easy to spot, and they wandered out of the east along a crooked path.
As for the rest, Lilah slowed from a run to a walk as she studied them.
The forest was denser than she’d expected. She knelt and pawed at the sandy soil and quickly found darker, wetter soil beneath. She sniffed it.
There was water here. An underground stream or some other source beyond what the wind towers pulled in. Eve had mentioned a creek; and the footprints seemed to be coming from the densest part of the forest. That made sense. People tended to camp near water. Especially in a climate like this.
Lilah bent forward onto all fours and studied the ground. In some spots, like this one, there were many footprints, and they varied. Several men, a few women. From the spacing and gait, it was clear that these were humans. Most of the shoes, even the crudely made ones, were in good repair, and there was none of the aimless shambling typical of zoms.
Not that she didn’t find signs of wandering zoms. They were out here too.
Lilah straightened, eyes alert.
So far they had seen no zoms on this side of the ravine, but the footprints didn’t lie.
She turned and glanced back the way she’d come as if she could see little Eve sitting there with Nix and the others. The girl must be charmed, she thought, to have made it safely from where her parents were camped to where Benny had rescued her. She had no bites on her, no marks to indicate that zoms had tried to hurt her.
That was a great relief to Lilah, one she had not shared with Chong. If Eve had been bitten…
If she was infected and needed to be quieted…
Lilah did not know if she could do that.
Not to a little girl who looked so much like Annie.
Not again.
She adjusted her grip on the spear and moved on.
A few minutes later she stopped again and knelt down by a different set of tracks. Not human footprints, and not the scuffling marks of zoms. No, these were straight lines of serrated tracks, like wheel marks.
But… wheels belonging to what? If they were made by a cart or wagon, then there was no sign of what pulled it.
She cleared away some loose debris and studied the patterns. The impressions were cut deep into the ground. Whatever made them was heavy, and it had four wheels. She thought of the many abandoned cars and trucks she’d seen over the years, and these marks didn’t fit. For one thing, the wheels were too close together.
It was a mystery.
Lilah moved on.
The ground became increasingly moist. Soon she smelled water on the breeze, and then within a few minutes she heard the soft burble of a stream. The footprints and the wheel marks all came from that way.
Five minutes later Lilah stepped out onto the banks of a narrow, shallow stream that ran out of the northeast and jagged off due south. The water was clear and clean, with the kind of mineral taste that confirmed her suspicion that the source was an underground river. She drank handfuls of it and refilled her canteen.
Despite the potential for zoms and the mystery of the tracks, Lilah felt relaxed, content in her skills and in her solitude. She welcomed any opportunity to be alone. Being alone was when she felt most like herself. She felt powerful and normal. For months now, Lilah had felt anything but normal. Except when she went ahead to scout out a path for Nix, Benny, and Chong, she was seldom alone. That bothered her.
Benny and Nix often said things like, “It must be great not to be all alone anymore.” And, “You’ll never have to be alone again.”
On a practical level, Lilah could understand that they meant well. That they thought she had been rescued from loneliness. To a degree, she had.
Mostly, though, the ties between her and her new friends, the responsibility of protecting them, caring for them, felt like tethers holding her down. She did not want to care for anyone. The last person she’d cared for was Annie.
She knew that she was not like other people. Not like Benny, Nix, or Chong, even though they were all her friends. Their life experience was completely alien to her, as hers was no doubt bizarre to them.
Lilah had been two years old on First Night. Her mother was pregnant with Annie, and they were caught up in the mad exodus from Los Angeles as the dead rose. A handful of survivors managed to find a safe house hundreds of miles from the city, but that house was soon under siege by zombies. None of the other survivors realized that the pregnant woman had been bitten. Just as her mother gave birth to Annie, the infection took her and she died, only to reanimate moments later as a monster.
It was the first time Lilah had witnessed anyone being quieted, though there was nothing quiet about it. Her mother screamed like a feral beast as she tried to attack the men; and the survivors screamed in fear as they bludgeoned her with anything they could grab. Lilah screamed too. She screamed so long and so loud that she permanently ruined her vocal cords, leaving her with a ghostly whisper of a voice.
Over the next few days, the survivors tried, one by one, to escape and find help. None ever returned. The last survivor was a quiet little man named George. He stayed. He cared for Lilah and Annie. Raising them, teaching them, loving them as if they were his own children.
As she moved through the dry desert shrubs, Lilah thought more and more about her early life with George and Annie. They had been her whole world. However, during one of their moves to a new farmhouse, George met a group of armed men who claimed to be part of a movement to reclaim the Ruin from the dead.
That was a lie.
The men brutalized George and kidnapped the girls, taking them to the zombie pits at Gameland. There, Lilah and Annie were forced to fight for their lives against zoms while corrupt men and women wagered on who would survive. Lilah fought hardest against her captivity, and the Motor City Hammer and his thugs frequently beat her. She still had the scars from their fists, belts, and switches.
After Annie died, Lilah spent the next five years alone, living in a cave she filled with weapons and books. Until Benny, Nix, and Tom found her and brought her back to Mountainside.
Tom said that he had met George out in the wild, and had even helped him look for his two lost girls. Then rumors began circulating that George had gone crazy and committed suicide. Tom Imura thought it was a lie, believing that Charlie and the Hammer had murdered him and faked his suicide. Not that it mattered. George was dead.
All those men were now dead. Charlie. The Hammer.
And… Tom.
Just thinking his name made her eyes sting.
Tom and the others had brought Lilah back to their town. She went to live with the Chongs, who had a big house with plenty of room. Mrs. Chong took it upon herself to teach Lilah how to act “like a young woman,” with all the bizarre rituals that went with that. Lilah’s total lack of tact, deference, modesty, and hesitation was a jolt to the Chong household. After a while, some of the family manners and deportment she’d learned while living with George came back. Grudgingly.
Many times during those months, Lilah found the confinement of a house and the obligations of social interaction to be too much hard work. It became claustrophobic. It was frightening, because every day there were a hundred times when the things she said and did mattered to other people. Things she said caused as much pain as if she’d punched someone. It was confusing to her. So many times she packed her meager belongings — just clothes and weapons — and prepared to sneak away in the dark of the night.
She never did, though.
Partly because she wanted to belong to a family. The loss of George and Annie was so strong, even after all this time. It was as if the bounty hunters had literally carved away a piece of her body; she could feel the loss every day.
But there was another reason she stayed.
During her years of lonely isolation Lilah had read every novel she could find, from
