Roxy snored, loudly.

  Timon the Gentle Giant wasn’t being so gentle at the moment, but he was still very much doing the giant thing. He had his porky ham bone of an arm wrapped around Isaac’s neck, holding Isaac’s right wrist and elbow sharply against his back, bending in a way that seemed contrary to nature’s intention. It hurt all around, but every time Timon took a step—he was evidently performing the very important task of escorting Isaac back to the woman named Letti—each jounce sent a bolt of pain up Isaac’s arms and into his shoulders. It was a dreary ache, not helped by all the jostling.

  “Could you just let me walk,” Isaac said through gritted teeth, his face frozen in a perpetual, rigid wince. “Please. I’m not going to run away or . . . OW! Just let me go! I can walk!”

  Sadina marched along next to them, tears of anger in her eyes, looking like a raged-up lion waiting for the right time to spring in for the kill. She could do it, too. Isaac knew her better than anyone except maybe Trish and Ms. Cowan. She was tough as an iron bucket full of iron tools, especially when she’d been done wrong.

  “Why are you doing this?” Sadina asked, her teeth just as clenched as Isaac’s. “I thought we’d come to an agreement, to hear you out, stay with you, keep things peaceful. Ya know, go along for now. Let him go!” She stepped closer but then seemed to think better of it. Maybe the Sadina versus the Gentle Giant boxing match needed a little more time to marinate.

  “You know what you did,” Timon grumbled through heavy breaths—apparently doing the walking for two people was about twice as hard as just doing it for yourself. “Told me you’re going to take a dump, next thing I know you’re scratching words on walls with a big chunky rock? That wasn’t part of our sweet compromise, sorry.”

  Isaac wanted to respond but he couldn’t get enough breath in his lungs to sputter out a single word. He just kinda squawked and groaned. So Sadina took over for him since she practically read his mind all the time, anyway.

  “They’re our friends, Timon,” she said with an ocean-full of sincerity. “They’re our only friends in the world right now. Hell, one of them is my own mom. Can you imagine what she’s going through? We just wanted to reassure them that we’re alive.”

  A new voice entered the fray from up ahead.

  “Oh that’s it, huh?” This sounded like a bark coming from the doorway of an old coffee shop or something, the door hanging off its hinges. Letti stepped out and onto the street. “Really? That’s all you wanted to do? Send a nice little message of love? We’re not as stupid as Timon looks. We know you’re trying to leave them bread crumbs along the way so they can follow us.”

  Isaac, temporarily insane, tried to shout, “Hansel and Gretel” because that had been a favorite story when he was little; his mom would read it to him at bedtime. Scary as hell and warped his mind, but he loved it. All that came out of his mouth, though, was a repeat of the squawk and groan from earlier.

  Maybe the unpleasant sounds spewing from his throat had finally been enough to convince Timon; he released Isaac from his kidnapper grip. Isaac bent over and put his hands on his knees, releasing a mixed order of coughing, spitting, sucking in breaths, letting them out, then coughing and spitting again.

  Letti walked right in front of him and lifted his chin with a firm hand so he had to look up at her.

  “What did you write on that wall?”

  Timon opened his mouth to answer—he’d seen it, after all—but Letti cut him off with a sharp swipe of her hand. “I want to hear it from the boy who wrote it. What did it say?”

  Isaac straightened up, continuing to catch his breath. He knew any chance of lying to get out of this mess had gone out the window. “It was just one of those stupid tags kids leave. Johnny so-and-so was here. Regina what’s-her-name was here. People do it all the time. So . . . Isaac was here. Sadina was here. No big deal.”

  Timon stiffened a bit. “Isaac the Blacksmith? Sadina the Wise? What was that all about?”

  “What do you mean, what was that all about? They’re called nicknames. Nothing to worry about. Let’s keep moving.”

  The woman rolled her eyes and shook her head. Timon made a noise that sounded like he needed to clear his sinuses. Sadina still trembled with frustration but was wise enough to keep it simmering on the inside. Isaac could finally breathe again. Everyone seemed content to consider the situation settled and move on.

  “Okay,” Letti said. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”

  She turned and started up the rough remnants of a path that led away from the street and up a hill, through a jungle of weeds and bushes and small trees. Timon faced the other two and gave a stern nod toward the path, his message clear. Without a word, Isaac followed, then Sadina, the Gentle Giant being kind enough to take up the rear.

  The hill was steep, the hiking tough; Isaac’s heart thumped so hard he could hear it faintly inside his head. Sadina took deep, audible breaths behind him. Several times, they needed to grab a hanging branch or a strong weed to pull themselves up a section. Letti, above, bounded along like she was going downhill instead of up.

  By the time they crested the top of the hill, Isaac had released at least a quart of sweat through his skin and his chest heaved with each breath. But it felt good, exhilarating. It made him miss the sweaty, smoky, hardworking days at the Forge back home.

  “Come on,” Letti said, waving her arm as she continued walking along the top of the hill. The darkening sky loomed over them, vast and unbroken now, the very first hint of stars beginning to peek through the heavenly facade.

  Isaac was lost for a moment in the sheer beauty of the view. The sun glimmering on the distant ocean as it sank toward the horizon, the expanse of buildings in every direction, some of the remaining windows glowing orange in reflection. On the other side of the hill, mountains rose in the distance, their color somewhere between red and purple in the fading light. A sudden and powerful sadness gripped his heart. How wonderful the world must’ve been once. Why did it all have to be ruined by apocalypse and disease? Could it ever make a comeback?

  “Here,” Letti said. She’d stopped and squatted on her haunches, pointing to a spot down in the sprawling neighborhoods of the city, lying beneath a blanket of shadow. “Come here and look.”

  Isaac knelt in the dirt next to the woman and followed the trajectory of her arm. It took a moment to focus, to see movement in a spot maybe two or three miles away. People. A group of people, maybe ten or fifteen of them.

  “That’s . . .” Sadina began but didn’t need to finish.

  Letti looked back at her and nodded. “Yes, that’s them. We’ve left just enough clues to let them stay on our trail. Thanks for helping out with that.”

  Isaac wanted to respond but he was speechless.

  “Did you really think we’d let you do something like scrawl a giant message across a brick wall before stopping you?” Letti exchanged a glance with Timon. “It worked out, didn’t it? We got to teach you a lesson about how important it is to do what we say, and you left a big sign encouraging them to keep coming.”

  “But . . . why?” Sadina asked. “I don’t get it. Are you going to let them catch up to us or not?”

  Letti didn’t answer the question. She stood and started back down the hill, away from their friends.

  Isaac knew they could make a run for it. It’s not like either of their captors would risk killing them—at the very least Sadina was important to someone, somewhere for reasons unknown. Even now, he could probably push Timon and the Gentle Giant would very ungently tumble down the small mountain. But . . .

  Not yet, Isaac told himself. Not yet.

  Like a puppy dog, he followed his masters.

  PART THREE

  One Month Later

  I’ve noticed something about myself. I’m still a human being, the bloody Flare be damned. Especially with memories coming back, all mixed up with the spurts of madness. I don’t feel so good, that’s for sure. But I miss my mom, my dad, my sister. I barely remember them, but they’re creeping their way back into my thoughts and heart. And I miss them. I don’t like the prospect of going crazy, or losing what I’ve just started to gain. And this helps me realize that I’m a human being even as I begin to lose my humanity.

  There’s a lesson in that somewhere. I’ll figure it out later.

  —The Book of Newt

  CHAPTER TEN

  The River

  She woke up before everyone else, dawn just kissing the eastern sky.

  A lifetime had passed since they first stepped from that damn boat onto the sandy beaches of the old world. She didn’t know the literal number of days, probably three or four weeks—Miyoko was keeping a calendar but Jackie had told her to stop with the constant updates. She didn’t want to think about it. Regardless, it felt like years. A lifetime.

  A lifetime of walking.

  North through the city, north along the coast of the ocean and its countless, abandoned, lifeless seaside villages. North and north and north. Sometimes east and then north and then east again, eventually leaving the coastline in the distance. No one knew why this route had been set or where they were going exactly. Only one thing guided them: Clues. Signs. Messages. Staying on the trail. Although none of her friends would dare say it out loud, it almost seemed too easy. But Isaac and Sadina were somewhere ahead of them, never more than a couple days’ worth, and both of them were alive and well by the looks of it. Jackie and the others just couldn’t quite catch up to them. Always a step behind. A good number of steps, actually.

  “Hey, you,” someone whispered.

  Jackie just about jumped out of her clothes but hid it well. She rolled over to see Dominic sitting on the ground not three feet from her, next to the previous night’s campfire, its smoldering, wispy remains like gray ghosts leaking toward the sky.

  “What’re you doing up so early?” she asked. Dominic was notorious for having to be dragged out of his sleeping bag each morning.

  “Had to pee.” Somehow that was his go-to answer for about twenty different questions. “Saw you stirring, thought I’d say hi.”

  “That’s sweet of you, Dom. Can you go take a pee for me, too?”

  “I don’t think it works that way. I could get you a bucket?”

  She sniggered at that. “We probably won’t leave for another couple hours. Don’t you think you should get some more sleep? You’re kinda grumpy even when you do get a full night’s rest.”

  “Grumpy? I’m not grumpy.” He looked genuinely hurt.

  “I’m just teasin’ you.” She paused, growing more serious. “What happens after we find them?”

  He looked down at the ground. “I don’t know.”

  “Think we’ll ever make it back home?”

  “I hope so. We have to. I want to. What about you?”

  She nodded, trying to hold back a sudden and unwelcome push of tears. “Yeah, I think we’re going to make it back home. That, I do.” Then she had an idea. “How about we go make breakfast for the others? They’ll think we’re the best people who ever lived.”

  His face lit up. “Yeah, let’s do it.”

  She tricked Dominic into doing most of the work, saying she needed to use the bathroom just as the hot and heavy business of frying the eggs and deer meat over the fire got going. A nearby copse of trees—a rare sight in the sparse, scrubby, hardpan desert they’d been traversing—seemed the perfect spot. When she was finished, she leaned against a tree to collect herself, figuring Dominic was able enough to wrap up breakfast.

  Thoughts of the past month swarmed into her mind.

  The relentless walking through heat in the day and cold in the night; the adaptation to life in the wild; hunting for food with traps and knives; the daily search for clues of Isaac and Sadina; the lifting and dashing of hopes; the sheer emptiness of the world, as if every other human had been zapped from existence. She didn’t know what she’d do without the others and their friendship, their knack for survival, their senses of humor and willingness to share a cry. Something told her she couldn’t judge the greater parts of earth based on the few hundred miles they’d crossed—who knew what was out there. Seven continents. Countless islands. Decades since the Flare. Who knew.

  But she missed home. She missed home so badly.

  Back at camp, most of the others had already roused themselves once the smells of frying food permeated the air. Surprisingly, Dominic hadn’t burnt anything or spilled grease on the fire. She kinda liked that big goof. Even as she had the thought, he spotted her and waved, dropping half the food in the dirt. As he scrambled to salvage it, she laughed because she had no doubt it would still be eaten.

  “Find any clues?”

  Jackie started. Ms. Cowan had sneaked up on her. Sadina’s mom asked the same question about forty times a day.

  “No, sorry. Nothing.”

  The woman let out a weary morning sigh. “Oh, well, that’s okay. I think we’re really on their trail for now. Pretty soon we’re gonna hit a river that Alvarez scouted last night. It’s really wide so I can’t fathom they tried to cross it. I bet we follow that thing north for a good long while. Come on, let’s get some of that food before all the dirt-free stuff is gone.”

  Soon they were eating with the others in a big circle—the deer meat was charred after all, and Jackie tried to ignore the grains of dirt that kept grinding against her teeth—and she had more time to think. All of her life she’d heard about Cranks, the Flare, the devastated apocalypse of the sun. And yet for weeks now, once they’d gotten out of the city and its surroundings, they’d seen almost nothing but nature, beautiful nature. The planet seemed to be winning the battle. However, the eventual run-in with other humans was inevitable, and she’d be a fool not to know it.

  “You know what my dad used to say?”

  Miyoko had spoken, her empty canteen hanging from the hand she’d propped on her knee.

  “What’s that?” Jackie asked. She took her last bite of venison and was glad to be done.

  “A penny for your thoughts. I’ve never seen a penny in my life, but if I had one I’d give it to you. Where’s your mind at? I can tell you’ve started thinking again.”

  Jackie was famous in the group for . . . dwelling on things. She wished she could be more carefree but it was in her nature to worry, to ponder, to reminisce, to wonder what could have been and question what’s coming.

  “It’s all just so weird. I mean, why are we here? The whole reason we got on that boat was because of Kletter and now she’s dead. We’re wandering the wilderness like freaking Moses from the Bible. Or was that Joseph? Paul? Who the hell knows. Mr. Baxby never could shut up with his town-square preaching.”

  “Mr. Baxby?” Miyoko repeated. “Guess I never met him.”

  “You east-siders kept to yourselves, that’s for sure.” She didn’t mean it as rudely as it came out and she quickly moved on after a peace-offering smile. “Everything just feels . . . untethered right now. Make sense?”

  Miyoko could say a lot with her eyes, and right then she showed she understood, very well. “I get it. But life doesn’t ever go the way you think, does it? Maybe we’ll go back and find Kletter’s people eventually. But right now, only one thing matters.” She nodded over at Trish.

  Jackie felt instantly stupid and ashamed. “Oh, I know. I know, I shouldn’t have said that. Finding Isaac and Sadina is our purpose right now. That’s all—”

  “Hey,” Miyoko interrupted. “Stop. None of that self-guilt crap. My dad used to say something else that was cheesy as hell, too. It’s all about the journey. He must’ve said that once a week. Just go with the flow, Jackie. We’re all in the same boat.”

  Their eyes met at that, and then they both were laughing.

  “Now that, I can be thankful for,” Jackie said. “No more boats for at least another month or two. Then maybe we can go back home.”

  As quickly as that, the air grew somber again.

  Luckily, Dominic, Trish, Carson, and Lacey scooted closer to shift the mood. Dom made some weird joke about Jackie leaving a stink trail in the trees; Trish told him to shut up, then complimented him on the breakfast; Carson complained that he’d slept directly on top of a jagged rock all night; Lacey asked in the most nonchalant voice ever why he didn’t just scoot a few inches to the left. Then she called him a slinthead, a word Jackie had never heard before.

  All was well. At least, all was okay. Things could be worse.

  Ms. Cowan came over then, hands on hips like a tyrant schoolmaster.

  “Good to see you guys laughing, this morning.” She always tried to greet the younger people with a smile, but Jackie knew the truth—you could see it in the older woman’s eyes. She was distraught, a strain that couldn’t be relieved until they found her daughter. And Isaac, of course. “You all ready to pack up and go? Frypan thinks it could be a hot one today, and it should be a lot cooler next to the river.”

  “Ready to go,” Dominic pronounced. He stood up, groaning out loud like an old man. Soon they were all up and about, breaking camp.

  The river, Jackie thought as she stuffed the ratty old backpack she’d found in the city.

  Things would get better once they got to the river.

  The Orphan didn’t know much in the way of vehicles, as they were mostly a rare thing in the modern world. The Grief Bearers of the Remnant Nation had trucks and cars to use around the fortress, and there were the monstrous machines that drove on giant wheels and could crush anything in sight. Some of them were relics from the past carefully restored, and others were the twisted inventions of people with too much time on their hands. And some came from a mysterious outside source that the likes of him only whispered about.

  But still, a vehicle was a pretty rare possession, and he’d certainly never had a go at one, himself. Despite all this, in the past few weeks he’d come to an indisputable conclusion.