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Rosario’s scent trail dissipated as I followed it through the Fest grounds, but I tamped down the urge to race around in a mindless search, and gunned the ATV in the direction of the zombie hunt prep area. I’d whacked Rosario’s worldview with a big ol’ fact-hammer, and I had a feeling he’d seek terrain where he felt at ease and in control. He’d spent countless hours in the woods with Marla for searches, so for him it would be like having a home court advantage. If I was wrong, I risked losing his trail for good, but it wasn’t as if I had any clues besides my gut feeling. Still, I breathed a sigh of relief when I reached the prep area and picked up Rosario’s scent.
Now the hunt was on.
His trail floated in the air and clung to the ground, as clear and palpable as tendrils of glowing red. I raced after it, lights flashing in the oversized plastic brain as if the ATV was an undead emergency vehicle. Though I wasn’t anywhere near an expert at driving a four-wheeler, the megadose of V12 had cranked my reflexes up to I’m-a-God level, and that made all the difference in the world. Adjusting my weight and balance with precision, I sped onward, ignoring the underbrush that whipped at my legs. I veered around trees and soared over gulleys, handling the machine with ludicrous ease when lesser mortals would have been crushed to death a dozen times over already.
The scent trail thickened, and the taste of him washed over my tongue. Sweat and worry, grief and determination. Worried about Marla. Driven to return to Kristi.
The sound of his ATV reached me next, an unsteady noise that fluctuated between roar and rumble. Rosario’s reflexes were merely human, sluggish compared to mine, and that forced him to slow through maneuvers that I took at speed.
I zoomed over a rise and caught a flash of purple streamers through the trees ahead. It didn’t seem possible that he could hear my vehicle over the sound of his own engine, but maybe his hind-brain felt the predator on his heels. His head whipped around, eyes widening in shock for an instant before he returned his focus to the woods and his flight.
I accelerated to try and close the gap, but he was making me work for it. He handled the ATV with the ease of a shitload of experience which damn near balanced out the disadvantage of his puny human reflexes.
It felt as if I’d been chasing him for hours, though less than ten minutes had passed since I hit the woods. The clock was ticking down on my superpowers, a looming threat that spurred me on. I’d lost the bloody mannequin a half mile back, but the big brain continued to flash merrily. Rosario skimmed past a tree and sheared off one duct-tape–and–papier-macˆhé zombie arm. It bounced in my direction, and I had to flatten myself to my seat, chicken wire fingers skimming my head as it flew past.
The distance between us shrank as I pursued with single-minded determination. Nothing else mattered but stopping Rosario, not only to save Bear but also to get Rosario—and his half-baked Save the Zombies plan—safely under the Tribe’s control.
The trees thinned and the ground leveled. Rosario poured on the speed, but my ATV was as powerful as his and carrying a lot less weight. Water sparkled in the distance as I gained ground on him. The Colemyke River. Not as big as the Kreeger but still at least a hundred feet across in this section and too deep to ride an ATV through. Elation surged through me. I had him trapped now.
Yet, inexplicably, he continued at full speed toward the river. My elation sputtered then shifted to outright dismay. No, he wasn’t trapped, not one stinking bit. He was going to drive straight in and then swim for it, let the current carry him far away from me. He was probably a good, strong swimmer, too. Goddammit. My swimming skills were adequate at best, and all the brains and V12 in the world wouldn’t make me fast enough to catch him in the water.
That meant I had to catch him on land, but easier said than done. I inched closer to him, even as the river seemed to rush at us. Rosario and I were still way too far apart, even for a god-like leap from my ATV to his—assuming my V12 supercharge hadn’t fizzled. In another thirty seconds we’d both be in the water. He’d win, and Bear and the Tribe and all zombies would lose.
No. We can’t lose. If we lose, we die. With a scream of rage and desperation, I ripped the flashing brain from the wires and zipties then chucked it at Rosario with all my might. It sailed toward him, and my anger melted into surprised delight as I watched the beautiful trajectory. I’d been worried that I’d underestimated my enhanced strength and overthrown it, but a long grey object dangled behind the brain, weighing it down just enough.
Wait. That’s my arm.
Brain and arm nailed Rosario right between the shoulder blades. He lurched forward, jerking the handlebars into an impossibly sharp turn.
That’s . . . my arm.
Brain and arm fell to earth. Rosario and the ATV soared through the air, twisting in a weirdly silent ballet of disaster. I watched in detached awe and horror as Rosario slammed against a tree and crumpled to the ground. An instant later the ATV smashed down inches from him then tumbled away, finally coming to rest on the sandy riverbank.
Sound rushed in, and I snapped out of my daze. Mouth dry, I grabbed the brake with my left—and only—hand and brought the ATV to a wobbly stop. My legs felt weird and shaky as I climbed off, but I chalked that up to the long and crazy ride through the woods. And possibly also the fact that I’d lost my fucking arm, but I didn’t have time to worry about that. Rosario groaned, which meant he was still alive. I had to deal with him first.
My left leg gave out when I was a dozen feet away from him, and I covered the rest of the distance in an awkward three-point crawl. I shifted to a cockeyed kneel beside him as he breathed in shallow gasps. Didn’t look as if he had a head injury, but from the way he’d hit the tree I suspected his ribs were a mess.
“Where’s Bear?” I shouted. Or tried to. My voice had a scraping rasp to it, but he heard me well enough.
“Reefer . . . truck.” He gasped. “Blue and white . . . end of row . . . east side.”
I grabbed my phone out of my pocket. “If you’re lying—”
“Not.” Pain tightened his bloodless face as he swallowed. “Wasn’t . . . trying to kill Bear.”
I’d stopped listening to him. The fingers of my remaining hand had zero dexterity. I set the phone on the ground and dragged my knuckle across the screen to get Nick’s number, then gave it a clumsy tap to make the call and another to put it on speaker. As it rang, I shook the roll of duct tape off my bicep and down to my hand.
“Angel?”
“Your dad’s in a refrigerator truck,” I said, “east side, blue and white, at the end of the row.”
“I’m not far from there!”
“Then go warm his ass up.” I tried to smile but my face felt as if I’d spent hours in the dentist’s chair. “Keep me on the line, okay?” Damn it. The rasp in my voice was getting worse. “Wanna make sure he’s there.”
“You got it,” Nick said in a breathless voice that told me he was running.
Though I seriously doubted Rosario could sit up, much less run away, I’d been through too much to take any chances. With my teeth and one barely working hand, I wound bright pink duct tape around his wrists and forearms. I wanted to wrap his feet and ankles, too, but when I tried to crawl that way I fell to my side in a heap. What the fuck is happening to me?
