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>Miranda began to laugh despite her tears. “Stupid like what I’m doing, or just stupider?”

Walter’s smile faded. He ran his hand over her peach-fuzzed head. “You know what I mean.”

Miranda nodded, dashing the tears away. “You better be here when I get back.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. You’re the best daughter I never had.”

Miranda watched after Walter for a moment as he melted into the crowd, then blew out a deep breath.

All right then.

She crossed the garage and looked up the ramp. At the top, Mario climbed into the second Humvee, careful and deliberate as an old man. Naomi slammed the door shut after him. As Miranda stepped into the rain, a hand caught her arm.

“Wait!”

Emily radiated misery. Not just from her puffy face and bloodshot eyes, but from every inch of her body. Miranda’s heart began to race. What was she supposed to say, a minute before she left? When they were both busy pretending everything was normal, it had been easy, but now?

“You okay, Em?”

“Of course I’m not.”

Emily looked down at the wet concrete, up at the ceiling, anywhere but at Miranda for more than two seconds. She seemed small and frail, like a beaten dog.

She’s just as scared as I am, Miranda thought with a start.

“You must be so angry,” Emily said, her voice barely more than a whisper. Miranda had to step closer to hear. “I didn’t know, Miranda. I didn’t know, I swear I didn’t. When I thought he switched sides it was terrible, but I wasn’t in love with him. I rationalized staying because of Michael, but the truth is I would have anyway. I couldn’t give up how safe he made me feel, even then.”

Panic began to rise in Miranda’s chest. Why was Emily telling her this? She feels sorry for me. After everything I’ve done, she feels sorry for me.

Tears coursed down Emily’s face. “I know he’s never coming back, Miri. Even if he survives, he can never come back. I need to tell you in case you don’t, either. I need to tell you I’m sorry.”

Miranda stared at Emily. “You’re sorry?”

Now that the dam had broken, Emily could not hold back the deluge. “I should have let him go, but I was too afraid. Mario made me feel safe and that was what I wanted. It was the only thing I wanted. You always took care of me, worried about hurting me, but I never cared that I hurt you, or him. He finally told me he couldn’t live a lie anymore and I—”

Emily stopped. Her eyes lowered to the rain sheeting down the ramp.

“He what?” Even now, after all that had happened, Miranda could not believe he had ignored her wishes by considering leaving his wife.

“I’m sorry, Miranda.”

“What did you do?” The question slipped out, even though Miranda was certain she did not want the answer.

Emily just shook her head. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so sorry.”

Miranda’s head felt like a top, spinning, spinning, spinning. What could Emily have done that she was so ashamed of? She was the only blameless party to the whole mess. Miranda looked up the ramp and was almost surprised to see the Humvees were still there.

“I have to go.”

Emily grabbed her arm. Miranda jerked away, as if Emily’s touch scalded, but Emily held fast.

“He still loves you, Miranda. You should forgive him if you can.”

Miranda ripped her arm away so hard she stumbled into the rain. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” she spat.

Emily’s face was weighed down with regret. “And you haven’t lived with him for the last five years. You should forgive yourself, too.”

Miranda didn’t know what to say. She turned away and walked up the ramp. She never looked back.

31

Gabe Rivera squatted down from the gun turret, rain dripping from his waterproof jacket. “We going dark?”

“Yeah,” Miranda said.

She flipped the bulky night-vision goggles down over her eyes. The world around her lit up in shades of day-bright fluorescent green and black. Dilapidated buildings lined both sides of the wide road. Cars littered the street. Weeds and trees sprouted from cracks in the pavement and zombies wandered around them. Not a lot, not yet. A decoy vehicle had gone out ahead of them to draw zombies in the area north, but the longer they were out, the more zombies they would attract.

Miranda had done a good job of not thinking about anything by slipping into frosty mode. Her friend Ellen, the nurse practitioner, had told her that what she called frosty would be classified as a mildly dissociative state. Miranda didn’t worry about it. Shrinks seemed to think if they could give something a name and a set of symptoms, it must be unhealthy, but people with enough time on their hands to care about that sort of thing never ventured beyond the safe zones. Unhealthy in safe places kept you alive in dangerous ones.

But now, Emily’s words echoed in her head, demanding that she pay attention to them. He still loves you, Miranda. You should forgive him if you can. Miranda did not know what she had expected Emily to say, but it had not been that. When she and Mario had been together, Emily had managed to let Miranda know that she knew without ever acknowledging it, so neither had Miranda. They simply carried on.

When did he decide to leave her? Miranda had made Mario promise that he would never leave Emily. She wouldn’t have been able to live with herself if Emily had fallen apart again. It was the one thing she had insisted on, and the only thing they had argued about as bitterly.

Did he love me that much?

Delilah nuzzled against her neck as if she could sense Miranda’s distracted reverie. Miranda snapped back to attention. She looked at Connor in the driver’s seat in front of her and felt more confused and conflicted than ever. You idiot… Keep this shit up and you won’t make it to Los Gatos.

She gnawed on her lower lip when she thought about the reserve fuel tanks. The front Humvee that she rode in had one twenty-gallon tank at the rear; the Humvee that followed them had four. Even though the fuel tanks were armored, the reserve fuel was a terrible risk in a firefight, but they had to take it. Humvees were one of the best vehicles for the terrain they faced but with gas mileage at twelve miles per gallon—at best—they might not make it to Santa Cruz otherwise. If they had to take a detour on the circuitous mountain roads, they might need more fuel.

The next hour passed almost in silence. As they approached the main commercial area of what had once been the Town of Los Gatos, the Humvee slowed. At first, Miranda thought Connor was navigating around an obstacle or zombie, but then they stopped.

“Why are you stopping?” Doug asked.

Connor turned in his seat just as the comm crackled to life. “Because they did.”

“Alpha, we’re dragging something. We need to take a look, over.”

“Miranda and I will join you, over,” Doug said. He put the comm back in its cradle and surveyed the street. “This is a bad place to stop,” he said. “Come on, Miri, time to sing for your supper. Connor, keep the engine warm.”

Miranda stepped into a puddle that reached her ankles. She shut the door to stop Delilah from following her, then tipped her head back to look up at Gabe. Rain pelted her forehead. “Eyes sharp, Gabe.”

She took a slow look around, up and down the row of shops along the once upscale shopping district. The area was surprisingly clear of zombies, but Doug was right, it was a bad place to stop. The two-story buildings that lined both sides of the street created a narrow, man-made canyon. The number of abandoned and rusting cars in the street could make a quick exit difficult.

Miranda stepped around the back corner of the Humvee just as Doug did the same from the other side.

“Let’s see what the kids have done now,” he said.

Miranda smiled as they walked to the Bravo Humvee, which had stopped a hundred feet behind them. From not far away, she could hear zombies moan.

“You would think they’d get tired of doing that all the time,” she said.

Doug laughed softly. “You’d think they’d get tired of eating the same thing all the time, too, but you’d be wrong.”

The front passenger door swung open when they reached the other Humvee and Mike Sealy, resembling a miniature mountain, got out. Mike wasn’t wearing his night goggles and carried a Maglite. “It’s a piece of scrap metal, to judge by the sound,” he said without preamble. Seffie got out of the Humvee and stood by the driver’s door.

“Miranda, watch our perimeter,” Doug said, “Seffie, stay where you are in case we have to move. I’ll help Mike.”

Miranda nodded, then began a circuit around the Humvee.

Even after a decade, it was still apparent that Los Gatos had been an expensive place to live before the ZA. In the green-black shadows of broken out windows, Miranda saw movement. A gaunt frame lurched forward, followed by another. The moaning grew louder.

“Shamblers at your four and six, fifty yards,” Miranda said

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