The stairwell door flies open just as the sun disappears over the horizon. I whip around, place the pistol I stole from Zombie at the head of Dumbo, who stops dead, eyes trained on the barrel.

"What the fuck is wrong with—" My words die in my throat. Poundcake comes lumbering behind Dumbo, big head coming into view first. "Holy shit, Cake--"

"Where the hell have you been, private?" Zombie limps down the hallway and claps the boy on the back-- the closest thing people can get to a hug anymore. Poundcake doesn't answer. "Ah, shit, man. Not even for your favourite sergeant?"

Poundcake shakes his head. I almost start laughing at the feeling spreading across my chest at the sight of the kid. Relief, anger, a little bit of guilt. I should've gone after him.

Dread settles into my stomach when I realize she isn't there. "She dead?"

"Ghost," Zombie hisses. "I'm sure she's fine. She caught up with Ringer or something." He turns to Dumbo. "Where the hell did you find him?"

"Just standing outside," Dumbo reveals.

Sam wrinkles his nose. "Was he peeing or something?"

"Why was that where your mind went?" I ask, staring at him. Sam shrugs.

Kids.

"He wasn't doing anything." Dumbo ignores Sam and I. "Just standing there."

Zombie shakes his head, laughing and telling Poundcake that they should go check on Cassie and Evan. Poundcake doesn't ask who he is, so I just assume he's heard Cassie mention him once or twice or a bazillion times.

Poundcake pushes open the door and steps into the room. Dumbo follows, then a limping Zombie and a tiny Sam, and finally me, broken face and tired eyes. Little army of misfit toys, Thomas. Remember them?

"How is he?" Zombie asks, looking at Evan. Now that Poundcake is back, he's going to want to get moving as fast as possible. Unfortunately, he this little problem where he can't leave anybody behind— which means Sullivan and Walker have to come, too.

"Burning up," Cassie informs us. "Delirious. He keeps talking about grace."

Zombie frowns. "Like 'Amazing Grace'?"

"Maybe saying grace, like before a meal," Dumbo suggests. "He's probably starving."

Poundcake walks over to the window to stare down at the parking lot. I wonder what happened to him while he was gone. Had he caught up with Teacup, found her corpse in the snow where Ringer was forced to leave her? We wouldn't ever know. Poundcake doesn't speak.

"What happened?" Cassie asks Zombie, wondering the same thing we all are. Except maybe Zombie. Zombie doesn't care as long as he has as many squad members safe as possible.

Zombie shrugs. "He won't say."

"Then make him say. You're the sarge, right?"

"I don't think he can."

"So Teacup's vanished and we don't know where or why."

"She caught up with Ringer," Dumbo guesses. "And Ringer decided to take her to the caverns, not waste any time bringing her back."

Cassie jerks her head in the direction of Poundcake. "Where was he?"

"Bo found him outside," Zombie tells her.

"Doing what?"

"Just. . . hanging out."

"Just hanging out? Really? You guys ever wonder which team Poundcake might be playing for?"

I glare at her, again. "Don't start with that shit, Sullivan."

"Seriously," Cassie continues. "The mute act could be just an act. Keeps you from having to answer any awkward questions. Plus the fact that it makes a lot of sense planting one of your own into each brainwashed squad, in case anybody starts to wise-"

I clench my hands into tight fists.

Zombie is losing his cool with Cassie too. "Right, and before Poundcake it was Ringer. Next it'll be Dumbo. Or me. When the guy who admitted he was the enemy is lying right there, holding your hand."

"Actually, I'm holding his hand. And he isn't the enemy, Parish. I thought we covered this."

"How do we know he didn't kill Teacup? Or Ringer? How do we know that?" Zombie challenges.

"Oh, Christ, look at him. He couldn't kill a . . . a . . ." Cassie is at a loss for words. I didn't think that could ever happen.

Zombie is done with the conversation. He whips around to Dumbo, who flinches at the hard look on his Sarge's face. "Will he live?"

Dumbo shakes his head, ears red. "It's bad."

"That's my question. How bad? How soon before he can travel?"

"Not for a while."

"Damn it, Dumbo, when?"

"A couple weeks? A month? His ankle's broke, but that's not the worst. The infection, then you've got the risk of gangrene . . ."

"A month? A month!" Zombie laughed humorlessly. "He storms this place, takes you and Ghost out, beats the crap out of me, and a couple hours later he can't move for a month!"

"Then go!" Cassie screams at him. "All of you. Leave him with me, and we'll follow you as soon as we can."

Zombie's mouth snaps shut. I force myself not to think about how he's feeling. Zombie can't leave people behind, even if he wants too.

"Makes sense to me, Sarge," Dumbo tells him, nodding.

Zombie looks at me for a long moment. I can see the decision swirling around his brain, begging me to help him decide. I slip up, show a moment of weakness.

"We're sticking to the plan," I state, shaking my head. "If Ringer doesn't show up by tomorrow, we leave. All of us. Poundcake and Dumbo will carry Evan if they need to, but no one is staying behind."

Zombie can't take it anymore. He turns, bumps into the wall, bounces off of it, and finally moves through the door and into the hallway. Mother-Hen-Dumbo follows close behind him.

"Sarge, where're you . . . ?"

"Bed, Dumbo, bed! I gotta lie down or I'm gonna fall down. Take the first watch. Nugget-Sam- whatever your name is-what are you doing?"

"I'm coming with you."

"Stay with your sister. Wait. You're right. She's got her hands full—literally. Poundcake! Sullivan has the duty. Get some shut-eye, you big mute mother . . ." His voice disappears.

"I'm gonna go on watch, too--"

Zombie's voice comes from across the hall. "Ghost, get your ass in here!"

Dumbo gives me half a smile. "You should rest."

I sigh. He's right. "Fine. For a couple minutes."

"At least an hour," Dumbo says. "Doctor's orders."

"Kiss my ass, Bo." I turn on my heel and leave the room, hiding the tiny smile. Dumbo was the only one I could really tolerate out of the bunch, even more so than Zombie sometimes. I mean, Dumbo didn't try and kiss me all of the time and smother me with warm cuddles. Dumbo didn't push my boundaries.

Not that I really mind.

Zombie's laying down on the bed with a scarlet face when I get there. "I'm getting real tired of you not listening to me, private."

"I'm getting real tired of you almost dying, Sarge."

"You almost died, too." Like we're rallying up the amount of times, trying to win a bouncy ball at the arcade.

"That's different and you know it."

He clenches his jaw. He does know. "Start listening to me or I'll have to reprimand you."

Something stirs in my stomach. I cross my arms. "Oh, yeah? And how are you going to do that... Sarge?"

Zombie's cheeks turn pink—and not from the fever. "That's not what I meant."

I chuckle and sit down on the bed beside him, slowly lowering myself against the pillow. Sighing in discomfort, my head slams back against the headboard. An immediate tremor of pain rips through my temple and a yelp passes my lips.

Zombie closes his eyes, lets out a shuddering breath. "Walker really did a number on you."

"I feel fine," I comfort him. I turn and press a quick kiss to his cheek, but don't pull away fully and instead let my cheek press against his jaw. Stubbly hair tickles the sensitive skin along my jawline and I hum in appreciation. "So do you."

He huffs a laugh, hand absentmindedly coming up scratch at the scruff that's been growing since we left Wright-Patterson. "You like it? I wasn't sure if—hey! Stop changing the subject!"

I sigh and twist to my stomach, head falling down to rest against his thigh. Exhaustion hits me and another, tired sigh falls past my lips. "I'm sorry."

His hand tangles in my hair again. "It's fine. You should get some sleep, Sof."

"I'm not even tired," I mumble, yawning.

Zombie chuckles. "Okay. Goodnight."

"Mmm. Goodnight."