CHAPTER NINETEEN

"THIS IS YOUR FAULT," Evelyn snaps at Michelle, pinning her with a death glare that typically persuades anyone to back down.

Not Michelle. "I told you, I didn't place that tracker in my bag."

"I suppose it grew legs and climbed inside then, huh?"

"Do you honestly think I would want that sick man to hunt my son and I down? I've spent too long trying to get away from him for that."

"Maybe that's just a story the two of you came up with. You know how important Harry is to him, so what better way to earn his favor than to lead him straight to him?"

"He made my son ill," Michelle says, her voice rising.

"Or maybe you conjured that up yourself," Evelyn replies, keeping her voice at a regular volume. "People in this world get sick and they die. Simple as that. There doesn't have to be a conspiracy theory to it."

Michelle's cheeks flare, an angry red. "You don't know what he's put me through."

"You're right. Just like you don't know what he's put everyone else in this damned world through."

"He killed my daughter!" she yells. "She couldn't undergo that godforsaken operation. He killed her and it was my fault, because I refused to help round up the neighborhood kids. That was my first mistake with him, and he made me pay for it."

Evelyn has the decency, then, to close her mouth, to let Michelle vent.

She's crying again. She's always crying. "The second strike he made my son ill. When I helped 74--Harry escape, I knew that was my only chance to finally be free of him. I should've known better because now he's coming and he'll take my son and I won't be able to--"

She cuts herself off, sinking to the floor on her knees.

Evelyn feels like shit, but part of her problem is being unable to apologize. So she lets Michelle cry to herself on the bedroom floor, and she finds Robbie and Caroline sitting in the foyer. The two are sharpening the sticks she asked them too when they both proclaimed they wanted to help. Arrows will only give her so much leeway, but it's better if she can shoot down even a mere few from a distance.

"Is this good, Eve?" Robbie asks, holding up a stick he just finished.

She tries to smile but can't quite manage one. "Perfect, kiddo."

The house has been secured as best as she could get it. There had been a few sheets of leftover chained-link fence in the shed, and she'd wound it around the front porch posts. There were thorn bushes in the back, so she'd stuffed parts of them in the holes of the fence. She knows it will be like the gazing of nails to an experiment, but she feels a little safer having added it. Anything to provide extra defense.

Before she can talk to the kids more, her name is shouted from outside. She runs out, peeling part of the fence she left open to let Micah in. "Where's Harry?"

"He's holding them off. We both agreed one of us needed to be back here," he says quickly as she closes the fence, securing it completely.

"Is he...?"

He sees the question on her face, his eyes softening some. "He's cutting them down like flowers," he says quietly. "But, he was sane enough to tell me to come back for you guys. I think he's controlling it, if only a little." She can't tell if he says that last bit to simply make her feel better or if it's true. She supposes she doesn't care either way.

"Is the tree idea working?"

"Hardly. They brought a transport vehicle that's plowing through them."

"You both killed the earth for nothing."

He notices she's trying to lighten the mood, but he doesn't laugh. "I guess we did."

The sound of the battle gets closer.

Micah hurries back onto the porch to wait for their arrival.

"Come on," Evelyn says to Robbie and Caroline. "Do you both remember the plan?"

The two nod and say simultaneously, "Stay in the kitchen pantry and don't come out for anything."

Evelyn's heart hurts, but she tells them, "Good. No matter what, both of you are to stay put. If someone comes in, do not answer them. Do not peek out of the door. You stay silent and still until they leave. Understand?"

The two nod again.

Evelyn can't help it, then. She bends and hugs Robbie. She just got him back and now there is a strong chance she'll lose him again. He clutches her just as tightly, his tears soaking in her shirt on her shoulder. She doesn't want to let go of him. Never again.

But she has to.

When she does, he swipes his face and grabs Caroline's hand, leading her into the kitchen. Evelyn feels wetness on her own cheeks but doesn't bother wiping it off.

Michelle steps warily out of the master bedroom where Maxie still sits motionless in the bed. Evelyn purses her lips, inhaling sharply. "Take your son in the bedroom with Maxie. There's a closet or you can put him under the bed. Hopefully, no one will make it into the house."

However, they both know that hope is useless.

They both know there are some battles that can't be won.

She gives a curt nod to Evelyn, then goes to retrieve her son.

Evelyn scoops the bundle of makeshift arrows into her arms, then--she curses. She'd been so used to having her weapons that she forgot she doesn't have her bow. She doesn't even have her own dagger. Why the hell had she made arrows? An instinct, she supposes, one that now comes natural to her when the resources are around. She almost throws them across the room out of pure annoyance.

"Eve!" Micah shouts, and she pushes out the front door with the arrows still in her arms.

Harry is standing on the other side of the fence, his eyes so dark she can't look him directly in them. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, his teeth bared with blood dripping from them, just as it had yesterday. The fresh shirt she'd found last night for him is ruined, it's white material now stained red.

But she's surprised--and relieved--when he sees the arrows in her arms and says, "Give them to me."

She frowns, but moves to open the fence to do so.

"No. Don't open the fence. Hand them to me through the gaps."

She does as he asks, though she doesn't understand what good they'll do him. All three of their heads turn when the thundering of footsteps nears. Harry's eyebrows furrow in thought as he takes a stick in his hand, setting the rest at his feet. He holds it almost as he would a pencil. It dawns on Evelyn what he plans to do, but no human could throw a weak twig from such a distance. The experiments are merely blurs rushing for them, too far to make out any facial features or distinctions.

But Evelyn forgets that Harry is not quite human anymore.

He waits a moment or so, then draws his arm back and lets the arrow fly. It hadn't seemed like he'd thrown it hard, but even from this distance, Evelyn sees the arrow pierce through a forehead before the experiment drops. A few others stumble over him, not expecting his sudden collapse.

Harry throws another, then another, and continues throwing them until he runs out. Each arrow impales a forehead, and few strike through an eye. There was about thirty sticks, which hadn't gotten rid of most of them, but it's encouraging to see a slightly smaller ambush.

Evelyn yanks her dagger from its sheath, then pulls the fence back, ignoring Harry's command not to. Micah slips through with her following suit. Harry instantly steps away, clenching his fists as if to control himself.

"Let us do most the fighting," Micah tells her.

"He may have ruined our lives in different ways, but he ruined them nonetheless," she says. "I want to see him die. Even if it's right before my last breath."

Micah looks like he wants to argue, but perhaps the finality in her tone keeps him from doing so. She's completely serious, and she has a right to be. He can't take that willpower away from her.

A growl from Harry pulls them both back into the situation. The experiments are nearly upon them.

It is when Harry and Micah jump into the fight that Evelyn feels fear for the first time in a while. She knows there's no way out of this one. No sense in fighting. Yet her sheer determination and stubbornness keep her from cowering away. She may want to curl into a ball and wait for the world to destroy itself, but she has vengeance to seek and vows to keep. She swore to her dead family that she would not die by a beast's hands, that she would kill every last one of them.

Her hands tremble and her body shivers, but when the first experiment approaches her, that is all he manages to do. She uses the lethal rage pent up inside her to survive, to chop down any who dare attack her. A dagger is a foolish weapon amongst creatures such as these, and yet she's so confident with the tool that holding them off is almost easy. She fights the exhaustion coursing through her, the hunger knotting her stomach. She fights the fear and the sorrow and the absolute defeat she feels.

Defeat, because she knows even if this battle is won, she will feel no better about the future. About herself.

She's standing in a pool of blood, drenched in blood. Bodies lay at her feet, scattered all across the pavement. Her hand stills when there's no body to slash, and she looks up to see Micah and Harry have stopped as well. Covered in more blood than she, especially Harry. She cringes when she sees it around his mouth.

"That was only the first wave of them," Micah reminds her, trying to catch his breath. All of them are gasping for air.

Harry nods in confirmation, ears twitching. "There's twice as many headed for us now."

Micah clenches his jaw.

Evelyn speaks each of their thoughts. "We won't make it."

"No," Harry says quietly.

She feels nauseous. "What does he want with us?"

"We've been pests," Micah tells her. "He's tired of dealing with us. But we don't think he'll kill any of you."

"Why? Why doesn't he just end it?"

But then she realizes that he said "any of you." Not "us."

She looks between them both. "You think after all the hours he's put into you both, he'll kill you?"

Harry stares at his toes and Micah simply nods.

"That doesn't make sense," she murmurs, more so to herself than to them. "Maybe he won't, though."

Neither answer.

"I can't..." She begins to panic, her heart pounding. "I can't do this. I'd rather be killed than taken hostage. I... No. No." She doesn't know why she shouts. She hates that she starts crying.

Her blood-covered dagger clatters to the ground as she drags her hands furiously through her hair, pacing in small circles. She hates everything. Herself, her life, this world, these experiments--everything.

Harry is suddenly in front of her, his speed casting a gust of wind over her face. She cries harder when she looks up at him. Maybe because of the blood on his face and clothes and hands. Maybe because he's all she has left and she's about to lose him. Maybe because she knows she can't do any of this without him.

"I will protect you until death itself stops me," he says, not a whisper, but not loudly either. Words for her and her only. "My heart will have to be ripped from my chest to stop beating for you. Do you believe me?"

Her eyes are watery, his face blurry, yet she nods with utter honesty.

"Do you still trust me?"

Maybe she's a fool for nodding at this, but she does. Maybe she shouldn't trust him because of the uncontrollable monster inside, but she does. She trusts him with every fiber in her body, and she is no longer ashamed of it.

"Guys," Micah calls. "They're here."

Harry must be able to hear them, because Evelyn can now, too. But he does not move away from her, does not look away from her. As if it is only them in existence, only each other to see. She uses her jacket sleeve to wipe away her tears.

He doesn't touch her because of the blood on his hands, but he doesn't need to. She understands how much he cares. She believes it.

His voice still low, he says in her ear, "Fight, Evelyn. Don't stop fighting."

She won't.