Page 90 of Immune

Fletcher gives him a look before asking, “What about fast ones?”

Ewan listens again, his face losing some of its usual animation. He’s quiet for a moment before he mutters, “Not nearby.”

Not nearby, he says. What a comforting little phrase. It’s very similar to “it’s not currently on fire” or “it’s only a minor flesh wound” after getting stabbed.

Kaito’s eyes flick to me and I glare at him, if for no other reason than to maintain morale. It works, because he looks away first. Good. Annoying, but necessary.

The night crawls by at the speed of a snail after that. Eventually, the black behind the vent gradually softens. Not with light exactly, but more like the darkness finally grows tired enough to loosen its grip by one finger.

Sunrise. Finally.

My body comes alive with the word before my brain even fully forms it, because it’s time to leave. The urge hits hard enough that my muscles tense all at once, and my brain runs through a plan so fast that my jaw clenches. Door. Hatch. Passage. Roof maybe. Street if clear. Pharmacy district behind me. North route if Zeds migrated east. Avoid the crash site. Avoid Vector. Avoid compound men. Avoid four Alphas and the way their restraint has started gnawing holes in my common sense.

It’s simple. It’s beautifully simple. It’s very likely to get me killed, but that’s better than staying, so it’s fucking beautiful to me.

I rise slowly, cautious with my bum knee and aching shoulder and arm, and Kaito is the first to notice. Of course heis. His head lifts, dark eyes finding me through the dim light. Fletcher notices half a second later, because that man apparently only exists to ruin the art of subtlety. Ewan’s fingers stop tapping a second later, and Xeon looks up from the pilot.

“No,” I blurt immediately, cutting in before any of them can utter a word.

Ewan blinks. “Good morning to you, too, sunshine.”

“I’m leaving,” I announce sternly.

Kaito doesn’t stand, which surprises me enough that it leaves me irritated as hell. He only shifts his weight, hand still pressed to his side and eyes watching me steadily as he says, “The streets are still hot.”

I frown. “I don’t remember asking for the weather, did I?”

“No,” he answers with a small shake of his head.

“Great. Looks like we’re all learning then,” I mutter.

Fletcher rises next, movements all slow and controlled. He doesn’t move toward me, and he doesn’t block the door. His rifle remains angled down as he says, “If you go out there now, you’ll only be walking into the same mess we spent all night waiting out.”

“Oh, thanks, talking wall,” I snark. “That was deeply insightful.”

His jaw ticks and I claim it as a small victory, locking it away in the chest of victories in my mind.

Xeon stands next, though he keeps one hand close to the pilot’s shoulder. “The looters used the dead deliberately. Too deliberately. They might have pulled back for now, but that doesn’t mean they’ve left the district completely.”

I nod. “Sure, but people leave districts all the time. It’s actually an interesting hobby. Watch, I’ll give you a demonstration.”

Ewan leans away from the vent, expression the most serious I’ve seen it until now. It’s more serious than I appreciate, but I appreciate his words less when he says, “Those looters out there weren’t just running away from the Zeds, love. They were moving them. Like chess pieces on a board they were controlling. If they’re smart enough to go around shooting aircraft out of the sky and herding the dead like it’s just another day, they’re going to be smart enough to leave eyes behind.”

Love.

That word hits me a little weirdly. Not because it means anything, because it doesn’t. People from across the pond say all kinds of random and ridiculous things. Mate. Lush. Proper. Love. Probably “crisps” when they actually mean chips or “biscuits” when they mean cookies, because apparently language somehow managed to survive the apocalypse only to remain a pain in the ass.

Yet, despite it all, my Omega still lifts her silly little head. Of course, I mentally smack her with a rolled-up newspaper.

“No one is asking you to come with us,” Kaito tells me quietly. My eyes cut to him, where he remains sitting. Still not between me and the exit, still being annoyingly considerate and careful. “We are saying you won’t survive it alone today, that’s all.”

The laugh that bursts out of me holds very little humor, as do my words. “I’ve survived alone for six years.”

Silence follows that confession, my words landing a little harder than they were supposed to. Kaito’s face changes first. Not with pity, because he’s smart enough not to make that kind of mistake. But something in his expression grows quieter. Darker.

Fletcher studies me with those sharp blue eyes. Xeon says nothing. And Ewan opens his mouth as if a joke is readyingitself to save him, then he closes it again like even he knows there are some rooms humor shouldn’t kick down the door to.

“I know how to move through streets,” I say emotionlessly. “I know where Zeds gather after noise. I know which buildings connect, which drains are big enough to crawl through, which roofs can hold my weight, and which don’t. You know your compound. I know out there.”