Z 2134

back.
    Shit. Shit.
    The two kids were coming up through the woods behind Jonah, close enough that he didn’t dare sneak another peek around the tree. He pressed his body as much into the tree as he could and kept quiet as possible.
    He looked up to the path again. He might be able to make it if he ran, but he would surely make noise. Staying safe meant sitting tight and waiting for the group to either pass or move in a different direction.
    Every step drew Egan closer to Jonah’s hiding place in one direction, and the kids closer from the other. In seconds, all three would arc in a circle around Jonah. He’d been reasonably lucky since leaving City 6, but fortune wasn’t fat enough for him to believe he could possibly escape detection from all three.
    “Jonah!” Egan called, from what sounded like the other side of the tree.
    Jonah gulped, wondering how loud the swallow sounded outside his ears.
    “Face your crimes, Jonah!”
    “Coward!” the boy called, his voice and bootlicking message both aimed at Egan. Jonah wondered how many things Egan had said to fill the children with hate for their “enemy.” The sad thing was, Egan wouldn’t have even had to tell a single lie.
    “Jonah! I know you’re near.” Egan’s voice dropped to a hum, as if to prove proximity. “Come out now and make it easier on yourself.”
    Yeah, right.
    Jonah nudged his back harder against the bark as he heard one, or maybe even both kids, rush toward him, sending him deeper into panic. He’d rather die than murder children.
    Run!
    Run now, and damn it all.
    If you don’t run now, you’re dead.
    Jonah ignored his instincts as bark bit into his flesh, knowing that running would earn a bullet in his back. He had to wait, bide his time, and hope they’d pass. Even small, it was a possibility, and if there was one thing Jonah had learned while playing The Games — the one thing that kept him alive above all else — fortune rewarded the patient. Outwitting his opponents often meant outwaiting them, staying hidden even when it made the most sense to run.
    When fear forced your hand, you were most likely making the wrong move. It was the simple secret to his survival that Kirkman never mentioned.
    The footsteps drew closer.
    Calla appeared in front of Jonah, 40 feet to his right, gun in hands, creeping through the snow and staring forward.
    His stomach turned, tumbled, and went still. His entire body was half concealed by a shrub’s worth of brush between him and Calla. If she didn’t look, she might miss him entirely.
    Jonah waited to see if the boy would follow but saw nothing, and he was too afraid to crane his neck for another look. It was possible that the boy was on the other side at a safe distance, but if Calla saw Jonah and made any sound, no matter how small, the boy was probably close enough to bring Jonah’s death to certainty.
    Egan’s voice grew even more heated, now hot enough to melt snow. “Jonah! I will find you. And I’m going to fucking kill you when I do!”
    Calla inched closer, 20 feet away, heading toward Egan, rifle held in front.
    Don’t turn your head, don’t look. Keep walking.
    Calla turned.
    Their eyes met.
    Jonah’s breath was buried in his throat as his mouth dropped open.
    He slowly shook his head, eyes wide and begging like a dog.
    Please, no, please.
    Calla blinked twice, then kept moving, silent.
    Thank you, thank you!
    A sudden gunshot split the calm, followed by a series of shrieks.
    Zombies!
    Calla spun around, looking briefly at Jonah, then past him toward the sounds.
    She raised her rifle, took aim, and fired.
    The boy’s scream tore through the air, shrieking as though he’d fallen right into hell and into an orgy of demons ripping his flesh. Calla screamed, racing toward Egan.
    Jonah thought he heard Egan scream, but between muffled cries from the dying boy and Calla’s shrieks, rising above the moaning, groaning, and slurping of zombies, he couldn’t be sure.
    Jonah strained to hear as the zombies grew louder, both before and after the gunshots. He turned to Calla, who fired another several shots, then vanished from his sight as she hurled herself into battle. The boy made a few final gurgles, slipping into certain death.
    Four shots tore through the forest, Jonah figured a couple from Calla and a pair from her dad.
    Go. They’re distracted.
    NOW!
    Egan screamed, “Oh God, no!”
    Before Jonah could launch himself toward the path, his curiosity got the better of him, and