As the stars shone overhead, I carefully approached the barn with the Runner. I'd noticed the daily scent trails earlier and had assumed people were just making sure the creature inside hadn't gotten loose, but the conversation I overheard painted a different picture.

I peered through a window to see what I would be dealing with. In one corner, a cage made from wooden two-by-fours contained a red-eyed zombie. There was a plastic chair by the door, but otherwise, the room was empty. I didn't see any microphones or cameras from here.

The door opened smoothly, with just the faintest creak. I looked around intently before stepping through the doorway. Once I was certain no cameras or microphones were present, I relaxed marginally.

The Runner growled at me, striking the sturdy wooden posts confining it. They vibrated, but other than losing a few slivers of wood, were unaffected. I examined the zombie, who – as far as I could tell – looked and acted just like every other feral I'd encountered.

I dropped into a crouch and snarled lightly at it, letting my eyes flash in warning. The Runner backed up a few steps and fell silent when it realized I wasn't human.

I took another step closer and considered the zombie in front of me. This was a situation Luke or another sane Runner could end up in. It strongly reminded me of when I'd woken up after being shot by bandits.

From what I'd heard from other sane zombies, the theory behind it was the same: if a zombie hadn't eaten raw meat, human flesh, or drank human blood, then the human mind within was still present, even if they were a snarling mess that resembled a feral.

I sniffed the air, but no scent of blood was present. If he hadn't been drinking animal blood, his bloodlust would be so unmanageable it'd force the human mind into dormancy while the body just ran on instinct.

The bloodlust was the primary issue, and I knew of only one cure for that. I could probably help this Runner, but I was going to have to be very careful how I went about it...

~

       I set the bucket of deer blood on the floor and pulled out a hard plastic cup that I'd found in an abandoned house. I filled the cup no more than a quarter full and put it inside the wooden bars.

The Runner backed up as I approached, but when I didn't snarl, the lure of fresh blood brought him forward. Runners might not like sharing kills, but if I didn't drive him away, his Runner persistence would push him to see how close he could get, especially with the bloodlust driving him on.

I made a face as he grabbed the cup and tried biting it. Some of the blood sloshed up, and he realized there was liquid inside. He twisted his head and the cup, and the contents spilled over his face and dripped onto his clothing and the floor. He attempted to lick the cup clean.

I swiftly reached through the bars and snatched the cup from his hands. He snarled at me, but my growl shut him up. Once again, I filled it less than quarter full and put it back inside. This time, it took him almost a minute to approach. I was glad I hadn't put much blood in the cup since most of it ended up on the floor.

I continued the process.

Feral Runners might be slow to catch on, but they weren't stupid. They could learn and adapt. By the fifth attempt, he had figured out the cup wasn't edible, but the stuff inside was. He still slopped a lot, but only about half was hitting the floor now.

I poured the last of the blood into the cup and went to track down another large animal. It took me only minutes to locate a deer. I bled it out and left it hanging in a tree since the humans were bound to come this way tomorrow. I glanced at the sky as I headed back, but I still had at least two hours until sunrise.

The Runner approached the bars with a low growl, now associating me with food. I continued putting small amounts of blood into the cup and placing it inside the cage. It wasn't as if I had anything better to do, and the blood would help him if he required a vial of the controlex.

When my bucket was half empty, the Runner's behavior changed. He began gulping in a more coordinated fashion, and only a few drops of blood hit the floor. More tiny signs of improvement continued to emerge with each refill.

I poured the last of the blood into the cup and passed it through the bars. The Runner took it from my hands, as he had done the last few times. My instincts detested it, but I overrode them.

"I'll go get more."

My words were soft, but he would hear them. If his human mind was intact and resurfacing, it might help. I went in search of the deer herd again. It had several young bucks whose absence wouldn't have a long-term impact on the local population. Now that he wasn't spilling the blood, I wasn't sure how much more this Runner could possibly drink.

Less than thirty minutes later, I returned with another bucket. I tilted my head and examined the Runner as I entered the barn. He was sitting on the floor with a dazed expression. His head jerked up, and he gave a surprised growl when he realized he had company. I flashed a canine tooth at him, but I wasn't sure if he could see it in the dim moonlight shining through the windows.

I set the bucket down with a clunk that got his attention. The Runner stood up and tentatively came forward to put the cup through the bars. He was still mostly out of it, but his body knew what it wanted, and he was just trying to satisfy the need, like a dehydrated person obsessively seeking water. Well, well, well. It looks like he's starting to regain control.

I took the cup and scooped it full of blood before passing the dripping thing back. This was something a human wouldn't be able to do since their scent would override the smell of animal blood. They might have been able to use a syringe or water gun to squirt it into his mouth, but a feral would probably spit it out in its desire for human flesh and blood, not that of a mere animal.

He drained several more cups before he finally attempted to speak. It took him a few tries before the shaky and raspy words came out. "Wh-what happened?"

I passed him the refilled cup, which he automatically took a deep drink from.

"I'm not entirely sure, but you're a Runner, and you seem to have lost control for some time."

"I didn't hurt anyone, did I?" Worry filled his voice, which was a good sign since it meant his emotions were also resurfacing.

I shrugged as if I wasn't concerned, which would hopefully keep him from fretting too much. "Not sure, but if you had bitten someone, we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

He blinked in confusion, and his eyebrows furrowed as he tried to think through the haze of bloodlust and brain fog that hampered Runners. As he began to take another drink, he paused and looked down at the cup.

"What is this?"

"Deer blood. Zombies require animal blood to remain sane and in control."

He swallowed hard and looked conflicted. "Uh...."

I snorted. "Get used to it unless you want to become a mindless zombie again. Fortunately for you, it's your lucky day since a group just left several new drugs with your friends. Now that you're able to talk, you have the option of getting a drug that helps you control the bloodlust, or you can get the cure and become human again."

"These feelings... I think I want to eat humans... I can't..."

I sighed, and in a gentler voice, I told him, "That's the bloodlust. Don't ever give in to it around humans. When your brother comes, you can ask for the cure if you want it. Within six hours, you'll be human again as long as you avoid putting raw meat or anything human in your mouth."

"My brother's here?"

"He claimed to be your brother, so I assume so." The questions were irritating me, although I tried to remain patient. My first week as a zombie hadn't been fun, and I would have asked a lot of questions as well.

I put the bucket against the bars so he could refill the cup on his own. "Drink as much as you can. It'll help when someone comes."

"Who are you?"

"A Nightstalker that was just passing through," I replied vaguely. "I overheard a conversation between some idiots who were wandering around in the dark and decided to swing by."

"You're a zombie?"

With a snort, I dryly replied, "And here I thought my glowing red eyes would have given me away."

Without waiting for a response, I turned and headed for the door.

"You're leaving?" he called, suddenly worried.

I glanced over my shoulder. "I've given you all the help within my abilities. You'll be fine until your friends come, and then you can ask for the cure. In the meantime, the sun will be rising soon, and I have places to go and people to annoy."

I went out the door and closed it behind me before disappearing into the night.

~

       I jumped slightly when Daniel's voice suddenly came over the radio.

"Where are you? We're just starting to pack up."

"About seven or eight miles down the road. I'll come out of the forest when I see the truck."

"Don't be surprised when you see other vehicles. This Stronghold is insisting on sending an escort with us. If you pick a spot where I can drive into the ditch safely, I'll swing over so they don't see you until the last second."

I growled in faint frustration before pressing the talk button again. "The ground here is flat. I'll find a place with no logs or boulders hiding in the grass."

"Sounds good. See you soon."

How my friends were going to explain my absence was a mystery to me. An escort. After all the Strongholds we've been to, this place decides to be the first to give us an escort. What are the odds...

I suspected the odds went hand in hand with the appearance of a certain Nightstalker last night. Most places knew feral Nightstalkers didn't stir during the day, and they usually assumed the same was true of sane ones. I wasn't sure if this group knew otherwise and thought I might have set up an ambush, or if an escort was a common courtesy here. Regardless, my appearance was going to surprise them.

Although, if whoever went into the barn – which now resembled a murder scene from all the spilled blood – wasn't thoroughly shocked, then having their old friend suddenly talking would have them staring in disbelief.

I checked the long grass beside the road for anything that might damage the truck and finally found a suitable spot. I leaned against a tree, partially obscured by the underbrush around me. The darker color of my clothing helped me blend in, so the humans probably wouldn't spot me, even if they were peering into the undergrowth. This was one situation where Daniel's phenomenal eyesight would come in handy.

I heard the three trucks before they came into sight. When they got close enough for me to determine our truck was in the middle – which was rather easy with John wearing Nicky's rainbow shirt – I walked closer to the edge of the shrubs.

Ironically enough, the truck in the rear held one of the men from last night. I guess he isn't about to make the big discovery in the barn, but he is about to discover something else...

Daniel slowed down and steered the truck off the pavement and into the grass. The other two trucks waited on the road, probably assuming someone needed to duck into the trees to use the washroom.

As the truck pulled alongside me, I emerged from the shrubs and vaulted into the back to take my customary seat.

The guys in the rear truck had eyes like saucers.

Nicky grinned at me. "Okay, their reaction was worth having to mumble about why you weren't in the truck this morning."

I snorted faintly. "I recognize one from the group in the forest last night."

Daniel drove back onto the highway and resumed his previous speed. Liz clambered out of Nicky's lap and sat beside me.

"What were they doing in the forest?" Daniel asked.

I turned sideways, which allowed me to see the truck behind us, Daniel, and the truck ahead. "Trying to locate a sane Nightstalker."

"Any idea why?" Nina asked, looking through the back window. "You said they knew about Daniel?"

"They were avoiding Daniel because he's a Terror, and they knew they didn't have a chance at stopping him if he became violent." I frowned. "They figured they had a better chance at restraining a Nightstalker. It turns out they locked up an out-of-control Runner before he ate any raw meat or human blood, and they were trying to find a way to bring him back."

"I'm not sure if the cure will work if he's out of control," Nina said. "We tested it in blood samples, and it worked as long as blood from another human wasn't introduced, but blood samples don't always show the true story. We know it won't work with true ferals, and most Runners find dead animals or hunt something down. The controlex is probably his best bet, but I didn't leave any of that there. I wish you would have mentioned it earlier."

"We can give a vial to our escorts when we reach the next Stronghold," Daniel told her.

"There's no need for it anymore," I informed them somewhat smugly. "They had him in an old barn, and after a bunch of deer blood, he regained control. So the cure should work reliably now. If he hadn't regained control, I would have radioed Daniel."

Nina relaxed. "If he's in control, then I'm positive it will work. I left a few vials there, just like I did in the other Strongholds." Her gaze moved to the truck behind us. "Your appearance has caused quite a stir with our followers."

"One was from the forest and knew a sane Nightstalker was around. I suspect he finally connected the dots." I dismissed the unperceptive men with a shrug.

Nicky crossed her arms and appraised the rapidly talking men. "Are they going to cause problems later? I really don't care if they try to throw a net over Daniel, but I could lose my cool if they mess with you."

I considered it for a moment before shaking my head. "I don't think so, simply because they don't want to antagonize Daniel."

Nicky sighed in relief. "At least he's good for something other than driving."

Daniel's growl echoed out of the cab at that insult. I'd been in the truck for less than two minutes, and they were already picking on each other. We even had them separated! They were worse than kids. At least Liz was just sitting beside me quietly. John and Logan shared a look; the growl made them uneasy, but they were already getting accustomed to it.

The early morning bickering had Nina sending Nicky an exasperated look. "The way you keep insulting Daniel isn't exactly the wisest thing to do."

"Don't worry," Nicky told Nina with a grin. "You don't have to be crazy to hang out with me. I'll train you."

Nina closed her eyes tightly, torn between laughter and frustration, finally saying, "You don't antagonize Trinity like this."

"Trinity is close enough to clock me upside the head, and I don't doubt her willingness to do so."

"You keep saying that like I've done it before," I muttered.

"But you would clock me upside the head if I annoyed you like that, wouldn't you?"

"Without a doubt."

"There you go." Nicky shrugged. "Besides, I wouldn't be such a smartass if you people didn't give me so much to work with. So, it's really all your fault."

"Have you ever tried getting along with people instead of annoying them?" Nina asked in a fashion that sounded like a suggestion.

"I hate to break it to you, but trying to get people to cooperate is nearly impossible," Nicky said sagely. Then she perked up and added, "Pissing all of them off at the same time is a piece of cake though."

"And let me guess, practice makes perfect?" Daniel asked dryly.

"You bet it does!"

With a sigh, Nina faced forward again. "I somehow doubt I'm getting anywhere with this discussion."

"Don't argue with fools," Daniel quipped. "They drag you down to their level and beat you with experience." His jibe was clearly a half-hearted attempt at revenge for Nicky's earlier comment.

Nicky chuckled. "And boy, do I have experience!"

Daniel gritted his teeth as his attempt at revenge backfired on him.

"Why did I climb into this truck again?" I muttered under my breath.

No one responded to my grumbling.