Page 54 of Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

“Because you lied to me, Cole. Like, I knew you…I had a nickname for you. You’ve been in my house. You’ve handled my fluids. In the post-apocalyptic world, we’re basically family and even through all of that, you lied to me. And that lie ended up with me here, locked up like a prisoner, unable to complete my father’s last request.”

My voice is shaking by the end. I’d been unaware how angry I really was. How scared. Maybe I wouldn’t be if I hadn’t seen these people blow up a school bus filled with people, but I did. That image, the smell, would never leave my mind.

“You led them right to me,” I say. “To the information. Why the hell didn’t you tell me about the tracker in my arm? Why didn’t you identify yourself when we first met back at the lake?”

“I can explain if you want me to.”

“Does it matter? Will it change anything?” I ask rolling my eyes. “It wasn’t just me this affected. My mom and Wyatt and even Chloe.”

“She wouldn’t go to the center on her own. I tried.”

He looks like he’s been hit by a blow and from the resigned look on his face I know he has no real defense. I snatch the bundle and box of cleaning products from him. “I’ll go first and you better watch my back,” I tell him. “I don’t trust you, but you owe me this much.”

He nods. “I’ve got your back.”

I roll my eyes and walk away. “Sure you do.”

Chapter Forty

~Before~

2 Weeks Ago

The bluish glow is so familiar, so comforting, that I want to cry. I grip my mother’s hand. She tightens hers in return.

Way outside of Cary, in a single country home not far off the highway, someone has on a television.

The light beckons me and we move toward it even though it’s dangerous. People are dangerous. We’ve spent days avoiding them. But news? It’s always alluring—to learn something. Know anything about what is going on. An explanation. That need overwhelms the base sense of safety.

“How do you think they have power?” Mom asks, then quickly suggests, “Maybe the grids only failed in the city.”

That doesn’t sound right. In fact we know better. Before we lost all service power outages were happening all over the quarantined areas. Maybe this means things are back online. Maybe this is over.

I take a step closer and look at the house. The owner’s did an okay job boarding up the windows but from the outside there was a sliver of space, just enough for the light to seep through.

On the roof I see rectangular grids reflecting off the half moon. “They have solar panels.”

We move quietly toward the house, ducking down beneath the window sill. We listen to the quiet, for the sounds beneath the chirping crickets and buzzing mosquitoes.

The voices are muffled. My mother’s forehead wrinkles in concentration. “It’s Roger Upton,” she whispers the name of the most famous newscaster on TV. I don’t need to see his face to conjure the image of his silver-gray hair and bushy eyebrows. A feeling of excitement bubbles under the surface. Oh, my God, maybe this really is over. My mother and I dare to smile at one another.

I catch snippets of his words, his voice covering me like a salve. “Outbreak…quarantine…get to the nearest shelter…”

“Anything new?” I ask.

My mom holds her finger to her lips.

“The state of Georgia announced today that they will shut down all travel to and from the state…”

Her smile fades and her eyebrows furrow.

“What?” I ask.

She begins to mouth words, the same ones coming from Roger Upton, the same warnings we heard over and over before everything shut down.

“It’s a recording,” she says.

“Like they’re replaying something—like the emergency stuff?”

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