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wide-open space of the Wasteland. Nobody asking my opinion. Questioning my decisions. Looking at me like somehow a nineteen-year-old boy can save them from their worst fears.
    This is what I want, but it isn’t the life I’ve been given. It isn’t the path my choices—and the choices of others—have put me on, and until I see it through, until the one hundred fifty-seven survivors in my care are safe and the Commander has paid for his crimes with his life, I can’t turn back.
    I can, however, wish with everything in me that things were different.
    The rough bark behind Rachel scrapes against my knuckles as I fist my hands in the back of her cloak and tell myself I can’t do more than kiss her. Not now. Not here. Not while the ruins of our lives are a mere seventy yards away.
    Not when she still screams herself hoarse every night in her sleep and refuses to discuss it with me when she wakes.
    Her hands slide down my shoulders and over my chest until they come to rest on the Rowansmark device I wear strapped beneath my tunic every day. She scrapes her nail over the rope binding the button that sends the sonic frequency used to repel the Cursed One and pulls back to look at me.
    “You tied down the button that sends the monster back to its lair.” She raises a brow. “That was smart.”
    “I have my moments.”
    “Yes, you do.” Slowly she pulls her hand away from the tech. “Are you sure the device is working again? I know what you said at the camp meeting, but maybe we should test it before we actually need it.”
    “You want to call the Cursed One? A hundred yards from a group of survivors who might drop dead of heart failure if they have to deal with one more shock?”
    “I’m just saying if I have to put my faith in something, I want to be sure it works.”
    “I checked the device but didn’t see any reason for it to malfunction. I’m building a booster pack that will significantly increase the power of the tech’s sonic pulse. Once I’ve finished that, we should be able to use it without any trouble.” I lean closer, my eyes drifting toward her lips. “Give me a little more time, and it will be ready. You can put your faith in me, Rachel.”
    Before she responds, I kiss her again, and this time I’m the one trying to win an argument. The bark scrapes my hands, the hum fills my head again, and I lose myself in her. She’s in every breath I take, and somehow I feel stronger than I have since I watched the last flame gutter into ash inside my city. When I pull away, she’s smiling.
    “We’d better go back.” I shade my eyes as I peer up at the sun, just visible beyond the canopy of branches above us. Three hours until nightfall. Just enough time to return to camp, let Rachel run another sparring practice, and check on the tunnel’s progress.
    She walks across the clearing to collect our catch. I grab her Switch from the forest floor as she pulls the arrow out of the rabbit. We work in companionable silence as I clean the arrow and she stuffs the rabbit into a burlap sack with the other small game she caught today.
    I’m sliding the arrow back into its quiver when I realize the silence between us has extended into the surrounding Wasteland as well. The hush is weighted with tension as all of the little noises that usually fill the forest fade into nothing. There’s only one reason forest wildlife suddenly go silent: They’re hiding. And since they’d long since adjusted to our presence, they aren’t hiding from us.
    Rachel meets my eyes as the realization hits us: We aren’t alone.
    Handing over her Switch, I grab a low-hanging branch and swing into the tallest tree I can find. The bark scrapes against my skin as I dig my boots into the trunk and shinny my way toward the top. I climb nearly fifteen yards before I’m up high enough to see over the trees around me and into the Wasteland beyond.
    For a moment, all looks peaceful. But then I catch movement to the east. The sharp glint of the