Ethan stared down into Theresa’s face, resisting the urge to tell her everything that man had done. He said, finally, “I’ll try. For you.”

“Thank you.”

They walked on.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she asked.

“Um, everything?”

“No, there’s something more. Something new. You were weird at dinner.”

Ethan looked into the canyon three thousand feet below. It was only a month ago he’d had his first encounter with the abbies down there, and as harrowing as that experience had been, at least he’d known hope then. He’d still believed the world was out there. That if only he could escape this town, these mountains, his family and his life would be waiting for him in Seattle.

“Ethan?”

“We’re in trouble,” he said.

“I’m aware.”

“No, I mean we’re not going to make it. As a species.”

A meteor crossed the sky.

“Ethan, I’ve been here a lot longer than you have. It feels hopeless sometimes, and now more than ever, but we have everything we need in Wayward Pines.”

“The food’s running out,” he said. “That stuff we ate tonight? Those freeze-dried meals? There isn’t an endless supply, and once it’s gone, we’re not going to be able to grow enough food in this valley to get us through the long, hard winters. If we were farther south, we could make it work, but we’re trapped in this valley. I’m sorry to tell you this, but I don’t want to keep anything from you. No more secrets. I need you in my corner, because I don’t know what to do.”

“How long do we have?” Theresa asked.

“Four years.”

“And then what happens?”

“And then we die.”

HASSLER

HASSLER

He crossed the river on the east side of town, his legs numb by the time he stumbled out of the water and onto the far shore.

On all fours, he scrambled up through the pines that clung to the steepening hillside.

Up.

Up.

Up.

A hundred feet above town, the terrain went vertical, but he didn’t stop, kept fighting his way up the cliff, higher and higher.

Climbing without fear.

Without care.

He couldn’t believe he was actually scaling the suicide cliff. During that year he’d lived in town with Theresa, two people had ascended this stretch of rock and leapt to their deaths. There were plenty of other fatal options on the cliffs that surrounded Wayward Pines, but this particular precipice had the benefit of being the most sheer. No chances of accidentally bungling the jump and taking an unnecessary bounce off a ledge. If one made it to the top without falling, they could bank on an uninterrupted plummet into oblivion.

Hassler topped out five hundred feet above the valley on a long ledge.

He collapsed on the cold granite, his jaw throbbing, probably broken.