“You ready?” he asks when my face is level with his.

“Ready.”

“Push!”

We both grunt, curse, then grunt again, but this time we get results. The cover screeches loudly as we push it up out of its home to slide it over the pavement above. This has got to be one of the holes the cannibals use on a fairly regular basis. Otherwise it probably would have been rusted shut. The thought that they use it gives me hope that we’re close to home, though where exactly ‘home’ is for either of us at this point is pretty open to debate. For Vin I imagine it’s wherever his people from the Pod are. For me, I know who my home is. Now I just need to know where he is.

We both squint into the bright light of the afternoon sun. It’s painful compared to the darkness we’ve been living in for the last couple hours.

I stare back at the hole. I feel like a traitor leaving it.

“He’d want you to keep going,” Vin tells me quietly.

I nod my head numbly, knowing he’s right but unwilling to move from this spot. It feels like leaving Ryan. It feels like I’m giving up.

“Where are we?” I ask hoarsely before clearing my throat. I will not cry, not over nothing. I don’t know anything for sure yet so what’s the use in crying about it?

“We’re near the Elevens,” Vin whispers.

It surprises me that he bothers with the hushed tones. He’s the Stable Boy of The Hive. He’s a big deal in any territory.

“Why are you whispering?” I ask him at full volume.

He pulls me into an alley before clamping a hand down firmly over my mouth. I try to twist my head to get free but he holds me tightly.

“First of all,” he breathes harshly, “if I whisper, you do the same. If you have to question me, do it quietly. You got it?”

I glare at him, but I nod my head.

He releases my mouth. “Second, the reason I’m whispering is because some of these guys owe me money.”

“They owe you money,” I whisper obediently, “and you’re hiding from them?”

“I’m not exactly in the enforcing mood at the moment. If they see me, they’ll expect me to collect. I don’t have time for that right now.”

“What do they owe you for?”

“Gambling.”

“The Arena?”

“No. Poker.”

“I’m terrible at poker,” I mutter, glancing up and down the street.

“It’s because you’re a bad liar.”

My shoulders slump. “Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true. Lie to me right now.”

“No, that’s stupid. Whatever I say you’ll know I’m lying.”

“Doesn’t matter. I want to see you do it. Lie about something. Anything. Your age, color of the sky, whatever.”

I stare at him, my mind going blank. I open my mouth but nothing comes out.

He smiles with satisfaction. “Told you. You’re a terrible liar.”

“Some people might think that’s a good thing.”

“People like your Hyperion? Yeah, I’m sure that Boy Scout likes it.”

“Do you have a problem with Ryan?”

“Nope, but he has a problem with me.”

“It’s because you suck.”

Vin turns his smile to me, his eyes bright with amusement. “Story of my life.”

I don’t want to talk about Ryan with him anymore. I don’t want to keep saying his name. It feels like it gets weaker every time I use it.

“Shouldn’t we get out of here?”

“Yeah. Where would Trent have taken my people? The Hyperion?”

I shake my head firmly. “No, no way.”

“Your place?”

“No. He knows better.”

“Where then, Kitten? Where are we going?”

It’s a bad idea. I’m not even sure it’s where Trent would have taken them, but I know it’s where I want to go. It’s where he told me to go to find him.

“The woods,” I whisper. “We’re going to see the wizard.”

Chapter Fifteen

Who knew Vin the violent, usurping pimp was a Wizard of Oz fan?

I do. Now.

Ever since I whispered the word “wizard” twenty minutes ago the guy has been singing We’re Off to See the Wizard nonstop, over and over again. The real pain? He’s actually really talented.

“Are you done yet?” I ask irritably.

He grins. “Is it stuck in your head yet?”

“On repeat. Full volume.”

“Then yes, I’m done.”

“You’re the worst.”

“So I hear. Z at two o’clock.”

He’s right—there’s a shambling, moaning zombie heading our way just off to my right. I slip out my ASP, knowing it’s my turn. This has been constant since we came up out of that hole. I was surprised at first that we didn’t hear or see a sign of the Elevens this deep in their territory, but now that I see how many zombies are in this area it makes sense. Marlow killed the barriers holding in a swarm of easily a hundred zombies. Now they’re everywhere. Every gang is probably on lockdown waiting to find out how bad things get. I remember Bray telling Ryan they were doing this exact thing when the northern Colony fell for the first time. “This is just as bad as that day—if not worse. Those of us in the wild haven’t had time to clean house completely from that accident. Now there’s a new swarm on top of everything else. The world is slipping back into chaos. It’s reverting back to the first days.

I approach the Z quickly and swing my ASP wide. It comes around to connect solidly with the side of the zombie’s skull where it makes a disgusting thunk sound. Not a crack like it should, but the soft tissue noise of the metal sinking into the rotted out mush that is this guy’s face. I’ve probably damaged his brain, but I definitely haven’t destroyed it.

“Need help?” Vin asks, sounding bored.

He doesn’t sound like he’ll actually give help if I need it. It sounds more like a taunt than anything else. I ignore it and him.

I take a step back as the zombie stumbles toward me, then I bring the ASP toward him on a backhand. It hits him in the face, right in the eye, and the force of the blow snaps his head back. I take the opening to put my foot in his gut. He lands on his back on the ground, his broken, grappling fingers clawing at the air to find me. I quickly circle around to his head and bring my ASP down hard on his face twice, using the hard ground under him to solidify my blows.

“How did you ever survive out here alone with skills like that?” he asks.

“Shut up. I’m good.”

“You’re slow.”

I stow my weapon before casting him a smirk. “Am I?”

Before he can answer, I’m gone. I’m running.

Vin is good at a lot of things: overthrowing a dictatorship, taking out zombies, wooing women, getting stabbed, singing show tunes. But what Vin is not good at, what he’s gotten soft on, is cardio. He’s lived too long and too cushy inside The Hive. He hasn’t had to run for his life on a regular basis for years, and while he’s still in great shape, he’s not in as good of shape as me. Not even close.

The second my foot hits the grass of the park, though, I throw on the brakes. I barely maintain my balance, and when Vin slams into my back we both stumble forward. His arms go around me to keep me standing but instead of feeling closed in or freaked out, I’m amazed. I’m too shocked to notice anything but what I see in front of me.

The woods are full. There are tents peppered in with the trees, sections of tall grass have been trampled down to make what looks like a small road, but most importantly is this: there are people. Lots of people.

“What’s happening?” I breathe.

“I don’t know,” Vin replies, his voice low and tight near my ear. “But we’re about to find out.”

“Hold it right there!” a man shouts, jogging toward us.

We’ve been noticed. How could we not be? We came barreling toward this place at full speed right out in the open, and as stupid as it sounds, I thought it was safe. I never thought in a million years that the Colonists would take the woods. Why would they want it? It’s out in the open, it’s vulnerable, it’s dangerous. What are they doing here?!