Chapter Forty-Eight
I PROP THE BIKE ON its kickstand just outside the gates in front of the other side of the Split. I made it here in one piece. Alone. Using my own smarts and willpower. I did it.
But I can’t seem to move.
What the hell do I think I’m doing?
For god’s sake, I couldn’t even get past one person unseen. How am I going to get past Egal’s guards? The locked gates?
Blurry colors pepper my vision—icy blue and rich orange, neon green and piss yellow. I swat them away, but it only causes more colors to flood my sight. I stumble backward, throw the bike down, and fall to my knees, covering my face with my hands.
The roar of an engine erupts in my ears, and a bright light pierces through the space between my palms. I yank my hands away from my face.
I stare straight into two headlights.
The truck. My truck.
It’s surging straight toward me.
The smell of gasoline and metal fills my nostrils as I push myself off the ground and scramble out of the way. I force my wobbly legs into the bushes and bramble, sprinting toward a tall sweetgum tree.
Adrenaline courses through my veins as I slam my knife into the trunk. I use the hilt of the knife as a footstool and launch upward, wrapping my hands around the lowest branch. Only, I don’t have the strength to pull myself up. My arms are noodles.
The truck surges forward, and I jump off just before the hood slams into the tree.
Rocks and pebbles bite my skin as I roll onto the earth, using my hands to protect my head.
The contents of my backpack press into my back, and I let out a wail.
As I rise and fish out my gun, I glance back at the tree.
The trunk is tilted, and brittle red leaves shake from the branches, but the tree won’t topple over.
For now, I’ve only got an angry flatbed to worry about.
Could be worse?
The headlights blind me as the truck reverses, tires screeching while it tears through bramble. Hands fumbling, and as the truck shifts gears, I cock the gun.
I zoom in on my target: the headlights.
The truck charges toward me.
I shoot.
Glass shatters, but the truck only picks up speed.
Shit, shit, shit, shit.
I cock the gun again. Shoot. Miss.
The truck is just feet from me now, and I close my eyes, hoping the end will be quick.
My eyes whip open at the clanging sound of metal on metal. Moving at the speed of light, a pickup truck punches right into the gut of the truck. Like it was hit by an iron fist, the long, rectangular body of a truck crumples. The truck itself teeters to the side before toppling over.
I squint through the front windows of the pickup truck and beam at two familiar figures. I push myself up and sprint toward Jasper and Greeley.
Jasper flings open the driver’s-side door and shouts, “Get in!”
I jump into the car right on Jasper’s lap. “Go!” I shout to Greeley. “What are you waiting for?”
“Oh, we’re not going anywhere,” she says, reaching behind her to the back seat.
“Yes, we are,” Jasper argues.
Greeley pulls the key out of the ignition and shoves it into her pocket. She smiles as she says, “Who’s ready for some chaos?”
“Jesus,” Jasper says.
“No, silly,” Greeley says. “I’m Greeley.”
I turn to Jasper, his face mere inches from my own, and breath heaving, I say, “I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “I should have known.”
“No.” I smile. “I’m not sorry about stealing your bike, and I’m not sorry for trying.” Jasper’s head quirks to the side in confusion. “I’m sorry for this.”
I grab the sides of Jasper’s head and bring my lips to his, sending all of the energy coursing through my body into the kiss. His lips are soft and powerful, and as I pull away, I say, “I didn’t want to die without doing that.”
“Noted,” he says, his cheeks red and a curved smile on the lips I just kissed. He reaches around for the door handle. “Now let’s help our hotheaded friend.”
I jump off Jasper’s lap, a spike of pain flashing in my marred calves as my feet land firmly onto the dirt ground.
The tipped-over truck’s headlights cast long, hazy shadows across the rough terrain.
Greeley stands with her gun pointed at the passenger-side door.
Peter pushes himself out, eyes narrowed.
There’s a bloody gash in his left cheekbone and a cut in his lip.
“Oy!” shouts the man in the passenger seat as Peter pushes himself over him. He leaves a bloody handprint on the doorframe and stalks forward.
“Don’t shoot,” I tell Greeley.
“Wasn’t planning on it—quite yet. Wanna hear why this asshat was trying to kill my friend.”
Friend.
My breath hitches as Peter’s accomplice hauls himself out of the truck. His face is so battered and bloody, he’s nearly unrecognizable, but it’s him. Indy.
Indy falls to his knees, a gaping slash running from his temple to his chin. Eyes full of tears, he stares into the barrel of Greeley’s gun and waves his hands frantically. “I was under his orders,” he says. “Please don’t shoot me.”
“We get it. You don’t have a spine.” She rolls her eyes.
Indy whimpers. “I’m sorry, Kota. He made me!”
“Eyes over here, shithead. You don’t deserve to even look at her.”
Whether Indy listens to Greeley or not, I don’t know, because my eyes are fixed on Peter. He doesn’t have a weapon, does he? Otherwise, he wouldn’t just stand there like a useless sack of shit.
“Peter,” I breathe. “Why?” In response, Peter squeezes his fist, the snake tattoo on his bicep bulging. “You want to swing at me? Go on, let’s see you try.”
And no, Peter, the sleeveless T-shirt does not make you look cool.
Peter drops his fist. “I had an order to follow.”
Greeley curls her lip and says, “Everyone around here’s a fucking shell, is that it?” She turns to Jasper. “You mind?”
Jasper marches up to Peter and pats him down. Then, he punches him square in the face.
Peter buckles over and makes no attempt to swing back. He spits on the floor, saliva mixed with blood. “She knows,” he says. “Chandler suspected your loyalties shifted.”
Peter must see the confusion on my face. He thumbs at Jasper and says, “Chandler saw the way this one looked at you when we lit that one’s Jeep on fire.”
“My name’s Greeley.”
“I don’t give two shits what your name is,” he says, keeping his steely eyes on me.
“But I swore to Chandler that you loved me, and not him. So we’ve been waiting.
We’ve kept eyes on the perimeter, watching every time you’ve left the Split.
Chandler wanted to be quick about killing you, seeing that you have insider information on Egal.
Why did I ever think you’d make a good driver, anyway?
” Peter shakes his head. “Just know that it was me who gave you the benefit of the doubt. It was me who needed hard proof that you became one of them.” He steps toward me.
“But it’s clear as day that you’ve betrayed Egal.
Soon enough, you’ll be dead, and Macoby will be ours. ”
Greeley huffs. “Too bad you won’t be alive to see your grand plans unfold.”
“Maybe not, but I’ll die knowing I’m on the winning side.”
“You’ll also die an asshole.”
“Ask me if I care.”
Greeley raises her gun. Peter flinches. “Kinda seems like you care.”
Indy flops face down, arms outstretched on the earth like he’s in worship. “Bloody hell, please don’t kill us!”
I step toward the man I once considered my friend. “Indy, look at me. Look at me, Indy.”
Finally, Indy unpeels himself from the ground, dirt plastered to his face. “Things are getting bad in Egal, Kota. You don’t understand. My life is on the line, and . . . and we can’t let them win.”
“Them?” I clarify.
“You,” Peter says, spitting again.
“Got something in your mouth, jackass?” Greeley says.
Jasper steps forward, the three of us forming a solid, straight line. “Is Egal planning to attack Macoby?”
“Like I’d share that information with you,” Peter says with a scoff. His eyes flick back toward the truck. The motion’s almost too small to notice. Almost.
His remark earns him another punch—and I hate to admit it, but the way Jasper shakes out his fist is incredibly hot.
As Peter crumples to the ground and clenches his jaw, Jasper steps over him and hauls Indy up by his T-shirt.
Indy’s knees wobble as Jasper punches him, landing a bloody blow on his face.
It hurts to watch. “When are your people attacking, Indy?”
“Two days,” he coughs out. “Two days.”
“Great,” Jasper says, turning back around to me and Greeley. He tosses Indy aside. “I think that’s all the information we need.”
Greeley offers her gun to me. “Care to do the honors?” I shake my head no. I can’t take more death. “If you’re worried about the gunshot drawing zombies, we do have a getaway vehicle.”
“No!” Indy cries at the same time a noise clangs inside the turned-over truck behind him.
Greeley ignores the clamor. “C’mon, Blondie. One shot between the eyes, and you’re done. No? Fine.” She shrugs and shoves her gun into the holster she always wears on her thigh. “Death by knife it is. I like taking it slow.”
Tears trail down Indy’s face, mixing with blood and brown dirt. His entire body shakes. Greeley says, “You understand why I have to do this, right, Indy?”
He nods and squeezes his eyes shut. He whispers, “Please . . . make it quick.”
Greeley raises her knife and holds it to his right temple.
I’m going to watch Greeley kill a defenseless man.
I’m going to watch Greeley kill my friend.
My heart shatters into a million pieces. Indy betrayed me, but our friendship was real. That much, I’m certain of. If the tables were turned, would he show me mercy? Maybe, maybe not. But . . .
After a moment of hesitation, my feet decide they don’t care what Indy would do. I spring forward, ready to shove Greeley aside—
But I’m too late.
It’s over as soon as it begins.
Greeley stabs Indy. Stabs him in the soft, fleshy temple. My stomach lurches as blood streams from his head.
Greeley releases him, and he crumples to the ground. “And now for dessert.”
Peter.
I don’t give myself a moment to react, because I don’t have a moment. Something inside the flipped-over truck clangs. An inhuman roar fills the air.
I gasp.
Zombies. The Egals are transporting zombies to Macoby.
“Everybody back,” Jasper says, pulling a dagger out of his pocket. “We don’t know how many are in there.”
“And just as I thought this day couldn’t get better,” Greeley says, loading her gun. She kicks Peter. “Let’s feed him to the shamblers.”
The zombies topple out of the truck, bones crunching as they hit the ground.
They snap their jaws as they shuffle toward us, fast and hungry.
Greeley doesn’t waste a moment, jumping toward the truck and slicing a zombie’s hand off at the wrist. It shrieks, and she brings the knife up and plunges it into its temple.
The zombie falls, and another one trips over its body.
Greeley doesn’t miss a beat, killing the zombie as it tumbles to the ground.
Jasper grabs a third zombie by the neck and wrings it so tight its eyes bulge. He brings his knife around and drives it into the temple. Another snarling sound emerges from inside the truck. There’s one more zombie inside.
I ready my knife and move toward the truck.
This one’s mine.
Crawling on all fours, the zombie falls to the earth with a crunch, like its bones all broke at once. This one, I realize, doesn’t have hands.
I step closer to the zombie as it crawls toward me.
Peppery hair is a mess atop its head, and it wears a pink shirt stained with grease and burn marks.
Its sagging face contorts into a snarl, thin lips curling around snapping teeth.
The grotesque shriek that erupts from its hungry mouth is all too familiar.
I hear her voice, scolding me for eating a biscuit hot out of the oven.
You’ll burn your tongue, Dakota! I see her folding laundry in the living room while Judge Judy plays on the television, smiling as she pairs Bunny’s favorite flower-patterned socks.
I feel her soft hand on my cheek as she tells me she loves me.
I smell the sweet rose perfume on her neck as I hug her goodnight.
A faint wind picks up the zombie’s scent. The essence of roses wafts off the zombie’s skin. Only now, the roses are tainted with rot.
I search the zombie’s bulging brown eyes, eyes that I never thought would open again, but they stare right past me.
I can’t bear it.
Grandma.
The air around me tightens, and my breath gets stuck in my chest. The smell of her makes me nauseous, and my vision blurs at the sight of her. I wish I hadn’t seen her like this. I wish I didn’t have to . . .
I drop my knife, my fingers suddenly numb. I stumble backward, falling hard onto my ass, and squeeze my eyes shut.
This thing is not my grandma. This thing is not my grandma.
“Someone else!” I scream, my body convulsing. “Someone else kill her. Now. NOW!”
Not a second later, Jasper lunges forward and sends his knife through the zombie’s skull.
My grandmother lies dead, blood dripping from every orifice on the earth.
“Grandma,” I whisper. I knew she was dead. I knew it, and yet I was not prepared for this. Nothing could have prepared me for this.
“Well, shit,” Greeley says, wiping sweat from her forehead. “Where the hell did Peter go?”