Zocopalypse (Death Fields 1)

“Same.”

Wyatt is the first one out of the woods a moment later, moving toward the campground. Chloe edges closer. No one speaks until we’re out of the forest, something that takes longer than necessary.

“What do you think that was about?” Chloe asks. The crack in her voice betrays her nerves.

“Routine stop,” Wyatt says pushing past us to investigate the truck. The side panel was bashed in and he felt along the wheel well. “We were definitely just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“You think?” Cole asks. It’s clear he’s not convinced. I’m not either.

“Since they may be watching the road, we can’t leave yet,” he says going through his bag. “I’m going to try my hand at finding some dinner—may as well hunt while we have the time. We can leave at dark. ”

“I’ll go with,” Chloe says with her hand on her

crossbow.

Wyatt’s eyes flick in my direction. “You okay with that?”

I nod, having no right to fight this. My nerves are shot but sitting around won’t help anything. Brushing the sweaty hair out of my eyes I say, “Be back before dark.”

They leave quickly and I retrieve the tent from beneath the truck.

“Help me fold this?” I sayto Cole. He faces me, his forehead tense.

“What? You worried about them? Wyatt has a good sense of direction.”

He shakes his head and starts to pace. “Look, Alex…I need to tell you something.”

“What? What’s going on?”

“They’ll be back in a minute—any second. You’ve got to hide that information from your dad.”

I blink, forcing my voice to remain level. “The what?”

“The data your father gave you—hide it. I won’t look to see where you put it. Just make sure they don’t get it.”

“You know they’re coming back?” I scramble for my pack. “We need to run!”

“We’ve both got trackers. They’ll find us.”

“Trackers?” Suddenly the zombie apocalypse shifts in an entirely different direction. That or Cole is batshit crazy. “You’re not making sense.”

“I inserted it here—the first week of the injections,” he says taking my arm and brushing a finger over the spot of my weekly injections. “You know, the ones you got pissed about and went to talk to your dad about.” I look at Cole, really look at him. Look at his eyes and hair and those two dark eyebrows. With both hands, I take the collar of his shirt and lift it, covering his lower face. Obscuring the beard, his cracked dry lips, his nose.

“Oh, my God,” I whisper.

LabGuy.

“Hide it, Alexandra. Now.”

“How…what? Are you fucking kidding me?” I shout. My mind is reeling. The worry lines are still on his face but I’m trying to work this out. “Why didn’t you—”

“I’m sorry—I promised your father…I’ll explain it all later but you’ve got to hide that pouch.”

“Fine,” I spat. “Turn around.”

The minute he turns I race around in a circle, my mind buzzing with information. LabGuy is Cole. Cole is LabGuy. How did I not know? And why? Can’t be a coincidence. Did my father send him? I climb the rickety steps of a camper and glance around at the mildewed cabinets and fabric. No. No. Not here.

I exit the trailer and spot the truck. The driver’s side door opens with a telltale creak. On my hands and knees I run a hand under the seat and find enough space for the pouch. Pulling it over my sweaty neck, I wind the cord around it three times and shove it in the tiny space.