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it worse somehow. I fall into a seat and stare at the map, hoping that it will change. It doesn’t.
    “We have to tell the north,” I murmur, absently.
    “No.”
    My head snaps up, and I stare at Finn. He’s shaking his head, implacable, and a hysterical laugh burns in the back of my throat. “Why the hell not?” I demand.
    “They don’t want to hear it, Ren,” Collin says, and I twist to look at him. “They won’t accept it. And if we show up at Haven 12, telling them we’re survivors from Haven 8, they’ll throw us in Q. We don’t have time for that.”
    “Excuse me, but we’re sitting in a cave in the middle of the desert. How different is this from sitting in Q?”
    “We decide when we leave,” Finn answers. I snort.
    “
You
decide, you mean.”
    He nods, and I rub my eyes, too exhausted to even be angry. “So what do you want to do?”
    “I have contacts, in the west. I want to use them—we can still evacuate the west and move the Havens south. Let the biters have it.”
    “They’ll follow us,” I protest.
    “When in the past twenty years hasn’t that been true?”
    “So what do you want to do?”
    “I want to go to Haven 18. I can talk to some folks I know there—if we
can
evacuate the west, our best bet is to start there.”
    “Then let’s go,” I say, standing. “The sooner we get Dustin some medical help, the better.”
    Finn is silent, and Collin shifts, looking at him. “It’s as safe as it’s going to get, O’Malley.”
    “I’m going alone.”

Chapter 14

Threat Assessment
    I sit with my legs dangling out of the cave.
    The sun is setting, and the cool air is seeping into me, chilling the stone under my ass. Collin is preparing canned soup for dinner, ignoring Finn.
    “Get away from the ledge,” Finn orders irritably when he walks out of the back tunnel. I’m proud of myself for not flipping him off, although I’m not sure Collin is still sticking with the “be nice” routine.
    When I don’t move, Finn hooks his hands under my armpits and drags me away. I shriek, flailing in his grip. He scoops me off the ground and tosses me onto the couch. I bounce up, swinging, and he ducks away, a savage grin toying with the edges of his lips.
    “Want to fight, little girl?” he taunts, and I swing again. He back away, and I spin, kicking him with all the force I can put behind it. Finn grunts as my foot collides with his gut, and I drop into a crouch, my hair spilling into my eyes. His are furious—and something else. “Don’t fucking touch me, you bastard,” I snarl, and he has the gall to laugh at me.
    Collin jerks him away from me. “
Finn,”
he snaps, and I see what makes my brother a Walker, the barely leashed violence that’s threatening to explode. “Cool it, man. You’re pushing me too far.”
    Finn’s gaze focuses on him, slowly, then flickers to me and back again. He nods, and I turn away. Collin catches me, concern written on his face. I shrug him off. My nerves are shot, and I wish he’d let the fight happen.
    Sure, Finn could wipe the floor with my ass, but at least I’d be able to get some of this aggression out. I desperately need that.
    Even killing zombies would help right now.
    We scatter with our soup, and I carry mine into the bedroom. Dustin’s sweating. I check his bandage—it’s tight, cutting into his skin. I swallow hard as I put my dinner aside, and then I unwrap the bandage.
    The stench makes me gag, and I almost lose the little I’ve eaten. The flesh is putrid, decaying, his skin stretched and inflamed around the scratch. A line of thick pus oozes out, and I use a clean corner of his bandage to wipe it away.
    “His cut—it had to come from one of the infects.”
    I glance over at Finn. He stands in the doorway, staring at me. I don’t address his words—if it’s true, and it really is the only reason Dustin would have this kind of infection this quickly, there’s still a chance he’ll turn.
    Unless he’s given meds, and