Z 2134

turned around in the shack’s thick curtain of black. He kneeled to the floor then swept his hand along the ground. It was cold and hard, a bit of debris — dirt, twigs, and small rocks — moved beneath his fingers.
    He was cold, hungry, and confused.
    Jonah leaned forward, carefully positioning himself on his knees as he reached out into the darkness, feeling the wall in front of him as his hands searched for the door.
    His right hand slid across the cold metal of a doorknob, and he twisted it slowly. He pushed at first, then realized that the door opened inward. He pulled it open.
    The door creaked much louder than he’d wanted, spilling dim moonlight into the wooden structure. As his eyes slowly adjusted to light, he made out the snow-covered clearing where he’d been dropped off, and beyond that, a wide thickness of trees lining every side of the forest.
    He listened, trying to discern anything above the sounds of the haunting wind and occasional animal noises that he’d grown used to during the course of The Darwin Games. He heard nothing unusual, so he slowly opened the door the rest of the way, then turned back, casting his eyes around the small structure’s interior in hopes of finding food, supplies, or weapons.
    There was nothing.
    Shit.
    He stepped out of the building and looked around. A cool breeze bit into his skin, and he wished he’d been wearing something more than the gray coveralls and boots the network had given him.
    He wasn’t just hungry, he was thirsty. When Jonah was declared the winner, he was given a bit to drink, but it was barely a swallow, and there wasn’t so much as a morsel of food. That already seemed like a lifetime ago. He couldn’t remember the last thing he’d had in his stomach — probably a handful of the wild juniper berries he’d had two days before, which had seemed a million times sweeter than the sweetest of treats he’d had within The Walls.
    He had to find something soon.
    Jonah scanned the snow for tracks, but fresh snowfall had smoothed the forest floor.
    Shit. Shit.
    He reached down and scooped some fresh snow into his hands, brought it to his lips, and swallowed, savoring the moisture. He took one more scoop, then stopped when he heard a branch snap in the distance. He waited for a second snap, but none came.
    The woods were pitch black on every side, like a wall of darkness as impenetrable as the walls of City 6.
    Going into the woods at night was stupid even when armed. Crossing the line of trees and stepping into the blackness with nothing in your palms was begging to die and getting your wish. He looked back at the wooden building, figuring he should go back and wait until morning. The shack offered little protection from the cold, but it would at least get him free of the wind and snow and keep him hidden from any hungry zombies who might catch his scent in the outside air.
    Jonah turned and was starting to walk back to the ramshackle shelter when a sudden ear-piercing shriek split the night.
    He spun around and saw the zombie — a tall, lanky creature — at the edge of the woods. Its white eyes practically glowed against the darkness as it broke into a run.
    Jonah raced toward the shack, nearly tripping on his third step, then reached it and pushed himself through the threshold, slamming the door shut behind him. He fumbled along the knob searching for a lock.
    Nothing. Shit!
    Since the door opened inward, he’d have to push himself against it and hope that he could brace the door against the weight of a zombie assault.
    Shit!
    The zombie shrieked again, its footfalls growing louder and faster as it neared.
    Jonah’s heart pounded so loud and with an insanity of speed that it threatened to drown the sounds of the approaching monstrosity. A short moment later, the zombie’s bulk slammed against the other side of the door with a thud, shaking the door in its frame. Jonah leaned hard against the wood as the zombie screamed and shrieked from the other side, the horrible scrape of its scratchy voice reaching deep inside Jonah and twisting his gut into panic.
    The doorknob began to rattle violently as Jonah squeezed it tightly in place. He wondered if the zombie was trying to turn the knob or simply pushing against it on repeat, as a phantom memory told it what to do.
    The door shook harder with another thump. The sound of wood cracking in the darkness fueled the fear flooding Jonah’s body and coursing through his veins. There was no way the