Rekkan led me into an alcove of trees and foliage. Early morning sunlight seeped through a spiderweb of tree branches overhead. He unzipped his backpack and drew out antiseptic and a bandage.

"Let me see your hand."

I shook my head. "It's not that bad. We can wait until we reach the research base."

He lifted his palm between us and raised an eyebrow. With a sigh, I laid my hand on top of his. His fingers closed over mine, warm and rough. Then he unscrewed the antiseptic and dabbed the bite marks.

He had cleaned my gunshot wound with the brusque attentiveness of a sous-chef. Now he bandaged my hand as if handling something fragile... something precious. My eyes darted to his lips, which were pursed in concentration.

Heat swirled in my stomach, and fantasies danced before my eyes.

Until he spoke.

"You seriously let a baby bite you?"

I propped my free fist on my hip and scowled. "This baby had superpowers or something."

"Superbabies?" He fastened the bandage with a pin. "Could it fly or shoot lasers?"

"No, it... it just crawled really fast."

"Ah, a speedy baby. Terrifying."

I glared at him. "Rekkan, I'm serious!"

"So am I. Children are scary, in all forms."

My glare intensified.

He frowned, more a playful pout than display of remorse. "Are you angry?"

"I could have died, you know."

His eyebrows ticked together, and the pout dissipated. "I know. And I wasn't there to protect you." Eyes still on mine, he drew my hand to his lips and pressed a slow kiss to my knuckles. "That won't happen again."

I stared at him, wide-eyed. His soft lips and tender gaze spilled fire through me, singeing my nerve endings and incinerating all thought.

He tilted his head, and a tiny smile teased his lips. "Are you still angry?"

I swallowed and snatched my hand away. "Fuck you."

His smile spread into a grin. He slipped the antiseptic into his backpack, and drew out a tupperware. When he popped off the lid, the aroma of seasoned vegetables and meat wafted toward me.

"Eat."

Saliva welled in my mouth, but I fisted my hands at my sides. "I'll eat after we reach the research base. Saving the world is more important than filling my stomach."

He huffed a harsh laugh. "Do you think I abandoned my fortress so I could save the fucking world? You realize I'm only here for—" He blew out a breath and softened his voice. "Will you eat? Please."

My chest squeezed, and a fuzzy warmth fluttered in my belly. Only here for... me?

But then why did he keep rejecting me? Did he not want me like I wanted him? Or was he still afraid of Infecting me?

I accepted the tupperware and shoveled food into my mouth. As I scraped it clean, I said, "I still don't see why you think you're Infected. There are plenty of other reasons the Infected might not be interested in you. Maybe you smell bad. I mean, to the Infected. You smell great to me. I mean..."

I bit my tongue.

A smile flitted over his lips, but then he sighed. "Zaf, it's not just... even if I'm not Infected, there's something... something wrong with me."

I raised my eyebrows. "What are you talking about?"

He plucked the tupperware from my hands and slid it back into his backpack. "Let's talk about something more important. Before we leave, we need some ground rules."

I had been ready to protest the topic change, but his demand caught me off guard. "Rules? This is the apocalypse. No one still follows rules."

"Well, I do. And I'm breaking most of them by coming with you, so you can at least follow a few."

An automatic rebuttal formed on my lips, but I swallowed it when I saw his earnest expression. Beneath his snide grumpiness, worry lined his face. I had lived the last eight years in constant uncertainty. For him, this was new.

"Fine," I said. "What are your rules?"

"First, you can choose the destination, but I choose the route. I know this area better than you do, and I know where I can protect you."

Even though he had just saved me, defensiveness swelled in my chest. "And what about me protecting you?"

His lips thinned. "That's the second rule—none of that. If we're in danger, you get behind me, and you run or climb the moment I tell you to. I told you, the Infected don't bother me."

I crossed my arms over my chest. "But humans might."

"Which is why we will avoid humans."

"We'll have to talk to humans at the research base."

"You're far too optimistic." When I bit my lip, he released a heavy exhale. "Zaf, even if they are still there, chances are they don't know anything. The whole Noble Forces is working on finding the cure. Why would a dozen Southie researchers in an old factory building find anything first?"

"Well, maybe they'll have notes from my mother," I said. "Before she turned, she was always writing in some journal. And the last time I saw her, she kept saying 'Even Ether will fall in the third phase.'"

"Which means?"

I frowned. "I don't know. But..." I articulated thoughts out loud as they occured to me, gaining speed as I went. "Let's say the first phase is Freshly-Baked, who still have a bit of humanity left, and the second phase, the Overcooked, are just mindless beasts. Then maybe there's a third phase in which the virus evolves and gives its host, like, superpowers or something!"

He pressed the heel of his hand to his forehead. "You're still stuck on this superbaby thing, aren't you?"

My excitement dimmed a little. "You know, your attitude is not helping. I need a little support here."

He studied me for a minute, eyes squinting and lips pursed. Then he said, "Ok."

"Ok?"

"Yeah, ok. I'll try to stop doubting you—if you try to follow my rules."

I bit back a smile. He wasn't making much of a concession, really—but for Rekkan, this was a big step. "Deal," I said.

"Alright." He shouldered the bag and nodded at the opening between the trees. "Then let's get going."

Light streamed through the trees, birds chattered, and Rekkan's quiet presence never strayed more than a few feet from my side. He strolled along with his thumbs hitched in his pockets and head slightly bowed—almost casual, if not for the tension in the set of his shoulder and his constant scanning of the area around us.

The woods gave way to open highway and farmland, and two long shadows etched the snow ahead of us. As we trudged on, the shadows shrank, and the morning bird calls faded, leaving only boots crunching snow. Then a dot ahead grew into a recognizable landmark, and fuzzy words gradually sharpened.

The Northern Noble Forces: Fighting for a better future.

Unwillingly, my eyes found the sunken farmhouse at the roadside obscuring the field of bodies just beyond. So many people the Noble Forces had failed to save.

Then the Freshly-Baked man's last words echoed in my ears with chilling clarity.

I told you not to fire the flare gun.

"Rekkan, what do you know about the Noble Forces?"

He glanced at the billboard and then at me. Tentatively, he said, "You know they hired me to kill Southies."

I tipped my head in a quick dismissal. "Yeah, but what are they doing now? They've given Northerners flare guns to summon help, but do they actually help anyone?"

His eyes narrowed, and his voice hardened. "Of course they help. They helped me. The Noble Forces were the first to value me—to see everything wrong with me as something good. And they made this bionic leg at their headquarters in Etherland, after a Southie..."

"I know, but how have they fought for a better future? By killing Southies?"

He scoffed. "You really think the Southie invaders were blameless?"

"That's not what I was trying to say."

His eyes glinted with carefully-controlled anger. "Then what exactly are you trying to say, Zafaru?"

I sighed and shook my head, not wanting to erase the earlier forward progress by antagonizing him. "Forget it."

When the billboard faded to a dot behind us, the factory loomed on the horizon. The closer we got, the clearer the building's state of deterioration became. The roof sagged in the middle, crumbling bricks carved dark crevices like lost teeth, and jagged, broken windows glittered in the overhead sun.

We both stopped twenty feet from the front door. My palms clammed up with nervousness. Rekkan hitched his gloved thumbs in his pocket and eyed the broken windows nearest us.

"Sure doesn't look like a research base," he said.

"Maybe they don't want it to look like one, what with all the hostile gangs."

"Yeah, well, I bet they are getting a good lungful of hostile asbestos—hey, wait." As I started toward the door, he snatched my arm and jerked me back. "I go first."

I tugged my arm free from his grasp. "It's a Southie research base. It's probably safer for me than for you."

"You agreed to my rules," he growled.

With a sigh, I dropped back. Rekkan grabbed his rifle and stepped toward the factory. He paused with his ear to the door. After several seconds of silence, he yanked it open and swung his rifle out in front of him. I waited breathlessly as he scanned the room through the eye of his rifle. Then he waved for me to follow.

Two steps inside, a rodent scurried across the floor and disappeared in a hole in the wall. Dust softened our footsteps and hung in the air, streaked by sunlight. The factory machines had deteriorated to a collection of wheels, cranks, and screws, all speckled in rust like a sponge painting.

Rekkan scanned the whole place before turning toward me, his forehead creased. "Well... now it looks even less like a research  base" He sounded a little relieved but also apologetic.

"Yeah," I agreed, shoulders sinking. "But maybe if we climb the stairs—"

"Zaf, this place is covered in dust."

My head dipped low with my sigh... and then I noticed the footprints. Just ahead of our own boots, someone had stirred the dust recently.

I pointed at the marks. "Those prints lead to that less dusty spot over there. Look, it's a perfect square!"

Rekkan vocalized my conclusion, though with considerably less excitement than I felt. "A trapdoor."

"Maybe the researchers are underground."

With a sigh, Rekkan tramped over to the indicated square, crouched, and felt around. His hand hooked over something, and he pulled up the door. I scrambled to his side to see what he was seeing: a ladder angled down into a brightly lit room. A few machines whirred quietly, papers shuffled, and voices murmured.

I grinned at Rekkan. "They're still here! We can still help."

He stared down into the room, lips pursed and shoulders tight. "Zaf... I've got a bad feeling about this."

"You said you would try to stop doubting me."

He drew a breath and released it slowly. "We'll go down and check it out. But the minute I say 'run,' you get the fuck out of here."