"That was really close!" Logan said.

"We all made it!" Peter whooped. "I mean, I had my doubts, but...Bren. Wow."

"Not everyone," I said, biting my lip. "Charlie's dead."

Peter waved his hand. "Ah, we know he's gonna die anyway. We're not actually going to keep him in the group, right? He's one of them."

"I thought he was okay," Logan said.

"I was thinking of letting him tag along," I admitted.

"You serious?" Peter asked in disbelief. "Oh...okay then. Here I thought you were just joking, and you brought him along as bait."

I winced and tried to ignore Peter's words, knowing deep down that a part of me was thinking the same thing. "Uh...no. That's not what I want," I said, but it felt hollow. I was glad the others dropped it.

I followed the exit road until we arrived at the east gate. There was no one guarding it—the gates had already been blown outward as if a massive truck had plowed through it in a mangled mess of wood and metal. I guessed the guards had made a run for it, and possibly some of the survivors went this way, too. But there were still hundreds of survivors in the darkness, illuminated by their flashlights, some half-dressed, bloodied, and wounded, all running away from the burning mall toward the destroyed gate. A few tried to call for us to stop, but we didn't have enough room for everyone, and I'm certainly not going to trust them not putting a bullet behind my back once this was all done. All I could do was watch them desperately beg us to stop as I drove past. Thankfully, none of them decided to jump in front of the vehicle.

After we cleared the gate, I let out a shaky breath when I didn't see any vectors—and people—following us, and I relaxed.

Haskell tapped on the back window, and Peter slid it open. "So? Where to? What's the plan?" Haskell asked, cool air blowing into the opening.

"We're going to meet Jun and Alfie south of the wall, but we're supposed to go back through where we came. Now I don't know where that is," Peter said.

"I have a vague recollection of where we are. I hope we won't have to stick out here for a while. Thousands of vectors are now roaming the town, and I don't want to face them again," I said.

"Is Jun that new guy?" Haskell asked.

"Yeah. He got a bow and arrow, so you won't miss him when you meet him," Peter answered.

"Ah. Like Hawkeye?"

"Yeah."

"Is he any good?"

"Er...you know...can you shoot with a bow and arrow?"

"Uh, no?"

"Then, he's better than you."

"What did I say about you being a comedian back at West Point?"

"That I'm good?"

"Stay away from the stage."

"Ah. Now I remember."

"Speaking of comedians," Logan interjected, "This is gonna be a joke looking for Jun and Alfie in the dark. I'm sure they're probably in hiding now that the mall is destroyed and the Alphas are out and about roaming the city. It'll be like looking at a needle in a haystack."

"We can drive around there. Maybe we can find them if we're careful," I said. "If we don't, we can go back to the safe house. I mean, that's the plan if we miss our time window, which is about any minute now. Maybe we should go back to the safe house."

"Or they might still be waiting for us, giving us room to arrive."

"I doubt they'd wait that long."

Haskell gaped. "Hey, wait a minute! We got a safe house? For real? Sweet! I could use a bed and a warm meal. Alpha hospitality isn't exactly five stars."

"We could all use one, Hoss," Peter said.

"How's Miguel?" I asked.

Haskell shrugged and turned to Miguel, said. "Bren asked if you're okay," Miguel threw a thumbs up. "Says he's fine. Miraculously for an old fart."

"Hey! I heard that!"

"That was intentional."

"And I'm not that old, cabrón."

Haskell laughed and reached into the window, nudging Peter on the shoulder. "Yo, you should really hear the words that came out of his mouth back there, the gall in him, man..."

"I heard that, too!" Miguel exclaimed.

"We're gonna get his leg looked at once we get back with Jun and Alfie," I said.

Logan sighed. "Well, I hope those two are okay. Can't imagine a horde that big coming after them, never mind having to lead them to the mall for miles. Kind of made me happy you chose me to come for this instead of that."

Peter patted Logan's shoulder, and Logan scooted farther away from him. "Ah, I'm sure they're okay. At least they didn't have to run, climb, and almost fall three stories high and get eaten by the infected, right?"

"Yeah." Logan glanced at the rearview mirror, and his face dropped. "Damn. We really did a number on them."

I also looked at the rearview mirror, past the huddled forms of Yousef and Miguel where the mall was burning in the horizon, surrounded by the sea of darkness, knowing in the gloom, thousands of vectors were still pouring into their haven.

I did that. I made that happen.

I was the final nail in their coffin, the pin who let the dominos fall, the flick of a finger to bring their house of cards down. I didn't want to think of how many had died because of my plan. It only made me sick to my stomach. I had the urge to park the truck and hurl to the side. There were children there, women and prisoners, the ill and probably dozens of families...and I wished they had all gotten away. I had noticed Elijah—one of the prisoners we had let go—was trying to rescue them through the vehicles they had stolen.

I hoped they're safe and far away.

"Ah, you gotta be shitting me. Bren!" Haskell exclaimed. "We got a problem!"

I glanced at the rearview mirror again, saw only the pitch darkness behind us (the mall was long gone from view) when suddenly, lights flooded our tail, coming from another vehicle quickly closing in.

"Do you think that's Jun and Alfie?" Logan asked.

"Might be," I said. I was wrong. The lights suddenly split into three pairs—three vehicles chasing after us. "Er...I spoke too soon."

Logan paled. "So...not friendly then?"

"I don't think so. Um, Peter? Any suggestions?"

"Drive faster," he said sternly.

"I'm going fast as it is. Do you want us to crash? It's too dark out here." I looked down as the needle on the dash hit past seventy.

They started shooting.

"Fuck!" I screamed.

The side mirror next to me vanished, broken glass splintered onto my window, heard Logan shouted something inaudible before more bullets rained down on us. I ducked as some of the shots left holes on the windshield, but luckily, none of it blocked my view. I looked over my shoulder. The first vehicle was merely an inch from the tailgate, tapping the rim for a kiss. Miguel and Yousef huddled together on their bellies while Haskell crawled toward the end. Aside from Miguel, none of them seemed injured.

"Definitely not friendly!" Logan exclaimed.

"Ya think?" I hissed. I looked back on the road, found the way swerved right to a suburban area. Well, fuck my luck. This is not going to be fun. "Everyone! Hold on!" I warned everyone as I turned the wheels, following the road. Tires squealed, cringing that the ruckus we were making would definitely attract the vectors nearby.

We ended up on a straight road leading into the suburban borders of the town. The truck right behind me sped up, lurching until it managed to match my speed, driving at our left side. Someone rolled down the passenger's side window, and a vague face, slick black hair, and a grim tenacity within the glint in his eyes revealed himself from the gloom, smile wide in a mocking twist—anger, too.

Yousef cursed. "That's Carl! That's the dude that did this to us!"

Another car, an SUV, matched our speed on the right. The driver and the men inside gave Peter some dirty looks and taunts. The third was just a white convertible sports car, keeping pace mere inches behind us with its top already down. Two men brandishing machetes climbed over the windshield and crouched on the hood, realized they were attempting to jump onto my truck.

Carl pointed the gun toward me...

And none of us had any bullets to spare.

"Shit!" I screamed, stepping on the breaks.

Three bullets popped, one hitting the top of my hood, but the last two hit the SUV on the right (now opposite of Carl), shattering glass on the driver's side. There was a sickening squeal of tires, a sure battle between driver and machine, creaking like mad devils before the SUV swerved further right, slamming onto the curb in a desperate struggle for control. White picket fences burst into splinters, running over children's toys left abandoned on the front yard, and then clipping the tail end of a parked sedan on someone's driveway where finally, the SUV skidded to a stop.

The convertible behind me wasn't so lucky.

My truck was bigger, heavier, and had more control than the convertible. As I stepped on the breaks, the convertible desperately tried to avoid me, but he was too close, too preoccupied with the two men still standing on the hood, holding on for dear life. I hit the vehicle, caving his nose in a mad hook, sending one of the men flying into the bed of my truck, sprawled on top of Haskell, who was hiding there. The second man fell off to the side, the side where the convertible had swerved onto, sucked under the wheels in a sickening crunch, painting the convertible's white hood in a splattered mud red. The vehicle lost control and slammed into a tree.

I let out a whoop. "Ha! That'll teach you!"

I stepped on the gas again, turning left on an empty street, glimpsed Carl's truck making a U-turn while the SUV—which was still mostly intact—had just backed out of the driveway with a smashed hood, turning toward us.

"Get him off! Get him off!" Peter screamed to everyone in the back.

Yousef and Miguel had grabbed onto the Alpha's arms, pulling him back to the ground by his shirt, collar, legs, everything they could hold onto as the other struggled to get back on his feet. Haskell wrestled the machete off of his hand.

"I said throw him off!" Peter screamed again.

As if Yousef and Miguel knew exactly what Haskell was about to do, they both let go at the right second, rolling to the side to avoid the man. The Alpha went up to his knees, bringing his arms up to fight back, but Haskell swung the machete high and sliced the man's arms clean off, right up to his elbows. The Alpha screamed, and Haskell swung again; the tip of the blade found the man's throat.

The Alpha was back on his feet, eyes wide in shock as if offended that Haskell had stabbed him. Yousef kicked him on the knees, brought him yelping, reeling sideways, gasping, gurgling, struggling to stop the blood from spilling out of his neck. His back legs hit the railings, eyes bulged, flailed, then disappeared from view.

I saw his body rolling on the road, ran over by Carl's truck a second later.

Carl's truck was behind us once again, headlights bright like sunlight. Bullets cracked against our screams and shouts, the machete clattered to the side, saw Haskell crumpled over, screaming bloody murder, crawling, Yousef dragging him back. Logan dove for the floor beneath the dashboard stuck there like large sardines between Peter's legs, who screamed Haskell's name at the top of his lungs. I didn't have time to see if Haskell was okay or if he's still breathing.

"We're never gonna keep this up for long!" Peter roared.

"Well, unless you have a magic bullet hiding somewhere or that knife of yours starts firing one, now's the time to use it!" I said, annoyed. I looked over my shoulders again and screamed, "Get off my fucking back!"

Up ahead, a few cars blocked the intersection, found an open space to the right, and I took it. Carl's truck swerved in a mad panic, hitting the breaks before they could slam through the abandoned vehicles. Unfortunately for us, they managed to save themselves with inches to spare, turning around, wheels screeching like a banshee to go after us once again. The SUV also, unfortunately, managed to plow through the wide gap, never losing an inch in the chase.

"Uh, maybe we should start losing them?" Logan interjected, climbing back to his seat, using Peter like a crutch. The other man was not amused.

I rolled my eyes. "What do you think I'm doing?"

"Get off my leg, Logan! I'm not a cane!" Peter hissed.

"Sorry!"

"Argh!" Peter screamed. "That's my dick!"

"I said, sorry!"

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Fuck you, man! I'm trying to get up! I almost got shot!" Logan showed a small slice on his upper arm. It didn't look serious. "Flesh wound," he said, grimacing, face turned into a scowl. "Now I'm pissed. Let's go after these assholes."

"Well, get in line!" I said.

The SUV hurtled to our left flank, gave us a good look behind the glass on their glowering faces, counted at least three of them. Peter shook my shoulders repeatedly, pushing me to go faster. I stepped on the gas, frantically searching for a way out, but the SUV had beaten me to it. The SUV did a false swerve toward us, made it seem like they were going to hit our side, caused me to panic, and pulled my foot away from the gas for the breaks and realized it was what they wanted. The SUV sped forward, now blocking our front, matched our speed.

"What the hell are they doing?" Logan asked.

The back hatch lifted open. My eyes went wide.

"Everybody get down!" I screamed and ducked.

A lone Alpha on his knees, rifle in hand, barrel aimed toward us. I didn't have to see what he planned to do next. The bullets came in bursts—ratatat—stopped for a breath—ratatat—screams all around—ratatatatat—or was it a pause to aim better? Never mind. A bullet is a bullet, and it still hurts. Warmth sank on my shoulder, knew I was shot.

The windshield glass exploded, everything around me shattered, the engine grinding as if gasping for its last breath, still fighting to survive like a madman in a rage. I turned the wheels from left to right, then back again. I wasn't going to make it easy for whoever was shooting to get a good aim at us. All I heard beside me was Logan sputtering, "Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!"

Yes, fuck this.

I stepped on the gas again, put all my weight on it. Breath knocked out of me as we slammed onto the back of the SUV. The Alpha screeched, gun clattering, and disappeared under our wheels. His head hit the hood hard, slid toward the now destroyed windshield, and skidded to a stop right on the dashboard.

"Gah!" The Alpha yelped, eyes locked on Logan's angry face.

"Fucker!" Logan grabbed the man's full head of hair, curled it to a fist, and never let go. Then, Logan kept slamming his head against the dash. "Fuck you! Fuck you! Fuck you!"

"Hold him still!" I said, sliding the hatchet out from the side.

The hatchet split his head open to the bridge of his nose. Logan reeled his hand back, scooting away from the blood pooling on the dash. The body slumped over, and Peter pushed him out to the side, my hand still gripping around the hatchet's handle, cleanly pulling it out of his skull; his body limply fell off the gunshot-battered hood. Over on the SUV, another Alpha took his place, now with a handgun aimed at me.

An arrow wheezed past and slammed itself against the back of the gunman's hand. Howling, he dropped the pistol, blood splattering, clutched his injured hand, and crawled deeper into the SUV.

A beam of light hit us from the right, a car barreled toward us. It hit the SUV instead, sickeningly crashing onto its side, pushing it out of the road. Both of the vehicles hit the sidewalk in a mangled mess of shattered glass and crumpled metal. The SUV struck the fences, turning to its side, never stopping until it plowed into the front porch, breaking one of the pillars in half. The porch roof collapsed on top of it. The other car slammed on the SUV's open trunk; its hood caved inward.

I stepped on the breaks, went to reverse.

"What are you doing? Keep driving!" Peter exclaimed.

"It's Jun and Alfie," I said.

"Are you sure?"

"Saw the arrow. I only know one guy that uses that. Do you?"

Peter didn't say anything.

I parked the car right in front of the destroyed house, saw Jun pulling Alfie out of the wreckage. A smile crept on my face. "They're still alive! Quick! Logan, get behind the wheel. I'm gonna get them. Be ready to punch it."

I didn't wait for the others to respond, jumped out of the door, and ran toward the upturned vehicle. The two Alphas in the SUV were both dead. Jun retrieved the arrow from the Alpha's hand and returned to help Alfie out of the door. I grabbed Alfie's other outstretched hand, and Jun and I started pulling him out.

"Can you feel your legs?" Jun asked him once we were a safe distance away.

"Uh...I don't know..."

"Can you feel your legs?" Jun asked him again, poking at his thigh. He pinched him hard there, took a mound of flesh, and twisted it.

"Ow! That shit hurts, man!" He screeched, wiggled his grip off my hand.

"Good. You can walk then."

"I might have a concussion or a broken jaw...and ow! My hips hurt..."

"Welcome to the club," I said, smiling down at him.

"Ah, good to see you too, Bren. When you guys didn't show up, we thought the Alphas had you until we heard the gunshots. I only know one person who can piss off somebody like that. We really pissed them off, didn't we?"

I patted his chest and extended my hand out again. "Yeah, we're alive. Now get up. We got to move fast. Carl's gonna be here any minute—"

"Too late," Jun said, pointing to the corner. Carl's truck appeared, turning toward us. "Who?" Jun asked me.

"Ah...The Alphas' leader, I think? Carl's the name."

Jun nodded. "We need to take him out now and finish this."

I blinked, staring at him for a heartbeat. Unlike me, Jun had probably fought against the Alphas for weeks, hunted by them. I only faced them for two days, and I couldn't imagine the things they had done to him. We still had no idea how many had survived the assault in the mall or if they had called for reinforcements. If Carl survived, the others might have, too. I agreed with him. I reckoned that Carl wouldn't stop coming after us, given what we did to his people.

I gave Jun a curt nod, put Alfie's arm around my shoulders, and hauled him up to his feet. Then, the truck's engine sputtered, died. Logan tried to turn the ignition back on, but the truck merely groaned, sputtered again, lifeless. He faced me, gave me a terrified look, saw in his eyes how fucked we were, half our group wounded, and us down to fighting with mere knives, hammers, and arrows. They always say not to bring a knife to a gunfight.

"Everybody out!" Peter exclaimed, jumping out of the passenger door. Logan jumped out from the driver's side.

A hundred feet and moving fast. Carl would get to us soon. Where to hide? Where to fight? Where to make our last stand? I calculated there were probably at least four men inside the truck, all heavily armed with guns. Might as well lay down here and let them mow us down like cattle.

I pushed Alfie behind the wreckage. Behind me, Jun knocked an arrow, aimed it toward the approaching vehicle. I ran to the back of the truck, pulling Yousef out, still shaken by the battle. He dragged Haskell with him, still breathing, still moaning, still alive.