“Anything?” Hank said.

Devin pressed his hand to the driver’s window and checked inside the abandoned car. “Nothing.” He leaned back and looked up and down the street. Where the hell was Noah?

“This place gives me the creeps. It’s quiet.” Hank shouldered his rifle and scanned the area. “Too damn quiet.” He lowered his weapon. “Was it like this when you and Kerry came out here?”

Devin nodded. “It’s as if they all left together in a hurry.”

“Or all died together,” Hank said in an emotionless voice.

That wasn’t the most comforting of thoughts. “Yeah, maybe.” He tried the car door.

Just as locked as it was the first two times you tried it.

Devin felt as if his chest was on fire and with every breath he took the sensation got stronger. “Why did he leave the car here?” There was nothing of interest in this section of town.

“You think he walked?” Hank continued to check back and forth along the street. “Do you know where the hospital is?”

It had been almost two months since he and Kerry had been out this way. He had spent time learning about Garnett from a couple of men at the prison who had worked the farmland long before the virus had hit. Of course, he and Kerry’s run to the city hadn’t gone to plan when they had gone to check out the first of the nearby farms.

“Devin?”

His mind had wandered. “Sorry.” Devin shook his head. So much had happened in the last two months. “I don’t know.”

“Wish he’d left us some breadcrumbs,” Hank said flatly.

Maybe he did. Devin looked in the direction Noah’s vehicle was facing. “I think it was on the way out of town.” He indicated ahead of them.

Hank shifted his weight onto his other leg and he stared along the empty road. He sucked on his teeth, making a sharp sound, and declared, “That way it is.”

Devin brushed his fingers over the catch of his holster. If they were heading in the right direction, with any luck there would be some kind of signs to direct them the rest of the way.

After returning to their car, Devin collected the pack and the second rifle. He locked the vehicle and pocketed the keys. He went to stand beside Hank. Gently, he touched Hank’s elbow. “If anything happens. Keys are here.” He patted the zipped pocket on the thigh of his pants.

Hank frowned and took the pack from Devin. “Nothing’s gonna happen.”

There was no way Hank knew that for certain. “The keys are right here.” Devin chose to ignore Hank. He twisted the rifle strap so the weapon sat on his back. “Ready?”

“Always.” Hank tensed his jaw as he viewed the route ahead of them. “You think he’s okay?”

“It’s Noah.” Devin rubbed the strap at his shoulder. “He’ll be okay.”

He has to be.

* * *

What the hell is going on? Noah opened his eyes. He stared at the ceiling as he tried to remember what had happened. There had been people.

Noah lifted his head. He went to raise his hand to rub the throb of pain in his neck only to find he couldn’t. He winced as metal hit metal and he found his right wrist restrained.

Fuck. He reached over and tried to pull his hand through the cuff. “Come on. Come on.” Noah pulled hard, grimacing as the handcuff nipped the skin of his thumb.

What now?

He pulled at the side rail of the bed but couldn’t move it. Defeated, he lay back down. It seemed he was on a hospital gurney. His wrist was cuffed to the frame. Across the room was a desk. On it was the ax and gun Noah had brought with him.

Noah sat up and surveyed the private room. There were two doors. One he assumed was a bathroom and the other his way out. Noah shuffled down the mattress, dragging the handcuff along the raised guard as far as he could. He slipped off the bed and reached for his weapons.

Too short. He strained to reach a little farther. A scraping sound made Noah stop abruptly. Crap. He froze and eyed the door to the room. With no signs he had alerted anyone to the fact he was awake, he turned his attention to the gurney. The frame was on wheels but hadn’t moved with him.

Brakes. After a quick examination Noah found what he was looking for. He toed the catches to release the brakes.

And the other side. The wheels spun as he tried to switch sides. He didn’t have the reach he needed so he knelt up and climbed over. He put his feet on the floor and took a moment to rub his sore wrist. The handcuffs were solid, a thick rigid bar connecting the two rings. Lying across the bed like that made it awkward for him to move. He managed to kick in both directions, dislodging the stoppers. Taking a deep breath, he clambered back over the bed and jumped down. He gripped the guard and pulled the frame with him toward the desk. He picked up the ax and laid it on the mattress before taking up the gun and checking the magazine.

Still loaded. Noah looked from the gun back to the handcuff. There had to be a better way than trying to shoot himself free. He ran his thumb over the handle of the ax. Another noisy means of escape. Yeah, that and one slip and I’m missing some fingers or my thumb.

The gun felt weighty and foreign in his left hand. “Couldn’t have left the key could they.” Noah pulled the handcuff tight, leaning back as he pressed the gun to the lock in the center. He screwed up his mouth.

What the fuck am I doing? Shooting the lock was a terrible idea. He had no idea what would happen. Blowing his hand off or being peppered with shrapnel was not high on his to-do list for the day.

Neither was getting taken hostage.

“Crap.” Noah lowered the gun. There had to be a better way.

A noise from outside drew his attention to the door. He aimed the gun and waited.

The door opened and a man stepped inside. He was older than Noah, maybe in his forties. His dark brown bangs were combed back from his face and he stared at Noah from behind crooked, wire-framed glasses.

“You’re awake,” the man said. He pushed at the bridge of his glasses. “You don’t need that.” He nodded toward the gun.

“Who are you?” Noah secured his hold on the gun, keeping the front sight on the new arrival.

The man kept his distance and glanced behind him to the open door. “Please. The gun?”

Noah considered his options. There was nowhere for him to go. He hesitated.

“Please,” the man said again.

With a sigh, Noah dropped his arm. “Not like I have much of a choice, is it?” He kept the gun in his hand as he lowered it from sight beneath the level of the bed.

“What are you doing here?” the man asked.

Noah tensed his jaw.

“How long have you been in Garnett?” The man fidgeted his hands together. “I’ve been here for almost a week. I mean my group has.” He checked over his shoulder again. “Are you alone?” When Noah didn’t answer, he took a step toward him. “Do you mean us harm?”

Tilting his head, Noah considered the stranger. He was dressed in dark pants and a plain white T-shirt, not that it was white anymore, various stains had marked the material. He had dark rings under his eyes and his expression was one of exhaustion and nervousness.

“No,” Noah said.

“Okay.” The man relaxed his shoulders when Noah answered him. “I’m Brandon, Brandon Palmer, and you are?” He looked hopefully at Noah.

If Noah ever wanted to get out of the handcuffs, he needed to play along. “Noah.”

“Noah,” Brandon repeated. His eyes fell to Noah’s restrained hand.

Noah glanced down, realizing what Brandon or anyone else might have seen—the scar on his hand where Corden had bitten him. Noah swallowed hard. He had gone through hell with Corden, a foolish man who had thought he could use Noah’s immunity for his own gains. Noah wasn’t sure he had the strength to fight for his freedom again.

Whatever Brandon was thinking, he didn’t verbalize it, and seemed to steer the conversation, choosing his words. “You really riled up our friends outside.” He folded his arms across his chest.

“How’d they end up in there? Behind the fence?”

Brandon pursed his lips, studying Noah. “It was Mac’s idea. I can’t believe it actually worked.” He glanced at the floor. “This large cluster made its way here. Guess they were drawn here by us and noise and blood.” He paused. “We used that to our advantage and put on a little show at the window. Apart from a few stragglers, the group walked right on in. We just had to nominate an idiot to go outside, lock the gate, then the rest of us cleared the ones left outside the fences. They were weaker, slower.” He cleared his throat. “Mostly.” Grief was evident on Brandon’s face.

They’ve lost people too.

“Look. I didn’t know anybody was here. But no harm done, right? I just… I need to…” Noah didn’t know what to say or how much. Was revealing that he was part of a group a wise thing to do?

“Need to what?” Brandon said.

“I have someone waiting for me. He’ll be worried and I don’t want him to be.”

Brandon quirked his head. “He? A friend?”

Noah pressed his mouth into a line. “Kind of.”

A curious expression passed over Brandon’s face. “Where is your kind-of friend? Is he here in the city?”

Noah averted his eyes. “I can’t tell you much. I don’t know you or trust you. I come from somewhere safe, and no, it’s not around here.”

“And he’s waiting for you to return.”

Noah considered Brandon’s statement. Was Devin waiting for him?

He’ll know you’re gone by now. He’ll have figured it out. He’ll follow you here. He’d follow you anywhere.

“Yes. So, if we could just hurry this along.” He pulled on the cuff, which made a clink sound as the other cuff hit the frame of the bed. “You just need to unlock this and I’ll leave.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Please.” Noah struggled with the handcuff.

I didn’t even say goodbye. What if I never get the chance?

Brandon shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re sorry.” Noah dropped his shoulders. “What do you want from me?”

“Answers.”

“About what?”

There was an apology in Brandon’s eyes.

Was there another Corden-type leader behind the scenes, pulling the strings?

Brandon stepped forward, hugging himself with his folded arms, and asked, “How long ago were you bitten?”

* * *

“Do you hear that?” Hank asked.

Devin came to a stop and listened. “Yeah, I hear it. Wish I didn’t.” There was no mistaking the wild sounds of infected monsters.

“How many do you think?”

Devin pulled the strap of his rifle over his head and held the weapon in his hands. “Too many,” he said. He looked ahead, eyeing the route the signs to the hospital were leading them.

They were in a residential area, with houses on both sides of the road as it bent round to the right. The source of the terrible noise was hidden behind the buildings.

Hank clicked his tongue. “How far away do you think they are?”

“Not far enough,” Devin said.

Hank flashed him a brief smirk then raised his rifle and checked it over. Seemingly satisfied with the gun, he lowered it to his side. “Remind me to kick your boyfriend’s ass when we find him.”

“Get in line.” Devin snorted a laugh. He scanned the area, distracting himself from the fear that gripped him. The rumble of sound they could hear was from an active and energized group of the undead. Noah might have been immune but if he’d run into a group as large as this one sounded on the street, bad things could have happened, and Devin didn’t want to think about that.

Hank laughed to himself.

“What?” Devin asked.

It was as if Hank knew he needed to distract Devin when he said, “You know what I think. I think they’re making all that noise because Noah pissed them off.” He met Devin’s eyes. “Wound them up and went on his way.” Hank straightened and lifted his rifle to hold it across his chest. “I figure his droll charm is lost on the dead.”

Hank was a good friend. “Now’s your chance, if you want to change your mind.” Devin took the car key from his pocket. “You can take this, wait in the car, or head back home. I don’t expect anything from you. You don’t have to be here.”

This isn’t your problem to fix.

For a moment, Hank eyed the key and Devin thought maybe Hank was having second thoughts about tagging along on this foolhardy mission.

“Noah is one of us and we don’t abandon us.” Hank’s voice seemed even deeper, accompanied with a penetrative stare that burrowed straight to Devin’s soul. “I learned that from another idiot I know.” He set his gaze ahead of them. “Put it away.”

With a muted nod, Devin slipped the key back into his pocket.

“Do you want to hug or something?” Hank laughed, though his focus was clear as he examined the various buildings on either side of the road.

Devin didn’t answer. The noise was unnerving. “Okay. No hero shit. Stay sharp, go in slow. At least until we know what we’re dealing with.”

Hank simply nodded. Devin didn’t know all that much about Hank’s background, but he knew he could trust him. Hank knew his way around a gun, was the best shot Devin knew, better than him, better than Conroy and the others. Hank never spoke about the past and Devin never asked. Not everybody wanted to be reminded of who they had been or whom and what they had lost.

Taking the lead, Devin crossed to the sidewalk, following the low walls and hedges between the houses and the road. He stopped every now and again, taking time to check sections of paths or side streets obscured by overhanging trees or high walls. As they made their way forward, the crazed cries grew louder. And with each step, Devin grew more fearful, not for himself or of what monsters might await them, but for Noah and not knowing if he was safe, alive.