After awhile, he heard the waterfall.

They descended a steep pitch of hillside.

Reached the stream and the opening of the drainage tunnel. The abbies Ethan had shot last night lay dead in the water and on the bank.

There was mist in his face.

He stared up at a single cascade that spilled over a ledge two hundred feet above. The sunlight made a rainbow where it passed through the falling water.

“Take the tunnel into town?” Kate asked.

“No,” Ethan said. “We should leave ourselves plenty of room to run.”

After a quarter of a mile, the terrain leveled out and they emerged from the woods behind an old, decrepit house on the eastern edge of town, the same house, Ethan realized, where he’d found the mutilated corpse of Agent Evans when he’d first arrived in Wayward Pines.

They stopped in the weeds on the side of the house.

Up until this moment, Ethan had found comfort in the silence. Now it was disquieting. Like the world was holding its breath for something.

He said, “I was thinking on the hike down. If we could find a functional car, we could haul ass to the south end of town and not have to worry about an ambush the whole time. Kate, does that old beater in front of your house run?”

“Haven’t cranked it in years. I wouldn’t want to chance it.”

“The car in front of mine does,” Maggie said.

Ethan asked, “When’s the last time you took it for a spin?”

“Two weeks ago. I got a phone call one morning, someone telling me to drive around town for a few hours.”

“I’ve always wondered why they did that,” Hecter said.

“Because roads are never completely empty in normal towns,” Ethan said. “Just another ploy to make Wayward Pines feel real. Where’s your place, Maggie?”

“Eighth Street, between Sixth and Seventh Avenues.”

“That’s only six blocks away. Where are the keys?”

“Bedside table drawer.”

“You’re sure.”

“Hundred percent.”

Ethan peeked around the corner of the house, saw bodies in the distance in the street, but no abbies.

“Let’s sit for a minute,” he said. “Catch our breath.”

They all sat against the rotting boards of the house.

Ethan said, “Maggie, Hecter, no military experience, right?”

Headshakes.

“I was a Black Hawk pilot. Saw some insane combat in Fallujah. We have six blocks to cover across very hostile territory, and there’s a right way to move in these situations to minimize exposure. From our current position, we can only see the surrounding block, but when we get across the street, our perspective will change. We’ll have new information. Even though we have six blocks to contend with, we’re going to look at that distance incrementally. Maggie and I will cross the street first and secure a position. I’ll evaluate the area from our new vantage point, and when I give the sign, Kate and Hecter will join us. Make sense?”

Nods.

“I want to say one last thing about how we’re going to move. It’s called a tactical column. We’ll keep close together as we run, but the pace should be controlled enough for you to stay alert. If the coast is clear, the temptation will be to focus on areas in the distance to see what’s coming, but that’s a mistake. If we see abbies coming from a hundred, two hundred yards out, there’s time for us to react. Worst thing that can happen is a surprise ambush. One of these things coming out of a bush, around a corner, and then you don’t even have time to raise your weapon. So watch your danger areas. That’s top priority. If you pass a bush and you can’t see what’s behind it, you cover that bush. Got it?”

Maggie’s shotgun had begun to tremble in her grasp.

Ethan touched her hand. “You’re going to do fine,” he said.

She turned away suddenly and threw up in the grass.

Kate patted her back, and whispered, “It’s okay, honey. It’s okay to be scared. It’s right to be scared. It’ll make you sharp.”

Ethan considered how utterly unprepared this woman was. Maggie had never been exposed to anything approaching this level of horror and pressure and yet she was slugging her way through it.

Maggie wiped her mouth and took a few deep breaths.

“You okay?” Ethan asked.

“I can’t do it. I thought I could but—”

“I know you can.”

“No, I should just go back.”

“We need you, Maggie. The people in the cavern need you.”

She nodded.

“You’ll be with me,” Ethan said, “and we’ll take it one step at a time.”

“Okay.”

“You can do this.”

“I just need a moment.”

He’d seen this in war. Combat paralysis. When the total horror of the violence and the constant threat of death overwhelmed a soldier. In his time in Iraq, the nightmare scenario was a sniper’s bullet or an IED. But even on the worst days in the streets of Fallujah, there wasn’t anything that wanted to eat you alive.

He gave Maggie a hand up.

“You ready?” he asked.

“I think so.”

He pointed across the street. “We’re going to cross to that house on the corner. Don’t think about anything else.”

“Okay.”

“You’re going to see some bodies in the street. Just want to warn you. Ignore them. Don’t even look at them.”

“Danger areas.” She tried to smile.

“You got it. Now stay close.”

Ethan picked up his shotgun.

Butterflies in his stomach.

That old, familiar fear.

Five steps out from the side of the house, the bodies in the street were in full view. And you couldn’t not look at them. He counted seven people, two of them children, literally ripped apart.

Maggie was keeping up.

He could hear her footsteps a few feet behind his.

They hit the street, nothing but the sound of their footfalls on the pavement.

Their panting.

Up and down First Avenue—nothing.

It was so quiet.

They crossed into the yard and accelerated the last few steps to the two-story Victorian.

Crouched down under a window.

Ethan glanced around the corner.

Made another scan up and down First.