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“Yes,” she said. “I’ll do that.”

  “Alright,” said Paul, raising his voice again. “If we can keep the generators running, we can keep the Infected out. If we can get the chopper in the air, we can go for help. You all have your part to play. Look after one another and we’ll get through this. Now, back to your posts.”

  They dispersed with a new purpose in their step, animated and chatty, their tears briefly forgotten. Paul let out a long, shaky breath and walked through the scattering crowd toward where the older kids and adults had gathered in a group. As he approached, Carson grunted and gave him a wry smile.

  “Good job, son,” he said. “Heck, I’d follow you after that little show.”

  “All we’ve got is a plan,” Paul said. “Now we’ve got to make it work.”

  Preparations were made.

  There was an air of feverish excitement in the science block. No longer were they defending or simply reacting to events, they were doing something. Taking control. Even the most distressed were buoyed by that feeling.

  Erika had to admit, Paul had been impressive up there. It was a far cry from the angry boy who’d been scrapping with Adam by the lakeside that morning. These past hours had changed him. Or perhaps they’d simply turned him back into the person he’d always been.

  “Carson’s the important one,” Paul was saying to her as they walked down the corridor. “Without him, that helicopter’s useless, and we’re done for. If anything happens, you need to get Carson to the helicopter.”

  “Alright,” she said.

  “Keep someone posted on the doors, ready to electrify them if the Infected attack. Keep the bursts short, though. We don’t have much juice. And you could —”

  “Paul,” she said firmly. “I can handle it.”

  Paul gave her a sheepish glance. “Sorry.”

  They walked a few steps in silence.

  “Why did you pick me to stay behind?” she asked. “Tell me it’s not because you wanted to keep me safe.”

  A fleeting expression of guilt crossed his face. Thought so. She felt herself become irritated. Still getting treated like a princess.

  “What if I’d volunteered to go with you?” she said, and some of the annoyance bled into her voice.

  “I’d have taken you,” he said. Then, with a little anger of his own: “But you didn’t, did you?”

  That was fair enough. She might have wanted to prove herself, to earn her place like everyone else, but she hadn’t wanted it enough to go out there into the dark.

  “Look,” said Paul. “You’re smart. The girls look up to you. Half the boys fancy you. That means they’ll do what you say. You’re the best one for the job, that’s all.”

  It made sense, but she didn’t believe that was the real reason. “I want one thing straight,” she said. “I don’t need protecting. I don’t need saving. I don’t want special treatment. You gave me a job, and I’ll do it. But I just want to be clear, okay?”

  Paul shrugged. “Fine. Just make sure everyone’s here when I get back.”

  “If you get back,” she said, and regretted it immediately. It had just slipped out.

  He stopped, and she stopped with him. They were alone in the corridor beneath the unsteady fluorescent strip lights. Paul looked troubled, as if what she’d just said had struck a chord in him somewhere.

  He took a breath, steadying himself. “I gotta say something. Might be my last chance.”

  But she saw what he was going to say. She’d seen that expression on a lot of boys in the past. So she touched his arm gently, and gave a small shake of her head.

  “Don’t,” she said.

  He deflated a little.

  “You’re a good guy, Paul. You’re just … I dunno.” She gave him a helpless look. “You’re not my type?” she suggested, as if any explanation would be good enough.

  He gave a little laugh. “Least we can do is be honest with each other, huh?”

  “Least we can do,” she agreed.

  He thought about that for a moment, then drew himself up, as if putting the moment behind him. “Well, then,” he said. “Let’s go see Caitlyn.”

  Paul felt surprisingly lighthearted after what Erika had said. It was actually kind of a relief to have that burden lifted from him. Rather than a rejection, it seemed like a problem that had been taken care of. He’d done all he could, and now he knew: She didn’t want him. Maybe he’d secretly hoped that would be the case. Maybe he wasn’t ready for that kind of closeness yet, and preferred to adore her from afar, without the complications.

  For whatever reason, he didn’t feel ashamed. He was glad he’d cleared the air. Now he could get on with the business at hand.

  You got what you wanted, Mr. Sutton. Everyone’s looking to me now. Hope I don’t let you down.

  His thoughts turned to Caitlyn again. He needed to make one last check on her. Maybe she’d talk to them this time, maybe she wouldn’t. But it felt wrong to leave without some sort of good-bye. And some sort of apology. It might have been Adam who locked her up in the staff room, but it was Paul’s fault she was in there at all.

  When they reached the staff room there was a student outside the door, guarding it.

  “I put someone on the door with instructions to come get us in case she got violent,” said Erika.

  “That was good thinking,” said Paul.

  “Well, duh.”

  Paul smiled at her. He deserved that.

  They approached the girl, a bright-eyed thirteen-year-old, who was dancing from foot to foot restlessly. An iron bar rested against the wall near her, but she looked scarcely capable of using it.

  “She hasn’t made a sound,” the girl reported. “Not since I’ve been here.”

  Paul knocked on the door. “Caitlyn? Are you there? It’s Paul.”

  There was no reply. Paul closed his eyes. He couldn’t imagine what she was going through in there. Had she turned, like Mr. Harrison had turned? Or was she still Caitlyn, still frightened, watching the threads of silver as they crept relentlessly up her arm toward her head?

  It was cruel to lock her up in there. Barbaric. She needed comfort and support, and they treated her like a prisoner.

  But what else could they do?

  He knocked on the door again. “Caitlyn? Please talk to me.”

  He listened. Nothing. No sobbing, no movement. Except …

  He looked down. The hem of his trousers stirred in the breeze that slipped beneath the door.

  “You feel that?” he asked Erika.

  Erika frowned, not understanding.

  “Something’s wrong,” he said. He banged on the door again. “Caitlyn? Are you alright?”

  Still no response. Only the sound of papers rustling, teased by the wind.

  “Give me the key,” he said to the girl.

  “Paul, you’re not going in there!” Erika cried.

  Paul took the key from the girl’s outstretched hand and picked up the iron bar that had been lying against the wall.

  “What if you let her out?” Erika demanded.

  Paul gave her a long look of disbelief. “It’s Caitlyn,” he said.

  “Is it?” she replied.

  That stopped him. Yes, he knew the danger. Yes, she might be waiting in there for a chance to get out. He heard Adam’s voice, warning him. Sometimes being nice is being stupid.

  But he still put the key in the lock.

  Erika stepped back from the door. The girl went farther, running off up the corridor.

  Paul pushed the door open a crack. Through the gap he could see the staff room. It was bleak and functional: easy-clean IKEA sofas, a cheap plastic clock on the wall, a cluttered kitchen area. A wind was blowing around the room. Sheets of paper curled and flapped along the floor.

  Nothing else moved.

  He pushed the door open farther. The room was starkly lit from above. He could see half of it now, and still no sign of Caitlyn.

  Is she behind the door? That’s where I’d be. Waiting.
r />   The thought frightened him, and he shoved the door open hard, hoping to catch her by surprise. But the door only hit the wall, and now the whole of the staff room was revealed to him.

  The room, and the open window, through which the wind was blowing.

  He looked around cautiously, wary of a trick. But all the sofas were against the wall, and there were no nooks to hide in.

  “She’s gone,” he said.

  “Are you sure?” asked Erika from behind him.

  Paul checked again, and then, inspired by an irrational worry, he looked up, in case she was clinging to the ceiling like a spider.

  “I’m sure.”

  Erika came up to his shoulder. Only when she’d checked the room herself did she dare to enter. By then Paul had gone to the window and was looking out.

  “She jumped,” he said.

  “Is she … down there?” Erika asked quietly.

  He shook his head. “No. She’s out there. With them.”

  Then Erika started to sob, and he put his arms around her, and this time she let him.

  “Where’d they all go?”

  Mark looked out the open window on the west side of the science block, Paul and Adam to either side of him. Before them lay an expanse of lawn, wet and churned with footprints. Paths lit by recessed yellow lights led away toward the school building, black and hulking in the night. Closer by, they could see the low rectangular structure that housed the parking garage.

  Of the Infected, there was not a sign.

  “This is weird,” said Paul.

  “Maybe they all left?” Pudge suggested. He was crowded up with Freckles at the other window. They’d volunteered to look after the ladder: Someone needed to raise it after they were gone and lower it on their return. It didn’t take two people to do the job, but the pair was inseparable.

  “I doubt we’re that lucky,” said Johnny, who was leaning against the wall nearby.

  “Could be a trap,” Adam muttered, ever suspicious.

  “They’re up to something,” Paul said.

  “Yeah, but what?”

  This from Freckles. The question hung in the air.

  “Lookouts haven’t seen anything for a while,” said Paul. “And there’s been no noise from downstairs, either.” He listened to the quiet. “They’re not calling to one another.”

  “They might be trying to lure us out,” said Mark.

  “Maybe,” said Paul. He turned to Johnny. “You want to go with Adam? Two and two would make more sense.”

  Johnny gave a little shake of his head. “You need me for the cars.” He pulled a wire coat hanger from his satchel and showed it to them.

  Mark caught on first. “You know how to break into a car?”

  “World’s most forgetful parents,” said Johnny. “You wouldn’t believe how many times they locked their keys in. I’m pretty good at breaking into houses, too, for that matter.”

  Adam shrugged. “One of us or ten of us, doesn’t make much difference. Less likely to get caught if it’s just me.”

  “There’s at least one of them down there,” said Paul. “The janitor.” Something passed across his face then, a flicker in his eyes. Fear? Guilt? Mark couldn’t tell. “And a bunch of rats, too. Unless they’ve found their way out by now.”

  Adam gave a grunt of acknowledgment. “Might be one in the garage as well,” he said. “Me and Sutton left it locked up in his car, but whether it’s still in there …” He trailed off and stared out the window. “Gotta try, though, don’t we?”

  He was right. Trap or not, the way was clear. They couldn’t afford to pass up the opportunity simply because it might be too good to be true. The alternative was to do nothing, and that would be worse.

  “Let’s go,” said Paul.

  Freckles and Pudge set up the escape ladder. It was torn off partway down — the sight of that ragged end brought back memories of the immense dog that had snatched Mr. Sutton away — but rolled out to its full length, it reached far enough.

  Mark was terrified, of course, but he was also enjoying himself in a strange way. There was something warming in this camaraderie. He was so used to being on the outside, being ignored, that the feeling of being part of a team made him absurdly happy. They listened to him. They accepted him. And he felt brave, for what might have been the first time in his life.

  He remembered how he’d been earlier that morning, how desperate he must have seemed. Lying about Adam to save Paul’s skin. The humiliating way he’d tried to make friends with Paul in DT class. He could never have imagined that by the end of the day they’d be companions, united by something far more atrocious than classroom politics.

  And if tomorrow the world went back to the way it had been? What then? Would they still talk to him? Would they greet him in the corridors, pat him on the back, good old Mark with his great ideas? Probably not. But he wasn’t worried about that, because the world wasn’t going back. And a little part of him was glad for it. In his own way, he’d been as badly suited to the previous one as Adam had.

  “Ready?” Paul asked the group. They nodded grimly. Each carried satchels full of flash bombs and Molotov cocktails, and they all had iron bars to bludgeon away the enemy, except Adam, who carried his trusty length of radiator pipe. Mark had also brought a small selection of socket wrenches for removing the spark plugs.

  Paul went first, followed by Adam, and then Johnny. Mark watched out the window, expecting to see a horde of Infected swarming out of the shadows the moment their feet touched the ground. It didn’t happen.

  On his own, Mark might never have mustered the courage to move when it was his turn. But he was driven on by the group. He couldn’t chicken out in front of the others. So he went, out the window and down the flexible ladder, the rungs twisting and unsteady beneath his feet.

  When he reached the gravel he looked about quickly, searching for signs of movement that the others might have missed. Paul and Johnny were peering carefully through the windows of the science block to look for any Infected on the ground floor. By their expressions, they saw none there, either.

  They hurried away from the science block, preferring the darkened lawn to the lighted paths. The moon was their enemy now, bathing the campus in silver, exposing them. Their shoes squelched on the turf as they ran. Mark clutched his iron bar hard enough to make his knuckles hurt.

  Where are they? What are they doing?

  And still the Infected didn’t show.

  According to plan, they split up as soon as they’d gotten enough distance between themselves and the science block. Adam broke off and headed for the school building. Paul, Mark, and Johnny continued on to the parking garage.

  There was an electronic gate on the far side of the garage, which faced onto the drive, so the cars could get in. The teachers had key chains to activate it, but it was impossible to open without one. Instead, they were heading for the smaller door at the side of the building, used for getting in and out on foot. Normally it was locked, but Adam had held on to the key after his previous visit. He didn’t think he’d locked it on the way out, but he’d given it to them just in case.

  They drew ever closer to the door. Was it actually possible they were going to make it? Mark, as was his way, had only thought ahead as far as getting there. By keeping everything in compartments, making the world into a mental flowchart, he kept the crisis small enough to cope with.

  Where did they go?

  Breathless, they reached the metal door at the side of the garage. Paul spared a glance toward Adam, who’d almost reached the school building by now. Mark scanned his surroundings one last time as Johnny tried the door. Many of the windows he saw across the campus were lit up, but many were dark. Were there glowing blue eyes fixed on him even now, watching from some hidden vantage?

  They didn’t even need the key in the end. The door wasn’t locked. Johnny pushed it open and they went inside.

  Mark could barely believe it. Had they really made that run across the open lawn
without encountering a single Infected? It didn’t seem possible.

  Maybe the creatures really had gone. Maybe they’d gotten everyone they were going to get, and they’d decided that the last few holdouts were more trouble than they were worth. Maybe they’d headed off for easier targets, out into the valley, out toward the town.

  Maybe.

  Before them lay the narrow concrete length of the garage, grim and gray beneath the buzzing fluorescent lights. The shadowed bays to either side provided a dozen hiding places.

  They stood there by the door for what seemed like a long time, waiting for something to happen. Nothing did.

  “Come on,” Paul said eventually. “Let’s get searching. Keep an eye out for that Infected kid. He’s in here somewhere.”

  “You mean split up?” Mark squeaked.

  “Don’t be dumb; this isn’t Scooby-Doo.”

  Johnny chuckled at that, and Mark cracked a smile of relief. He wouldn’t have liked to face this threatening emptiness alone.

  They headed to the nearest car. Johnny checked it over while the others kept a lookout.

  “We want to keep this quiet,” he said. “No alarms. This one’s old, it should be alright.”

  He pulled out the wire coat hanger and untwisted it so it was straight. Then he slipped it between the driver’s side window and the rubber seal. He moved it around for a few moments, then pulled sharply. There was a soft thump as the car unlocked.

  Mark couldn’t help feeling a thrill of terror at being part of a crime. He supposed it didn’t matter anymore, but he still felt guilty. Johnny opened the car, reached inside, and pulled the release lever under the dashboard. Once the hood was up, Mark unscrewed a spark plug from the engine with a socket wrench. He held it up and compared it to the one he had.

  No good.

  Johnny was already at work on the next car, but he was having more trouble with that one. Paul was standing with him. Mark walked over to a nearby parking bay that would give him a good view of the garage, in case anything was sneaking up. There was a car there, half in the shadow of the bay wall. As he approached, his eye caught the faint shine of something inside.

  He frowned. Maybe it was a key, or a weapon, or something else that might help them. He bent down to peer in through the passenger-side window, shading his eyes from the electric light.