“All I care about at this point is causing your husband pain. Nothing more,” Pam said. “If he’s still alive, he’ll eventually come here looking for you, and do you know what he’ll find?”

“You don’t have to do this, Pam.”

“The two of you dead and me sitting here. Waiting. I want him to know I did this before I kill him.”

“Just listen—”

“I am listening. But before you start talking, ask yourself if you really believe you’re going to change my mind.”

Down the hall, somewhere in the lobby, Theresa heard the faintest sound.

Like a shard of glass splintering.

Thinking, Please be an abby. Please.

“Most of this town was killed last night,” Theresa said. “I don’t know how many of us are even left.”

Another piece of glass crunched.

Theresa raised her voice a notch.

“But no matter how you feel toward my husband, how can you think that killing two of us who happened to survive is what’s best for our species? We’re on the verge of extinction!”

“Wow, that’s a great point, Theresa. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Really?”

“No, I’m just kidding. I don’t give a shit.” Pam racked a shell into the tube. “I promise I won’t make you suffer. And honestly? Take a second to look on the bright side. At least you two didn’t die at the hands of an abby. This way, you won’t feel a thing. Well, you’ll probably feel something, but it’ll all be over before you know it.”

“He’s a child!” Theresa cried.

“Oh, would you mind sliding me the key to the cell before—”

The muzzle flash brightened the entire room.

The sound was deafening.

Theresa thinking, We’re dead. She did it.

But she could still think.

She could still feel her son in her arms.

She braced for the pain to hit, but it didn’t come.

Someone was saying her name, and over the ringing in her ears, it sounded as if the shouts were coming from the bottom of a deep hole.

Something sparked, a point of light flaring in her field of vision, Theresa wondering, Is that the light at the end of the tunnel? Am I dead now, accelerating toward it? Is my son with me?

It sparked again, only this time the light didn’t die.

It grew brighter and brighter until a single flame ignited a tiny bundle of dried-out moss.

It was smoking now, and she could smell the smoke as she watched hands lift the burning tinder off the floor. The flames illuminated the dirtiest face she’d ever seen, engulfed by a shaggy beard that must have taken years to grow.

But those eyes . . .