I waited for my soul to rejoin Ether. When seconds passed with no discernible change to my essence, I opened my eyes.

The woman with the pistol lay crumpled on the ground, and blood spattered the fence and speckled the snow. The rest of the crew watched an approaching figure with a rifle cocked on his shoulder. Wind rippled the loose fabric around his bionic leg.

Another gunshot split the air, and the man with the saw dropped to the ground. One of the remaining men yanked out a gun and aimed at Rekkan.

"Stop! Stay back!"

My heart jumped into my throat, and I lurched forward in a nonsensical, useless motion. Rekkan's stride remained steady.

"Stop!" the man yelled again. "Put down the gun, and we promise to—"

His words ripped off with a gurgling howl as a bullet knocked him flat on his back. A gasp fluttered over the Crew like shuffling cards.

Then they ran.

Rekkan pivoted to aim at their backs. Bang! Another man dropped to his knees and slumped forward. Rekkan aimed at another retreating crew member.

Cold washed over me, and my heart beat hard enough I tasted blood. Who was this man gunning down humans like paper targets? And where was the man who brought me porridge each morning and apologized for touching my hair?

My voice made an unplanned entrance. "Rekkan, stop!"

He paused, finger resting on the trigger. Slowly, he lowered the gun and turned toward me. As the rest of the crew disappeared into the trees, Rekkan strode toward the gate and slipped the key into the lock, movements even and sure. He clicked on the safety and shouldered his rifle. But when his gaze lifted to meet mine, his eyes glinted with the same suspicion I had seen earlier in the day, and his voice was too quiet.

"You got a friend in that group, Southie?"

I blinked. "No. I don't have a friend anywhere."

"Then why did you stop me from killing them?"

I shook my head, struggling to explain. "Because... because they're human."

"Does that matter?"

My gaze flitted to the carnage once more, and the scene from minutes earlier played in my mind again, accompanied by a chilling refrain.

You think he's human or something?

Unlike the Infected, Rekkan ate food, held conversations, and used weapons to kill. But what if the virus affected him differently than the rest? What if he was some new kind of super-Infected?

His forehead creased. "Zaf? What are you thinking?"

"Thinking? I'm not thinking. Why would you think I'm thinking?" Smooth, Zafaru. Very smooth.

"Alright," he said slowly, still studying me. "Why don't we go inside and eat? I found another book for you too."

"Oh, great. That sounds super." Maybe I could read to the pile of dead bodies.

He scanned my face and twisted his lips to the side. Then he turned and headed toward the fortress.

I followed him into the kitchen the same way I had the day before, but the dynamic between us had shifted. Unease now pinched my gut, and suspicion pinched his brow. As I watched him cook, I noted the lack of a fire stove. And as I pretended to read the new book he had given me, I snuck glances at the rifle hanging near the door.

If I made a wrong move, would he gun me down as easily as the rest?

* * *

I stayed awake all night wondering who and what Rekkan was. At first, fear drove my thoughts, and I wondered if I could pack a bag and raid his cellar one more time before sneaking out. By the time he noticed, hopefully I would be long gone, and I would never see him again.

But even now, that thought saddened me a little. I remembered how vulnerable he had looked when he asked me not to pretend I wanted to stay. I'd rather not go through that again.

Plus, if Rekkan really was Infected, I could be closer to uncovering the Infection's cause and cure than I had ever been before.

I owed it to my mother to at least try.

By morning, I had made up my mind. When Rekkan left the fortress to drag the frozen bodies into the woods, I snuck down the hallway toward the one room I knew I was not allowed to enter: his bedroom.

I half expected the room to be locked or booby-trapped, but when I turned the doorknob, the door creaked open. The room that greeted me was exactly like Rekkan: undecorated, orderly, and masculine. Three pairs of shoes lined the wall beside the closet, the blankets and quilt were tucked neatly under the sides of the bed, and lamplight striped the varnished dresser and desk like sunlight across a lake. No trace of dust, and not a single knick-knack.

I held my breath and listened for a crunch of boots or an opening door. When I heard nothing, I cracked open the top drawer of his dresser. Rolled-up boxer briefs and folded socks.

Seriously? What kind of psychopath still folded their socks eight years into the apocalypse?

I was hoping to find some kind of strange medication, or a diary, or at least a photo of Rekkan from before the Infection began. Unfortunately, the rest of the dresser drawers and the desk gave equally little insight about my mysterious host.

I still didn't hear anything to signify Rekkan's return, but it wouldn't be long now. Even though he had promised not to hurt me, I didn't want to take any chances. I started toward the door. 

And then I saw the photograph.

The photo was tacked to the wall near the door, unframed with curling edges. Three people sat on a couch in a living room much rattier and much more decorated than the one in the fortress. A young woman with glossy golden hair and an elegantly hooked nose wrapped an arm around a small boy and smiled at the blurred man on the right side of the photo. A man who looked a whole lot like Rekkan.

He still had his leg in the photo. Unfortunately, the blurring made it impossible to determine what else had changed. Was the child his? Had that woman been the one who left Rekkan before?

Or had he killed them both?

I set my hand on the doorknob, preparing to leave, but then I remembered one last place I had not yet searched. I crept to the side of his bed and opened the drawer of his nightstand. Inside, I found a pair of black boxer briefs, a tissue box... and two papers.

The first was an unopened envelope with bubbly letters that read 'From Uncle Mekkar, to my beloved nephew.' I wondered who this loving uncle could be, whether he was still alive, and why the envelope was unopened. Then I unfolded the second paper in the stack—and my breath caught.

On the top was a map with an arrow pointing to an abandoned factory. On the bottom was an invitation to a Southie research base.

My eyes scanned rapidly, fingers trembling. Urgent request... samples needed... you alone can help us... unique reaction to Infection...

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Leck was right. I was living with an Infected.

The door burst open.