A fucking DEA agent.

The world was over, only a tiny percentage of people born with a natural immunity had survived the worldwide epidemic of Ruyigi Ebola, and one of them was a fucking DEA agent.

And he was his woman’s best friend.

Fucking hell. Justin must’ve recognized the four-leaf clover tat on his throat representing his membership in the Aryan Brotherhood, the worst prison gang in the country. It was why the guy had gone for his neck. Justin understood the symbolism of that tat, what Trevor had done to earn it, and he didn’t want any of that crap tainting Rebel.

Trevor didn’t want it around Rebel either. And it wouldn’t be, not anymore.

“Trevor?” Rebel asked. She was still trying to soothe her friend and bring down his fever with wet cloths. He liked seeing her like this—the sympathetic look in her eyes, the warm tone in her voice. He imagined her caring for him in this way one day. Caring for a child.

“Yeah, babe?”

“What do you think we should do next?”

He couldn’t help the grin that spread across his face at the meaning behind that we question. He could easily get used to her thinking of them as a team, a couple. “Let’s get the hell outta here ASAP and get him back to the farm so we can all take care of him there.”

She met his eyes, her face stamped with worry. “They’d still help us? I mean, maybe they don’t want someone sick there.”

“They won’t care about that. Of course they’d be happy to help. They’re all Boy and Girl Scout types. Believe me, they’ll fall over themselves trying to help you two.”

“Okay,” she sighed. “Let’s do this.”

Thirty minutes later they were ready to leave.

“What do you mean you’re driving the RV?” Rebel threw her hands up in disgust, those gorgeous eyes flashing at him, her breasts pushing against her top as she breathed heavily. “I can drive it. I drove it part of the way here. Do you even know how to drive one? It’s not that easy.”

Trevor had explained to Rebel that he was going to drive the RV with Justin safely medicated and asleep in the back and Rebel following directly behind, driving his Mustang.

Rebel had thrown a fit over this arrangement.

He could watch this for the rest of his life. She was damn cute when she got mad.

“I have a tour bus I’ve been driving all over the state,” he answered.

“A tour bus? Like, from a band?”

“Yeah, it’s twice the size of this RV. So actually, I have more experience driving large loads than you do, all over the state, on every kind of road and in every kind of situation. I’m driving the RV and you’re following behind in the Mustang.”

“Does that mean you’ve got a Class One driver’s license, then, to drive it?”

“No I don’t, do you?”

“No,” she sighed. “But at least I knew you needed one.”

“And who the fuck needs a license anymore, if it’s the end of the world?”

She grumbled and looked away toward the golden hills that surrounded the rest stop. It was late morning. He needed this argument out of the way, fast. If they got going now they could make it back to the farm before the hottest part of the day.

“Okay,” she sighed, shaking her head and glancing back at him. “But I want to see this tour bus later.”

“Sure,” he smiled, imagining her there, with him, both of them naked on the bed in the back bedroom. “I keep it at the farm. You’ll like it. It was Nickeltop’s tour bus.”

Her mouth curved. “No way. You’ve been driving around in Nickeltop’s tour bus?”

“Yep.”

He’d been a fan of Nickeltop from way back in the day. He knew people made relentless fun of Nickeltop, calling them the Crocs of rock, the most generic of rock bands. He didn’t give a shit. Nickeltop was his favorite. He’d owned every album and he’d seen them in concert, twice. He hadn’t admitted to the others on the farm of his fan status, but yeah, driving around in Nickeltop’s tour bus was damn cool. A way to preserve their memory and a way for him to preserve the past.

“You seen them in concert before?” he asked, then paused, remembering that she was once one of the biggest fucking celebrities on the planet… “Did you know them?”

“Uh huh, I knew them.” She looked away.

He cut her a glance. She had a huge grin on her face.

“Rebel.” He stepped close, crowding her against the side of the RV.

“It’s a nice bus, isn’t it? Are you driving Charlie’s or Mark’s bus?”

“I don’t know.”

“If the inside is all white, sleek and modern, it’s Mark’s. If it’s all dark with guitars everywhere, it’s Charlie’s bus.”

“I’m driving Charlie Hanson’s own private tour bus?”

“You are.”

Fucking cool. His eyes narrowed. “And how do you know what the inside of their tour buses look like?”

She pressed her hands against his chest. “Okay, I knew them, we were friends. I’m not naming names, but with one or two of them, we were close friends, very close friends. Maybe more than friends.”

“Rebel,” he warned, his arms going around her.

She shook her head. “Nope, I’m not speaking ill of the recently deceased. Not that this would be speaking ill, but I’d just like secrets to remain secrets.” She met his eyes boldly and lifted her chin. “What’s wrong with that?”

Oh yeah, she’d fucked members of Nickeltop, he was sure of it now. Shit, his Rebel was a firebrand. The more he knew of her, the more convinced he became that she was the right woman for him.

“Are you a fan?” he asked.

Her eyes flashed. “Hell, yeah,” she answered like it was a fucking given. “I loved their music. And I liked those guys, as people. We were good friends.”

“All right, then, it’s cool.”

“Cool? You sure?”

“As long as you promise to fuck me in the tour bus so your last memory there is of my cock sliding into you. Then yeah, I’m cool.”

She bit her lip and smiled. “I can do that.”

“Good.” He pushed away and grabbed her hand. “Then let’s get going.”

Rebel went back inside and checked on Justin again before they left, and felt better knowing his fever wasn’t as high as before and that he was heavily medicated and comfortable. He was still coughing up a lung and his sleep was fitful, but she knew he’d be okay for the trip. Trevor had already preplanned two different stops along the way in order to check on Justin while they traveled. So this was all completely doable.

And Trevor was outside with a damn Geiger counter, checking the radiation level of the area. He even had a notebook so he could write down his findings, which apparently, he’d been stopping and doing at intervals during his whole drive down here so he could report the data back to the group on his return.

“There are over four hundred nuclear power plants worldwide. If they go Chernobyl they’ll emit radioactive waste into the atmosphere. I’m trying to get a baseline measurement wherever I can so we can know if the radiation is increasing, because this is an enemy you can’t see.”

She couldn’t even stay with him while he did it. The clicking sound the counter made was setting her on edge. Too depressing. As if there weren’t enough things going wrong with the world, she couldn’t also handle worrying over nuclear power plants melting down worldwide and radiation falling down like acid rain on them all.

Later, not now. Her brain could only process one catastrophe at a time.

Most people on the entire planet were dead—her parents, her family, all of her friends. Everyone she’d ever known was dead. Pretty much the whole state of California was a super-sized graveyard.

And she was pregnant.

And her best friend was sick and he needed help.

She bit the inside of her cheek. Christ, what would she have done if she’d found Justin sick all by herself? What if she hadn’t been able to take care of him herself and something happened to him…?

She tried to shake off the dark thoughts. Those thoughts that told her in the blink of an eye she could’ve been alone. Alone and pregnant. Eventually going into labor all by herself.

She sat down on the bed next to Justin in the compact back bedroom of the RV. The room was small but comfortable, the walls light and the bedding varying shades of blue. She grabbed one of Justin’s large hands, held it in her own for a moment, his dark skin contrasting against her lighter skin, and took a deep calming breath and exhaled. Now wasn’t the time to slip into the apocalypse depression she’d only recently recovered from. She’d met a new survivor she was immediately bonding with and they were going to get help for Justin. This would all work out.

It had to.

“Ready?” a deep voice asked.

She turned around. A huge, handsome man with blazing tats and amazing blue eyes was staring at her intently. His large frame engulfed the entire doorway. She let go of Justin’s hand, stood and walked up to Trevor. She slid her arms around his waist and rested her cheek against his wide chest, because God, she needed this. Just for a moment.

His arms went around her tightly, and his chin rested on the top of her head. She was giving him a chance. He’d been nothing but nice. Sex on a stick. All the good things. Maybe it was something he regretted. Maybe… She wanted to ask him about the tattoo on his neck, but she was also terrified of his answer. Scared to hear a response that would shatter their budding friendship like a rock through a window. Hopefully it was something he’d done in his misguided youth and deeply regretted. Maybe…

They both stood quiet like that for a moment.

“Ready,” she finally whispered.

“I’m going to leave the Mustang behind,” he announced.

“What?” She pulled back and looked up at his face.

It actually hadn’t been that hard for Trevor to talk her into taking the secondary car position. She’d always loved cars. Loved driving them, loved trying out different makes and models. Once it had been established that Trevor could easily drive an RV, she was fine with switching.

“I’m really okay with driving it. I was looking forward to it.”

“I don’t like the idea of us driving in two separate cars. Getting the Mustang back isn’t as important as keeping you safe.”

She was quiet because…fuck, that was so sweet. Rebel thought about it, her lips twisting. “No…I still want to drive the Mustang. I see what you’re saying, but it was totally fine on the drive over here from Carmel to this rest stop. I think it’ll be safe. Did you see anything on the way here that would mess us up on the way back if I were following you?”

“No,” he admitted. “It should be all clear.”

“Well…”

“Anything could happen. Things we aren’t thinking of.”

A trace of her old self, the enthusiastic, go-for-it side of Rebel Case, returned, familiar and comforting. It was what got her through filming in exotic locations, in every type of weather or hour of the night. Last minute script changes. Fight scenes, accents, bizarro costumes or make-up. She lifted her chin. “I can do it. It’s fine. I want to. That Mustang is important to you. I want you to have it.”

“You’re what’s important to me, not some fucking car.”

Oh God. He was too cute. Now she was definitely going to get that car back to his home for him.

Rebel slid onto the gleaming leather seat of the classic red Mustang and gripped the steering wheel, enjoying the masculine smell of the interior. The shiny chrome, the deep primary color, the badass-ness. This was Trevor’s car. Not some car he’d hotwired out of desperation, but one he’d carefully chosen. He’d sat here, touched these same instruments, his hands had been where hers were now, his ass right here. She smiled. It was nice, using what he’d used, being where he’d been.

“No one drives my Mustangs but me,” he said. “And now you.”

“How many Mustangs do you have?”

“Three, including this one.”

“Oh wow.” He was collecting cars. That was kinda cool. “I get it. I like cars, too.”

He nodded. “Stay close. I’ll keep you in my rearview mirror at all times. If I stop, you stop, and vice versa. You got your gun?”

“Of course,” she snorted. This was the freaking apocalypse. Her gun had become an extension of herself. She tipped her head to the front seat, where her Glock was sitting in a place of honor.

He handed her a walkie-talkie. “Here, keep this ready and on your front seat, too, next to your gun so we can talk if we need to.”

“I will.”

“Good, let’s go,” he said.

She watched Trevor as he climbed aboard the RV, then she sat in the car and positioned her stuff, playing around with the walkie-talkie for a minute, making sure she understood which button was which. Then she heard the rumble of the engine and smelled diesel wafting in the morning breeze. She looked up. Trevor leaned out the driver’s window of the RV, looking back at her. That was her signal. She started the Mustang and reached down, ready to shift into drive, and her heart sank.

Oh shit. A clutch.

Trevor cupped his hands around his mouth. “You know how to drive a clutch, right?”

Her nostrils flared. Uh, yeah. Ten years ago, back when her mom taught her to drive using their old Corolla. But no one drove a clutch anymore. She exhaled. Shoot. She had to show him that she could do this.

“Yeah,” she yelled back. “I can drive a clutch.” She gave him a brilliant smile and a thumbs-up. He frowned, obviously seeing right through her bullshit.

Smart man.

Rebel wrestled with the gear shift, sweat beading on her forehead. “Like riding a bike. Like riding a bike,” she chanted out loud. Trevor watched her intently from his perch on high and winced as she struggled with the clutch, grinding the gears relentlessly before finally shoving it into first drive and lurching forward.

“Thank God,” she gasped quietly. She leaned out the window. “I’ve got it,” she yelled, waving her arm, trying to reassure him she would take care of his baby. “Go ahead.” She waved her hand. “I’ll follow.”

He shook his head. His jaw clenched into a hard line. “Be kind to that car, Rebel, you hear me?” he growled.

Jesus, he was hot when he got bossy. And yep, this car was definitely his baby. She’d treat it like gold. “I hear you,” she answered cheerfully, ready to follow him anywhere.

The giant RV rolled onto the dusty freeway. She hit the gas, smoothly exiting the parking lot like she’d been driving a clutch for years.

She could really like this guy.

Too bad it wouldn’t last.

Relationships never did.

Rebel spent the rest of the morning keeping her eye on the rear end of the RV as Trevor expertly maneuvered the massive vehicle around abandoned cars like a boss. Luckily, nothing completely blocked the roads they were navigating. That was a plus. They were able to make decent time on the road. It sucked when roads were blocked, which happened often. Back home, in Carmel and Monterey, some areas were so impassable she’d learned how to ride a scooter in order to get where she needed to go.

The windows were all up and the air conditioner helped. It was July and mid-morning, and already it was getting hot as hell outside. Carmel was usually foggy and mild. Even in the summer she had to wear a sweater at night. This Central Valley summer heat was hitting hard.

She tried the silent radio out of habit, only to happily discover a CD of Nickeltop’s greatest hits, which she was rocking out to while driving down the road. Thank God Trevor had seemed totally cool about her secret past with Nickeltop. She smiled to herself, nice memories of good times past flashing through her mind.

She turned the music up and kept her eyes on the road.

Rebel hadn’t been across the San Joaquin Valley in so long she barely remembered it. The land was flat, flat, flat—long stretches of nothingness and clumps of small dead cities. The nothingness was fine, farmland dotted with the occasional rest stop or farmhouse—this was no big deal. The quiet in these areas she could handle. It was still creepy as hell seeing a shopping center she was sure had been buzzing with activity in her old life instead dotted with discarded cars and the dark shape of clothed skeletons.

But still, this did not compare to the terror she held for the cities. She was white-knuckled the entire time they made their way through Los Banos, a small city on either side of the highway on their way east across the valley.

The cities were fucking horror movies she avoided at all costs. All of them were now mausoleums to her old way of life. Being alive in a world with billions of decomposing bodies that couldn’t possibly be buried was traumatic. The dead bodies were everywhere. Every single time she stepped outside of the house she and Justin lived in and journeyed anywhere, she ran into a minimum of five dead bodies. They’d burned or buried the ones that had been in the house they’d moved into. Then they’d taken the time to do the same to the bodies that either littered the road or were obstacles in their way to town or on the footpaths they liked to walk, or on the beach. But still there were so many, it was impossible to discard them all. It had become an accepted part of Rebel’s life now, seeing corpses sprawled on the ground, tripping over them, or screaming as they unexpectedly fell out of an open door. This was why she didn’t live in the middle of a town. The smell, the gore and the destruction were overwhelming.

Once, Rebel had found a decomposing young woman clutching a dead baby to her chest on the steps of a large Catholic church outside of LA. The image had been so shattering she’d had to sit on the ground and cry about it for a good thirty minutes. And there were so many of those tragic tableaus scattered everywhere, in every city.

In order to retain her sanity despite the utter devastation and loss of life, she had to stay away from it. Her new motto: out of sight, out of mind. Because there was nothing she could do about it. She couldn’t possibly save the people who might be scattered around the world still alive and needing help. She couldn’t possibly let loose every single pet or animal on earth that was caged and starving. There were probably a million things around the world that were going to shit and causing more devastation because there was no human there to shut something off before the end. No one to press a button, open a door, shut a door, or unlock something… She was one person with only two arms and she just couldn’t help everyone… And if she thought about it too much, she’d be in that dark place again. That place that held no hope for the future and no hope for herself either.

So, after two hours driving east along one relatively peaceful freeway surrounded by farmland, and then west on another, while rocking out to Nickeltop, Rebel prepped her mind to accept that she was going to drive through Fresno, a massive city, and it would be bad.

Bad.

But it would be okay. In and out. And Trevor would be there with her.

This was what needed to be done in order to meet the new survivors and get help for Justin. She needed to get through and out the other side.

They finally reached the outer subdivisions of Fresno, and Trevor pulled the RV into the relatively empty parking lot of a half-built building. There were still golden empty spaces along the side of the road. Dense networks of buildings could be seen joining together in the distance.

Rebel stepped out of the Mustang and stretched as she watched Trevor walk straight toward her, staring at her intently.

His hand reached up and cupped her face. “You okay?” he asked.

She shivered with delight simply hearing his sexy voice and loving the touch of his hand and the look in his eyes. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Good.”

“I think I’ll use the restroom, though, and check on Justin.”

He nodded and looked around. “I saw something,” he said. “When we were pulling over.”

“Saw something?” she asked, puzzled. “Saw what, more dead bodies?”

“No… It’s probably nothing.” He let go of her. “You go and do your thing and check on Justin. I’m going to grab the binoculars and look around some. Let me know if you need any help.”

This was the one good thing about this life—since everyone was dead, you didn’t have to worry so much when you stepped out the front door. With all the humans gone, life was pretty darn quiet. Too quiet. The most exciting thing she’d seen in the last two months in Carmel, besides dead bodies, was a herd of buffalo crossing the street.

Well, she could also hear dogs howling in the night. There were a lot more predators around than there used to be.

“Okay. Let me know if you find anything interesting,” she told him.

He grinned at her. “I’ll do that.”

Justin was still asleep and his a temperature was the same as before. This wasn’t good, but there wasn’t much she could do about it. The solar panels she and Justin had rigged to the RV before they’d left were doing their job, though, providing enough electricity to power a small air conditioner and fan for Justin’s room in the back of the RV, so at least she knew he was comfortable despite the midday heat.

She stepped outside into the blast of hot air and slid on her sunglasses, looking for Trevor. She hadn’t heard a peep out of him in the last fifteen minutes.

“Trevor?”

“Over here.” He stood next to the Mustang, peering across the freeway with his binoculars.

She handed him two protein bars and a bottle of water.

“Thanks,” he said.

“You found something?”

He snorted. “Rhinos.”

“What?” she laughed. “No way.”

“No really, there’s a heard of rhinos over there. Look for yourself.”

She peered through the offered binoculars, feeling like she was on a safari. And yeah, there they were, a herd of gray rhinos, about five of them, lumbering across an open field. It was damn freaky.

She lowered the binoculars. “How is this possible? This isn’t exactly Africa. I remember I saw a herd of buffalo crossing the street in Carmel. Can you believe that?”

“Yeah, I’ve seen wild animals all over. Not just the predators from the mountains coming back down into the cities, but exotic animals like you saw. They must be escaping the zoos and roaming free. There’s a big cat haven up in the mountains, where every single cage and enclosure is now empty, all the animals were set free. It must have taken them awhile to break free of their cages. Or maybe they were lucky and the workers at the zoos freed them as a last-ditch effort before they died.”

Rebel crooked an eyebrow. “If the rhinos are free, what else is free around here?”

Their eyes locked.

“Come on,” Trevor said. “Let’s get going. We still need to cross Fresno. The farm is east of here, at the base of the mountains.”

“Those mountains?” Rebel pointed to the immense line of imposing, dark gray, jagged-topped shapes that dominated the horizon.

“Yeah, you know that’s where Yosemite is, and it’s amazing you can see them in the middle of summer. Without the humans here the air is already clearing. Usually you can only see those mountains in the winter after a heavy rain.”

Rebel gave him a sharp look. “How do you know that? Did you live here before?”

“Yeah, I lived here when I was a kid.”

“Oh, did you have family here still? You know, at the end…”

“No, when the end came none of my family was here.”

Rebel was quiet, hoping he’d tell her more about what he’d done, where he’d lived, what his life had been like before the apocalypse. But he didn’t.

“Follow me tight. It can get sketchy crossing Fresno,” he said, changing the subject. “We’ve cleared a path across the city on the freeway. There’s still the usual amount of abandoned cars, but we’ve moved any that were blocking the road. We can get the RV through. I know because I’ve taken the tour bus through before. So you and I will stay on it and not go into the city itself. It’s a raised freeway that cuts across the entire city. As long as we stay on it, we never have to go into the town. The path was still clear like normal when I went through yesterday afternoon, so hopefully nothing has changed and it will be fine going back. If all goes well we should be at the farm in no more than an hour and a half.”

Rebel nodded and turned to go back to the Mustang.

“Wait.” He grabbed her arm and stopped her.

She looked up at him, surprised. He pulled her close and captured her lips for a kiss, blinding in its intensity.

Trevor finally pulled back, winked at her and walked away.

She watched him retreat, watched his perfect ass moving, cupped in those jeans, and finally snapped out of her sex-infused delirium and headed for the Mustang.

She had her gun, so she was ready if things went weird. She wasn’t familiar with any of these freeways, having never been to this part of California before, but she’d noted which roads they’d used to get where they were going. This way she knew how to get out later.

Rebel turned the air conditioner on high and followed the RV. Her eyes went everywhere, taking in the cityscape surrounding them. Eventually, either side of the freeway filled in with dense industrial neighborhoods and older-looking storefronts and houses. There were flashes of graffiti and derelict buildings with boarded-up windows.

Finally, they curved east onto 180, a raised highway. The freeways from Casa de Fruta to Fresno had been mainly open, with only the occasional car or debris to avoid, but on this freeway across Fresno, the amount of blockage was overwhelming. It reminded her of the pile-ups she’d seen in LA and San Diego, which had the worst leftover perma-jams in any of the cities she’d visited since the end. The freeways there were nearly impassable.

They curved onto the highway, and she noted three lanes in each direction. From this higher vantage point she could see the city spread out going north, south and east as far as the eye could see. Houses and stores, church spires and multi-story buildings, the makings of a city were all there. On the right side of the freeway, the tall office buildings of downtown clustered together.

On the road immediately surrounding them, there were so many abandoned vehicles, Rebel worried the RV wouldn’t fit, but they were still moving. The sudden jam of cars was oppressive, claustrophobic. It was like they were working through a tunnel with no top. They had to slow down to a crawl as they made their way through the winding path created between the cars, but it worked. Once, Rebel turned her head and looked directly into a neighboring car as she passed, only to see a skeleton slumped on the seat, its head turned toward her, the jaw opened like it was smiling.

She squeaked and kept her eyes glued forward.

The RV unexpectedly lumbered to a stop.

Rebel slammed on her break and gripped the steering wheel, white-knuckled and shoulders tense.

Trevor had told her they’d go straight through and reconnect on the other side of town. Her mind flashed to the herd of rhinos she’d seen earlier and their conversation about predators. If something were to happen, this was the worst possible location. There were no escape routes on the raised freeway. Here they were easy pickings. Like fish in a bucket.

The door to the RV squeaked open and Trevor stepped out. Rebel opened her car door and met him halfway. He had his gun out.

“There’s a half-eaten deer carcass blocking the road,” he grated. “It’s a big one, big enough that I can’t plow right over it without tipping the RV over. If I’d been driving the tour bus I could’ve kept going, but not with this RV.”

“Half eaten?” She pulled her Glock out and clicked the safety off.

“Yeah.” Trevor’s jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed as he glanced around. “I didn’t see who was eating it, but I’m sure they’re coming back. Come on. Walk with me. Stay close. I need your help to pull the carcass aside so we can keep going. Let’s work quick.”

They walked to the front of the RV, and Rebel saw what he was talking about. The deer was shredded but still big enough to create a serious obstacle. The exposed ribs arched, dripping with red meat. Entrails were scattered on the asphalt around the body. Weirdest of all, despite the mangle in the middle, the deer’s head was still perfectly formed, the jaw cracked open at an obtuse angle. It was an unfinished meal with plenty of meat still to eat. Crows fluttered over the stomach area, squawking over the choicest pieces.

An animal howled in the distance and another answered a few car lengths away, long and mournful. A wave a cold fear washed down Rebel’s spine and settled like lead in the pit of her stomach.

“Wolves,” Trevor gritted. “Fuck. Hurry. I’ll drag and you push.”

They holstered their weapons and sprinted to the carcass. The crows scattered in a flutter of black wings and muffled caws. Rebel’s breath came in short, choppy gasps as she strained to lift the front legs and move a few steps forward. Trevor grabbed the hind end and grunted as he dragged the heavy load backward, his thighs bunching as he took powerful steps.

She heard growling behind them. Crap. A bead of sweat trailed down the side of her face. “Hurry, hurry,” she panted.

After they’d gone a few paces Trevor shouted, “That’s good enough. Drop it, Rebel. Run for the car. Run. I’ll cover you.”

She let go of the carcass and turned around. The Mustang, parked behind the RV, was a straight shot in front of her. She took off, running. Thank God she’d changed into tennis shoes and shorts before she’d left Casa de Fruta that morning.

Her breaths echoed like drum beats in her head. Her feet thumped against the pavement. Run, run, run, her brain chanted.

A wolf jumped on the hood of a car to her right, a clang of metal and scratching of claws. She squealed. Dear God, it was huge. Its snarling face and fangs seemed mere inches away. She swerved and kept running for the car, the length of the RV to the left of her.

If she didn’t make it inside the Mustang, she was dead. The pack had killed that deer; it could easily kill her, too.

A gunshot rang out behind her, and another and another.

Suddenly, the car was there. Her hand slipped on the handle, wasting precious seconds. Then she was sitting inside, the door slamming beside her with a satisfying thud. The windows were all up. She immediately scanned the area, searching for Trevor through the car window. The RV ground to life in front of her. Rebel exhaled the breath she’d been holding and slumped on the steering wheel with gratitude.

The RV jerked forward. She sat up, keyed the ignition and started the car forward and followed.

“Thank you, God,” she muttered as she ground into first gear.

The RV swayed to the left and swiped another car as Trevor tried to avoid the carcass and escape. Through the rearview mirror she saw the pack gathering behind them as they left. White wolves, gray, and one black, they were all swarming around the deer carcass, snarling, fighting one another.

The humans, their competition for food, were gone and already forgotten.

“Rebel.” The walkie-talkie squawked in the seat next to her.

She scooped it up and pressed the button, “Yeah, Trevor. I’m here.”

“Rebel…”

Her chest constricted. So much in that one word. She pressed the button and breathed, “Honey… It’s okay. We’re okay.”

“You could’ve been killed,” he answered.

“You could’ve been killed, too.”

“I’m pissed off at myself.”

“Why?”

“I made the decision to have you run for the Mustang. I should’ve told you to run to the RV. Fuck the Mustang.”

“What? I ran for the Mustang because it made sense, Trevor. I was driving the Mustang. You know we couldn’t leave it there. If we left the car behind, it would be blocking the road later when you guys tried to come back through.”

“Fuck that. Nothing is more important than your safety.”

Heat pricked at her nose. She took a deep breath and pressed the walkie-talkie against her chest.

“Rebel?”

“I’m here…I’m here.”

“When I saw that wolf jump on that car…” He cursed and it sounded like he pounded his fist against something. “I should’ve told you to run to the RV. It was closer. That fucked up decision could’ve been the difference between life and death. You were amazing, Rebel.”

“You were, too,” she said softly. “You shot those wolves. You saved me.”

“We’re half-way there. I can see you, behind me.”

“I’m right here.”