The sun chose that instant to break the horizon, piercing the clouds and lighting Sophia’s face a bright shade of honey gold. I watched the way her irises seemed suspended in that burnished glow, as if floating in amber. “You’re right.” My thumb traced her cheek and came to rest at the corner of her mouth. “Just one question.”

“Hmm?”

“Why did you wait so long?”

TWENTY-FOUR

Hollow Rock, Tennessee

“Now I know what you meant.” Miranda said.

“About what?”

“About not liking what I was going to hear.”

Caleb laughed quietly. After lunch, he and Miranda had gone for a walk to Stall’s tavern. They had taken a table outside and ordered two tall glasses of what Mike Stall called his Special Hard Cider. Really, it was whatever fruit juice he could get his hands on laced with grain liquor.

A few high, wispy clouds had moved in, but it was still a bright, pleasantly warm spring day—not unlike the morning Caleb had woken next to Sophia on Dale’s boat. He looked across the table at Miranda, at how much she resembled Sophia, the biggest differences being Miranda’s curvier body and blue eyes, and wondered if his feelings for her were just a coincidence.

“Don’t tell me you’ve never had a boyfriend,” Caleb said.

“I could, but I would be lying.”

“Anybody worth mentioning?”

She shook her head, eyes fixed on her glass. “Not really.”

The conversation lulled for a while, and Caleb could tell she was working her way up to something. It went through a few fits and starts, until finally she said, “So what’s the big mystery here, anyway?”

Caleb frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Well … you talk about your past like you’re carrying some kind of dark secret. But so far, you haven’t told me anything I might not hear from any number of people. I mean, the Outbreak was brutal; it took a toll on us all. And I’m not trying to downplay what happened to you, or how awful it was. But I’ve heard worse. Hell, I’ve lived through worse.”

Caleb took a long sip of eighty-proof pineapple juice and sat back in his chair. “I’m getting around to it.”

“I’m not trying to rush you, I just ... you know what? I shouldn’t have said anything. That was stupid. What a stupid, insensitive thing to say.”

“It wasn’t stupid, Miranda. Tell you the truth, I’ve been dragging my feet.”

She reached for his hand. “Not your favorite subject, is it?”

“No. It’s not.”

“It’s okay if you want to stop. You don’t need to tell me anything else.”

“I kind of do, Miranda. I need to get it out.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

The server came by. Caleb ordered another round, and for the next couple of hours, he kept his voice low.

*****

Canyon Lake, Texas

Breakfast was instant grits and fried Spam.

Lauren, Lance and I washed ours down with coffee, whereas Sophia and Lola fled at the sight of food. After eating, I raided Dale’s liquor cabinet, whipped up a couple of Bloody Marys, and brought them topside. The girls’ spirits improved dramatically.

As the sun rose higher and a fine mist began to rise from the lake, I sat by the radio waiting in vain for it to squawk again. This lasted for the better part of a half hour, until Lola and Sophia declared the hair of the dog had eased its owner’s bite enough they could endure the short transit back to the cabin. Lance eased the boat forward while I used the windlass to pull in the anchor. We motored southward.

Rounding the bend in the shoreline, our view of the street was obscured by the houses lining the waterfront. Still, I could hear the unmistakable rumble of the Humvee’s engines followed by several cracks of a rifle. The infected walking aimless laps around the cabin whipped their heads in the direction of the reports, sending up an earsplitting clamor of moans.

“The heck are they doin’?” Lance muttered.

I stood beside him on the forecastle and shook my head. “No idea.”

A few minutes later, the strategy became clear. The sounds of engines and gunfire grabbed the undead’s attention as Dad and the others slowly led the horde away. I thought back to Perry Torrance, and how he seemed to know exactly where Tyrel and I were standing despite the fact he couldn’t see us, and a light bulb came on over my head.

“It’s sound,” I said.

Lance turned his head. “What’s that?”

“The infected. They hunt by sound.”

He narrowed his eyes. “I don’t follow.”

“Think about it. Their eyes are glazed over with that white stuff. They probably can’t see very well. Back at the Kennedys’ house, they didn’t notice us until we were close enough they could hear our footsteps. And look at what they’re doing over there on the shore. The infected can’t see the Humvee any better than we can, but they’re still following it. How else could they do that?”

Lance brought a hand to his chin and watched the horde wander after the Humvees. “You know, you may be on to something.”

An uneasy hour went by while we watched and worried, and the lamentations of the undead grew increasingly distant. Sophia and Lola went belowdecks to clean up while Lance and I sat by the radio, waiting. Lauren paced back and forth from the forecastle to the aft part of the main deck, chewing on her nails, muttering and cursing under her breath. Finally, a crackle of static broke the silence.

“Fox, this is Eagle. Do you copy, over.”

I snatched up the handset. “Copy Eagle. Everyone okay?”

“More or less. We’re en route, ETA five minutes. Don’t approach yet, there’s still a few infected in the neighborhood.”

“Copy. Standing by.”

The roar of Humvee engines approached again, followed by the staccato clamor of gunfire. Several times, the thunder of M-240s pounded the air, the last of which ended with a tremendous WHUMP that sent every bird in a hundred yard radius flapping and screeching in fear.

“Jesus,” Lance said, shading his eyes as he stared at the shore. “Was that a grenade?”

“I think so.” I said.

“The hell did they get a grenade?”

“Beats me.”

Lauren stopped pacing. “Do you think they’re all right?”

I picked up the handset. “Eagle, Fox. What was that explosion? Over.”

A few seconds passed, then Blake answered, “Frag Grenade. Can’t talk.” Another voice said something else, but the hammering of a machine gun drowned it out.

The gunshots and steady thrum of 400 cubic-inch V8 turbo-diesels increased in volume until they were directly in front of the cabin. The frequency of fire slowed until nearly a minute went by with no shots at all. The engines cut off, then a few seconds later, the gun-toting silhouettes of Dad, Blake, and Mike appeared in the back yard.

“Where’s Tyrel?” I wondered aloud.

The radio crackled. “Fox, Eagle. You are clear to approach. Acknowledge.”

I grabbed the mike. “Copy, Eagle. On our way.”

Lance took the helm and guided us in, slowing down parallel to the shore and dropping anchor a hundred feet out. The five of us climbed into the dinghy and set off for shore, leaving the supplies and spare ammo aboard the cruiser. We could always come back for it later.

I drove the dinghy to within twenty feet of the shoreline, then killed the engine and let it drift the rest of the way. When it came to rest in the sand, we all hopped out and dragged it ashore.

“Everybody all right?” Mike asked.

My heart leapt in my chest at the sight of him, my mind going back to last night. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath to steady my hands lest Mike see them shaking.

“We’re all fine,” Lauren answered.

Sophia ran to her father and jumped into his arms. She hugged the big Marine, kissed him on the cheek, then reared back and swatted him on the arm hard enough to raise a welt. “Where the hell have you been? I’ve been worried sick. You were supposed to be back yesterday afternoon. What happened?”