Partials

Their motor gave out more quickly now than on the first crossing, and despite their extra gas, they found themselves rowing most of the way across. The currents carried them east, and they saw the island long before they managed to pull in close and land the boat. Night had fallen, and they took shelter in an old beach house, grabbing a few hours of sleep before moving on. At first light Kira scoured the place for food, but the cans in the pantry were bloated, and the food inside smelled rank when they opened them up. They set them aside and searched instead for a map, eventually finding an atlas near a collapsed bookshelf. There was no detailed section for Long Island, just a larger map of New York in general, but it was better than nothing—she recognized enough of the names to know where they were going, and hoped that some of the road signs outside would help them discover where they were.

They parceled out the guns they had left—a rifle, a shotgun, and two pistols—and traveled quietly, wary of the Voice and Defense Grid patrols. Kira cradled the syringe as carefully as she could, wrapping it in a ball of extra shirts and strapping it around her waist for protection. She said a silent prayer that there would still be time to save Arwen, and watched the shadows for danger.

After barely an hour of walking, Kira began to recognize the terrain—so much of the island looked alike, crumbling houses buried in kudzu and surrounded by trees, but something about the road itself seemed familiar. The way it curved, or rose, or fell; she couldn’t place it. After a moment she stopped scanning the forested road with a frown.

“We’ve been here before.”

“We haven’t even turned,” said Jayden. “How could we have been here before?”

“Not this morning,” said Kira. “I just … there.” She pointed to a house set back from the road. “Do you recognize it?”

The others peered at it, and Marcus’s eyes went wide with surprise when the realization hit him. “Is that the drifter’s hideout? Tovar?”

“I’m pretty sure,” said Kira. “Maybe he has some food stashed in there.”

As they approached, it became more obvious—they’d only seen the front at night, in the rain, but they’d seen the back more clearly, and they recognized it immediately. Kira tried the doors, trying to remember which one the old drifter had left unblocked, but froze in place when she heard the click of a gun hammer.

“Just stop right there,” said a voice. It was definitely him. Kira took her hands from the doorknob and held them up to show they were empty.

“Owen Tovar,” said Kira. The others were standing silently, guns raised, searching for wherever the voice could be coming from. The drifter had a knack for staying hidden. “It’s me, Kira Walker. Do you recognize us?”

“The four most wanted criminals in Long Island?” he said. “Yeah, I’m pretty sure we recognize you.”

We, thought Kira. Who else is in there?

“‘Most wanted,’ huh?” asked Marcus. “My mother always said I’d be famous one day. Or at least I assume she did.”

“I’m going to ask you to set your weapons down now,” said Tovar. “Nice and easy, right at your feet.”

“We came here because we thought you were a friend,” said Kira. “We need food—we’re not here to rob you.”

Tovar’s voice was lean and cold. “Is that why you drew your weapons and tried the door without knocking?”

“We didn’t want to wake Dolly,” said Marcus. There was a pause, and Tovar laughed; Kira thought it was coming from a vent near the top of the wall, but she couldn’t be sure.

“I forgot how much I liked you,” he said. “Looks like you’re not being followed, so go ahead and put down those guns, and you can come on in for a chat.”

Kira looked at Jayden, who shrugged and set down his rifle carefully by his feet. Marcus and Xochi followed, and Kira did the same. If we’re about to get robbed…, she thought, then shook her head. We have nothing—surely he can see that. The only valuable we have is the cure, and nobody knows about it.

“There you go,” said Tovar. “Now, say hello to my friends.” A bush moved to the left and Kira flinched, and then another bush moved, and a boarded-up window swung open, and suddenly the backyard was filled with men and women in various forms of camouflage and homemade armor, all of them armed.

“Easy,” said the woman in front, and Kira thought she recognized the voice. “Keep your hands in the air and step away from the guns.”

“Gianna,” said Kira, realization dawning. “You were with us last time we came here—you were on the salvage run that found the bomb.”

“Kira Walker,” said Gianna with a smile. She glanced at Jayden, and her expression soured. “And the fascist plague baby. Keep those hands where I can see them.”

“What is this?” demanded Kira. “Are you … the Voice?”