Jenks looked at me, the wind brushing his bangs back. “He can’t swim,” he whispered. “And we only have one warmth amulet.”

“I can swim.” Nick had his head in his hands, his elbows on his knees against the jostling of the rough road.

“They must have a dock somewhere,” Jenks continued, not paying him any mind but for a nervous glance. “They probably already have people waiting for us, though.”

“I’ll kill myself before I let them take me back there,” Nick said, thinking Jenks was talking to him. “Thank you. Thank you for getting me out of that hell.”

Jenks’s lips pressed together and his grip clenched the wheel as he shifted to a lower gear and took a tight turn. “I can smell an oil and gas mix to the south, almost exactly where we came in. It’s probably the marina.”

Nick pulled his head up, the wind shifting his lank hair from his eyes. “You’re talking to the dog?”

Sparing him a glance from under his new cap, Jenks turned away. “She’s a wolf. Get it right, crap for brains. Tink’s knickers, you have got to be the stupidest lunker I’ve ever lit on.”

Nick’s eyes went wide and he clutched the side of the Jeep. “Jenks!” he stammered, going whiter. “What happened to you?”

Jenks’s jaw clenched but he stayed silent.

Nick looked at me. “You’re a person,” he said, looking gaunt. “Jenks, who is she?”

I trembled, unable to say a thing. Jenks gripped the wheel tighter, and the engine nearly stalled when he slowed to go around a turn and didn’t downshift. “No one cares little green turds about you,” he said. “Who do you think she is?”

Nick took a gasping breath, leaning forward to slip to the floor of the Jeep. “Rachel?” he said, and I watched his pupils dilate just before he passed out and his head hit the seat.

Jenks took a quick look over his shoulder. “Great. Just freaking great. Now I’m going to have to carry him.”

Sixteen

I had scrambled back to sit with Nick, worried at the stink of infection and that he hadn’t regained consciousness yet. The wind from our passage as Jenks jostled us down the road to the supposed marina lifted the hair about my ears, giving me a fuzzy “view” of the sounds around me but an expanded picture of the smells. The chatter from the radio was loud and heavy, bringing Jenks up to speed on Pam’s death and the breakup of the round. That we might have stolen a Jeep and were listening apparently hadn’t crossed anyone’s mind. The survivalists had divided their forces to maintain dominance of the island as well as search for us. It could only help.

Jenks adjusted his new Were cap, slowing when Brett’s twang filtered out. I swiveled my ears forward, glad for the easier pace. “All teams keep a three-to-one ratio of fur to feet,” the man was saying. “The cell is empty. They’re armed, two dead, so watch your tail. No sign of their boat, so they’re probably headed for the dock. I want a five-to-one-ratio there.”