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  It didn't even matter what they wanted. Or, it wouldn't within seconds, when I made my escape into the woods. Then, I'd soon be far away, sprinting through the trees. I'd never have to find out just what the hell Nick and Blaine wanted. I'd soon forget about it all, heading south toward Nashville, and Jessica and Ebony.

  After a glance behind the truck told me that the Huskers all seemed to be going around it, heading for Nick and Blaine, I turned my attention back to the front, just in time to see each of them decapitate a rotting Husker with mighty snaps of their jaws.

  There were a lot of Huskers for them to contend with, though. A lot. In addition to the ones that had been blocking the road ahead, and the ones that had been shuffling out from the woods behind, there was now an additional wave coming out from the woods to the east.

  All this wasn't my problem, though. To the west, the woods looked pretty clear, almost completely free of Huskers. The woods even looked kind of beautiful and serene, with the sun's very last rays painting the trees in brilliant shades of orange and gold. I'd soon be heading into those woods. Needed to. So, I couldn't figure out why I was now hesitating in executing my escape plan.

  I supposed it was because despite the fact that Nick and Blaine were both obviously very strong shifters, it was equally obvious that they were almost comically outnumbered. They were now both furiously charging and biting at the Huskers, decapitating them in what almost reminded me of an exceptionally gruesome game of whack-a-mole.

  I could see what they were trying to do. They were trying to clear a path heading north, probably not intending to attempt to kill every single one of the hundred-something, or maybe even two hundred, Huskers all around. I figured they probably planned on getting back in the truck and hitting the gas the moment an adequate section of roadway had been cleared.

  The only thing was, it was looking like there was a chance they could be bitten by Huskers before they could ever accomplish that task. And all it took was a Husker swallowing a single mouthful of blood for them to give their victim the fever that would turn them into a Husker, too.

  "Dammit."

  I repeated the curse, not sure why I cared that Nick and Blaine were so outnumbered and might get bit. I supposed it was simply because they were human beings, shifter-human beings anyway, and ones who I was kind of sure they probably wouldn't try to rape me. And I wasn't at all sure that I could just flee the scene, knowing that I was leaving two men who certainly needed help without any available. After all, I'd met many people on the road who could have easily just walked away instead of helping me.

  "Damn."

  I knew it now. I had to help. Maybe I could help clear out some of the Huskers and then escape, but I doubted it. By the time they were thinned out enough for me to feel like Nick and Blaine didn't need help anymore, they'd probably be thinned out enough for Nick and Blaine to see me dashing away and chase after me. It seemed that if I was going to help, and I was, I was probably going to give up any chance at escape, at least for now.

  Clutching the knife, I took a few deep breaths, then flung open the truck door and jumped out into the fray, almost immediately stabbing a moaning Husker through the heart, making it drop to the street the moment I withdrew the knife blade. In rapid succession, I killed two more, but not long after, things took a turn. Specifically, most of the Huskers suddenly took a turn toward me.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Maybe it was because they'd suddenly caught the scent of a human in the air. Maybe they'd all somehow heard my quiet little grunts above Nick and Blaine's roars while I'd been stabbing their fellow Husk People. But no matter the reason, it was happening.

  Most of the Bloodsuckers were heading straight at me, hissing. They were all moving pretty fast for Bloodsuckers, too, indicating that many of them had probably fed on blood sometime fairly recently. If deprived of blood for a long period, Huskers didn't die, unfortunately, but it was said that if they had fed sometime recently, they were a bit faster than usual. I wasn't quite sure how this had been determined, since I'd never met anyone who'd ever followed a Husker around for an extended period, observing their feeding patterns and actions, but this was the anecdotal word on the street.

  I obviously hadn't planned on this happening, and if I'd thought there was a good chance of me getting swarmed, I would have stayed in the truck. It was too late now. Like oozing quicksand or something, a group of moaning, shambling Bloodsuckers had almost seemed to ooze their way around to the side of the truck closest to me almost as soon as I'd left it.

  Stabbing furiously, I knew that what I was doing was all I could do. For the moment, I was keeping up with the onslaught, dropping a Husker about every five seconds. They were coming too fast, though, not to mention that it was becoming difficult to differentiate their forms in the quickly fading light since the sun had gone down, and soon I was in very, very grave danger, nearly surrounded on all sides by gray-faced Bloodsuckers snapping their sharp teeth in anticipation.

  Sweating profusely, even in the cool air of early evening, I whimpered, still stabbing furiously, fearing that in my desire not to leave fellow human beings without help, I'd forfeited my chance to ever see my heart sisters ever again.

  However, just then, Nick or Blaine, one of the two, roared so loudly that it actually hurt my ears. Seeming to be momentarily startled and attracted by the noise, many of the Huskers surrounding me turned north, in the direction the roar had come from.

  Many of them turned just in time to get mowed down like bowling pins when Nick or Blaine, whoever the lion was, came charging through. Whoever the tiger was soon followed, knocking down more Huskers, who hissed and moaned in response. Shortly after, I found out who the lion was and who the tiger was when Nick, in human form, after having apparently shifted in a blink, suddenly grabbed my arm, leaving Blaine, in tiger form, to continue the fight.

  Roughly, with his hand a vice grip around my upper arm, Nick began half-dragging me back to the truck, though not seeming to be half-dragging me because I actually needed half-dragging. I was moving along as fast as I possibly could, so fast I jostled the knife right out of my hand; and the swarm of Huskers nearby had thinned considerably, now following Blaine, who appeared to be trying to lead them away.

  Nick seemed to be dragging me just because he was angry, maybe even enraged, judging by the look on his face in the fading light. Long gone was the chuckling man of earlier. Now he was actually physically hurting me.

  Just as roughly as he'd been half-dragging me, he guided me into the truck, though one might have been able to say borderline pushed just as easily as guided. He then jogged around to the driver's side, shoving a stray Husker aside along the way, got in beside me, and slammed the door.

  "Buckle up."

  Rubbing my smarting upper arm, I shook my head. "No. Not until you apologize to me for what you just did."

  With his face becoming a mask of incredulity, he just stared at me a moment before responding. "Me? Apologize to you for what I just did? You've got to be-"

  "For grabbing me and pulling me so roughly. You really hurt my arm."

  Hoping there would be physical evidence to prove my claim, I lifted the sleeve of my t-shirt, and sure enough, my upper arm bore fingermarks already turning a faint purplish red.

  "See? You really hurt me. And I think you owe me an apology."

  I had the feeling that maybe Nick hadn't been aware of how hard he'd been squeezing my arm; and I knew that shifters possessed increased strength even in human form, which I thought might have contributed to him not being aware of how hard he was squeezing my arm, if it was indeed the case that he hadn't known.

  But nevertheless, I felt like I really deserved an apology and had every right to demand one. I almost expected my demand to just enrage Nick further, though, and I hoped that his hurting of me wouldn't continue, escalating into one-hundred-percent intentional physical violence.

  However, somewhat to my surprise, he looked from my upper arm to my face, clearly wincing a li
ttle, displaying an expression of seemingly sincere remorse. "I'm sorry I hurt you, Evangeline. I absolutely did not mean to do that."

  Just then, before I could respond, Blaine, now in human form, flew in the truck and slammed the door. "Road's clear! Let's go!"

  Without hesitation, Nick whipped out his keys, started the truck, and floored it. Beside him, I buckled my seat belt.

  No one spoke for two or three miles. Then Nick did, sounding as if he was doing so through clenched teeth.

  "I told you to wait in the truck."

  "Yes. You did."

  "But instead, you thought you'd go right ahead and attempt an escape, despite the fact that the area was flooded with Bloodsuckers."

  "But that's not what I was-"

  "That's not how our community works. When I give an order, you follow it. That's how we all stay safe. That's how we all survive."

  "I'm not so sure that I want to survive in a community I'm apparently being forced into via abduction."

  That shut Nick up. For about ten seconds, anyway.

  "I give an order, Evangeline, you follow. Same if Blaine gives you an order. You follow. Am I clear? And no more escape attempts. That's done."

  "But that's not even what I was trying to do. I may have...thought about it for a second...maybe...but I got out of the truck because you and Blaine looked like you might be in trouble, and I decided that I had to try to help. I didn't want it on my conscience that I'd just bolted on two human beings in a life-or-death situation."

  Again, I'd shut Nick right up. Again, though, just temporarily.

  However, when he spoke again, his deep voice held a little less sternness and steel than it had before. "Blaine and I have never been unable to take care of ourselves. And I want to repeat one final time, when he or I give an order, you follow it. Am I clear?"

  He was, but I didn't like what he was being so crystal clear about. I was used to following my orders and my orders only. I was used to keeping my own self safe. Although, I had to admit, I'd done a pretty miserable job at doing that, not once, but twice that day.

  I hadn't kept myself safe by cutting across the open grassland, and I hadn't kept myself safe by emerging from the truck, even though I'd done it for what I thought was a pretty good reason.

  Twice I might have been injured or killed that day if it hadn't been for Nick and Blaine. As much as I hated to admit that, even to myself.

  In response to Nick's question asking if he'd made himself clear, I dipped my head in a fraction of a nod. "Crystal."

  Seemingly satisfied, he continued driving without another word, at least not for a few minutes, when smoke began billowing from the battered truck's dented hood, which was white, in contrast with the truck's tan-and-rust-colored body.

  "Damn. Looks like the engine's going to need some of your attention, GM."

  "I thought my new nickname was Mud Bucket."

  I whipped my face toward Blaine, surprised that he'd actually made a little joke, and so soon after Nick had finished bitching me out, for lack of a better way to put it.

  Blaine was already rifling through the glove box, though, not even looking at me. "Where the hell are all my tools?"

  I told him that I'd dropped a lot of them on the floor while I'd been searching for a weapon. "I had to grab a knife, because I normally have a screwdriver that I use, but I don't know what happened to it. Did either of you happen to pick it up in the grasslands today?"

  While Nick pulled the truck over to the side of the road, Blaine shut the glove box, shaking his head. "No. Grabbed your bags, though. Don't know how you were walking with that big one packed so full...the little one, too. I think one of those big-ass glass jars of grapefruit is probably what you knocked yourself out on, if being clothes-lined alone didn't do it."

  Oh, I thought. So, that's what it was. I'd felt like the back of my head had been slammed into a brick or something.

  "You're lucky Nick and I were taking a little break from our supply run to do a little scouting expedition on foot today. Things might have not gone so well for you if we hadn't been about to cut across that grassland when we did."

  Blaine was right. I was lucky. Maybe some of the dust from Chris' four leaf clover had remained in my pocket, even though he'd given me the clover over a year-and-a-half earlier, and even though I'd washed that particular pair of jeans so many times since then they were nearly threadbare.

  After quietly conceding to Blaine that I was lucky, I had a sudden thought that made me narrow my eyes at him. "Hey...how did you know that a glass jar of grapefruit was even in my backpack? Did the two of you go through my things or something?"

  Blaine, who was leaning over, picking up tools off the floor mat, didn't even hesitate. "Yeah. We had a look. Not sorry about it. Needed to see if we could find any obvious evidence that you'd come from Borderline, or any of the other communities."

  Folding my arms across my chest, I snorted. "And you didn't find any, and yet you still accused me."

  "Not sorry about that, either. Wanted to see your reaction."

  "Well, by now do you believe me that I'm not a spy?"

  Nick had long since stopped the smoking truck, and Blaine transferred his tools to the crook of his left arm, opened the door with his right hand, and spoke in a quiet voice.

  "Gettin' there."

  I just snorted faintly in response.

  It turned out that the truck wasn't fixable. Among other major problems, Blaine said that the transmission was "hanging by a thread." I didn't know if he meant that literally or metaphorically, but he said he couldn't fix it out on the road. He'd need his other tools "back in Helena," wherever the hell "Helena" was.

  Nick tried to drive the truck again, but the engine died almost immediately. Getting his greasy, grimy hands even greasier and grimier, Blaine messed around under the hood some more. Nick tried to drive the truck yet again, but this time, it wouldn't even start.

  Finally, he got out and thumped a fist on the hood, swearing under his breath. He then leaned against the side of the truck with a sigh and spoke to Blaine. "The others are up the road probably only two or three miles, so we can walk the rest of the way with Evangeline easily enough; but we'll have to send one of the other trucks back later for the supplies...if someone else doesn't stumble along them within the next day or so."

  The supplies that Nick was speaking of were numerous crates filled with food in the bed of the truck. Several of them had Peaches, GA printed on the side, and others said Green Beans, TN. Through the wooden slats of the crates, I could see glass jars. Several open plastic bins in the truck bed were filled with what looked like bags of rice or grain or something. The remaining early evening light was fading so quickly I really couldn't tell.

  Wiping his hands on a greasy rag, Blaine just grunted in response to what Nick had said, and I studied him in the dim twilight. For all his grease and grime, he really wasn't half-bad looking. A few inches over six feet, with slim hips and broad shoulders, his physique was undeniably attractive.

  And although his jaw wasn't quite as square, and his face not as classically handsome as Nick's, I couldn't deny that his overall look was undeniably attractive as well. His whole way of being kind of was, too, even though at the same time, it was somehow irritating. I was beginning to feel a bit confused. Or hopelessly thrown off-balance. Something.

  To distract myself, I had a look up the road, where Nick had said "the others" were, whoever the heck they were. And it was only then, despite all the time I'd spent with Nick and Blaine in the truck that it really registered in my brain that we had been heading north the entire time. North, when the direction I needed to be going was south. The direction I'd been going for nearly two years.

  Pushing myself upright from a lean against the truck, I spoke without really even thinking of what to say. "This is all...this is all completely wrong. The two of you have to let me go. I'm trying to get somewhere. I need to start heading south again. Right this second."

  I felt sure
of what I needed to do, yet somehow simultaneously fuzzy-brained. Yet, I wasn't so fuzzy-brained that I didn't realize that it wouldn't be wise to reveal my ultimate destination. I'd said that I needed to start heading "down south" instead of specifically saying Nashville, lest Nick and Blaine try to follow me down there by taking a direct route.

  And really, I knew in my gut that they wouldn't be following me. They'd be chasing me, because the only way I was going to be able to continue south was if I escaped from them. They weren't just going to let me go. They'd be chasing me whenever I was able to make an escape attempt, which I knew I would eventually do. I was going to get to my sisters, come hell, high water, or death.