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down at the body, sucking in gulps of air. Rowan pulled her away, grabbing Jonah as they turned. He got down on a knee and stared the boy in the eyes, forcing him to look away from the infected.
    “We made a lot of noise,” he explained in a measured tone. “There will be more of them and we can’t let them surround us.”
    Jonah didn’t say anything, but he managed a nod. He opened his hand and held out Rowan’s knife. The boy’s gaze was miles away, lost somewhere in the horror of what he’d done. Rowan took the knife and gave him a confident grin.
    “We’re going to be all right,” he added for good measure. “Take your sister’s hand and stay close.”
    Mia’s eyes were as wild as her brother’s, but she appeared to be able to keep it together. Rowan was struck by the image of her; in one hand she held on to the knife that brought the infected man down, her arm stained in crimson up to the elbow, and in the other hand she held on to the frightened boy. He motioned for them to go, and the trio pushed out into the open row in the tall grass and set their sights on the edge of the city and the buildings that promised some small measure of protection.
    They only managed a few steps before a new sound echoed over the top of the grass. The low guttural moan brought with it a chilling effect. The dead were closing in and it was impossible to tell which direction they were coming from. Rowan moved in close to Mia, keeping Jonah between them. The chorus of moans grew louder with every step. The grass shifted from side to side all around them and the fear built in Rowan’s mind until he was unable to control it.
    “Go!”
    Rowan forced them to run, pushing both from behind. Hands reached out for them from all sides, pressing through the grass, trying to grab hold of anything. The death chant rose to a furious crescendo as the longing for flesh overcame the unseen mass. Hunched as low to the ground as she could manage, Mia burst out into the open screaming wildly. Jonah reached the end of the road next and was nearly run over by Rowan as he made his escape.
    The dead poured out of the grassland like an invading army. Half-eaten bodies staggered between those lucky enough to die with the full use of their limbs. A number of organs dragged along the ground as the first wave reached the street. Rowan spun around long enough to know he had to keep them moving.
    ♦
    The clouds parted and the light washed over the dead city as a wave of heat overtook the roadways. Mia kept to the center of the street. She never let go of Jonah’s hand nor did she bother to see if anything was following them. Rowan shouted out directions from time to time, keeping them on course. He waited until he was certain that they’d escaped the trailing pack of undead before his thoughts turned to Arkin and the hunting party he’d left behind. Rowan was convinced that Mia and Jonah had to reach the safety of the tribe before anyone knew they were missing.
    “I have to stop.”
    The declaration from Jonah was quickly followed by a projection of everything the boy had in his stomach. He bent at the waist, spewing onto the street as Mia stood beside him, gently rubbing his back. Rowan’s eyes were on the view behind them. He couldn’t hear the chorus of the dead or the dreadful speak of the infected, but there was no way to be certain that they were safe. Rowan hadn’t processed anything he’d seen and the sudden break in the hurried commotion brought with it a review of recent events.
    He’d been correct about the infected gathering. There was no questioning it now; Arkin had seen it with his own eyes. The council of elders might hold Darian’s death against him, but they couldn’t accuse him of lying. He couldn’t shake the annoying feeling in his gut that Arkin wasn’t going to let up. Arkin was looking for a way to get rid of him and this was his chance.
    Rowan settled his gaze on Mia. She stroked her brother’s hair out of his face