She laid her hands on his face, let herself fall into the kiss, into the love.

“I’m scared,” she told him. “So scared, and yet there’s this part of me, inside me, opening and stretching, and it’s not … it’s not afraid.”

“We’ll find our place.”

“Anywhere we’re together. Well.” She drew back, smiled at him. “Maybe not here. Will you do something for me?”

“There’s nothing you could ask I wouldn’t do for you.”

“I should’ve thought of something harder, but could you go get our last bottle of wine? I could use a glass.”

Later, with her soup simmering, and the kitchen as well as the bathroom cleaned to her specifications, Max dragged the garbage she’d heaved out the back door toward a small shed.

No point in having her walk outside, possibly see a rat or mouse or some other creature gnawing at the trash. If they needed to stay for another day, to give Eddie more recovery time, she’d likely insist on cleaning the rest of the damn dump.

He couldn’t blame her.

The door of the shed squealed on bad hinges.

Max found the owner of the house.

He’d been dead at least a couple of weeks, and the vermin had found him.

No need to tell her, no need for her to see. Though he felt a pang, he heaved in the garbage, shut the door. Laying his hand on the door, he offered a blessing and a thanks for the shelter.

“Max!”

He latched the shed, turned, and smiled, as he’d heard pleasure and not alarm in her voice.

“Eddie’s awake. And he’s hungry! No fever, no infection.”

“I’ll be right there.”

He offered up more thanks. They’d leave in the morning, and drive the rest of the way to where Eric waited.

They’d find their place, he thought again.

They’d make one.

SURVIVAL

Friends who set forth at our side,

Falter, are lost in the storm.

We, we only, are left!

—Matthew Arnold

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Jonah Vorhies worked nearly around the clock, using the predawn hours to slip onto the Marine Basin Marina and onto his dead partner’s boat.

It made him a little sick to break into what had been Patti’s, to see pieces of her scattered around the old cruiser she’d loved. But it gave him hope, and it gave him purpose.

He stowed extra blankets, medical supplies, food.

He planned for a short, direct trip across the Narrows and up the Hudson, but prepared for complications. On board he would have newborns and a woman who’d just given birth to twins. A doctor, too.

Rachel.

She, too, had given him hope when he’d believed all hope was lost. She hadn’t hesitated to do all she could to ensure the health and safety of Katie and her babies.

He wondered if those new lives in the middle of so much death had also given Rachel hope and purpose.

Had made her willing, as he was, to take risks.

They’d be taking newborns, barely two days old, across a river in the dead of winter. Out of New York and the increasing violence, away from potential detainment.

But to what? None of them could be sure.

Still, when he walked through the hospital for what he knew would be the last time, he understood they had no choice.

He could see death, his curse, in so many he passed. And there were fewer staff, fewer patients than even the day before.

More of them in the morgue.

But when he stepped into Katie’s room, and she looked at him with absolute trust, he knew he’d get them to safety.

Whatever the cost.

“Rachel?”

“She went to try to scavenge more supplies.”

Dressed in clothes he’d brought her, with the bag he’d packed at her feet, she stood. “Jonah, there’s only one baby left in the nursery. Her mother—she was getting an emergency C-section when you delivered the twins—she died. And the nurse … she’s sick. But the baby’s healthy. Rachel examined her. It’s been two days. She’d probably show symptoms by now if she had the virus.”

“You want to take her.”

“She doesn’t have anyone.”

“Okay.”

Katie closed her eyes, opened them as a tear spilled. “Rachel said you’d say that. She’s getting some supplements, but I can nurse her. I have plenty of milk.”

“Does she have a name?”

“Her mother’s name was Hannah. I think she should be Hannah.”

“Pretty.” He smiled, ignoring the fear of now having three infants to save. “How are these two?”

He moved to the rolling crib where the swaddled twins slept.

“I just fed them about a half hour ago. Rachel said they’re really healthy—as healthy as full-termers.”

“Let’s get them bundled up. You, too.”

Jonah worked Duncan’s arms into the gift-shop sweater while Katie dressed Antonia. The baby’s skin, so pink and white against his fingers, seemed impossibly soft. He’d rarely worked on infants as a paramedic, but he had the training and re-swaddled Duncan in one of the blankets he’d gotten from Katie’s apartment.

When he heard Rachel’s footsteps—he knew her stride—the knots in his stomach released. She came in, a med bag over one arm, an infant in the other.

“Room for one more?”

“Sure. Get your coats. I’ve got the big guy.”

He picked up Katie’s bag and took the med bag as Rachel got her own bag out of the closet.

“There’s some trouble out on the streets, but it’s not as bad as it’s been. It won’t take long to get to the marina. We’re going straight out, straight into the ambulance. Both of you and the babies in the back.”

“We went on emergency power twice today,” Rachel told him. “I don’t know how much longer that’s going to hold. And since that news report, there’s barely any staff. I never asked you where we’re going. I think I never actually believed we’d have to get out by boat.”

“Only way. Even if we could get over a bridge to Manhattan—and they’re blocked—we’d have to get over another to New Jersey. Patti kept her boat year-round in the Marine Basin Marina. Lived on it since her divorce, about eight years ago. Said it was cheaper than an apartment. And she loved it.”

“I went to school with a girl who lived on a houseboat.” Katie swayed with Antonia. “I went to a party on it once.”

“Straight out,” Jonah reminded them when they got to the main floor. “Straight out, straight in. A couple of those baby slings back there, best I could find. Didn’t know we’d have Hannah the Hitchhiker.”

No one stopped them. Once outside, the night was eerily quiet. Katie told herself the sounds she heard in the distance were backfires, not gunfire. Backfires.

“Get two of them in slings and hold on to the third.” Jonah opened the rear doors. “I’m going to drive fast, and I may have to maneuver.”

“We’ll be fine. Need help, Katie?” Rachel asked.

“No, I’ve got it.”

Once Katie had the sling on, the baby in it, Jonah passed her Duncan.

“Won’t take long,” he said again, then closed the doors.

He got behind the wheel, touched a hand to the gun he’d strapped to his hip.

Whatever it took.

One of the babies woke and let out some fussy cries as he pulled out, but the movement soothed it, Jonah supposed. He drove fast, avoiding the expressway. He’d done a couple of test runs, and there was no getting through on major roads.

He slowed for turns when he could, but he knew the sounds he heard for what they were. He wouldn’t risk having a bullet hit the ambulance or one of his passengers.

He heard the sirens, saw the flashing lights barreling toward him, and his heart thudded. But it passed at ridiculous speed, nearly sideswiping the ambulance.

Not cops, he’d seen that. Just as he’d seen, in his mind, the wreck, the blood, the broken bones seconds before the driver lost control and flipped going around a turn.

He didn’t stop. He had purpose. Only one purpose.

He swerved when a man ran into the street, tried to grab the side door. And saw death, terrible death, before an enormous wolf leaped out, clamped gleaming teeth on the man’s throat. The single high-pitched scream snapped off like a light.