Even though she was limping, she kept pace by my side as we headed down the pass. It was gonna be a long, hard way to the bottom. After a while we fell into a trance. We came around a bulge of granite, and I heard footsteps crunching fallen leaves up ahead. I stopped and pulled Alex behind a tree trunk. My chest pressed into her shoulders, her head drawn back so our cheeks touched. She started to protest, but I put a hand gently over her mouth. We waited.

A moment later a Mapper emerged from the brush and headed right for us. Alex’s body tensed against mine, but I held her firmly, willing her not to move. I was watching the angle of the Mapper’s eyeholes, a trick I’d picked up in the cemetery, and they were pointed a foot to the side of us. Sure enough, he passed by, his shoulder brushing against the bark inches from Alex’s face.

Once he’d disappeared into the foliage, I released her. When she turned to me, her look held something different in it, though I couldn’t say what.

“We should find somewhere to hide until night,” I said. “Traveling in daylight’s too risky.”

“You’re right,” she said. “I think we’ve pushed our luck enough today.” She raised her arm, pointed past my cheek. “How ’bout there?”

I turned, seeing nothing at first. Then it came into view. A cabin a half mile away, obstructed by trees.

We headed for it. As we neared, it emerged from the forest. Aside from a small barn a stone’s throw away and a generator shed covered with solar panels, there was nothing man-made in sight.

We circled the cabin once, peering through the windows, and paused at the front door. Alex raised her hockey stick, and I firmed my grip on the handles of the baling hooks.

“Ready?” she asked.

“Ready,” I said.

She busted in, and we turned, back to back, scanning the place.

No Hosts.

Truth be told, it was sort of cozy. Queen-size bed with a quilt, potbellied stove, kitchenette. A gun cabinet against the wall showed off a hunting rifle and several boxes of rounds. A framed photograph on the side table captured a couple in their sixties sitting at a poolside table somewhere, his arm around her shoulder. Behind them a tropical sun glowed through scattered clouds.

Alex sagged to the bed.

I dumped the backpack from my shoulder and dug through it, tossing her an energy bar. She caught it in front of her face.

“Thanks,” she said. “I’m starving.”