But the hand on my throat eases up, and then his fingers are fumbling on the back of my neck, rough and warm on my skin.

“Impossible,” he breathes.

Something hits the floor with a thud. He’s dropped the knife? I try to think of a way to get it. Maybe if I fall. The hand on my neck isn’t tight enough to keep me from yanking free. I think I heard where the blade landed.

He spins me around suddenly. There is a click, and light blinds my left eye. I gasp and automatically try to twist away from it. His hand tightens in my hair. The light flickers to my right eye.

“I can’t believe it,” he whispers. “You’re still human.”

His hands grab my face from both sides, and before I can pull free, his lips come down hard on mine.

I’m frozen for half a second. No one has ever kissed me in my life. Not a real kiss. Just my parents’ pecks on the cheek or forehead, so many years ago. This is something I thought I would never feel. I’m not sure exactly what it feels like, though. There’s too much panic, too much terror, too much adrenaline.

I jerk my knee up in a sharp thrust.

He chokes out a wheezing sound, and I’m free. Instead of running for the front of the house again like he expects, I duck under his arm and leap through the open door. I think I can outrun him, even with my load. I’ve got a head start, and he’s still making pained noises. I know where I’m going—I won’t leave a path he can see in the dark. I never dropped the food, and that’s good. I think the granola bars are a loss, though.

“Wait!” he yells.

Shut up, I think, but I don’t yell back.

He’s running after me. I can hear his voice getting closer. “I’m not one of them!”

Sure. I keep my eyes on the sand and sprint. My dad used to say I ran like a cheetah. I was the fastest on my track team, state champion, back before the end of the world.

“Listen to me!” He’s still yelling at full volume. “Look! I’ll prove it. Just stop and look at me!”

Not likely. I pivot off the wash and flit through the mesquites.

“I didn’t think there was anyone left! Please, I need to talk to you!”

His voice surprises me—it is too close.

“I’m sorry I kissed you! That was stupid! I’ve just been alone so long!”

“Shut up!” I don’t say it loudly, but I know he hears. He’s getting even closer. I’ve never been outrun before. I push my legs harder.

There’s a low grunt to his breathing as he speeds up, too.

Something big flies into my back, and I go down. I taste dirt in my mouth, and I’m pinned by something so heavy I can hardly breathe.

“Wait. A. Minute,” he huffs.