S A N C H A

The shotgun — I'm embarrassed to say — danced in his hands. Crisp as fresh snow, the hammer snapped and barrel slapped against his palm. His oily black eye squinted into the gun's sight. His blackened hands released the magazine, then clapped it back in.

"A shotgun's not my first choice of weapon," he sighed, twisting wax into one ear, then the other. "It's powerful, but it only has a fraction of the range of a military-grade rifle. I'm surprised you can use such a heavy weapon, but that's Side Effects for you."

I pulled the bandanna from my mouth, running my tongue over my teeth to wash away the taste. "You were a NODE agent?"

He laughed softly, following one of the elder Walkers with the end of the gun. "Nah. I predated NODE. Back when there was a government, every man of eighteen years took mandatory military training. It was better than the cartels, so I just stayed."

"Wait." I blinked. I couldn't feel my limbs, curled as they were around the trunk of the tree. "You were in the Last Army. You have the original strain."

Popopopopopopopop.

Walker juice on the asphalt. The little ones scattered, loping into the brush.

Pop pop. The Carrier snarled, swiveling the gun at the fleeing Walkers. Pop.

The largest one squealed as the bullet nipped its thigh. It hissed, scuttling into the trees.

"Christ." He threw an empty shell onto the ground. "I'll have to watch my back. If they find the cats before I find them, it ain't gon' be pretty. I need a better position."

Gray, bare toes curled around the branch as the Carrier crouched. Muscles bulged in his neck. The branch groaned as his weight settled, grit dripping from its socket.

"Hey, what—?"

He sprang. The branched whipped and down, waving him goodbye.

The Carrier's new position leaned back, its limbs bouncing. The tree swayed, gray-blue material flashing between bunches of leaves. Dying sunlight winked on a deep black barrel.

I rose, standing atop the branch. The valley lay before me in a festering spread. Eastward, wilderness. Westward, the road (and then more wilderness afterward).

I seriously considered jumping out of the tree. Hey, I was fourteen! And in my defense, it wasn't looking good.

I'd tracked the Carrier, but he got the gun. I had my chance to escape, but if I didn't get out of range fast enough he could pick me off from above. I could try to take him on from up close, the same way he'd relieved me of my precious. But did I really want to test my Side Effect against a Carrier's?

I'm not sure what I would have done, because by then, Ala had already caught up to me.

"Sancha?!"

I slashed my hand over my throat, shaking my head furiously. I smashed my finger against my lips, fighting the urge to jump up and down in a panic.

Ala cupped her hands around her mouth. "What're you doing up there?! Get down, you're gonna fall!"

"SHHH!" I glanced over at the Carrier. His gun was still pointed towards the remains of the Walker pack, but he was looking down at my sister. Though his expression was unreadable from where I was, it couldn't mean anything good.

Ala frowned. "Are you shushing me?! Get down here right now!"

"Oh my God, fine. Just be quiet!" I hopped off. My feet slammed into the ground. I glared at her, focusing death rays of prepubescent fury at her face. "You're so noisy."

Her eyes creased. "Are you okay?"

"What?"

"It's just — the fall — you're not — " She sighed, running a hand over her springy brown hair. "Any normal person would have broken both legs like that. And I know you can't feel pain. Are you sure you're okay?"

I scowled. "I think I'd know if my legs were broken. I'm fine. But we need to get outta here. Now."

"Is it NODE?"

"Nope. Worse." I glanced back up the Carrier's position, then yanked her behind a tree. "Your found a new magazine, right?"

"Actually, that's just what I was about to—"

"SHH!"

"WHAT?!"

"He's gone."

"Who's gone? What's going on?"

I scanned the trees for a flash of metal, an oldie band shirt, a curly head. Nothing.

"Sancha." My sweet sister grabbed me by the shoulder, shoving me into the tree. Rough bark plucked at the threads of my long shirt. Ala's face was dark, her eyes narrowed to slits. "That's enough. I want you to answer me very carefully. What happened to your gun?"

A thump, somewhere behind us. Her eyes snapped up. She unslung her shotgun from where it'd been slung across her back. Light slid over its dark barrel. Its name was scratched into the smooth metal — Honey.

"What does it smell like?" she (finally!) whispered. "Walker?"

"No, it's—"

The Carrier walked out of the brush, leaning against the tree with my shotgun on his shoulder. He bared his teeth and winked, holding up finger guns. "Hey."