Page 74 of Immune

The rogue.

Exit. Window.

Me again.

She refuses to turn her back on any of us, and that matters too.

“Those your people?” I ask the rogue sharply.

His dark eyes harden. “No.”

“Name,” I command shortly.

“Kaito Kanai,” he answers instantly, and the girl makes a low sound in the back of her throat, irritated as hell even when she’s crouched in the middle of an active kill zone.

“Really?” she snaps, eyeing me like I’m an idiot with a newly sprouted dick on my forehead. “We’re doing introductions right now? Shall I get us a round of coffee while we’re at it?”

Ewan, because he apparently has a death wish disguised as a personality, murmurs, “Actually, I wouldn’t say no to that. Or a cuppa. Oh, boy, I could clap the cheeks of a good cup of tea right now.”

“Shut up,” I snap.

“Yup,” he answers shortly. “Shutting up. Fully shut.”

Kaito’s eyes don’t leave the looters as he interjects. “They shot down the helicopter.”

“Figured as much,” I answer with a tight nod.

“They’re searching the crash zone,” he adds.

“I can see that, too,” I say.

The girl shifts suddenly, subtle enough that anyone else could have missed it. I don’t. I see the way she takes the weight off one knee and favors the other leg. Hurt, then. Still steady, though. Then she mutters, “One has the pack from the wreck.”

“We saw,” Xeon says softly, and her eyes flick to him suddenly. Something in her expression seems to shut down even more, which is one hell of a feat since there wasn’t much that was open to begin with.

Below, one of the looters fires again. Not at anything useful, just piercing the air with bullets. The sound ripples through the park, and Rots answer immediately. Slow groans rise from under the apartment block, from the park, and from the road where the helicopter continues to burn. The infected turn toward the gunshot in one slow, deadly wave.

The looter with the yellow scarf laughs before calling, “Bring ‘em to the right. Keep the west clear.”

Not random, then. Because there’s no panic, only control. And that has my grip on the rifle tightening as I quietly inform everyone, “They’re redirecting the horde.”

Ewan leans toward the cracked window, careful not to show anything more than a single eye, muttering under his breath, “Oh, so they’re using sound like an apocalypse version of a sheepdog but with more bullets and less adorableness and charm. That’s cute.”

Another looter fires his gun twice toward the east courtyard and the Rots pivot again, following after the sound and clearing a path toward the crash. Smart. Fuckin’ annoying but smart.

Just then, screams come from somewhere inside the building opposite and a looter near the gate lifts his rifle and fires into the dark lobby. More screams answer, and it’s clearthey’re not human. Fast Rots. I’d know those screams even in my nightmares.

“They know what they’re doing,” Xeon comments, voice quiet and observant.

I nod, answering, “They’re flushing out the fast Rots.”

Ewan’s face loses the last scrap of humor he’s been clinging to. “They’re literally weaponizing them.”

“Looks like it,” I agree.

The masked girl mutters something behind her shabby bandana that sounds like a curse aimed at the universe’s mother, so it’s no wonder I glance at her.

She’s staring at the looters instead of the Rots, knife in hand and body coiled. She doesn’t waste motion, I notice. There’s no panic in her stance now, despite the fear that still simmers under her skin. Violence doesn’t scare her, I realize. Touch does. And that shouldn’t press on my chest the way it does.