The homes were gone now, leaving fields of crops and a very odd town.

The structures were all very similar, built for function, not design. Row after row of matching square buildings along wide roads. They were all different businesses—a market, a hardware store, a clothing shop—but they were identical on the outside, save for the tiny signs in the large front windows advertising what was sold inside.

The streetlights were incredibly bright. Weirdly bright, in Lennon’s opinion. Like they were trying to make sure no one could hide.

There were almost no cars on the road, and the sidewalks were nearly empty as well. The people he did see walked quickly, heads down. None wore masks, so he left his in his shirt.

“Yeah, this is not going to work,” Maisie murmured. “It is way too quiet to grab a car here. If we can even find one. We’re going to have to keep walking.”

“Technically, we could walk the whole way,” he said. “We could do thirty miles. We have over twenty-four hours still.”

“We could, though I’d rather not. Especially if we’re going to find someone to talk to about that shipment. Doesn’t leave a lot of time.” She looked at him meaningfully.

“Right. Good point.” He smiled at her. “Plus, you know I’m very delicate. Who knows if I’d even make it? You’d probably have to carry me.”

She pressed her lips together like she was trying not to laugh, and then lightly brushed her hand against his arm.

Dammit.

“Hey!” The voice came from behind them. They both froze.

Then slowly, they turned around.

Maisie put a hand on his arm again, though it wasn’t light and friendly this time. She wrapped her fingers around his jacket and held tightly, like she was trying to make sure they weren’t separated.

The man who had called out to them was a few yards away. He wore a black uniform with a gun at his hip. Some kind of law enforcement, probably. He stalked to them, hand outstretched.

“Let me see your permit.”

Lennon’s gaze slid to Maisie, wondering if she knew what “permit” he was referring to. Her expression gave nothing away.

“We were just on our way home,” she said smoothly.

“Permit,” the man barked, opening and closing his fingers.

“Is that necessary? Look at us. We’re harmless.”

The officer’s eyes flicked from Maisie to Lennon. Whatever he saw, he disapproved.

“Per-mit,” he said, drawing the word out slowly. Rudely, in Lennon’s opinion.

Maisie’s hand slid down his arm, to his hand. She squeezed it.

“Oh my god, you’re relentless with this permit thing,” Maisie said, and then took off running, pulling Lennon with her.

MAISIE

“STOP!” THE PERMIT dude yelled from behind them.

Lennon had barely missed a beat when Maisie started running. Maybe it was the vise grip on his hand. She still had that vise grip.

“I said stop!” the guy yelled again, like they were actually going to listen. There was a hint of bewilderment in his words.