I look at Lucas and he stares back at me. We both know there isn’t a chance these guys will let us live. That’s not how they work. It didn’t take long for groups of marauders to form all over the place when the greyskin virus showed up three years ago. It first started when looters began tearing through abandoned buildings in the cities. Those looters soon found out that large televisions and computers weren’t going to make them any money in the future. The smart ones hoarded the food and weapons. They formed into groups and quickly became known as raiders. The idea was that you either joined their lawless exploitation of people in need or you died. I suppose that most of us chose death instead.

People like Scarecrow rarely let their victims live. Anyone that is alive and not a part of their little clan is just another person taking up food and supplies that the raiders might need. I can only see this standoff ending in two ways: we try to fight them off and die in the process, or we try to run away and they mow us down with their guns. I feel sick at the thought, but I’m not surprised that we’re here right now. I’m only seventeen years old, and I’ve learned to hate this world that I live in because it comes as no surprise that my end will be at the barrel of a gun. I’m just glad it’s not by the teeth of a greyskin.

“I’m going to try and negotiate,” Lucas whispers to me.

“No!” I say. “You know they won’t listen.”

“I have an idea, Waverly,” he says.

“Lucas, please don’t! If we stay hidden, maybe they’ll turn back.”

“Maybe they won’t,” he says, his eyes sullen and serious.

He starts to raise his hand in the air and I reach out and grab it with mine. Instantly a bright light flashes before my eyes and I feel like I’m floating in the air.

Has an explosion gone off? No. That’s not it. What is this? What am I seeing? I have heard of out-of-body experiences before, but this is very strange. I can almost feel my physical self standing apart from the group, yet I can’t wave a hand in front of my face. It’s as though I am a spirit hovering around the scene unfolding before me, taking it in from a safe distance. No one can touch me. No one can hear me. In a way, I don’t even exist, yet I also see myself crouched behind the car as though there are two of me: the one hiding from Scarecrow and his men, and this one that feels no fear and cannot be seen.