Amanda jumped out of the truck, tearing down the hillside after Dal. She wasn’t sure what she planned to do; there was no way for her to shoot without risking Dal. All she knew was that Dal could die if she did nothing.
Both arms of the mutant had grown long from the nezhit virus mutation. The muscles were massive, looking as though they belonged on a man three times the size of the backpacker. No wonder he’d been able to move through the trees like a monkey. He practically had the upper body strength of a superhero.
Amanda felt another spike of panic shoot through her as Dal and the mutant continued to roll over one another. They gained momentum on the hillside, moving too fast for her to keep up.
Determination surged through Amanda. She had gotten an A on her timed mile. She might not be an All-State track star, but she wasn’t slow.
And she was running downhill. Every science nerd knew gravity pulled things downhill. She gave herself over to the natural pull of the earth, running as fast as she could after Dal and the mutant. Behind her, Lena kept screaming Dal’s name.
Dal and the mutant rolled to a stop in a shallow patch of earth, momentarily separated from one another. They got to their feet and rushed each other at the same time, smacking into one another.
They hit so hard, they both went back down. They continued rolling downhill toward the tree line. They fought each other like rabid gorillas, scratching and swinging at one another.
Amanda kicked on another burst of speed, thanking Jane Fonda for all those killer workouts. She’d nailed that nine-minute mile in PE. She could do this.
The cool morning air rushed past her as she pumped her arms, running as fast as she could. The machine gun bounced against her stomach as she ran.
Dal and the mutant crashed into a tall redwood on the edge of the tree line. Dal had his hands around the mutant’s neck. Amanda wasn’t sure if he was trying to choke the monster to death, or if it was the only way to keep the mutant’s bared rictus away from him.
The mutant had his hands wrapped around Dal’s head. Thanks to the mutation of the nezhit virus, he had superior reach and strength in his arms.
Amanda knew one thing: the last place Dal’s head should be was within mutant hands. If they didn’t act fast, the mutant would crack open his skull like an egg.
Amanda charged straight into the melee. The mutant was on top. She shoved as hard as she could, throwing all her weight against the monster.
To her shock, the mutant flew to the side, landing hard against a boulder that peeked up from the ground. He hit so hard, Amanda heard the dull contact of his bones against the stone. His head whipped back, connecting with the stone. The mutant lay where he was, momentarily stunned.
It was the opening Dal needed. He bounded to his feet, knife flashing. The blade buried all the way up the hilt in the mutant’s eyeball. He shuddered once before going still.
Amanda grabbed her gun and backed away from the tree line, anticipating yet more mutants. It was stupid to assume there was only one out here. Zombies often traveled in packs.
Lena caught up to them, breathing hard from the run. Her eyes were wild as she alternated between scanning the trees and assessing Dal. Her gun was aimed at the forest.
Dal yanked the knife free. Dark, sticky blood dripped down the blade and stained his hand. He dropped into a crouch, looking ready to spring at the first sign of danger.
The three of them stood in a tight line. Nothing moved. The trees rustled softly in the breeze. Birds chirped.
“Back away from the trees,” Dal said softly.
Not taking her eye from the brush, Amanda backed slowly up the hill with Dal and Lena. She kept her gun up the entire time, as did Lena. The three of them didn’t stop until they reached the truck.
“Think that was the only one?” Amanda whispered.
“We’re in the middle of nowhere,” Dal said. “Maybe that guy was backpacking by himself.”
It was plausible. Armstrong Woods was a popular place among backpackers.
The three of them stood in a line next to the truck for another few minutes. When nothing else emerged from the woods, Dal turned to Amanda. “You saved my ass back there. Thanks.”
She both loved the praise and was embarrassed by it. “I just pushed him off you. Lena would have done the same if she’d reached you first.”
“No way.” Lena shook her head. “You threw that guy at least six feet when you shoved him. I couldn’t have done that. You’re strong, Amanda. Fast, too. I couldn’t catch up with you.”
“In football terms, you’d be a defensive lineman.” Dal studied her with a critical eye. “Did you play any sports in high school?”
“No. Just chess.”
A memory surfaced. Gym class. Sophomore year. Mrs. Fink made the girls do a timed ropes course.
This was before Amanda started working out with Jane Fonda. Even back then, she’d managed to get the third fastest time. She’d been vaguely aware that she was freakishly strong. This realization had been buried under the embarrassment of knowing every girl in class watched her climb the rope.
“I didn’t know girls like you could move so fast,” Mrs. Fink had said when she finished.
Girls like you. Fat girls. That’s what Mrs. Fink, with her perfect triathlete figure, had really been saying. Fat girls shouldn’t be fast at a ropes course.
Amanda focused on the part of the memory that mattered. “I guess I’ve always had pretty good upper body strength.” And then, overcoming a burst of shyness, she added, “I had the third-fastest time on the ropes course my sophomore year.”
“Fast and strong,” Dal said.
“Maybe we can have the guys teach you some moves when they get back
