Night Resurrected (18 page)

bottle. “Whoa,” she whispered when she

saw the effect.

Inside the bottle, the flare burned

with a reddish-orange glow. It could . . .

maybe . . . pass for the crystal. If anyone

was dumb enough to be fooled, the

zombies were.

“Remy, are you ready?” Wyatt asked.

“Marck, the sling. I have to get on the

roof. Otherwise it won’t go far enough.”

“You can’t do that,” she said,

grabbing his arm. “They’ll knock you

off.”

“Stand on the seat,” Ian suggested.

“Put your head and shoulders out the

window. We’ll leverage you.”

Wyatt gave a short nod. Then he

turned to Remy. “Pull out the crystal,” he

said. “You have to show it to them

again. They sense it somehow—”

He was cut off as the truck was lifted

high again. Remy held her breath, her

heart in her throat as Wyatt and Ian

lunged to the side to weight it back

down.

“I understand,” she said when the

truck stopped rocking. “Ready?”

She pulled out the crystal and Wyatt

climbed out the window. She and Ian

each grabbed a leg and she pressed the

hot crystal into Wyatt’s palm. He wasn’t

expecting her to give it to him, but he

took it, holding it high. As the zombies

fell silent again, he replaced it with the

glowing bottle in his hand and showed

the fake crystal only briefly as he

slipped the real crystal back into her

hand. The zombies were getting restless

again, and from below, she watched as

he fitted the bottle into the cloth sling Ian

had made.

Holding onto one muscular thigh—

and trying not to think about the fact that

she was—Remy felt Wyatt’s body move

as he swung it around once, twice, and

then the snap as he whipped it, sending it

flying.

The orange glowing object arced

through the air, over the watching heads

of the zombies, and deep into the woods.

The monsters screamed and stumbled

over each other as they turned to lumber

after it.

Remy didn’t have more than a

moment of relief before she was being

manhandled from the truck and onto the

ground. “Run,” Wyatt breathed in her

ear. “Northeast. Take Dantès.”

She hesitated, but he gave her a

fierce look and a little shove. “Go! I’m

right behind you, but I’m going to try and

hold them off a little longer.”

Dantès was there, butting her with his

nose urgently. He, at least, was ready.

“But—”

“Go, Remy. You’ve got to take that

crystal to Envy. We can’t let the

Strangers get it. Whatever you do, get to

Envy.”

Remy gave Wyatt one last look as Ian

jumped out of the truck. At least there

were two of them.

Then she turned and ran.

D
antès kept pace with her, bounding

over cropped-up pieces of concrete and

dodging

bushes

and

rusted

out

mailboxes. The moans from the zombies

faded as she ran as fast and as hard as

she could, going uphill whenever there

was a choice to do so.

But even as she ran, Remy wondered

how Wyatt would find her again. And

Ian.

She paused once, out of breath, the

stitch in her side making further

movement unbearable. Leaning against

an old signpost, gasping for air, she

listened

for

the

sounds

of

her

companions

crashing

through

the

wilderness behind her. But the only

noise she heard besides her own

breathing was Dantès, who was panting

next to her, and the low hoot of an owl.

Bending, she patted her dog, looking

and feeling around as well as she could

for the blood seeping from his wounds.

Nothing; just the heaving of his rib cage

from the first run he’d had in two days.

She smiled in spite of the moment.

Dantès was never happier than when he

was running or chasing something.

Remy knew she should start moving

again, but she waited for a little longer,

straining to listen for Wyatt or Ian. As

she did, she looked around for possible

shelter. Through the trees and skeletons

of buildings, she could see the faint

lightening of the sky in the east. Dawn

wasn’t far off, and the zombies would

seek shelter before the sun came up.

She was standing in a wooded area

threaded with ivy and other vines. Low

growing bushes dotted the space and a

long, one-story structure stood nearby,

across an expanse of what might have

been a concrete parking lot. There was

little glass in its windows on which the

moonlight shone. Not a good place to

hide from zombies, but as it was nearing

dawn, she might be able to stay here for

a while. Give Dantès a chance to rest

too.

And wait for Wyatt to catch up.

If he did.

Remy started toward the building. In

the faulty light, she could see some metal

lettering still clinging to the outside:

ACKS ELEM SCH L.

The nearest door was rusted closed,

so instead of wasting time trying to open

it, she knocked the remaining fragments

of glass from the nearest window and

hoisted Dantès up. It was a low window,

and using the leverage of his paws on the

edge, she was able to get him inside

with little trouble. They were used to

working together like this. Once he was

inside, she gave him the command to

stay.

She paused, listening once more.

Then, just as she was about to follow her

pet inside, she saw the glint of moonlight

on a familiar metal shape. A chill zipped

down her spine and she gave Dantès the

“quiet” command as she vaulted through

the window. Once inside and safely in

the dark room, she looked back out at the

gleaming steel.

A Humvee.

The

shape

and

size

was

unmistakable, and even the brief glance

told her the vehicle wasn’t an old, rusted

out truck. It looked as new and intact as

the one she and Ian had driven around in.

Ian.

An uncomfortable feeling turned in

the pit of her stomach, and she bit her

lip. She couldn’t be more than five or six

miles from the camp she’d shared with

Wyatt—and where she’d found Ian’s old

boots. Could the truck belong to Ian?

Or did it belong to someone else,

who might be lurking about . . . or

sleeping in this very building? Remy

reached automatically to the back of her

jeans for her gun.
It wasn’t there
. As her

belly dropped with a sickening thud, she

realized she hadn’t been wearing it when

Wyatt dragged her out of the truck.
No.

Oh, no.

No weapon. No pack. Nothing. She

had nothing.

Nervous and unsettled, she glanced at

Dantès. He seemed only calm and

curious, watching her for a command,

but clearly ready to explore their

surroundings. His ease relaxed her a

little and she released him so he could

sniff around the area while she

considered the situation.

There was the possibility that the

Humvee was abandoned. It happened

more often than one might expect. That

sparked a flare of excitement in her. She

could get to Envy more safely and

quickly if, miraculously, she could steal

the truck. Even if its owner was sleeping

in the building, she’d have the chance to

drive it off. That would more than make

up for not having her gun.

Because of the way the bounty

hunters and Strangers used the Humvees,

many of the vehicles had no keys, or if

they had them, the keys were left inside.

Instead, there was a hidden compartment

with a switch that started the truck so

that any of them could utilize a vehicle

as needed. This came in handy, she’d

learned when traveling with the bounty

hunters, in the case of quick getaways or

if otherwise attacked. They didn’t want

to be sharing or losing the keys to their

escape.

All of which meant that if she could

get to the truck unseen, she could steal it.

Now Remy had a different reason to

listen and wait. But she’d been here for

at least ten minutes and had heard no

other human sounds. Seen no other

movement—not even from Wyatt, who

said he’d be right behind her.

A prickle of unease slipped over her

shoulders. What if he and Ian hadn’t

made it away from the zombies? She slid

her hand over the pocket of her jeans to

feel the crystal—the lure that surely had

drawn the mob of zombies to them, and

would call them to come for her again as

soon as the sun set tomorrow.

Her heart stopped when she realized

her pocket was empty.

The crystal was gone.

Chapter 9

R
emy frantically searched all her

pockets, but the crystal was gone.

Her heart thudding, nausea roiling up,

threatening to choke her, she sagged

against the wall. It was impossible for

the crystal to have fallen from her pocket

while she was running. The pocket was

too deep.

Which meant someone had taken it.

Wyatt.

It had to be him; he must have done it

when he pulled her out of the truck,

practically shoving her off into the

woods. Ian hadn’t been close enough,

and he didn’t even know she had the

crystal until she showed it to the

zombies. Had he?

Remy closed her eyes. She’d trusted

Wyatt. Why had she trusted him? How

could she have been so stupid? Fury

mingled with the sick feeling deep in her

belly.

Dantès butted his head against her

hand as if to ask what was wrong. She

wanted to tell him he’d been taken in by

a thief and a liar, that the man he’d

cheated on her with wasn’t worthy of his

affection.

She’d actually begun to soften toward

him, especially after learning about his

wife and children. And—hell, admit it—

after that kiss. No wonder he told her it

wasn’t going to happen again. He

probably planned this all along. After

all, he was the one who told her to find

somewhere else to put the crystal.

And she’d listened to him. She’d

made a necklacelike belt so she could

still wear the stone beneath her shirt,

around her waist, while providing for

easy removal if it began to burn again.

But he
gave
it
back
to you.

Twice.

Remy shook her head. It didn’t make

any sense. Why would he give it back if

he really wanted to keep it? Even with

her gun, she knew she’d be no match for

him if he wanted to steal the crystal.

But he hasn’t shown up yet. If he

was really following you, he’d be here

by now.

She wanted to bang her head against

the wall. She wanted to cry. For twenty

years she’d protected that crystal, given

up her life for it—and now it was gone.

Now what? Should she go back and try

to find him or keep going on to Envy?

But should she go to Envy if his friends

were there?

At least the zombies will be after

him now, not me.

That was small comfort.

She opened her eyes. The best option

was the Humvee. She drew in a deep

breath and, after warring with herself,

commanded Dantès to sit and stay

quietly. Then she climbed back out the

window, still silent and wary. If she

could get the vehicle, maybe she’d be

able to backtrack and find Wyatt. The

landmark of the tall signpost would help

her find the old truck rig again, and it

was beginning to get light in the east.

A

cyclone

of

thoughts

and

possibilities—not to mention fantasies

of inflicting torture and pain on Wyatt—

flooded her mind as she made her way