Panting, I sit up, resting my elbows on my knees for a long moment. My tongue feels thick, the inside of my mouth like sandpaper. I drop my head into my hands, gathering my strength, preparing myself to get up and keep moving. Keep going. It’s all I can do. Either that or I stay here in this spot and die.
Exhaling a heavy breath, I lift my head, bracing myself for the next push.
And that’s when I see it. Arcs of light in the distance, jerking wildly through the air. Flashlights.
My heart kicks faster as adrenaline shoots through me. I struggle to my feet, hope surging. It could be anyone, but wouldn’t the patrols be in a vehicle? As well as goons from the Agency? Who but carriers would be on foot out here in the middle of the night? I want to believe it’s someone from the Resistance. Every fiber of me strains, yearning for it to be them.
Take cover, hide, and die. Eventually. That’s my likely fate. Or I can get closer and see who’s out there. That’s what Caden would do. He’d take a risk. He’d trust.
I push myself to my feet and start walking.
It seems to take forever, but once I’m close enough that I can count them, I stop. Before they can see me, I crouch low and squint at the three shadowy shapes limned in moonlight. Men. They’re too big to be females. The one in the middle holds the flashlight. They’re not especially quiet. They tromp around, their steps heavy, their voices jarring on the otherwise silent night.
Squatting, I inch closer even though my gut already tells me it’s not Caden or any of his crew. They would never be this loud . . . lumbering around like elephants in the semidarkness. They might as well announce their presence with a bullhorn. Stupid. I balance my weight on my heels, preparing to wait until they pass.
Suddenly a rattle sings nearby, shaking its feverish warning. I know the sound for what it is. Crying out, I stumble away, landing on my back. I hear the snake strike, hitting the ground near my boot. I yelp. My hands claw at the dirt, trying to get away. I keep moving until the snake doesn’t sound close anymore, its rattle fading as it slithers off.
But then there are other sounds. Light swings wildly in the hands of someone running. Feet pound toward me.
“This way! Over there!”
I scramble to my feet and start running, not caring how loud I am. Fear chokes me. Feet shake the ground after me. I push on, wheezing, my lungs burning. Until now, I didn’t realize how much the day had drained me.
A body slams into me, and I eat dirt. The immense force pushes the air out of me. A hard hand slams down on my shoulder and flips me over. Terror blocks the pain. It’s all I feel rushing through my blood as I stare up at three men. A beam of light hits me in the face. I immediately size them up, not missing the imprints on their necks. One looks young, around my age, but the other two are older. One of the older men is on top of me. He’s huge, thick with muscle and fat.
“Look what we have here.”
The young guy peers down at me and points at my neck. “Look. She’s a carrier, too.”
“On the run like us, sweetheart?” The guy pinning me leers. There’s no other word for it. His nose is so sunburned it glistens, blistered and peeling at the same time. He pants from exertion, staring down at me like he’s caught a prize catfish.
I gulp for breath, trying to get words out. “Get off. You’re crushing me.”
The other older guy has an infected eye. It’s swollen and oozing with pus and turns my stomach. He doesn’t look too bothered over it, though. He laughs and slaps the big guy on the shoulder, motioning with his flashlight that he should move. “Get off before you break her, Nate.”
Nate clambers off me, but still hangs on to my wrist as if I might somehow make a run for it.
Gross Eye Guy assesses me, looking me up and down. “Kind of a mess, aren’t you, girl?”
“She’s still a nice piece, Leo.” Nate scratches his bristly jaw, and his eyes gleam with a light that makes my skin crawl.
“She is. She is.” Leo nods in agreement.
Nate and Leo exchange glances. The younger guy watches me dumbly, unaware of the meaningful look passing between the two older men. But I don’t miss it. I know exactly what that look means.
“We’ve been traveling for a long time,” Nate drawls, his thick, sausage-like fingers flexing on my wrist.
“Weeks,” the boy inserts.
“Haven’t been this close to a woman in all that time.” Leo flicks the flashlight’s beam up and down my body. A pause follows. Nate’s breath crashes near my ear. I give the slightest tug on my wrist just to check—the motion sends arcing pain straight to my sore shoulder—but he’s holding fast.
Leo cuts his gaze to the boy. “Hold her other arm, Andy.”
I react to this command like someone just fired a gun at the starting line. I struggle, thrashing my body as Andy makes a grab for my other arm. I catch a glimpse of his bewildered gaze. He doesn’t quite know what he’s doing, I realize. He’s simply accustomed to following these two blindly. He was probably just a high school kid like me when he was told he had HTS. One moment working on geometry, the next hitting the road with these Neanderthals.
Nate’s grip tightens and twists, pulling at my skin—a vise I can’t escape. I kick him, aiming directly for the shin. I put everything I have into it, and the hard toe of my boot connects with a crack.
He howls an obscenity. His hold loosens enough for me to pull free. Andy offers no resistance, staring slack-jawed at his giant friend.