When I glanced over my shoulder, three Chasers flew out of the shadows beneath the carport. I must’ve sprinted past them without even noticing.

They’d caught me off guard. As I twisted around, raising the baling hooks, my feet tangled, spilling me onto the ground.

They barreled at me, muscles straining through their skin. There was no time to get up and fight. I crossed the hooks protectively over my head. It was the only thing I could do.

All of a sudden, footsteps hammered overhead.

I squinted up to see a figure flying across the roof of the house, backlit by the rising sun.

Between the portable tank rigged onto his back like a scuba tank, the shotgun angled across his chest, and the heavy-duty mask erasing his features, he looked like a superhero.

The shadow took flight off the roof, passing directly over the heads of the Chasers, swinging the shotgun around so it aimed straight down between his legs.

Thunder.

The scattered buckshot blew the Chasers to pieces on the driveway before me.

The form continued overhead, landing on the Airstream with a thump, cratering the metal.

I was on my back, my arm raised against the morning glare.

“Chance.” My brother’s voice was distorted through the mask. “Get up here now.” Leaning over, he stuck his hand out for me.

Scrambling to my feet, I grabbed it, and he hauled me up.

“Back onto the roof of the house,” he said. “Before others come.”

I ran down the length of the Airstream, dodging the open sunroof, gaining momentum to leap across the gap to the top of the carport. I made it easily. I turned to watch my brother.

The weight of the tank pulling down on him, Patrick sprinted across the Airstream after me. Just as he was about to leap, a clawlike hand shot through the sunroof, grabbing for his ankle, tripping him.

He stumbled, kept his feet, his force carrying him to the end of the Airstream. Somehow he managed to jump across the gap, but he landed hard, rolling over his shoulder.

One of the straps snapped, the tank spinning away from him. The mask pulled free of his mouth, yanked down below his chin, exhaling a hiss of oxygen. The tubing popped free. The tank rolled and rolled toward the edge of the carport roof.

Then it went over.

A second later I heard a clang as it hit the driveway below.

Patrick was holding his breath, his cheeks already turning red, veins standing out in his throat. The collision had knocked the air out of him. I was a few feet away, standing over him, paralyzed.

It was all happening so fast.

I saw his lips part.

Then he pulled in a breath.

Entry 40

ENTRY 40

We were frozen there atop the carport, me on my feet, Patrick knocked over.

He breathed the infected air again.