“You have three seconds to climb down from there! THREE!” Lourdes yells.

  “I’m climbing! I’m climbing!”

  Greta jumps up and races for the RV’s door. “Stop! Don’t hurt him! Stop!”

  “Greta? Get back in there,” Lourdes orders. “You don’t need to see this.”

  “I said to fucking stop!” Greta shouts as I scramble up and follow her out into the snow. It’s not falling anywhere near as hard as before, but it’s still falling. “I know him, dammit! Put down your guns!”

  “Greta?” a voice asks from above us.

  I look up and see a man wrapped in all kinds of blankets and coats. Only his eyes are showing, and his eyelashes are nothing but icicles.

  “Hey,” Greta smiles up at the man. “What the fuck are you doing up there?”

  “I hopped on as you were leaving,” the man says. “I was stuck on top of the infirmary trailers, and when you drove by I took my chance. Nearly fell off at that last curve. I guess some of your people heard me thumping around up here.”

  Greta turns to Lourdes and glares. She is almost the spitting image of a pissed off Stella, and Lourdes actually flinches at the look.

  “Put down the guns,” Greta insists. “He’s a friend.”

  “From that compound?” Stuart asks, a shotgun to his shoulder. “Greta, I think you’re confused. There are no friends from that compound.”

  “He is!” she snaps, and points a finger at him. Then she steps in front of his shotgun. “You going to shoot me, Stuart? You going to blast a hole right through my head like a Z? Because you’ll have to if you want to get to him.”

  “Who is he?” Elsbeth asks.

  Funny, it’s the first time anyone thinks to ask that. Leave it to Elsbeth to get to the point.

  “Jimmy,” Greta says, and I hear something in her voice I am none too pleased with.

  She likes this guy.

  “Dr. James Stenkler,” the man says. “I was the doctor back at that compound. I checked Greta over when they brought her in.”

  “He saved me,” Greta says.

  “Greta, we saved you,” Lourdes says, looking around at all the people holding firearms still pointed up at the man. “This guy was part of those crazies. He didn’t save you. He may have convinced you he did, but he didn’t. It’s normal for hostages to-.”

  “Oh, shut the fuck up, Lourdes,” Greta says. “I’m not some Stockholm Syndrome bippy twat. If I say he saved me, it’s because he actually saved me. Some of the men came sniffing around for a new piece of ass, and he kept them from taking me. Told them I had syphilis and crabs, but it did the trick.”

  “Do you?” Elsbeth asks. “Because those are bad things. Never eat someone with crabs. They get stuck in your-.”

  “Oh, Jesus,” I snap. “That’s enough, El.”

  “Just shit fucking with you, Long Pork.” Elsbeth laughs, then sheathes her blades and walks back into the RV. “Get him down. We should keep moving. We can’t stop like this anymore.”

  Everyone looks from the man on the RV, to Greta, then back to the man.

  “Come on, Jimmy,” Greta says. “They won’t hurt you.”

  “I’m not so sure about that, G,” Dr. Stenkler says.

  “G?” I say. “Excuse me? You do not get to call my daughter G.”

  “Oh, sorry,” the man apologizes as he scoots to the end of the RV and climbs down the back ladder. “You must be her father, Jace. Good to meet you. G, or, uh, Greta didn’t stop talking about you.”

  “How the fuck is he calling you G when he’s only known you for two days?” I growl.

  “He saved my life, Dad,” Greta says. “He can call me Bunny Nuts, if he wants to.”

  I point a finger at the guy. “You call her Bunny Nuts, and I cut ya.”

  “Get in the RV!” Elsbeth yells from inside.

  “Later,” I say to Greta as Lourdes and her guys grab Dr. Stenkler and roughly shove him up into the RV.

  “Whatever,” Greta says.

  ***

  We get going again, and I stare at Dr. Stenkler as he unwraps himself from his bundle of blankets and coats.

  “You must have known you’d need to bail if you had those ready,” I say.

  “We always kept lots of blankets in the infirmary,” Dr. Stenkler replies. “Plenty of other supplies, but those are gone now. Too bad. I’m sure you and your people could use them.”

  To say I’m surprised by how he looks is an understatement. He can’t be more than thirty.

  “What kind of doctor are you?” I ask. “Pediatrics? Learning by being?”

  “I’m twenty-nine,” he says. “I know, I’m young. I’m used to it. I graduated med school at twenty, and rushed through my residency at Northwestern Memorial. That’s when the plague hit.”

  “Plague?” Elsbeth asks, finally taking an interest. “No plague. Just Zs.”

  “Yes, well, the phenomenon had to occur somehow,” Dr. Stenkler says. “It spreads and acts like a typical plague, so that’s what it should be classified as.”

  “Listen, Doogie, it’s a fucking nightmare, is what it is,” I say. “That’s what it should be classified as.”

  “Plagues are nightmares,” Dr. Stenkler smiles.

  I’m not a sexist pig, but I’m pretty sure all the women in the RV just melted when he smiled. Fucker, with his dark hair and dark eyes and dimple chin. He has a beard, and I can still see the dimple. Smile away, bitch! You’re in my world now! We’ll see how long you last!

  The guy stares at me, then looks around like he’s waiting to be attacked.

  “Uh ... okay,” Dr. Stenkler says. “Sorry. I know you don’t trust me, but there’s no reason to get personal about it.”

  “Fuck,” I sigh. “That was out loud, wasn’t it?”

  “Yep,” Greta says. “Good one, Dad. Can you be more embarrassing?”

  “Do you really want to ask that question right now?” I reply. “There is a dildo in this RV somewhere.”

  “You didn’t mean to say all that?” Dr. Stenkler asks, wisely ignoring my dildo comment. “Have you had many of these involuntary outbursts?”

  “Yes,” the whole RV replies.

  “Fuck all y’all,” I say. Then, “Yes.”

  “It’s getting worse,” Stuart says. “He pretty much thinks it and says it now. It was funny at first, but by now it’s just annoying.”

  “And a little scary,” Critter says. “I seen a lot of crazy people in my time, and he’s starting to top the list. He may get on our nerves, yet he’s handy to have around sometimes. But he’ll stop bein’ handy if he can’t shut up!”

  “Gee, thanks, folks,” I frown. “The warm and fuzzies are just overwhelming.”

  The guy starts patting himself down, and Lourdes has a pistol in his face before he can get halfway down his chest.

  “Just looking for my pen light,” he says. “Sorry.”

  Lourdes reaches into his coat and pulls out a white pen light.

  “What do you need it for?” she asks.

  “I was going to do a couple of quick tests,” Dr. Stenkler says. “Just check some simple neurological responses. It’ll help me diagnose what’s wrong with him.”

  “Um, I don’t have a boo boo, Doogie,” I say. “If there is something wrong with me, then it’s beyond your pediatrics degree.”

  “I’m not a pediatrician,” he frowns.

  “Then why’d you say you were?” I smirk.

  “I didn’t. You did,” he replies.

  “He’s right, Dad,” Greta says, sounding a lot more worried than I’d like. “You called him the pediatrician. It wasn’t funny.”

  Dr. Stenkler reaches for the pen light. “May I?”

  Lourdes looks at me, and I nod. “Why not?” I say. “But shoot him if he tries to do a rectal exam.”

  “Deal,” Lourdes says.

  “Thanks,” Dr. Stenkler says. “Now hold still, and do exactly as I say. If my requests are confusing, or you can’t do them, then let me know right away.”

  “So, what kind of doctor are you?” I ask as he scoots forward and takes me gently by the chin, shining the light back and forth from one eye to the next.

  “Neurosurgeon,” he says. “Third youngest in the country before the plague.”

  “Third youngest?” Critter laughs. “The others must have still been suckin’ their mommies’ tits when they graduated.”

  “Exactly,” I laugh. “Good one, Crit.”

  I sit there and let the guy do his thing while everyone watches. So glad I can be the in-flight entertainment.

  ***

  Stella grips my hand as we sit together with Dr. Stenkler and Dr. McCormick in front of us, while Stuart and Elsbeth hang back, keeping an eye on our new addition while he explains what’s up with my brainpan. We’re all in the very back room of one of the RVs while the convoy moves on. Elsbeth insisted we break camp and hit the road, even with the weather still pretty bad. Mt. Vernon was mentioned, as was hunkering down for the winter, but she left zero room for argument. So we hit the road.

  The RV is stiflingly warm, but I can’t help shivering as Dr. Stenkler lays it all out.

  “There is no way I can know for sure without some major tests,” Dr. Stenkler says. “But my guess is he has some severe lesions on the brain from all the concussions he’s suffered over the years. The bleeding could be bad, or could just be localized enough to affect his verbal control.”

  “Will he die?” Stella asks, straight to the point.

  “Stella,” Dr. McCormick soothes. “He’s not going to die.”

  “But lesions mean he’s bleeding from the brain,” Stella says. “That’s not good.”

  “He’s not hallucinating, not having issues with phantom smells or sounds, so I rule out a tumor,” Dr. Stenkler says. “That would be way worse than lesions. We’ll keep an eye on him, and start logging the time and frequency of his outbursts. If they stay consistent, then I think he’s in the clear. The lesions shouldn’t get worse.”

  “But if they aren’t consistent?” Stuart asks. “Sorry. I shouldn’t interrupt.”

  “Answer the question,” Elsbeth says to Dr. Stenkler.

  “I don’t know,” the man replies. “Like I said, I need to run way more detailed tests, and I can’t do that in an RV. I need a fully equipped neurology department.”

  “We’ll find one,” Stella says, looking up at Stuart. “You will help us convince Lourdes and Critter to find one. The next big city, we find a hospital, hook up a generator, and run some fucking tests.”

  “If we can,” Stuart says. “It depends on the situation.”

  “Depends on the situation?” Stella roars.

  Everyone, even Elsbeth, flinches.

  “Hey,” I say quietly, and grip her hand hard enough that I know it hurts. She doesn’t let on at all. “Chill, baby. We can’t jeopardize everyone’s lives so I can get some polaroids taken of the inside of my skull. Stuart is right, we stop when and if we can. It does depend on the situation.”

  Stella wants to reply, but the tears start, and she can’t. I take her in my arm and glance at everyone else. They get the idea and start to filter out. Except Elsbeth, who just stands there until Stuart grabs her by the shoulder and yanks her with him.

  “He could be lying,” Stella sobs. “We don’t know this guy! He’s a liar!”

  “Dr. McCormick quizzed him,” I say softly. “So did Kramer, not that I trust that assfuck. They both say he’s legit and knows what he’s talking about.”

  “But he could be wrong,” she counters, her words pretty much lost in hiccups.

  “Yeah, he could be,” I say, and then just press her to me.

  I don’t know how long I hold my crying wife, but I can say it isn’t long enough. It can never be long enough.

  Chapter Twelve

  St. Louis is a ghost town. There aren’t even any Zs around, just burnt down buildings and streets that look like someone took a giant chainsaw to the asphalt and went all Leatherface. It’s not a good scene. The giant arch is even gone. We see some of it sticking up as we drive past, but the thing is demolished.

  Landon Chase, our resident tech asshole, tweaked the radios so we have some private, scrambled channels. This means Lourdes can bark orders at everyone over the radio to keep eyes open and be ready for an ambush.

  In addition to barking, she also complains about how we have to keep detouring to get around the cracked roads. She’s all ambush this and ambush that. But it never comes, and we get past St. Louis and suddenly we are in the West, even if we couldn’t see the great arch that is supposed to represent the Gateway to the West. Arches telling you where you are is so old world, man.

  The weather doesn’t exactly play nice as we travel. More snowstorms, more brutal cold. How the fuck did the settlers survive on the plains before space heaters?

  A particularly nasty storm comes down on us about fifty miles outside of St. Louis. Lourdes and Critter want to have us stop and circle up, but Elsbeth refuses and throws such a fit that I am actually worried she’s the one with brain lesions. Needless to say, but I’ll say it anyway, Lourdes and Critter reluctantly give in, and we keep going, pushing through the storm.

  It’s harrowing, but the clouds do break eventually, and the sky is insanely clear. I don’t think I’ve ever seen such a vast sky before. It just keeps going in all directions.

  So does the herd of Zs we run into.

  “We can’t drive through that,” Lourdes snaps over the radio. “Can someone explain that to Elsbeth? We need to stop and figure out a different route.”

  “She’s right, El,” Stella says. “We can’t force our way through. And we need fuel. We’re going to stop for a couple of days and hope the herd clears out. We resupply, and then get back on the road.”

  Elsbeth doesn’t argue with Stella, but she sure makes it known she is extremely put out by it, thank you very much.

  We find a small town about twenty miles off the interstate, and huddle up the RVs next to a library. The walls are solid concrete block and brick, and there’re only a few entrances. Plus, the books burn easy and keep us warm. I hate burning the books since they are now an endangered species, but warm is warm, people.

  I find a rhyming dictionary, and am very pleased with myself, until there’s a vote that it should be taken away from me. The vote is unanimous. Fuckers.

  Melissa and her brothers take a team out to scavenge the town for food, water, and fuel, while Lourdes, Stuart, and Critter spread out maps of the region and see if they can find a way around the giant herd of Zs, and still keep us on course.

  “Our options are limited,” Lourdes says. “We’re in flyover territory now. There just aren’t the arteries that we’re used to in the East.” She plops her finger in the middle of the map. “We go up or we go down here. But there’s no guarantee that there aren’t more herds either of those ways.”

  “Why are they so thick here?” Charlie asks as he leans back in a chair and kicks his feet up on a table. He’s salvaged a bunch of books, and he taps his toe against the stacks as he watches the navigational brain trust decide our best course. “We never saw herds like this in Asheville.”

  “Not until the Consortium herded them up to us from Atlanta,” I say, holding Stella close to me in a blanket to keep warm. “Maybe others had the same warfare idea, and things got out of hand?”

  Elsbeth snorts from a few tables away.

  “Yes, El?” I sigh. “Would you like to contribute to the conversation?”

  “Others,” Elsbeth says. “Yeah, there are others.”

  “Come on, El,” I say. “Will you please tell us what’s going on? You know something, and you are risking all of our lives by keeping us in the dark.”

  “Don’t matter,” she shrugs. “In the dark, in the light, not a damn thing you can do. If they strike, then they strike, and you all probably die.”

  “We all die?” I ask. Everyone is listening, but they know me and Elsbeth well enough to stay quiet, and let me take lead. “You aren’t counting yourself in that? Can you tell me why?”

  “They won’t kill me,” she says. “They want me. I won’t let them take me, so I’ll probably die fighting, but you all will be dead way before that.”

  “See? Now we are getting somewhere,” I say. “They strike, we die, you live. Now, how about we fill in the details a little? Maybe get more specific on the nouns? When you say ‘they will strike’, what ‘they’ are you talking about?”

  “You know,” she says.

  “Really, El? If I knew, then why would I ask?”

  “Because you’re afraid of the answer,” Elsbeth says. “You’ll be pissing in your panties.”

  I slam my hand down on the table, making everyone jump.

  “Dammit, El! Stop fucking around!” I shout. “Who the fuck are you talking about?”

  “My sisters,” she says, a smug look on her face. “How’re your panties?”

  I will admit there might be a little leaking in my panties. Fuck. Hearing Kramer mention it before was one thing. But hearing Elsbeth finally confirm it?

  It means we’re fucking dead.

  I look around the library, and my feelings towards the temporary sanctuary turn on a dime. This isn’t a sanctuary, this is a crypt. We’re just corpses that haven’t died yet. Fuckerty fuck.

  The looks on everyone’s faces tells me they are having the same thoughts. Unless…

  “Was I talking out loud?” I ask. There are some nods. “Sorry.”

  “You ain’t wrong, Long Pork,” Critter says. He doesn’t call me Jace as Elsbeth had ordered, but she doesn’t seem to care anymore. Well, it was nice while it lasted. “Those psycho ladies catch up, and they’ll cut us down beforeany of us get a chance to piss in our panties.”

  Stuart looks at the maps, looks at Elsbeth, looks back at the maps, and then looks at me.

  “Jace,” he says. “What’re your brain’s guts saying to do?”

  “My brain’s guts can’t exactly be trusted,” I say, and tap my temple. “They’re on their period, remember?”