He didn’t argue with her, and he decided not to tell her about the things he’d seen. “You still have your gun?”

It was a stupid question. She had it out and held in a two-handed grip. She answered, “What does it look like?”

Not only did she have it, she used it. As they ran, hoping they were moving toward the edge of the city, they passed one monstrosity after another. Some ignored them; others came for them. Olena clipped the knee of a girl with screaming mouths on both her cheeks. It didn’t stop her screaming, but she could only scrabble after them, dragging herself with thin arms. After that, Olena shot a man through the heart when he came at them. Literally, through the heart. The organ was on the outside of his chest, beating. It popped like a blood-filled balloon. And then there was a drooling, big-mouthed monster of a thing. It was something like a gargoyle, but like the underworld version of one. Stalactite-like protrusions hung from its flesh, dangling when it moved. It had eyes, though it didn’t seem capable of opening them. They moved beneath the cream-colored skin of its eyelids. It turned toward them, nostrils flaring. But it didn’t move. Marcus thought they could go around it. Olena had a different opinion. She slammed one shot right into its forehead, exploding the back of its head in a spray of muck.

When Marcus looked at her, she said, by way of explanation, “What? You saw it. It was sniffing. Sniffing!” She punctuated this by stomping on the shattered skull until she slipped.

We really, really needed to get out of the city, Marcus thought.

He spotted the grazing thing in the distance and pulled Olena back from the road leading toward it. “Not that way. Don’t go near that.”

They cut across the street and veered off on a diagonal that led to one of the bridges over the river. As they ran for the bridge a figure rose up out of the river, rubbing his chest and arms like he was washing. He was tall, twenty feet or so. Scrawny, with bulging knees. Butt naked. It was this particular part of his anatomy that was most prominently projected toward them. His head and hands were outsized even for his tall frame. But it was the way his skin glistened that drew Marcus’s recognition. Beneath the river water the muck he was trying to wash clean clung to him. His efforts only smeared it across his flesh.

When the scent of him hit Marcus he couldn’t help but gasp, “Vaporlock?”

“You know that thing?” Olena asked.

“Yes.”

“Then he’s a joker.”

“He was. But he wasn’t like this before. He’s changed.”