“But they’re dangerous criminals. . . .”
“Amy, it was the end of the world. The Warden said that the criminals weren’t any more dangerous than the Floraes. And with everyone dead, who was left for them to hurt?”
“I was left out there. There are others. . . . Not many, but—”
“Look, my uncle isn’t exactly a stand-up guy. . . . He knew the prison wasn’t going to be getting any new food shipments. He thought he could get rid of some people. The problem was a lot of the worst criminals stayed. The ones who left were mostly in for petty crimes.”
“Did they know the danger?”
“Some didn’t want to believe it. People were saying aliens, others said zombies. Some of the prisoners thought it was bullshit, or maybe they just wanted out and thought they were bad enough or strong enough to survive. I went up the stairs and walked the top of the wall. I saw for myself. One by one the Floraes killed them.
“Except no one was calling them Floraes yet, just creatures. The monsters were everywhere. The guards tried to help, shooting to clear a way for people to escape, but it was no use. That’s when we found out people could change if they were bitten. One guy started turning into a Florae while he was being fed on.” He lowers his voice. “Some tried to get back in, but we couldn’t let them. We were all so scared of the Floraes getting inside. It would have been a bloodbath. I haven’t left the prison since I came here.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing for me out there anymore.”
“The rest of your family?”
Jacks shakes his head, his face darkening. “My parents got divorced when I was little. My dad . . . He wasn’t really around at the best of times. I mean, he’d send us money and call on our birthdays, but we never really saw him. My mom died just before the infection broke out. Cancer. My dad offered to take my sister, Layla, but I was eighteen, and wanted her to stay in the same house and school. So I became her legal guardian. . . . We got along really well. She was so excited for our trip. Thought it would be the best summer vacation ever. She thought she would come back and go into school the coolest ninth-grader because I agreed to let her get one tattoo.”
“So she’s here? Your sister?”
He shakes his head and looks down, his jaw tight. “She didn’t survive Fort Black.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I try not to imagine what it would be like to lose Baby forever.
“I’m so sorry. You have your uncle, though. Here.”
“Yeah. Right.” Jacks snaps back to the present and motions around us. “If you ever need to get out of the Yard fast, come up here to the wall. . . . There are stairs all along the perimeter now. They’re new. Built a few years ago. That’s why they’re wood and not stone.” I nod and continue to look down at the human chaos below.
My heart pounds against my chest as I look out at the crowd. It’s so different from New Hope. So much more . . . free, unplanned. And frightening.
“So now I know the layout. . . . Tell me about the setup here. Prisoners, guards, and random survivors—all mixed together?” How would the guards cope with living side by side with men they were once in charge of?
Jacks nods. “Anyone good with a rifle becomes a guard now and gets to shoot Floraes all day.”
“You said helping Doc was one of your jobs. Does that mean you also shoot Floraes?”
“No. I’d suck at that. My second job is still tattoo artist. Tattoos are in high demand,” he tells me, perking up. “People trade food and clothes for them.”
He points out a group of men below. They jump another man and run off with his half-eaten can of food.
“Survival of the fittest,” he says.
“Well, I can protect myself,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.
He studies me. “So where are you going to stay, after our twenty-four hours are up?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I’ve got space,” he offers, not looking at me.
“I don’t think so. Besides, I’m not staying. I’m just here to find—”
Suddenly I see a flash of white in the yard. A lab coat. The man wearing it has dark black hair. . . . It can’t be Doc.
“That’s him.” I turn to Jacks. “That’s Ken. Hey . . . Ken!” I yell.
“Amy—”
“It’s got to be him. I’m going down there.”
I can hear Jacks shouting behind me, but I’ve already broken into a run and am flying down the stairs.
Yet once I’m in the yard, I can’t see anything. It’s so crowded, I can barely put my hand in front of my face. The noise of voices is deafening.
“Have you seen a guy in a white coat?” I ask. But no one will talk to me. Even the kids turn away.
And suddenly I feel hands on me and my arms are pinned behind me. Then everything goes black.
Chapter Twelve
“Jacks!” My head is covered in a musty cloth. Several hands hold my arms. My legs go out from under me as I’m dragged. My legs bump against the hard ground as I’m pulled against the concrete. I scream at the top of my lungs, but no one does anything.
I’m shoved into something soft, a rotting cardboard box by the smell of it.
“Well, what have we here? Aren’t you a tasty snack?” a voice rasps.
“I found her in the Yard. She’s gotta be a newbie,” responds the person holding my wrists in a death grip. “And a full pack, too? What goodies could be in here?”
“Let me go!” I yell, trying to wrench free. Someone pushes me down and puts their knee into my back. My mouth is full of dirty cloth, muffling my screams. Even with all my training, this is going to be tough to get out of.
I wrench my right shoulder up, trying to surprise my captives and break free. The man holding me falls to the side, and I roll around to my back, trying desperately to get to my feet. I’m not fast enough, and another pair of hands forces me back down, grabs my face, and presses it firmly into the hard ground.
I try to think beyond my fear. I lift my head to free my mouth. “Jacks has claimed me!” I spit, my mouth barely able to form the words. “I belong to Jacks!”
I can hear everyone go quiet. “Well, he’s not here now, is he?” the raspy voice says at last.
“Let. Her. Go.” It’s Jacks. I’ve never been so glad to hear a voice in my life.
Immediately the vise-grip hands release from my arms, and I pull the makeshift hood from my head. Three dingy men surround me, their attention at the opening of their cardboard hovel.
“Sorry, man,” one of them says. “She was by herself. Didn’t see her tat that says your name. . . . Her arms are all covered up.”
“I said I belonged to Jacks,” I hiss, pushing myself up and scrambling toward him. I take his hand, squeezing it gratefully.
“Jacks, man, don’t tell the Warden I messed with your girl. He’d toss me out.”
Jacks pulls me toward him and embraces me in a half hug. Then he turns to them. “Stay away from her,” he says, growling. “Don’t let me catch you near her again.”
He grabs my pack and we head back into the Yard. “What the hell is wrong here? Why didn’t anyone help me?”
“Those people are too weak to help anyone. And the last thing they need is some guy with a grudge against them who’ll remember them later. So everyone minds their own business.”
“So people really are on their own,” I whisper.