Ethan stopped a foot away from the man. He scanned all the faces, found Theresa’s. She was crying. She was sending him love. “I may have fired the opening shot,” he said, “but I didn’t turn off the fence, and I didn’t open the gate. The man responsible for the deaths of our families and our friends, for you even being in Wayward Pines in the first place, is alive and well two miles from where we stand. And my question for you is: Are you going to stand for that?”

Andrew said, “He’s backed by his own private army. Those are your words.”

“Yeah.”

“So what do you want us to do?”

“I want you to not lose hope! David Pilcher is a monster, but not everyone in the mountain is. I’m going across the valley.”

“When?”

“Right now. And I’d like Kate Ballinger and two others who can shoot to come with me.”

“We should take a large group,” the officer said.

“Why? So we attract more attention and get more people killed? No, we need to go light and fast. Stay unseen if at all possible. And yes, it’s likely we won’t come back, but the alternative is to sit here in this cave and wait for the inevitable. I say we go out swinging.”

Hecter said, “Even if you make it into the mountain, you actually believe you can stop this man?”

“I do believe that.”

A woman stepped out of the crowd. She still wore her costume from the night before—a ball gown with a tiara she hadn’t thought to take off. Her lipstick, mascara, and eyeliner streaked garishly down her face.

“I want to say something,” she said. “I know a lot of you are angry at this man. At the sheriff. My husband . . .” She took a moment to collect herself. “Was in another group. We’d been married six years. It was a forced marriage, but I loved him. He was my best friend, even though we barely talked. It’s amazing how well you can come to know a person through eye contact. Through subtle glances.” Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. She stared at Ethan. “I want you to know that I would rather Carl be dead and I would rather die today than live in that sick illusion of a town for one more hour. Like prisoners. Like slaves. I know you did what you thought was right. I don’t blame you for a thing. Maybe not everyone feels this way, but I know I’m not the only one.”

“Thank you,” Ethan said. “Thank you for saying that.”

He made a slow turn, studying the ninety-five faces watching him, feeling the true weight of their lives on his shoulders.

He said, finally, “I’m going out that door in ten minutes. Kate, you in?”

“Hell yes.”