Page 48

Then he turned sharp and accusing eyes on me. “You’re supposed to be miles from here. You’re not meant to have given me a second thought. I told you to go.”

I shrugged. “Yeah, well… Some of us have a conscience.”

He had no answer to that, his gaze sweeping the lab instead. “What are we going to do about this place?” He jerked his head toward the dog cage. “About him?”

I filled August in on everything I’d discovered during my escape—the cameras, the bike, and what might be parts for it, the food, the stolen possessions, and the room full of biters. We had a plan by the end: take anything useful, burn the rest, and stop at the nearest community to inform them of the traps before someone found themselves in one with no one coming to get them. Although it was difficult to argue with August’s logic that dying of thirst in one would be infinitely preferable to whatever Oz would have done to them.

While splitting up would have made more sense, we searched the rest of the building together, neither of us suggesting going it alone. First stop was Oz’s bedroom, my inspection there having been perfunctory at best. We recovered August’s chain from under Oz’s pillow, his expression giving away how he felt about that. I found my ring too, thankfully not in the same place. It seemed Oz’d had his favorite even before his discovery of August’s immune status. My knife was in a drawer.

The third and final floor was empty, thick dust telling a tale of its lack of use. I guessed a lone man could only use so many rooms. Search concluded, we loaded up on food before I showed him where Oz had stashed his bike.

There were indeed parts, August immediately setting to work while I hovered uselessly in the background, relegated to the role of observer. He’d found his shirt and jacket in the lab, putting the shirt on but not bothering to fasten the buttons. As a result, I got a glimpse of taut abdominals when he turned a certain way.

“There’s a road,” I offered when the silence had gone on for too long and I was in danger of losing myself in mostly x-rated thoughts. “About half a mile away.”

August’s brow furrowed. A smear of oil streaked his cheek, and my fingers itched to wipe it away. “Wait… You left and then you came back again?”

“Yeah.”

He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re a strange man, Keaton Levine. One minute you hate me, and the next…” He turned back to the bike without finishing his sentence, doing something to it that looked incredibly technical to my unskilled eyes.

“You said you’d help me.” The silence that followed my statement was deafening. I mentally prepared myself for August asking me when I was going to stop being gullible enough to fall for his lies.

“And I will help you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” He laughed in a way that said no one was more surprised than he was.

“Well, there you go then. You have a bike. Once you’ve fixed it…”

“If I can fix it.”

I corrected myself. “If you can fix it, it’ll get us to Dover much quicker. Walking would take weeks. On this…?”

“A few days,” August provided. “A week, maybe depending on the route. Traveling through London would be quicker, but if you believe all the stories, it’s not a decision to be taken lightly. Danger lurks around every corner―that sort of thing. We’ll talk it through.”

“And you’ve got all the safe houses mapped,” I pointed out. “I found the map.”

“I do.”

“And you saved me when you didn’t have to.”

August tilted his head to one side. “I guess that makes us even.”

“So… partners?” I offered. “No more lies. You help me, and I’ll…”

August straightened, wiping his hands on what used to be an item of Oz’s clothing, and was now an oily rag. “You’ll what?”

“Once the bastard is dead, I’ll give you the ring.”

August shook his head. “I don’t want the ring. It stopped being just gold when I found out what it meant to you. I know what that’s like.” His hand went to the chain at his neck, fingers brushing the horseshoe pendant.

“I have nothing else to give you!”

“No?” Apparently, something about that was funny, a smirk appearing on August’s lips.

“No.”