To have come all this way to be defeated by a simple rain.

How stupid of me to park the Silverado out here on soft ground.

As wetness crept through my socks, I leaned against the truck. Then my temper snapped. I banged the hood with my fist, then tried to kick the side panel, though I could barely yank my boot free to do it.

“Chance,” Alex said.

I felt her hand on my shoulder.

“I don’t care,” I fumed. “I don’t care if they hear me.”

Part of me wanted the Hosts to come so I could take out my rage on them.

I tried to kick the truck again, a poor effort.

“Are you done?” Alex asked calmly.

I turned, hooks dangling around my wrists. “I think so.”

“There is another car we could use.”

“What are you talking about?”

But already she’d started sloshing back to the highway, her feet making sucking sounds as they pulled from the earth. Alert for Hosts—maybe I didn’t really want them to show up—I followed.

She reached the station wagon, its tailgate smashed beneath the last tree trunk in the barricade. Opening the driver’s door, she reached in and unbuckled the seat belt from around the dead Host’s thighs. Then she nonchalantly yanked him out and dumped him on the ground.

Nick’s father. Killed by Patrick. Now just another dead Host lying among others.

She climbed in and stared at me through the shattered windshield. Streaks of blood marred the hood, along with those fingernail scrapes. “Well,” she said, “get in.”

“Alex. The car is crushed under that tree.”

“Just the back.”

“Not a prayer.”

“Fine,” she said. “Out of my way, please.”

I stepped to the side.

The engine coughed as she turned it over and then died. On her second try, it coughed some more but finally caught. The transmission clanked as she jerked the car into gear, and then she stomped the gas pedal.

The motor roared, the tires spinning, throwing up smoke. The station wagon went nowhere.

I didn’t think it could get louder, but it did.

Bent over the wheel, her face set with determination, Alex gave the engine more gas.

The car remained in place, pinned down by the tree.

“I told you!” I shouted.

Alex either ignored me or couldn’t hear.

I cast a glance at the darkness behind me. A few floating white ovals resolved—faces of Chasers. Then bodies came visible beneath them, making slow progress through the reeds. Some of the Hosts were sunk to their knees, but still they drove themselves on.

The wheels screamed against the tarmac.

The station wagon’s front bumper lifted an inch. The tree made a faint crackling sound against the crunched metal of the tailgate. Perhaps the slightest shift.

The frontline Chasers were now only a few steps from the highway. Legions more appeared behind them.