PROLOGUE
Once upon a time, zombies weren’t real, true love existed, and the world wasn’t on fire.
I liked those stories best.
— Hallie Holden
There are three steps to exterminating a lurker.
One: the stare.
Sounds fucking ridiculous, and maybe it is. No one knows what the hell a lurker sees with its soulless black eyes; they can’t talk so they’ll never be able to tell us. But if you can stomach it to look one of them dead in the face long enough, the power of a survivor’s stare can freeze one of the monsters.
Not for long. Never for long. But if you’re experienced at the hunt, it’s longenough?—
Hallie is standing two steps behind me. I’m crouched in the dirt, head bowed while she keeps watch. We’re on the edge of Ridgemond Street—a once busy thoroughfare in our suburban city—both of us tensed and ready in case the lurkers attempt to breach the boundaries again tonight.
The empty glass bottle in my hand thuds as I tap it anxiously against the cracked asphalt. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Hallie chewing on her thumbnail. Every ten seconds or so, she allows herself to blink.
The old traffic lights on the corner of Ridgemond and Grove have been out for months, but the street lamp just above my head must have recently gone dark. By the time Kevin and Chase discovered it during their early evening patrol, it was too late to do anything about it.
Darkness rushes toward the Grave, and with the dark, the lurkers. We need the brightness of the remaining street lamps to keep them back. If even one of the bulbs winks out, we’re fucked—and we all know it.
Tonight’s watch is up to us. I’m here because no one else has as many kills as I do. Hallie’s my backup because of that freaky way she can sense the lurkers approaching before anyone has eyes on them. Together, we’re the perfect team.
I’ve long given up trying to convince her to stay back at the Holden safehouse once the sun sets. God knows that Chase has pleaded with Jack too many damn times to take Hallie off of a hunting team, but if anyone on this shell of what was Earth should know better, it’s her devoted—and admittedly overprotective—fiancé.
Hallie… she’s too stubborn, just like me. When I’m out on a hunt, she’s going to be right there beside me, and if I can’t talk sense into her hard head, I wouldn’t want it any other way.
Her long hair hangs like a curtain in front of her face. The pale blonde strands gleam more like silver in the weak moonlight. I yank my matching waves back, tying the mess tight with a rubber band so that they won’t get in the way as I lay out tonight’s supplies: a glass bottle, one small gas can that is maybe half empty, a folded piece of cloth, and a cap full of motor oil.
Everything I need to make a firebomb.
I glance up. The nearest working street lamp is about thirty feet away. Despite the faint amount of light it offers, I’m used to the dark. I can make out the copse of blackened trees that beckon in front of us. Charred and carrying the scent of smoke, I’m reminded that there are signs of fire everywhere these days. This part of the Grave is no different.
Hallie shifts her weight from one foot to the other, her whole body radiating anxiety and nerves. I tap the glass against the ground a second time, harder than before to catch her attention.
She stops fidgeting immediately.
For a second, I think she realized just how distracting her movements were—but only a second since, with the next, I pick up on the sound of her breath catching in her throat. I’m instantly alert.
I know exactly what that sound means.
“How many?”
Hallie concentrates as I stay low, prepared to pounce depending on her answer. I’m not like my twin. I don’t know how many lurkers are near until I actually see one of the bastards with my own eyes. To be honest, whenever she tries to explain what it feels like to sense them, I almost have to refrain from accusing her of fucking with me. She’s never been wrong, though. I trust her, and there’s nothing I can do but wait until she can get a read on her feelings.
“Two,” Hallie says before correcting herself right away. “No. No, it’s three… Three.” She pauses before adding hesitantly, “At least Ithinkit’s three.”
Three’s not too bad. We can handle three.
I start to uncap the gas can, then stop. It’s not just that I don’t want to start a fire we can’t control. Like the other hunters, I have to make sure I’m not using any more gasoline than necessary. There’s still an abandoned gas station inside theborders of the Grave, but one day it will run out and we’ll have to figure out another way to kill the lurkers with what we have left.
I don’t want that day to be today.
“Okay. You think it’s three. I’m ready, but you tell me when you’re sure.”
My sister shivers behind me.