It only took until two a.m., but they finally made it. The school rose up from beyond the football field, alive with floodlights run on industrial generators. Barbed wire had been strung across the top of the chain link fence that ran around the property, and a sandbag barrier with more barbed wire formed a secondary obstacle.

Wilson ran to the fence and stared in. "It's so close, yet so far," he whined.

"It looks like there are buses and ambulances up front," Zane said. "Let's just get there."

He and Ethan had traded off Ricky's dead weight for a time, but after Hunter and Dylan or Tyler carried Ricky for two hours, Zane and Ethan were back at it. "You should've left me back at the house," Ricky would moan every now and then. For the past forty-five minutes, however, Ricky hadn't said anything, and hadn't responded. Frankly, they were all too exhausted to worry about keeping their friend awake. It was enough to know he had a pulse.

"To the front, then," Wilson said.

As they neared, he turned and said, "Look, guys, we should probably put our weapons away. I don't want them to just shoot us on sight because we're armed, you know?"

"Good idea," Zane said.

They all paused and tucked guns into waistbands, or in the case of Hunter's rifle, slung it to his back. The baseball bat couldn't be helped, but Dylan or Tyler managed to get his machete through a belt loop.

At the front, military personnel formed a line, and beyond that, a line of people had formed at the school's front doors.

"Halt," came a voice over a loudspeaker. "Drop your weapons. Hands in the air."

Everyone but Ricky raised their arms. Zane and Ethan each raised one arm.

Several soldiers approached with their guns out. "What's wrong with him?" asked the one with the full beard. "Is he infected?"

"No," Zane answered. "He's got some broken ribs."

"Put him down and step away."

Zane and Ethan lowered Ricky to the ground and stepped away.

"Form a line. Arms down. Have any of you had contact with the infected?" the bearded soldier asked. He walked down the row of teenagers, shining a flashlight in each face. Zane winced at the sudden bright light.

"No, sir," Wilson answered.

"How did this one break his ribs?"

"Everybody panicked, sir," Wilson said. "There were absolutely no zombies involved."

"Zombies?" The soldier walked up to Wilson and looked down at him. "Who said anything about zombies?"

"No one, sir. I was just... uh... joking, sir."

"Whose blood is that on your pants?"

Wilson looked down. "I don't know, sir."

"You kids show up here, half of you injured and covered in blood, and you want me to believe there's no chance that you're infected?"

"Well, sir, I—"

The soldier turned on Wilson and barked, "Shut up!"

Wilson did.

The soldier gestured to the others, who surrounded them. "Take them to the decontamination unit."

"Yes, sir!"

Zane got the butt of a machine gun in his back and he moved, along with his friends. "What about Ricky?" he asked.

"We'll take good care of him," the bearded soldier promised, pulling out a handgun.

"Hey, Duck Dynasty!" Wilson said. "That's our friend! Don't hurt him!"

Zane turned Wilson around and pushed him. "Shut up, Will. Please."

"But if they're just gonna kill him—"

"And they'll kill us if we disrupt things," he hissed. "Just go. Ricky's not in such great shape anyway."

They filed toward what they quickly realized was the entrance to the boy's locker room from the outside. "Shit," said Wilson. "I hope they're not going to do body cavity searches or anything."

Once inside, one of the soldiers told them to remove their clothing. The boys began peeling off their blood-soaked shirts.

"Hold it," Rebecka said. "I'm not taking off my clothes in front of twenty dudes."

"Oh, shit, he's a she," said another soldier, and two of them trained their guns on Rebecka, who threw up her hands.

"Whoa, guys, sorry. I didn't think I looked like a dude. Thanks for the ego boost."

"It was the camo shirt," said the one whose uniform had a name patch that said Greer. "Seriously, you do look like a girl. Or a twelve-year-old boy."

"Still doesn't make me feel any better," Rebecka said.

"Take her over to the girls' side," ordered the first soldier whose name patch said McDaniels. "And the rest of you stand down. We don't need any more accidental shootings."

"Any more?" Wilson whispered as he dropped trou to reveal zebra striped boxer shorts.

Zane looked at him. "Are those supposed to be camouflage underwear? You do realize we aren't in Africa."

"They were my last clean pair. Don't judge me."

"Everything off, ladies," said McDaniels. "Then get in the showers."

Quite a few girlish screams filled the tiled room when the water turned on. The water was ice cold. The soldiers laughed.

"It never gets old," McDaniels said to the soldier next to him.

Wilson turned to Zane. His lips were already blue and his whole body shivered. "What is this torture?"

After the hellish hike here, Zane wasn't quite so opposed to a cold shower. He scrubbed at the red stains on his skin and rinsed the sweat from his hair.

"Once you're clean, get out here. We need to inspect you for possible infection points."

"He means he wants to stare at our naked bodies," Wilson interpreted.

"If you don't stop your smart mouth, you're going to get in trouble," Zane warned. He stepped out and stood shivering, staring up at the ceiling while the soldiers circled him.

"This one looks clean. Grab a towel and put your clothes back on."

Zane had never been so thankful for a towel in his life. He dried himself off and looked at his pile of dirty clothes. He didn't exactly want those back on, but there wasn't much else to be done. He took his t-shirt over to the sink and attempted to wash the blood out.

Behind him, Dylan or Tyler grabbed a basketball off a rolling rack. He held it out and shouted, "Wilson! Wiiilllson!"

"Ha ha ha," Wilson said, pulling up his pants. "Like I've never heard that one before."

Zane wrung his t-shirt out and pulled it over his head.

"What's this?" he heard one of the soldiers say.

"Nothing," Joey stammered. "It's nothing, I swear. It's just a scratch."

"Take him to the biohazard unit," McDaniel snapped. "Next!"

"Guys, help!" Joey said.

"There's nothing we can do," Zane said. "Don't worry, if you're not infected I'm sure everything will be okay..."

Joey pleaded with his eyes as two soldiers pulled him off in the direction of Coach Thompson's office, which was now concealed by temporary walls made of plastic sheeting. Then he disappeared inside.

"Another one bites the dust," Wilson said.

Jose got the same treatment as Joey because of his head wound, and Hunter for the stab wound in his thigh. Mike Snow was instructed to go to the nurse's office to get his arm set. Ethan, Zane, Wilson, Josh, and Dylan or Tyler were ushered out of the locker room and into the gymnasium.

Here hundreds of voices echoed up into the rafters. The squeaky wooden courts were covered in rows of cots. Some people tried to sleep, others sat and cried, and some people milled around. Soldiers lined the perimeter of the room with guns at the ready.

"My parents might be here somewhere," Zane said, scanning the room. He hoped Owen would be here too.

"There's some empty cots over here," Wilson said. They all trooped over and claimed beds. Zane barely reached the empty spots when he saw his parents.

"Mom! Dad!" He hurdled a few beds and ran to them.

"Oh, honey," Mrs. Gibson said as the family embraced one another. "I'm so glad you're safe. What's all this blood?"

"Not mine," Zane said. "I had to help my friends."

Mr. Gibson slapped Zane on the back. "Like your girlfriend? What's her name, Melody?"

"Harmony," said Zane. He didn't say anything more.

"Harmony. Is she... okay?" Mrs. Gibson asked hesitantly.

"I... I don't know. We got separated." Zane looked down. He had never really lied to his parents before. This felt like an awful thing to lie about – but seeing as how he didn't know the exact truth, it didn't feel like he could do anything else. "What about Owen? Is he here?"

Mrs. Gibson buried her face in her husband's shoulder. "Not that we've seen," Mr. Gibson said, squeezing her shoulder. "Hopefully he and Jeff are locked up tight. It's been pretty crazy here. Buses keep dropping off loads of people... I just wish they'd tell us what's going on. People keep saying..." Mr. Gibson laughed, shaking his head. "They keep talking about zombies. But no one is saying anything. Some kind of infection, that's what most of us here think. It would explain those guys."

Mr. Gibson nodded, and Zane turned to see two people wearing bright yellow hazmat suits talking to a group of soldiers.

"Hey! Guys!"

It was Rebecka, emerging from the girls' locker room area with a bandage around her hand. Zane was oddly proud of her for not complaining at all during the hike to get here.

Rebecka hugged Dylan or Tyler and they sat down on a cot with their arms around each other.

There wasn't much to do at this point, so Zane returned to his friends, and they waited. Zane dozed for bit, and after a time Joey, Hunter, and Jose returned to the group. Joey curled up on an empty cot looking shell-shocked. Mike Snow arrived not long after with his arm wrapped up in a sling.

"Any sign of Ricky?" Hunter asked.

Zane shook his head.

With most of the group reunited, Zane felt an immense exhaustion settle over him. He lay back on his cot and within a few moments of closing his eyes, fell into a deep sleep.