Mischa's body trembled like a seismic aftershock as she and Quinton tried to carry her father to safety. If they could move just a little faster, they could catch up with the group and outrun the attackers, but her leg muscles suffered from the added weight of another person.

"I can walk just fine," her father said.

"It's okay, Mr. Hues," Quinton said. "Just hang onto my shoulder until we get to those rocks. Mischa, I've got him."

Her father slid his arm off her shoulder and gave her hand a little squeeze. "It's going to be fine."

Mischa bit her lip and nodded, trying to ignore the scratches on his face and arms as well as his blood-soaked pant legs. They hadn't gotten to him before one of the attackers had knocked him down. Two others had been lumbering over to join him when Quinton took a swing at the first attacker's skull with a metal landing gear. Vita had scared off the other two with her scavenging knife.

Failing to soothe herself with her father's words, Mischa made it to the rocks with a hammering heart. Her father took laboured breaths once he sat down on the rocks. Mischa dug through her bag for a bottle of water for him. In the chaos of the rescue, they'd had to abandon his bag.

"I can't," Nate said. "You'll need this for the rest of the hike."

"We'll find other water, please." Her sweaty extended hand shook, making the bottle hard to hold on to. With a sigh, her father accepted the bottle and took a short drink.

Quinton and Vita stood close and whispered back and forth. The way their eyes kept scanning her father's body made Mischa's body tense. People had gone missing in the past weeks at Nouveau Depart, although everyone denied it, rumors circulated that the sick were being exiled or worse. She just got her dad back from Vegas. There was no way she would lose him again.

Vita rocked back and forth on her toes and stepped closer to Nate. "Mr. Hues, I know this is an awkward question, but did you get bit anywhere?"

"Vita!" Mischa exclaimed. "That's hardly important."

Quinton placed a hand on Mischa's shoulder, and a tear slipped down her cheek.

"It's a fair question, dear." Her father set down the water and lifted up his right pant leg, the bloodier of the two. A large red wound oozed semi-viscous fluid--alongside half a dozen other teeth imprints whose edges were crusted in blood--stood out on his pale skin.

Mischa's wobbly hand couldn't stay stable enough to cover her gaping mouth. More tears tumbled and Quinton's warm hand left her shoulder. He dug through his bag for an extra shirt and a bottle of water to douse her father's wound.

Vita's eyes combed the horizon. "I have a proposition for you all."

Mischa's eyes widened. "Can it wait?"

"No. You know what will happen if we bring your father back to Mr. M and the others. The same crap they pulled when that little girl vanished."

Vita's eyes shot farther down the dry creek. The Nouveau Depart group made more and more progress, but none had stopped to check on or wait for them.

"They're going east. We could go west."

Mischa's father let out a deep breath. "Back to the warehouse."

"Farther west. Vegas west."

"Absolutely not!" Mischa said, placing her hands on her hips. "It took them weeks to get there, and you expect my dad to be able to take a stupid bike like this?"

"Hear me out." Vita turned to Quinton and Nate. "You said they have technology, they do research, and they have medical facilities. We have no idea what happens after someone is bitten. They could be fine or it could get really ugly. I don't want to take the risk of hiding out in a building together to be bitten or worse, no offence Mr. Hues. That place in Vegas might be able to help him."

Nate shifted and bit his lip as Quinton finished tying the shirt. "There was some talk of taking in some storm refugees, but that place is far too dangerous and similar to the last one." Nate reached out to take Mischa's hand. "I know that help comes at a price, and I don't want to put you through that again. You should go east with the others, and I'll try to maintain a safe distance. I may not be able to live with you, but I could live nearby, and we could visit in secret while I'm still healthy."

The hot, dry breeze pelted her legs with grains of sand. Dust gritted between her teeth as she ground them.

"Mr. Hues." Quinton played with his fraying pockets and avoided Mischa's gaze. "I hate to say it, but your best odds are in Vegas. Those people were proof that something is spreading."

Mischa's stomach turned, and she crossed her arms over her chest. "Don't you remember how bad it was?"

"It's a little different than the mountains." Quinton took his hand in hers. "I can't make any promises, but it seemed a little better, at least for most of the people living there."

"They'd never take him in. Any half-decent place would check for infection. You think they'd want someone who's been bitten?"

"They may want to study me," Nate said. "Not ideal, but a little better than being shot out back like an old dog."

Mischa's eyes widened. "Study you? Dad, are you crazy?"

"It may be the only way to get help."

"But you could be fine!" Mischa protested. "It may spread differently."

"We don't know that for sure." Her father gave her a weak smile. "If we change our mind on the way, we can try to make it on our own. There are a few towns with rough but good people who can maybe help us. That could be our best option since the sickness may not have reached that area yet."

The harsh sunlight beat down hard on her reddening skin that hadn't seen proper sunlight in weeks.

"Listen, Mischa," Vita pulled her off to the side. "I know you think I'm just being selfish and trying to put your dad at risk so I can go after Gunnar. Part of me is, but you know I love your dad too, and I think this could really help him."

"You don't know how bad it was in there, Vita."

"You've told me, and I'm willing to risk it. You and Quinton don't have to come with us."

"You would risk being used as a pawn in some repopulation scheme, being experimented on?"

Vita smoothed her hands over her pants and her voice grew quieter. "Yeah, I need the medical facility too."

"Did you get bitten? How?"

"What? No, I'm..." Vita looked toward Quinton and Nate who were just out of earshot. "I'm pregnant, and if I keep living the way we're living, my baby is going to die." Vita wrung her hands together and a few tears slipped from her eyes. "I can feel the baby getting weaker every day."

Staring at her best friend, Mischa wondered how the hell she hadn't noticed and why Vita hadn't told her until now. Was that the reason she and Gunnar were suddenly so close, had they...

"I'll answer all your questions later, but I don't know how long we have until those sick people come back. We all have to make a decision."

Her father and Quinton were trying not to stare, but they both fidgeted as Mischa continued to stall. She was the only one who fiercely opposed the plan. As her dad had said, they could try to make it on their own elsewhere or maybe conditions were better in those towns. She and Vita joined the guys near the rock.

"So if we did go to Vegas," Mischa said, "how would we even get there?"

"If you trust me." Quinton squeezed Mischa's hand for a moment. "I saw a flight school by the airport with an undamaged hangar. My grandpa used to take us up in his 172, and he was teaching me to fly. I've only ever flown with one passenger, but if there's enough fuel, we could cover as much of the distance as possible. If the tank is full, we might get lucky and make it all the way there especially since we have no luggage, and we'd all be pretty light passengers."

"Quinton," Nate said, "you don't have to do this if you don't feel comfortable. We can find a car and siphon gas along the way. It worked for Edward, Olivia and me to reach New Mexico."

"It'll be the fastest way to get help with the least obstacles." Quinton helped Nate to his feet. "But we'll have to clear the big debris off part, if not all, of that runway. There's a decent headwind, but we're fully loaded, and the heat won't help our take-off distance either."

"If those aircraft look at all damaged--" Nate started.

"I know. I won't fly anything that looks dangerous or that I don't know how to fly."

"He's a keeper, Mischa," her father said.

Her cheeks burned red, but the bloodstains on his pants tore at her heart as she wondered how many father-daughter conversations they had left before he got really sick. She choked back a sob and ran in the direction of the airport.

"Hey, I was only teasing," her father called out.

It had been so reassuring to have him around the past week or so and without the drama that came with the colony. Enough time had passed that she could stop blaming him and enjoy the fact that they could still be together as a family when so many others didn't have that luxury.

"C'mon," Mischa called out to Vita. "Let's get started on that runway."

"Slow down!" Quinton yelled as he and Nate hurried their pace. "We'll check out the planes before we paint targets on our backs."