of that twisting sensation it caused when active.

He wondered about his aspirate ability, which had dropped on its own, and whether he could activate it again now. But he was also wary of it. The effect it had on him seemed even stronger than the first time he’d used it. That desire, that need to drink the life from another being. He wasn’t sure if that was simply because there had been an enemy, a mortal danger before him, or some other more nefarious cause.

And he wasn’t about to test it out while alone in a car with Zoe.

Another minute passed without attack or sighting any constructs and Zoe finally stopped urging him to go faster and began searching her interface for her new trapper imprint.

He wanted to try to find the imprint he’d looted from Aaron Murphy, but couldn’t while he was driving, so had only his thoughts to occupy him

He hadn’t yet spotted any other bodies on the side of the road, and unless they were clearly alive and not corpses, he wasn’t stopping until they reached the hospital. They were still the only vehicle out driving, and it made him curious about what everyone else was doing. Sitting locked away in their homes watching the news? Trying to learn the system and get stronger?

How many people had chosen classes, or even used their starting abilities? Only thirty some odd million people had joined as of about an hour ago. Or at least that was how many were left alive.

That horde of constructs suggested many people hadn’t survived the second attack, and he wondered what the total death toll was. Would there ever even be an official count? Would the world continue to run, despite everything? So far, they still had power, running water, functioning hospitals.

It was a lot more than Dexter would have expected. Every zombie movie he’d ever seen had portrayed things breaking down almost immediately. Then again, there were no hordes of undead, only constructs with specific targets. And in that first attack, far less than one per person if the attack on his school was anything to go by.

How much worse would the attacks get? The last system message had implied that those who hadn’t joined wouldn’t be safe forever.

Would the constructs eventually start attacking the young and infirm? And how many of those in the latter category could be healed with these new system abilities?

And what was the government doing? What had they done with the people who’d joined the system already?

Perhaps it was using them, forcing them to pick specific classes, putting them into some new special army. He had to imagine they’d managed to figure out more about the system than he himself had. With the resources of the FBI, NSA, military, or whoever it was behind the abductions, surely they had to be some of the most powerful people on the planet at this point. Several of the names on the leaderboard—especially the ones toward the top—were clearly aliases, and he wondered how many of them were military or government agents.

They needed to figure that out for Zoe. Though, they probably had already seen and logged her name. He really wished she hadn’t joined. But he was glad not to be alone. And he understood why. If he could have saved his parents, he would have done absolutely anything, risked everything, for even the slightest chance.

But he couldn’t. And now, despite the amazing and awful abilities the system granted, there was nothing he could do for them.

You couldn’t save the dead.

He thought of his friends from school, and wondered how they were doing. He’d been in the foster system for a couple years after his parents died, and whether because of the absence, or his situation making the other kids uneasy, he didn’t have close friends anymore. Matt had once been his best friend, but now it felt as though they hardly knew each other.

Wherever Matt and the others who had been taken were, Dexter hoped they were okay. While they weren’t close, Dexter still hated the idea that they’d been kidnapped, and that he couldn’t do anything about it.

Maybe something would come of the protest Mayor Reed had been leading, the one interrupted by the most recent attack.

Dexter hadn’t seen anything in the news about the people who were taken, but he hadn’t looked much, and it was possible that stuff was being censored or suppressed.

He knew one person who’d probably be able to find out: the mayor’s son, Reese Reed. Hell, he probably already knew, if he was still alive.

Dexter remembered seeing Reese on the way to the auditorium, his ridiculous giant gray beard.

Or maybe he’d been taken too. Maybe that was why the mayor was leading a revolt.

“Gah!” Zoe exclaimed, drawing him from his thoughts. “I hate this thing. Why is it so hard to use? Where the hell is this imprint?”

“You have to use your head, think logically.”

“Wow! I never considered that. Gosh Dexter you’re so smart.”

“Only sometimes. Have you looked everywhere?”

“Yeah. I think.” She slumped in the seat and rubbed her eyes. “I’m getting a headache. I think I’m carsick.”

“I thought you didn’t get carsick.”

“I don’t. How many points did you get for that trapper? I only got one.”

“Ninety-nine.”

“Ninety-nine?” She sighed. “I guess you did do most of the work. I really hope this imprint gives me an attack.”

“You might not be able to use the imprint.”

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“You already used one.”

“You think it’s limited to one?”

Dexter shrugged.

“Well I need to find it to find out. Any genius insights where it might be hidden?”

“I can’t imagine. It seems like it would be a whole-body thing, but that’s not in the alteration menu. If that construct had any special abilities, I didn’t notice them.” He frowned. “Actually, I remember it floating on a breeze I couldn’t feel. Like it could summon its own and ignore the actual wind.”

“Great, I can be an airbender,” she said sarcastically. Then she sat up. “Actually, that would be awesome.” She once more began searching her alteration menu for the imprint.

Zoe still hadn’t found the imprint by the time they arrived at the hospital.

The parking lot—the same one in which yesterday Dexter had seen a group of people driven away in a bus to destinations unknown—was more empty than one would expect. Oh, there were still plenty of cars, maybe half the spaces taken up. But given how packed it had been not even twenty-four hours previous, this lack now struck Dexter as odd.

Because of their encounter with Aaron Murphy’s corpse and the trapper construct—not to mention random abandoned or crashed cars in the road on the way here—what should have been a ten-minute drive with no traffic had taken them five times that.

The sun had begun to rise and the parking lot was cast in a warm amber glow that rather than making the area seem welcoming, gave Dexter a sense of foreboding, as though the sun was conspiring to lure them into a trap.

“Do you know Leah’s room number?” Zoe asked as he parked fifty feet back from the entrance, the closest available space.

“Room number?” Dexter laughed without humor. “She was on the floor in a hallway.”

“Huh. They were busy.” She looked around as they got out and headed to the entrance. “Not as busy now.”

“Yeah,” Dexter agreed uneasily.

Inside, he didn’t bother trying to find a nurse, instead heading straight toward the waiting room he’d been in, then orienting himself and trying to recall the hall Leah had been in.

He found it, but Leah wasn’t there.

While the hospital had been packed earlier, it was now empty. At least the hallways were. Where once had been gurneys and makeshift beds was now once again empty halls, much to any fire inspector’s approval.

At this hour, all the doors were closed, all the curtains pulled, so he didn’t know if they’d simply set everyone up in the rooms, or if that many people had been discharged since yesterday.

He didn’t see any signs of attack, even though Leah had said a few people in the hospital had been attacked.

“Can you tell me why we’re standing staring out a window onto a dark parking lot?” Zoe asked.

“This is where she was.” He pointed at the floor below the window. “Right there.”

“Jeez, they really were busy.”

Dexter suddenly had a memory of someone talking about triage, but he pushed it—and the accompanying memories—away. “Let’s go find out where she is.”

They weren’t in any rush, as they still had to wait for Zoe’s heal ability to come off cooldown, but he didn’t feel like wandering around an abandoned hospital. He’d rather spend that time with Leah.

It took several minutes to find anyone, but eventually they found a nurse behind a desk on the second floor, going over a patient chart.

She regarded them suspiciously, but after Dexter explained himself, she told them to wait here and that she’d go find out where his ‘sister’ was.

“Sister?” Zoe whispered after the nurse had left.

“Yeah. Better than new boyfriend.”

“I guess. Lucky she didn’t ask for ID.”

“I’m betting that’s not a big concern for her right now.”

“What if she tells Leah her brother is here and she says she doesn’t have one?”

“The brother thing was her idea. Step-brother.” He’d left this deception out when he’d told her about Leah.

“You could pass for siblings,” Zoe said with a nod. “Look at Topher and Ben.”

“First of all, Topher’s a kid, and Ben’s like twenty.”

“And they don’t look anything alike.”

“If you say so.”

Zoe yawned. “Fighting monsters sure takes it out of a girl. I think I need more sleep.”

“Maybe healing yourself would fix that.”

“If only I could use it more often.”

“After you heal Leah, you can sleep on the way. It’s going to take us more than an hour to get to the city. Maybe longer if there’s traffic or any other holdups.”

Zoe sighed. “I wish we could take a plane.”

“Maybe we can steal one.”

She smiled. “Evil. I like it. Try calling her.”

“The plane?”

“No stupid. Leah.”

“Her phone died. I was supposed to bring her a charger.”

“Did you pack one?”

“Yeah. It’s in the car.”

“You should try calling anyway.”

Dexter did, but it went straight to voicemail.

Zoe pulled out her phone, leaned against the counter, and began browsing. “Might as well catch up on current events.”

But she didn’t get much chance as less than a minute later the nurse returned, following behind rather than leading a tall, attractive woman in her late twenties to early thirties. She wore tight jeans and a blue graphic tee under a white doctor’s coat.

She managed to look professional despite her casual attire. Like a pediatrician.

Her light brown hair was pulled back in a short tail, and not a strand was out of place.

“You’re looking for Leah Rosebright?” she asked without preamble.

Dexter nodded. “Yes.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Bit early for a visit.”

“Bit crazy lately.”

She smiled. “Got me there. You’re her brother?”

“Uh, step. But yes.” Dexter didn’t think she would check. And anyway, how would she be able to? This was Albany, not their little town of Havenport. It wasn’t like step-siblings always had the same last names. He was even prepared with the lie that her mom was married to his dad, and Leah had kept her biological father’s name.

He just hoped the harried nurse who’d seen them kissing hadn’t gone around spreading gossip.

With everything going on, he doubted it was at the forefront of her thoughts.

But his prepared lie turned out to be unnecessary, and the doctor simply said, “Follow me,” before turning and walking away, leaving the three of them, Zoe, Dexter, and the nurse, staring after her.

Dexter was the first to move after her, and Zoe quickly followed, giving the nurse a wave and a thank you before jogging to catch up, passing Dexter and stopping beside the doctor, striking up a conversation. Or more like assaulting her with a barrage of questions.

The doctor didn’t seem to mind.

As she led them through empty corridors, Zoe asking one question after another—how many people had died, what happened to everyone who’d been here yesterday, how much sleep was she getting, could she write an emergency prescription for Adderall—he followed, noticing the tightness of the doctor’s jeans.

That was when he realized she’d taken off her doctor’s white coat and now had it over one arm.

Why would she do that?

Whether because of tiredness or biology, he found himself entranced, and so was surprised when a message suddenly appeared.

BovaryHeimlich

Level: None

She was in the system. Well, that wasn’t exactly a surprise. Constructs had been here. He wanted to ask her if she’d joined before that, or after. He wondered if she’d chosen a class.

That name was clearly an alias, so she must have figured out how to change it. This made him remember that Zoe’s name would show up in the system. His wouldn’t, only listing his title, Dauntless, but people could still tell that he was in the system if they inspected him. Had this doctor discovered the eye button that enabled that? She must have if she’d figured out how to change her name. Was that why she had studied them for so long?

Dexter found himself opening his mouth to ask her something, though he wasn’t sure what.

Whatever it was he meant to ask, no words came out.

Zoe stumbled beside the doctor.

The doctor stopped and looked back at her. “Are you okay sweetie?”

Zoe shook her head, but didn’t respond.

The doctor studied Dexter. “What about you?”

Dexter couldn’t respond either.

What was going on?

He was… something. It was hard to think. He wasn’t tired exactly, but he felt like he was on the verge of falling asleep.

He tried to recall which finger he’d put his endure ability on, not sure that it would even help.

The doctor took both of his hands in hers, and he looked up into her eyes.

Up? Had she grown taller? Some ability?

No, he realized. He was on his knees now.

“Stop fighting it,” she whispered.

Dexter noticed he couldn’t move his fingers, couldn’t twitch them to activate an ability.

She looked down at his hands in hers. “You’ve discovered that, I see. Good. That’s very good.” She looked him in the eyes. “Just sleep. It’s so much easier than fighting it.” A faint smile played at her lips. “And anyway, you can’t win.”

Dexter only vaguely processed her words. She knew something, but what?

She was an enemy, that was about the only thing that was clear to him.

He found his gaze focused on the floor, on a body. Zoe’s. She was unconscious, lying face down on the floor.

What was going on?

He had no idea, but he fought against it.

The doctor—or woman pretending to be one—grunted. “Jesus kid. You’re not even Copper. I’m impressed.”

Where was everyone? Why was no one here to help?

He couldn’t give up. He had something that could help. An ability. He focused on it. He didn’t need his fingers, didn’t need the hotring. He could feel it there, waiting to be activated.

Then his world twisted and he felt a pull on his mind. But this time, it wasn’t from her.

She grunted again and squeezed his hands tightly.

“The hell,” she got out. “How’d you do that?”

He’d activated his endure ability. His mind was a little clearer now. But not as much as he’d like. He’d been mortally wounded before and the ability had cleared his mind completely, made the pain irrelevant.

This was different. He was still affected by whatever she was doing to him.

He yanked his hands free from her. He was clear-headed enough to realize she was the one doing this to them.

Dexter twitched his finger, tasted metal and fire. He’d intended to activate his forge ability, gotten the locations mixed up, but aspirate would do just fine.

He lunged for her as desire overtook him. Lust. Not for her body, but what coursed through it. Not blood, not anything so material. But power, raw and true.

She’d been coming back for him, but now widened her eyes in surprise as he crashed into her and sank his teeth into her arm.

She cried out. “Son of a—”

Dexter drank deeply from her, feeling himself grow stronger by the moment. His breathing was rapid and the hunger burned at him, ate him away. He never wanted to stop feeding.

“You little bastard.” Her words were slurred. She was trying to fight him off, but he kept his jaw clamped tight, kept drinking her power away.

Then she suddenly stopped fighting.

Had she passed out?

But he didn’t care. Right now, whether she lived or died was only of consequence to him in that if he drained her completely, he’d have no more power to take from her. There was something, an intuition, some deep genetic memory that he shouldn’t kill her, that only with her continued existence would she continue to provide power for him to drink.

But he couldn’t burrow into her, couldn’t hide inside her body like the construct he’d stolen this ability from had done to the gliding semaphore it called host.

So he kept drinking.

He felt a prick on his neck, and then a burning sensation.

Lightheadedness suddenly rushed through him, and he found himself on the floor, looking up at the doctor, hunger burning in his core. She had a gun in one hand, the other, the one he’d bit, hung limply at her side.

She knelt beside him and he tried to get up, but his limbs wouldn’t listen. “I don’t know what you just did, but don’t blame me if you get brain damage from this.”

Then she injected him again—the gun shot drugs, not bullets—and his world slowly faded to black.