Page 127 of Wild Thing

“Hey!” the voice, coming from the distance, makes us halt. “Hey, you!”

“Go!” I snap, grabbing Kat’s hand, and dart for the shadows when a gunshot pierces the air.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Kat pants behind me as we run around the building. “Motherf—” Kat yelps.

“You okay?” I drag her along a wooden wall, through some bushes.

“Stepped on something.”

More voices come from the fire pit. A sound of a radio beep, the another one.

“Trey!”

“Radio the Dice crew!”

“Search the premises!”

A dog barks in the distance, its barking picked up by a second one, then another, then suddenly the whole goddamn place comes alive.

There are no fences or property divisions. We crawl from one shed to another one. Then a tent. Then trip on old cardboard boxes. Step in a pile of oozing trash. Slip on the garbage-slimed dirt. Then cross some dirt path. Notice the bonfires ahead. Veer away behind another dark building.

“Fucking Ashlands,” I murmur, scanning the semi-dark and piles of garbage.

Something squeaks under my feet—rats, this fucking place has rats!

The heat is overwhelming. The air is thick with nauseating scents that don’t belong to the Zion I know. The shadows are the darkest shade of black, the rest of the area hazy with smoke that swims through the dim air.

No, this place is not dead. It’s alive like no other, but with the worst of humankind.

There’s a sound of an engine starting, then another approaching from the distance. I yank Kat behind one of the shacks and halt. There are shadows in the dark alcove of a dilapidated shed in front of us. They’re moving around, but not coming out, though I have a feeling they watch us. The stench here is stronger—human waste, cooked food, unclean clothes.

Suddenly, a bright light sweeps across the low roofs of the barracks—spotlights.

“Fuck, they’re searching for us,” I say, pulling Kat down to sit behind the shack with our backs to it.

The truck stops right behind the building that hides us. We can’t move, can’t go anywhere. All we can do is wait.

“We’re in trouble,” I tell Kat, and we turn our heads to look at each other.

It starts drizzling. The drops of water feel good on my bloodied hot face, and I want to laugh darkly, because Kat might’ve been right—she and I are cursed.

I take the gun with my left hand and find Kat’s hand in the dark, lacing my fingers with hers.

“Someone will notice we’re missing,” she says.

I pray that we survive this. Of all the things I can lose—my career, my wealth, the island—she’s the one I don’t want to carry on without.

“Yes, they will,” I say, trying to sound more hopeful than I actually am.

53

MADDY

I’ve gotten usedto chats with Callie and Kai, evenings with Ty and Dani, and even Marlow, who I’ve gotten to know better. Bo is fully recovered, but we only see him in the evenings when we gather at someone’s bungalow for dinner, a rare occasion for me, because I try to get more night shifts, any shifts. Work is my therapy and my escape.

I saywebecause we still feel like the Outcasts from the Eastside, though most of us settled quite comfortably into Ayana life. Comfort is a tricky word, especially after the two-year hostility between the Eastside and Westside. But Archer handled it well.

“He is a changed man, trust me,” Ty said one day.

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