“She must be in there,” I say.
Zeke and Ben start ramming their shoulders against the door. I join in too, and before long, we manage to pry it open just a little.
“Molly?” I shout through the gap. “Where are you?”
Again, there’s no response. We manage to make a gap just big enough for Penelope to get through.
“Please find her,” I tell the one-eyed Chihuahua.
The little dog tips its head to the side as though she understands what I’m asking of her, then disappears through the gap.
“She’ll be okay,” Ben says, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “Penelope will find her.”
I fold into him, remembering how safe and comforted I feel in his arms.
Finally, we hear Penelope’s familiar yap-yap-yap. She leaps back through the hole, tail wagging, and a moment later, the door creaks open, and there stands Molly.
“Oh God,” I cry, flying into her arms. “I thought something terrible had happened to you.”
But that’s when I realize she’s not moving, not reciprocating the hug. I open my eyes and discover that I’m starting straight down the barrel of a gun.
I jerk back and hold my hands in a truce position. As I move away from the door, I catch sight of Molly’s captor. He’s a young guy, maybe nineteen years old, with a guarded expression. One of his arms is tight around Molly, the other clutches the gun, pointing it at us.
“Who are you?” he demands.
“Just survivors,” I say. “Just people like you.”
He glares at me, untrusting.
“Why are you here?” he snaps. “No one’s been in Toledo for years. Why did you come here?”
“Why don’t you put the gun down so we can talk properly?” I say.
“No way,” he says, shaking his head. “Tell me why you’re here.”
“We’re trying to get to Texas,” I reply. “To an army camp there. We were supposed to take the train all the way down but the tracks were damaged and we were attacked by crazies.”
He pauses and a little flicker of interest crosses his face.
“An army camp?” he says.
I feel like I might be getting somewhere. The mention of the military camp has piqued his interest.
“Yes. We received a radio message from a survivors’ camp. A military one. We’re going to check it out.”
He studies my face as though trying to work out if I’m telling the truth or not.
“I’m Brooke,” I continue, trying to lure him into security so he’ll put the gun down. I point to each of the guys behind me. “Ben. Zeke. And that’s Molly.” I point at my friend, who is trembling, the gun poised at her temple. “I’m also here with my little sister, Bree, her friend Charlie, and there’s one more of us, Ryan. He’s unconscious. Then there’s Jack the pit bull and Penelope the Chihuahua, who you’ve already met. And that’s it. That’s everyone. You don’t have any reason to be afraid of us. We just wanted somewhere to shelter until Ryan wakes up, then we’ll be off.”
“You’re really going to Texas?” he asks, his tone closer to curiosity than aggression. But his eyes are still narrowed, telling me he’s not quite sure if he can trust me.
“Yes,” I reply.
“What if…” he begins, then pauses. I can tell he’s hesitating, deliberating. “What if I told you I know the best way to get to Texas from here? Would you let me come with you?”
I can feel Zeke and Ben tensing behind me. We don’t know this guy. All we know about him so far is that he has a gun and he’s pointing it at Molly’s head.
“I would,” I say, trying to sound as honest as possible. “The bigger the group, the stronger we’ll be. Survivors need to stick together.”
He narrows his eyes. “How can I trust you?”
I shrug. “You just have to make that leap of faith.”
There’s a long moment of stillness. Everyone holds their breath. Molly’s eyes are squeezed tight. Her skin is drained of all color.
Then suddenly, the boy releases her. She flies forward into my arms. I grab her trembling body and hold her tightly, exhaling all the tension I’d been trying to hide from the boy.
Everyone’s relief is palpable.
“I’m Stephan,” the boy says, still looking guarded but showing no guilt or shame at all for having held Molly hostage.
“Nice to meet you, Stephan,” I say, trying to sound cordial rather than angry.
I hold out my hand for him to shake. But as his gaze darts down to my outstretched hand, I turn it into a fist and slam it under his chin. It knocks him out cold.
His gun clatters to the floor. I grab it and stash it in my belt. Everyone stares at me, open-mouthed.
“What?” I say defensively. “He deserved it.”
No one argues with me.
“You’d better tie him up before he comes to,” I tell Zeke.
“I’ll go and raid his food supply,” Ben adds.
“Good idea.”
I loop my arm through Molly’s and begin leading her back to the others. She’s still trembling.
“So you were just lying when you said Stephan could come with us?” she asks.
“Oh no, he can come with us if he wants,” I say with shrug.
“Then why did you punch him?!”
“I just felt the need to put him in his place. No one points a gun at my best friend’s head.”
Molly locks her green eyes on me.
“Thank you, Brooke,” she says under her breath. “And I’m really sorry about our argument.”
“It’s okay,” I say. “Already forgotten.”
Molly and I have never been into mushy displays of affection. It makes me uncomfortable to talk like this. Thankfully, we’ve reached the others and Bree runs up to me.
“Where have you been for so long?” she cries.
“We found a survivor,” I reply.
Bree frowns. “You did? Where?”
“Oh, Zeke’s just tying him up.”
Her frown deepens. But before she gets a chance to fire another question at me, I’m distracted by a noise that comes from behind her. I look over and see that Ryan is stirring. He’s waking up. Molly loosens her grip on my arm and gives me a little shove, as if to say, “Go to him.”
Quietly, I head to where Ryan is starting to bring himself up to a sitting position. He looks disorientated, and his cropped hair is still filled with soot. He manages to prop himself up against the wall, and hunches his knees to his chest.
“Brooke,” he says when he sees me approaching. “What happened?”
I crouch down beside him and put my hand gently on his shoulder. “Nothing happened. You’re safe.”
He shakes his head. “No. No. Something bad happened. I died, didn’t I?”
I falter, unsure as to how much I should really tell him. “You stopped breathing,” I explain. “But it was just for a little bit.”
“It being for a little bit doesn’t make it any better.”
I look away. My voice is quieter. “No, I suppose not.”
“Sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean…” He pauses, frowns, stares at me intently. “You brought me back to life, didn’t you?”
I can feel the emotion lodging in my throat. The fear when I’d thought I’d lost him. The panic. The utter relief when he came back to me.
I nod, slowly.
Ryan looks down at his lap, frowning as though some deep thoughts are consuming him. Then he looks up at me again, leans forward, and quickly kisses me.
I’m completely taken aback. It was the last thing I was expecting him to do. But it felt wonderful, like electricity in my body.
The pleasant sensation doesn’t last long, though, because I’m suddenly hit by a pang of guilt. Ben. Ryan. I don’t know what I want or how I feel.