"Do you think we should have waited for Steve longer?" Logan asked me from the passenger's seat. I was driving the humvee while Miguel drove behind us.

I shook my head. "We've been out there for four hours," I said.

The spot wasn't far from the refugee camp, maybe a couple of miles, and it would only take Steve an hour or two to get there if our theory was correct that he was trying to shake off some folks following him. Steve was a smart man, so I wouldn't think he'd get jumped that easily. But I was confused about why he would stay in the refugee camp of all places. There was nothing there but people, a cesspool of disease, and heated jealousy for one another.

And if he did get back to the spot, well, he was out of luck and with no ride.

"We'll come back there tomorrow and look for him," I said. "I'm not angry with him; I'm just concerned."

"Have you thought about driving west instead?"

I sighed. "Still the same logistics, Logan. I already told you."

Logan was about to say more, but I was glad he didn't.

I hailed Miguel on the CB radio, checking on him if he was doing okay. He gave me a brief response. I looked at the side view mirror and saw he was following too close to my tail, perhaps too scared he'd lose me under the darkness.

I turned right to a dirt road flanked by heavily thick forests a couple of miles out from the campsite. As I was about to hail over the CB radio to Luke that we were almost there, a small figure dashed out of the bushes, stopping midway as the headlights flooded him. I put my weight on the breaks, screeching to a stop a couple of inches away from the shivering form.

It was Henry.

"Watch the woods," I said to Logan. He climbed out of the vehicle with his rifle at the ready. Henry still had his hands raised over his eyes, covering himself from the headlights' glare, so I switched it off. I climbed out after.

"Bren!" Henry squeaked, running up to me and wrapped his arms around my hips. His white shirt was in tatters, covered in dirt and sweat. I kept an eye on the woods as I held Henry tighter.

"What's wrong? What happened to the camp?"

"It's awful! I—I can't do anything!" Henry cried.

Miguel came up behind me, mouth hanging open as he stared at the kid. It was then I saw a tiny steak knife on his left hand. It was coated with blood, and it seemed fresh. I looked him over, checking for wounds, but it wasn't from him.

"You see anything?" I asked Logan.

"Nothing yet," he said. He had the night vision over his eye, scanning the darkness and the woods.

"Where did you get this?" Miguel asked Henry.

"I...I grabbed it. Margot told me to run, so I did."

"Who's blood is this?"

"I stabbed him," Henry said.

"Stabbed? Who did you stab?"

"He grabbed me, so I did what you would do, Bren. Like I saw," he said.

"Who did you stab, Henry? A vector?"

Henry's lips quivered again, and shook his head. He couldn't say, too scared or too numbed to warp his mind around it—this poor kid—but I was desperate for information. Henry pointed deep into the woods on the path where he came from.

"He's down there," he said.

I started heading toward the path, my rifle in hand. "Miguel, take Henry inside the humvee. Lock the doors and watch over the turret hatch. Any hostiles, fire with one of the machine guns. Logan, you're with me."

"Come on, little man. Let's get you inside," I heard Miguel said. I glanced back and saw them going inside the first humvee. Then, Miguel climbed up the turret.

I pulled one of my night vision and placed it over my right eye. Everything lit up green. I told Logan not to use his flashlights. I didn't want them spotting us in the darkness.

"We'll move one step at a time. I lead; you watch my back," I said.

"Could it be another survivor? Someone who followed and raided us?"

"I was careful," I said.

"I know you are. But how about the others?"

It was not the time to think about it right now. All that mattered was that they were here, and we had to deal with them fast. I stepped into the path, making sure that I wasn't making too much noise. If there was one thing that I learned the past two weeks was learning how to sneak, how much pressure I could place on my footsteps, and how far I could hold my breath.

I caught specks of blood down the path, probably coming from Henry's knife. It made it easier to follow where it came from, and all I had to do was watch out for any ambushes, thought that maybe the guy he stabbed was still alive. As the blood grew thicker, we slowed our steps to a crawl, more alert and wary.

A soft, gurgled cough echoed in the darkness.

It came from a maple tree ahead. I glanced at Logan, signaled for him that we would flank them. I signed I would go east and he'll take west, and he nodded. We fanned out. Soon, I couldn't hear Logan's footsteps as we neared the tree. The path veered downward to a small clearing.

A man sat against the tree, face so pale like snow, a bloodied hand wrapped around his throat. His wheezing grew louder, and when he saw us approaching, he stirred, ready for a fight, but the wound took all the strength he had. I saw no weapons on him, but I did catch the M4 carbine laying six feet to his left.

I moved over toward it and kicked it away, pointing my gun at him. When I took a closer look, I realized he was wearing the army uniform. The soldier stared back at me, hands pressed firmly at his bleeding throat where Henry had stabbed him. He tried to form some words, but they came out incoherent.

I realized he saw our military uniforms and thought we were friendlies, and perhaps he was calling for us to help him. But as we drew near, it took him a moment to see our faces, and his breathing grew ragged--He did not recognize us. It ceased suddenly, eyes glazed, staring high up the dark sky, and the pressure around his throat relaxed; blood flowed with ease.

"Damn. Henry did that? A kid?" Logan muttered.

I was shocked, thinking that perhaps a squad of soldiers were in our camp right now. I had thought that we were safe, seeing as how far Thompsons Lake was from the walls by at least ten miles. There was nothing here but the woods, a few local campgrounds, and sparse farmlands. I had so many questions about why they were here.

"Watch my six," I told Logan.

I crouched down at the dead soldier's side, checking his pulse on his wrist just to make sure (he's dead). I took off his packs from his vest and put his extra ammo, a map, and a small first-aid kit at the side. I rolled the body over and grabbed his combat knife sheathed on his back and a CB radio with a wire connected to his ear. I put the lone earbud over my right ear and listened, but his team hadn't hailed him. I pocketed all of them and handed the rest to Logan.

My mind was swimming. I did not know if the others were still in the camp, but since Henry managed to run this far, I surmised that they still were. I did not know how much time I had left or how many were hurt, but the only question I had left was why they went out for a patrol this far and this hidden for a small camp of survivors?

I continued looting his body. It made me fucking sick to my stomach, and I did not want to be puking my guts. I had never killed a person before, and I was afraid that tonight would change all that.

"What are we going to do?" Logan whispered.

"The past three days, tell me the average count of the soldiers going out on patrol. The ones we've spotted."

Logan thought for a moment. "Um, three—no—four. I think."

I nodded. "Same count for me. So, Henry already took care of this one, then, that means there are two or three of them left." I slipped the soldier's CB radio into one of my pockets and turned them on. "I'll follow Henry's trail back to the camp."

"What if there are more?"

I paused. If there were, it would be just one good fucking lousy luck. "Then, I'll deal with them."

Logan gripped my wrist hard. It was then I noticed that my hands were shaking. My whole body was trembling. "I'm coming with--"

I beat him to it. "You're not coming with me."

"I can fight."

"Against vectors, yes. But people, Logan?"

"Vectors are people, or were."

"That's different."

He scoffed. "I am not a marshmallow who hadn't been in a couple of fistfights."

"I don't deny that you are strong and agile, but you are a two-hundred-pound, six-foot-two high school quarterback behemoth who rarely shot a gun two weeks ago, better yet took a knife to someone's head. You're not exactly quiet or subtle in the dark. My father taught me how to shoot a gun since I was eight, and he taught me how to use a knife since I was eleven to defend myself. These soldiers have months or years of training with them. I'm going. You're staying."

Logan shook his head. "That's nice and all, but I'm still coming, and no, you can't argue out of this. Every man needs someone they can fall back on, and that's me. If you get in trouble, what then?"

I sighed. This was precisely what I did not want to do. I glanced up the sky, thinking how much time I had left before the soldiers went off on their way, and I'd lose them. I did not know if the others were even alive. If they were, then...they would pay.

"Fine, come with me, but don't get in my way. Let's hurry up. We're wasting time already."

"What will we do with this guy?"

I looked down at the soldier slumped on the ground, then to the woods. Compartmentalize, I told myself.

"Nothing. We'll leave him here."

I took all the weapons and ran back to where Miguel and Henry were. I told them where to hide and cover the humvee. Miguel was adamant about joining us too, but I couldn't leave Henry alone in the woods. Miguel relented, and Logan and I headed back to Henry's path.

We took off on a run, slowing down the closer we get to the camp. I had my ears perked for any chatter over their comms, and the moment I sniffed an ambush or a twig snapped, I promised myself I would take them out with extreme prejudice.

By my estimate, as we neared a thousand feet away from the main camp, Logan and I broke off. The first day we camped out here, we spotted a low-lying hill on the northern grounds, though it did not have a vantage point for the city. It did, however, had one for the campgrounds.

I paced myself to a turtle's crawl until my footsteps were barely a whisper. My heart was hammering, but I did not let it distract me. I could hear the crackle of fire from the logs in the camp pit and the piercing chirp of crickets in the spring night. I could make out the outline of the bus. Another humvee (not ours) was parked beside it.

There was a man on the ground not far from the campfire, but I couldn't tell who it was.

I moved right, took out my knife. My dad always told me that I sucked at throwing a blade. I could throw (forty percent) the right amount of force for the blade to stick, but most of the time, I would fail. Then, there came techniques about spin and trajectory (and a whole can of worms about physics), and all I could come up with was a sloppy throw.

Tonight, I had no time for a sloppy throw. The knife on my hand would save my ass if one of the soldiers happened to stumble upon me. It'll be a nice distraction, something he would dodge right before I put a bullet through his head in his next move. Quick, but noisy.

If I could only have a silencer right now, it would be a godsend, and I wouldn't have to make this fight up close. Then, I felt the pit in my stomach growing wider, threatening to empty what I had just eaten hours ago. I was thinking of killing another human being like it was nothing.

Another training.

Another dummy.

I shook my head out of my daze.

I hid behind a tree, waiting for Logan's word. I peeked it out a couple of times, gauging out the others' location. I saw Aria and Margot sitting close to the campfire, their wrists bound, but they were not gagged, possibly because no one was going to hear them if they screamed. The nearest house was abandoned a long time ago.

Felipe and Alfie were loading the humvee with supplies from the bus. I was confused about why they did not just drive off with the vehicle because it was sitting right there, ready for the taking. Then, as if it was thinking on its own, my hand reached into my pockets and fished out the bus's keys.

I sighed in relief. I forgot I had it with me. If I had returned it to Felipe or Luke, they would have driven out by now and perhaps, take the others with them (or killed them right on the spot). I thought of Luke, but I didn't see him anywhere.

A couple of minutes later, Logan cackled into my earbud, telling me he was ready. I imagined him up on the tree spying down on the camp, and I waited for the answer I wanted to hear.

I thought, please let it be two.

"I count three," he said.

Shit. "Copy. Where are they now?"

"One near the camp. He's guarding everyone."

"What about the other two?"

"patrolling the perimeter, sometimes checking up on Felipe and Alfie. One is further away. South of the bus."

Closest to me.

I looked over again. Near Aria and Margot, a soldier walked into view, covered head-to-toe in tactical gear, armed to the teeth, and had a gas mask. I guessed they didn't get the memo that the virus was not airborne.

"Go dark. Wait for my signal," I said.

"Copy. Out."

I listened to the soldiers' channel again. I caught a conversation, but the two soldiers were not in my sight. Lampp, the soldier that just died, had not returned, and the soldiers were concerned that he had been silent for ten minutes now. One soldier, Payne called himself, told the other man, named Haskell, that Lampp was still probably looking for the kid. The last soldier said the two to keep an eye out.

I almost outed myself when I gasped to hear the last soldier mentioned an Arab and another tall guy, fearing that they'll return to make an ambush since the two were armed when they escaped. Yousef and Luke had made it out when the soldiers came, but I was curious who was the man on the ground. I had feared it was Luke since he was the one on watch duty.

"Let Ramos and Kahler sniff them out," said the last soldier in the comms. "We'll hear back from them eventually."

Two more, I thought, shivering. There were two more out there in the woods. I relayed the information to Logan, but I knew he would not spot them out in the woods; The canopy was too thick.

I hailed Logan. "Yousef and Luke got away."

A pause.

"You want me to hail them?" He asked.

"I don't know if they have the radio. And it is too late to retreat and plan another way. They'll be gone by then. I'm going in."

Another pause.

"Alright. I'll try to hail them just in case. Over and out."

I'm too close to the first three, and if I attacked now, the other two would quickly close in on my location, and I'd be dead. I had to lead one of them further out.

I peeked out. The soldier closest to me had wandered a little further out, his radio in his hand. He peered into the darkness, probably thinking he'd spot Lampp returning with Henry, but he wouldn't.

I imagined I was a rabbit. The closest tree with a wide trunk was five feet away from me. I could close the gap within two paces—a swift lunge—and the soldier would catch me at the corner of his eye, and hopefully, came forward to investigate. Would that be enough? I could throw a twig in that direction, but this was not a video game. He would call it in before checking it out, and if he as much uttered a gasp or heaved a ragged breath on the radio, I'm toast. I could wait for him to move again, crossing fingers he'd wander further away, but I am not staking my friends' lives on this guy's decision on where to stand guard.

He needed to move, and it had to be fast, one that wouldn't involve a big scuffle, a clean slice across the throat. My hand started to tremble, and I kept telling my mind to quit that.

I had a glimpse of the soldier standing two hundred feet or so to my left. He was massive, a colossus straight out of a Greek play. How could I possibly fight him and choke him to sleep? He had a thick neck and a muscular frame, one that could probably deadlift three hundred pounds. He would throw me like a rag doll as if I weighed the size of a barbie. Maybe I should have heeded my father urging me to work out and build my muscles, and then I might stand a chance right now. But it was too late for hindsight contemplations.

Perhaps I could use that to my advantage. I'm short, not easy to hit, and I'm fast. Based on his gait, I'd say he was slow, but one punch from him would do me in, then the trick was for him not to get a good hit.

But if you brought him with you, his footsteps would have given you away by now.

It was then I realized he had no night vision goggles. With the type of gas masks they wore, there was no room. He could use his rifle's scope, but the scope wasn't as finesse as the PVS-14 optics.

The darkness would be my friend.

I put the rifle and my vest off to the side. It'll lessen my noise as I approached him from behind. I needed to be lighter if I was going to fight him through my agility versus his might.

I threw a small twig, landing with a low thump not far from the tree I wanted to move.

The soldier turned.

"I heard something," he reported.

"Well, go check it out." I recognized Payne's voice.

"It might be them," Haskell said.

"Well, if they were, they'll be running and screaming by now to attack us. You've seen the vids."

"Fuck, I hope not. I don't want to see one up close."

"Pussy," he said. "Stay here. I'll check it out. Watch them close."

Rookies, I thought. They'd never seen them yet. I heard the soldier closest to me approach my location. I leaned further against the trunk, trying to blend into the moss, the undergrowth, and the dim darkness. The soldier's footsteps were not quiet at all. He was a lumbering wolf who couldn't quite understand that he was chasing his prey away.

He stopped at the location where the twig was. Like flowing calm water, I moved to the next tree and hid behind it. To my surprise, he continued walking. "I'll do a quick round of the perimeter. Something's off."

Yeah. Right behind you.

It took a few minutes to follow his footsteps, watching my own. I tried to calculate if the trees, the bushes, and the foliage around us were thick (and far) enough to muffle some of the noise we're going to make because this troll was not going down without a fight.

I crept behind a tree again, low and quiet. The soldier suddenly stopped in his tracks. Did he know I was behind him? Did I give myself away? The soldier started fiddling something on his radio strapped on his belt. Then, he took off his mask.

"We're far enough," he said, his voice gruff.

I froze.

"Come out, give up, and let's get back to camp," he said. "Or, if you'd rather fight it out, well, that's all well and good for me. You're alone, and I can take you."

Well, crap. There was no point hiding now. "Don't be so smug," I said.

I heard him snort. "You're like an elephant who thinks he's a cat."

"I can say the same thing for you."

"But do you have it in you?"

"Have what?"