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  “Why?” Megan slides in next to Reid, her little fingers finding his. It’s the first time she’s approached him on her own and he is surprised but does his best to keep his fear to himself when he answers her.

  “We’re still inside the fence.” He feels like a skipping tape. “We have no idea why the hunters left this stuff behind. Maybe on purpose.”

  “What if this was left here for them?” Cole’s sliver of hope fades as even he sees the hole in his own logic. “They don’t eat this stuff, do they?” He drops the jeans, looks with longing at the potato chip display next to him.

  “It’s a trap,” Reid says. “It has to be. They wouldn’t just leave food lying around for us to find. Or kid’s clothes.” The jeans are small, too small for most adults. It’s obvious what this is.

  “It’s worth the risk.” Cole’s face is set, closed. For the first time since they met, he refuses to listen to Reid. “I’m hungry and dirty and I want to sleep in a real bed.”

  Mutters run through the assembled pack. They are all there now, waiting. They may not be listening to Reid, but they still respect him enough not to act without his permission.

  “It’s possible they didn’t think we’d make it this far.” Leila goes to Cole, slides her arms around his shoulders. She looks up at Reid. “Right?”

  She needs him to back her up, to give them their reason for living back. Without it, they are lost. All of them. The fence is just too much. This slice of humanity calls to them like home.

  Reid doesn’t get the chance to dash her hopes or anyone else’s. Marcus shoulders his way past, scowling at Reid on the way by.

  “Not for you to say.” He grabs a box of cereal from the top shelf and rips it open, cramming a handful into his mouth, every grind of his teeth challenging Reid to stop him.

  Reid doesn’t. His heart isn’t in it. Megan’s fingers let him go as he backs off and lets the kids swarm the place. Reid waits at the doorway, watching them as even Leila hunches over a crinkling bag of cheese puffs, shoving the twisted orange bits between her lips, the powder all over her face.

  “That’s enough.” Marcus grabs food from the kids, holds it to his chest, herds them with his body until they are all standing at the front of the store. “You’ll ruin everything if you keep this up.” Like he hadn’t just been stogging his own food into his big mouth. “I’m in charge of the supplies from now on. You’re hungry, you ask me.”

  Reid has had enough. He turns and leaves with one parting shot.

  “Better make sure this stuff isn’t poisoned first.”

  Reid hears gasps, turns to see Marcus’s face go sheet white as he lets the door hiss shut on its hydraulic hinges behind him.

  He can’t help but grin into the darkness.

  Reid is part way down the street, trying to decide what to do now when someone pants to a halt behind him. He turns to see Leila standing there, traces of fake cheese still on her cheeks.

  “Don’t go.” She reaches for him. “Please. Don’t let him take over. We won’t make it.”

  Reid wants to take her hands, to comfort her and tell her everything will be okay but he doesn’t have that much left to give.

  “I can’t help you.” He steps away. “Go back to your boyfriend. Let him get everyone killed. I’m tired of trying and being stabbed in the back.”

  He means it, only now realizing it’s true. Reid has done everything he can to save them and they don’t give a crap. Well, then he doesn’t give a crap either.

  Leila looks like he slapped her.

  “Fine,” she snaps. “Be a jerk. Run off, just like you’ve wanted to all along. Let Marcus ruin everything we’ve accomplished. But if these kids die because you lost your balls, I’ll never forgive you.”

  She runs back to the store before he has a chance to react. He wishes he can muster some anger at her but that’s gone, too. Reid shrugs and walks away.

  Time to take care of his own needs for once.

  He is part way down the street by now, not far from the store, on the fence side. He turns his head, sees a house. Perfect. Reid uses a rock to break the window on the front door and goes inside. Despite his warnings to the kids, he knows he needs food and water and a change of clothes if he can manage it. Not to mention sleep. Sleep is very important.

  He locates a first aid kit in the bathroom of the single story and tries the tap. Power means water. Perfect. He carefully unwinds the bandage from his broken hand, hissing at the pain but is surprised to notice the swelling is gone and the bones seem to be back in place. Reid thinks about it. Maybe he didn’t break them after all, just bruised them. Relieved, he checks his other hand, afraid of what he’ll find now that he has real light to see by.

  The bandage flutters from his numb fingers as he stares at the bite. There was a chunk of him missing when it happened, he was sure of it. But now it’s pink, smooth skin, no scar, no missing flesh. It’s like the bite is almost gone.

  He counts the days as best he can. It’s been a maximum of two, maybe even as little as a day and a half. There is no way he’s healed that quickly. Reid looks in the mirror, flinching from the ghost of himself that looks back. But his sea-green eyes are level and steady and he knows he’s not going nuts.

  So, what happened? He has no answers. Instead of letting it distract him, he instead makes use of the water and splashes the dirt from his hands and face.

  There is hot water. Hot. He looks longingly over his shoulder at the shower. He can’t. It’s not safe. And yet, the chance to be clean calls him like a siren song.

  Reid finds clothes in a bedroom closet, fresh socks and underwear in a dresser drawer. Even new sneakers sitting quietly in the hall. He looks at the shower again. A towel hangs outside it, inviting him. A bar of soap, a bottle of shampoo, peek out from behind the curtain.

  It’s too much. He leaves the door open, the curtain gaping with the bathroom light shut off. He turns the water on as hot as he can stand it, lathering himself over and over again with as much foam as he can create, letting it sting his eyes as he rinses, gaze never leaving the hall outside the bathroom. He only allows his eyes to close for a second while he washes his face and instantly flings them open again, tiny droplets flying from his eyelashes.

  Reid finally stands there in the slowly cooling shower, letting the pressure pound against his shoulders and ease his muscles. When he steps out, dripping, to the floor mat, his feet squidge in the water that escaped onto the floor.

  One of the toothbrushes in the holder gets slathered with toothpaste. He brushes three times before he’s satisfied.

  He carries the towel and clothes into the bedroom and dries himself off, carefully dressing in the dark. The fresh underwear feel fantastic, the t-shirt so soft his skin sighs. The pants are too big but a search of the closet turns up a belt. His feet wriggle inside the thick socks. He is clean and calm and starving.

  The kitchen is fully stocked, like whoever lived there was relocated without a chance to do anything about it. Most of the food in the fridge is spoiled but the freezer is full of meat and the cupboards are stacked with canned food. He finds a toaster and a frozen loaf of bread. The smell of toast makes his knees weak. A sniff of the peanut butter is all the encouragement he needs to slather on a half-inch layer and cram the hot and gooey mess into his mouth.

  He chews slowly at first, trying to pace himself, but it tastes so good he is soon toasting and eating and barely waiting for the frost to leave the bread before he is devouring it.

  Reid finally retreats to the bedroom again with the rest of the peanut butter, a spoon stuck in the jar, and a bottle of water. He washes down his meal, contemplating the bed while he sticks another spoonful of crunchy in his mouth. Reid needs sleep. The food has made him so tired he can barely keep his eyes open. But he doesn’t dare stay here.

  Does he?

  His body doesn’t give him a choice. Reid collapses on the bed, with just enough energy left to pull the dusty comforter over his legs before falling into a
deep sleep.

  ***

  Chapter Eighteen

  Light wakes him, shining in his eyes. Reid opens them, looks out on the dawn. He is fuzzy headed, disoriented. Is he at Lucy’s new place? Did he dream that? No, he must be in one of the four foster homes he’s been shunted through, that’s why nothing feels familiar.

  When the truth comes to him, he swallows the lump that rises in his throat, unable to move. He just lies there and watches the sunrise and tries to find that hazy place he woke in, the safe place where kids aren’t hunted by creatures that look like men and life and death aren’t his only concern.

  He finally gets up and uses the bathroom. It feels so safe in the house, quiet and calm. But Reid knows better. This was a mistake, hanging around the town. He is a target here. And Reid has a job to do.

  He stops long enough for more toast for breakfast, finishing off the loaf and the second one he digs out of the upright deep freeze. This one is home made and he savors every bite.

  Reid finds a backpack in one of the bedrooms and fills it with necessities: a couple of bottles of water, clean underwear and socks, a fresh t-shirt. Soap. The toothbrush and toothpaste. Some snack bars he finds in the cupboard. Fruit cups and sleeves of crackers. He scoops the last of the peanut butter into a small Tupperware container along with a spoon. His folding knife goes into the pocket of his new jeans. All the rest of the food is too bulky or heavy and he has to leave it behind. All but the last of the loaf of bread. Reid stuffs it in and takes it with him.

  He examines the kitchen knives, trying to decide what to do and finally walks away from them. He needs a distance weapon. A gun or a cross bow. His father showed him how to use both, though neither of them used weapons on anything but paper targets and skeet.

  Reid emerges into the light and looks to his right. The gas station storefront glows in the light of morning. As much as it kills him to admit it, Reid knows he needs to somehow make amends. If they are going to survive, they have to stick together.

  The door chimes softly as he enters. He is shocked to find the kids in piles around the store, sleeping like filthy animals on top of each other. Now that he is clean, he is distinctly aware of their odor.

  Reid walks over two kids sprawled at the entrance, traces of food on their filthy faces. As he crosses the threshold, he is confronted by Alex and another boy whose name he can’t remember.

  He really needs to pay closer attention. But he’s been a little busy.

  “You can’t pass.” Alex looks grim but guilty, like he shouldn’t be saying such things to Reid.

  “Says who?” Reid just stares the boy down, while the second kid makes a noise.

  “Hey,” he whines, “you’re clean.”

  Kids are waking up around them, drawn out of their weariness by the talking.

  “I had a shower.” Reid shrugs. “Slept in a bed.” He looks around. “You spent the night here? Why?”

  Reid is leaning heavily on his casual attitude and it works.

  “He wouldn’t let us leave.” That from Milo, distinctly grumpy. “He said we had to stay together.”

  “You could have done that in one of the houses.” Reid stretches and yawns, carefully watching them as he lets his arms fall and a grin touch his face. “I had the best sleep ever.”

  They sway as one, looking out the doors at the street and the promise of showers after all.

  “We can’t.” Since when did Alex become Marcus’s mouthpiece? “He said.”

  “The water was really hot,” Reid went on. “Soap and everything.” He reaches in his backpack and throws the last of the homemade bread at Milo. “Even had peanut butter toast for breakfast.”

  They break in a wave, gone out the doors while Alex yells at them. His companion abandons him, too and it is only Alex and Reid in the end.

  “Go get cleaned up,” Reid says. “I’ll watch over this stuff.”

  Alex is shaking he wants it so bad. Reid can see it all over his little face.

  “Promise? He’ll get real mad.”

  Reid grabs Alex by the shoulders and turns him toward the door, giving him a shove.

  The boy doesn’t even look back.

  Reid checks the place out. The shelves are mostly empty, which confuses him. Where did all the food go? As he prowls the aisles, he sees the whole place has been cleaned out.

  When he reaches the staff room door he finally understands. Through the small glass window, Reid sees Marcus curled up on a cot in the back, food piled up around him.

  Reid swings the door inward, disgust twisting his breakfast into a lump. Leila is curled up on the floor next to Marcus, Cole cuddled up beside her. Reid glares at the three of them, traitors all, and he almost walks away right then and there. But he has to try.

  Reid makes his way around the two on the floor and stands over Marcus. He hooks the frame of the cot with one foot and gives a heave. The unstable thing flips over toward the wall, dumping Marcus out onto the floor. Reid is satisfied with the yell that comes out of the young man, backing up one step so he doesn’t get hit when the cot is flung aside and Marcus leaps to his feet.

  Their eyes meet across the close space. Reid is still grinning. He can’t help himself. There’s no humor in it, not really. But there is a certain sense of rightness that forces his lips to curl into a smirk.

  “Morning,” he says.

  He hears Leila and Cole scramble to their feet behind him. Reid turns and walks away, out the door past them, ignoring them both.

  Marcus catches him just outside the front door. It’s the first time he has had the courage to put his hands on Reid, so when he does, Reid spins around.

  And ducks in time. Marcus’s fist flies over his shoulder as Reid dodges, planting his own blow low in Marcus’s stomach. All the air whooshes from his lungs as he topples sideways to the pavement.

  “Reid, stop!” Leila is there.

  But he won’t, not this time. He’s held back for too long. Reid is surprised but thrilled to find how strong he is feeling, with only the odd twinge of an ache and very little pain. It’s like one night’s sleep and some food and a shower has restored him to his old self.

  Better. He feels stronger than ever. And he can tell Marcus is in no condition to challenge him again.

  “Please.” Leila’s hand settles on Reid’s arm. “We’re all scared. Please.”

  Reid pulls away but looks around, sees kids emerging from houses, looking terrified. Some of them are dripping, others have fresh food on their faces, but they are all staring and wondering.

  “Why do you keep defending him?” Reid’s words come out in a snarl. He wants to shake Leila, to make her see what she’s doing isn’t helping. “Just last night you asked me to protect you all from him. Now you’re asking me to back off.” Reid shakes his head. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Leila is very pale naturally but he can still see the blood drain from her face. “I’m trying to keep us together.”

  “Why?” Reid nudges at Marcus with the toe of his new sneaker. He moans and tries to stand. Leila automatically reaches out to help him but Reid holds her off. “Answer me. Why? He practically killed us I don’t know how many times.” Flickers of memory pass through his mind and from the stricken look on her face she’s seeing the same ones. “Why, Leila?”

  “I don’t know, all right?” She backs away from him. “It’s just…”

  “Just what?”

  “Ever since Joel…” she trails off, hugging herself. “I can’t.”

  “Joel was a monster.” She’s defending Marcus because she feels guilty?

  “He was just a kid, Reid. Like us. We can’t leave anyone to die like that.” Her eyes are full of tears and beg him to understand. “For the hunters.”

  “I won’t trust anyone who doesn’t have my back,” Reid says. “That includes Marcus. And you.”

  Marcus is on his feet now, glaring, coughing, trying to get his air back. Reid ignores him, still focused on Leila.

  �
�You’re telling me you’d rather trust him to betray us first chance he gets than let his ass fall behind? He’ll be the death of us. You know it.” Reid spins around, talking to everyone now. “You all know it. You’ve seen it. And I’m sick of it.”

  “What are you going to do about it?” Marcus’s voice is hoarse and deep. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  “That’s what you think.” Reid is already moving when Leila steps in front of him. She is crying openly.

  “I won’t let you,” she whispers. “I’m sorry. We all deserve to live.”

  Reid steps back from her, his heart heavy. He glances around him at the other kids. No one will look at him. But when he raises his eyes to Marcus again, he is smirking.

  “Guess that answers that, doesn’t it?”

  Reid grinds his teeth together and spins on his heel, marching for the edge of town. Milo catches up with him.

  “Where are you going?”

  Reid stops at the edge of the trees and shrugs. “To have a look around.”

  “You can’t leave,” Milo says. “That bastard…” The boy shudders, his own fury written across his face. “He’ll just ruin everything.”

  There’s nothing Reid can do about it. Not now that Leila has cut his legs out and handed them to Marcus.

  “Go get cleaned up,” Reid says, voice gruff from his anger, not wanting to be short with the kid but unable to hold it in very well.

  Milo shakes his head and moves as if to join him but Reid holds him off.

  “I’m doing this alone.” Reid hears the echo of his old self, the one who wanted to run off and leave three other kids behind seemingly so long ago. Leila’s parting shot still aches. He sees the recognition of it in Milo’s face, too, but there is no judgment, only sadness.

  “But,” the boy protests immediately, “you’ll need someone. To watch your back.” He looks uncomfortable, then, like he’s remembering something of his own.

  Reid has a good idea he knows what. Drew. No one was watching his back when he died. They all ran, including Milo.