The Last Star (The Fifth Wave 3)

“Go, Nugget. Get up there with Megan.”

“But I’m fighting with you, Zombie.”

He sure is. And at the worst possible time. Over his shoulder, I can see lamplight flickering in the weapons chamber. Double damn it.

“Here’s what you can do—kill that light down there. Then meet me back here. If we’re lucky, they won’t even land.”

“Lucky?” I get the feeling he wants them to land.

“Don’t forget, Nugget, we’re all on the same side.”

He frowns. “How can we be on the same side if they want to kill us, Zombie?”

“Because they don’t know we’re on the same side. Go. Shut off that damn light—go!”

He scampers up the path. The chopper’s light fades, but not so much its engines. Must be executing a sweep. We should be far enough underground to foil the IR, but there’s no guarantees.

The lamp goes out and the caves plunge into darkness. I can’t see an inch in front of my nose. After a few seconds, someone small bumps into me. I’m fairly confident it’s him. Only fairly, though, because I whisper, “Nugget?”

“It’s okay, Zombie,” he informs me, all business. “I grabbed a gun.”

73

THERE’S SOMETHING I’m forgetting. What is it?

“Here, Zombie, you forgot these.” He pushes a gas mask into my chest. God bless Nugget. And God bless Silencers like Grace and Father Death, who knew how to stockpile for the end of the world.

Nugget’s practiced; he’s already got his strapped on. “You’ve got Megan’s?” Dumb. Of course he’d grab one for her. “Okay, pal, up you go.”

“Zombie, listen . . .”

“That’s a direct order, Private.”

“No, Zombie! Listen.”

I listen. Nothing except my own breath hissing and huffing in the mask.

“They left,” Nugget says.

“Shhh.”

Tink-tink-tink. The sound of metal striking stone.

Damn you, Ringer, being right all the time is incredibly annoying.

They’ve tossed in the gas.

74

Assuming you don’t draw them off, how will they come? I asked Ringer while we were barricading the back entrance.

You never paid attention in class.

Do we always have to make it about me? Trying to tease a smile from her has segued from a hobby to a borderline obsession.

Gas first.

You think? I’d go with a few sticks of C-4 to seal off the exits, then finish us off with a couple of bunker-busters.