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“Doesn’t make them any less scary or dangerous.”
“No,” agreed Chong, “it does not.”
Lilah’s lips moved as she counted them. “Sixty-three.”
“No,” said Riot, “there’s not that many . . . oh . . . wait . . .” She dug out her binoculars and swept the area, then saw another bunch standing in the shadows of a faded brown UPS truck. “Crap.”
Nix made a low hissing sound and they all turned toward the forest on their left. Fifteen years ago it had been the manicured decorative green space around a large, one-story white building. Only pieces of the walls still stood amid the aggressive weeds, young maples, scrub pines, and wildflowers that had escaped the boundaries of the landscaping, torn up the asphalt with root growth, and become a young for
est. Nature was patient but unstoppable. The weeds were eight feet tall in places, running wild and reaching for the sky. An inexperienced eye would think they shivered as winds blew through them. None of the six teenagers was inexperienced. The movement was not in harmony with the pattern of the wind.
Zoms were coming toward the sound of the quads and maybe the smell of fresh meat.
32
“WE HAVE TO GO BACK,” said Morgie.
“We can’t,” said Chong, pointing with a bony finger. “We can’t go back. Look.”
The others swung their binoculars back the way they’d come. Vague forms moved in bunches, their bodies distorted by heat haze. Zombies. So many zombies. The dead who had come shambling to the road because of the engine roar and who kept following the sound. A slow scan of both sides of the road revealed more zoms, seeming to come from everywhere.
To their right, Benny saw the hulking shape of a big blocky gray building behind a chain-link fence.
“Chong,” he said, “see the sign over by that building? What’s it say?”
Chong peered at it. “Valley State Prison,” he said slowly.
“That’s not good,” complained Morgie.
“Better than staying here,” said Benny.
Morgie pointed to the exhaust smoke curling up from the back of Benny’s machine. “Smell that? It’s all over us, and it stinks worse than the cadaverine. I don’t know that we’d make it through those biters.”
“Then we’ll need to go really fast,” said Riot. When Morgie tried to say something else, he was drowned out by the roar as Nix and Lilah revved their engines. He and Benny turned to see the girls exchange identical wild grins, slap the visors down on their helmets, turn their quads, and go roaring off across a field.
“Wait,” yelled Chong urgently. “Lilah—put your carpet coat on!”
But the Lost Girl could not hear him over the roar of her engine. Chong revved hard and kicked his machine forward, racing desperately to catch up. Benny shot Morgie a weak smile of encouragement and followed.
For a moment Riot and Morgie sat there on their machines, watching the others go.
“We’re all going to die out here,” said Morgie.
Riot laughed as she pulled her helmet off the back and fitted it over her bald head.
“Everybody dies somewhere. Don’t be a baby.”
Then she was gone.
Even so, Morgie lingered, looking at his friends, then back in the direction of home.
“Damn,” he breathed, and gunned his engine just as the weeds parted beside the road and three dead reapers stepped out, reaching for him with gray hands. He left them in a cloud of smoke and kicked-up dust.
33
THEY BUMPED AND THUMPED ACROSS the field, cutting around the wrecks of dead cars, avoiding the reach of dead hands. There were old bones hidden by the weeds, and Benny heard them crunch and snap as his wheels rolled over them.
The chain-link fence looked mostly intact, and the gates were closed. That could mean that they’d be safe once inside, but nothing was certain. The prison could be filled with thousands of the dead, either locked in their cells or wandering free.
