The Berg was rising toward the sky and Mark caught a quick glance of Alec looking at him through the window, his eyes wide in shock. Alec moved out of sight, leaving the Berg to hover just a few dozen feet above the ground; then Mark felt the man tugging on his legs, which only made the pain in his neck and head worse. A strangled, wet bark-a sound that scared Mark more than the pain-somehow escaped his own throat.

Alec pulled on him from above. The man hung from him below. It felt as if his body had been put into one of those medieval torture racks, stretching his bones and sinews. He wondered if it was possible for his head to pop off, like a cork from a bottle. He realized that with Alec holding him he could release his grip on the window frame; he beat at his captor’s arms, beat at them, clawed them. The world was upside down, the valley floor like an earthen sky.

Mark slipped out the window several inches-a thunderbolt of pure terror flashed through him like an electric shock before his progress stopped again. Something dark blurred past his vision. A black lump followed by a thin shaft of light brown. The hammer. There was an awful thump and a crack and a scream. Alec had thrown the weapon at the guy’s face.

The man’s arm slipped from its grip around Mark’s neck and he plummeted to the ground. Mark gasped for breath, sucking in the sweet air.

Alec slowly pulled his body up and up, back through the window, then crashed to the floor. Still heaving to get his breath, Mark touched his sore neck.

The old soldier looked at him carefully. Then, seeming to have decided Mark would live, he stood, returned to the controls and lifted the Berg toward the sky.

CHAPTER 45

Mark’s stomach didn’t do so well with the sudden movement of the Berg. Alec took it straight up until it cleared the walls of the canyon, then sent it hurtling forward like it had been launched from a slingshot. Mark’s insides turned over with a surge of nausea; he crawled on his hands and knees until he finally found a bathroom. He pulled himself inside and threw up. Nothing but bile and acid. His throat burned as if he’d swallowed corrosive chemicals.

He sat for a while, until he was able to walk back to the cockpit.

“Food. Please tell me there’s food,” he croaked.

“And water?” Alec asked him. “That sound good, too?”

Mark nodded even though the old man couldn’t see him.

“Let me get this thing landed somewhere first. I’d just hover, but we can’t afford to waste all our fuel. We’re gonna need it. But I bet there’s something to shove down our throats in this hunk of junk. Then we’ll go searching for our bonfire friends.”

“Please,” Mark muttered. His eyelids drooped, and not because he was tired. He knew he was on the verge of passing out from low blood sugar. It seemed a week had gone by since his last meal. And the thirst. His mouth was a bucket of sand.

“You’ve had a rough go,” Alec said quietly. “Just give me a minute or two.”

Mark sat down on the floor again and closed his eyes.

He never quite lost consciousness.

But the world felt disconnected, as if it were a play Mark was watching from the back row, lying on the floor. With a few blankets over his head. Sounds were muffled and his stomach ached from hunger.

Finally the Berg slowed, and then there was a rough bump that shook the ship, followed by silence and stillness. Mark had a long moment when he thought for sure that sleep was coming. And with it, the memories. He fought it, didn’t know if he could handle reliving the past at that moment. He heard footsteps from far away. Then Alec was speaking to him.

“Here ya go, son. Pretty much a standard military meal, but it’s food and it’s full of nutrients. Gonna perk you right up. I flew us to an empty neighborhood between the bunker and downtown Asheville. All the crazies seem to have fled the fire and headed south.”

Mark opened his eyes, the lids so heavy he almost had to use his fingers to lift them up. Alec was blurry at first but then came into focus. He held out a silvery foil that had chunks of… something on top. It didn’t matter. It didn’t matter at all. Mark grabbed three of them and shoved the delicious-beautifully delicious-morsels into his mouth. Salty and beefy. But when it came time to swallow he could barely get them down.

“Wa-” he began, but then he erupted into a coughing jag that sent the food he couldn’t swallow into Alec’s face.

His friend wiped it off. “Nice. Really nice.”

“Water,” Mark croaked out.

“Yeah, I know. Here.” He held out a canteen and Mark could hear the liquid sloshing inside.

Mark sat up, groaning from the shock of pain that jolted through his body at the movement.

“Be careful,” Alec said. “Don’t drink too fast. You’ll be sick.”

“Okay.” Mark took the canteen, paused to steady his hands, then brought it up and tipped the spout over his bottom lip. Glorious, cool water rushed into his mouth and down his throat. He fought off a cough, focused on swallowing without wasting a drop. Then he drank some more.

“That’s enough,” Alec warned. “Now eat a few more bites of the delicacy I brought you from the mess cabinet.”

Mark did, and this time it tasted even better. Saltier and beefier. With a wetted mouth and throat, it went down easier, as well, though he had the worst sore throat of his life. A little strength seeped its way into his muscles. His headache receded a bit. The best news of all was that his nausea was gone.

He felt just good enough that he wanted to sleep.

“You look like a couple of the lightbulbs in your brain flicked back on,” Alec said, sitting down. He relaxed back against the wall and stuffed food into his mouth. “This crap ain’t half bad, is it?”

“You shouldn’t talk with your mouth full,” Mark replied with a weak smile. “It’s not polite.”

“I know.” Alec crammed even more food in and exaggerated his movements to make sure Mark saw everything he was chewing. “What kind of a person even needs to be told such a thing? I mean, didn’t I have a mama?”

Mark laughed. Genuinely laughed, and it hurt his chest and throat. Made him cough. When he recovered, he asked, “So where did you take us, again?” Then he resumed eating.

“Well, the Berg’s bunker was just west of Asheville. So I came a little east-there’re a few fancy neighborhoods along this mountainside. I spotted a lot of activity a couple miles south, and I think it might be where all those people from our lovely bonfire experience fled to after they set the forest ablaze. It seems quiet here.”

He paused to take another bite. “We’re parked in a cul-de-sac-a fancy-schmancy neighborhood if I’ve ever seen one. Before it got baked in an oven, that is. Used to be a lot of rich folk outside Asheville, ya know. Most of these homes are half ruined now.”

“But what about-”

Alec held up his hand to stop Mark’s question. “I know. As soon as we get some strength and another few hours of sleep, we’ll find our friends.”

Mark didn’t want to waste any more time, but he knew Alec was right. They needed to rest. “Any sign of… anything?”

“I thought I recognized some people when we flew over the place south of here. I’m almost positive it’s the folks from Deedee’s settlement. We’ll just have to see if Lana and the others are there, too, like that Bruce seemed to be saying.”

Mark closed his eyes for a second, not sure if that was something he should hope for.

They paused to eat and drink some more. Mark was curious to see what it looked like outside, but he was too tired to stand up and go to the window. Plus, he’d seen his fair share of the burnt-out shells folks had once called home. “You’re sure we’re okay to be parked here? In case you forgot, some wild dude with a hammer broke one of our windows.”