Chapter 1 Failed Prototype

I stood at the supply distribution point in the Boston camp, staring at the synthetic adrenaline shot in Kane's hand.

Two years.

The military experiment had fused my genes with those of an electric eel, and it had failed. The price was permanent adrenal atrophy. If I didn't get an injection every thirty days, I'd pass out, and then die.

"Next. Bertrand."

Kane called my name.

I stepped forward, my fingers tightening on instinct.

A faint current flickered in my palm. I'd snuck into the generator room last night to recharge, so I could power up my sister's pacemaker.

"Last month, I repaired twelve generators over quota."

I did my best to keep my voice steady. "By the rules, I should be able to trade for—"

"One military-grade adrenaline shot, right?"

Kane cut me off. He held up the clear injector and gave it a little shake in the sunlight. "Too bad it's the last one."

Then he turned and tossed it to the infantryman at the front of the line. The guy had nothing more than a scrape on his arm, not even enough to need a bandage.

"You know how it is. Combat personnel matter more to us, right?"

"Tommy. Rough patrol yesterday."

Whispers spread through the crowd.

"Sir."

"That's my pay. We had a deal—"

"A deal?"

Kane laughed. "You're a mechanic. What the hell do you need military adrenaline for? This stuff is for soldiers, not dead weight like you."

The laughter around me got louder.

I clenched my fists until my knuckles went white.

The current in my palm started jumping out of control. I could feel the static in the air answering me.

"And your sister—that bottomless pit. How much camp medicine has she burned through already? Congenital heart disease? In the apocalypse, that just makes her a burden. If I were you, I would've—"

"Shut up, Kane!"

My voice came out low and cold.

Kane's second-in-command immediately drew his gun, the black barrel aimed straight at my head.

The survivors around us all stepped back in unison, their faces practically glowing with anticipation.

No one was going to help me.

Of course they weren't.

In this camp, I was just some outsider who fixed machines. Kane was their protector.

"Lambert, what happened to you?" Kane said as he slowly walked up to me. "I'm thinking about the camp. Isn't that what I'm supposed to do? How can you be this selfish?"

He bent down and picked up the cheap antibiotic pills I'd barely managed to save for my sister.

I watched as Kane crushed them under his boot, one by one.

"Remember your place, Bertrand. The only reason you and your sister are still alive is because I allow it."

He leaned in close, his voice dropping so only I could hear.

"You don't want her to lose the last bit of protection she has in this camp, do you?"

I stared at the pills ground into powder on the dirt, the taste of blood rising in my throat.

He had forgotten one thing.

Two years ago, this camp had been nothing but ruins.

I was the one who led the last group of survivors out alive. I was the one who used my ability to clear the undead out of the entire block. I was the one who repaired the only communications tower and got them back in contact with command—

Kane had this position because I paid for it with my life.

And now all I could do was watch him hand out my lifesaving medicine like it was some reward.

"Take the shot, Tommy."

Kane clapped the infantryman on the shoulder.

"Show Bertrand what a real soldier looks like."

In the silence, the sound of the needle piercing skin was unnaturally clear.

Tommy turned toward me on purpose and slowly pushed the injector, wearing a smug, showy grin.

I forced the charge out of my palm, bit through my lip, and swallowed my anger.

"Thank you for your generosity, sir."

I lowered my head and backed away step by step under the crowd's mocking stares.

Behind me, I heard Kane laugh.

"That's better. Keep working hard. Maybe next month you'll get lucky."

As I turned to leave, I heard someone in the crowd mutter, "Look at him. What a coward. For a second I thought he was actually gonna do something."

"He's just a machine-fixing loser. Military meds? In his dreams."

"And that sickly sister of his is gonna drag this camp down sooner or later—"

I picked up my pace until the voices faded behind me.

When I got back to the tent, I found my sister lying in a worn-out sleeping bag, her face so pale it scared me.

On her chest, the pacemaker keeping her alive was giving off a weak warning beep—low battery.

"Bert..." She opened her eyes, her voice frail. "You're back."

"Yeah." I crouched down and pressed the back of my hand to her forehead.

Burning hot.

"It's... it's okay. I can tough it out..."

Her voice was barely above a whisper, which only made it worse.

She didn't say anything else. She just held my hand.

Footsteps sounded outside the tent. Kane's second-in-command tossed a folded map through the canvas. It hit the ground by my feet.

"Boss Kane said not to say he never looked out for you."

The man's voice was thick with mockery. "A shipment of heart meds got approved, but you'll have to go into the restricted zone and bring back this military comms device. Do that, and the medicine is yours."

On the map, the red-marked contamination zone covered nearly two-thirds of the area.

Even armed squads didn't dare set foot in that death trap.

"Three days."

"After that, the offer's gone."

His footsteps faded away. Inside the tent, all that remained was my sister's ragged breathing and the warning beep of her pacemaker.

I unfolded the map and stared at the red zone. My fingers curled tight without thinking, and a faint current began to flicker in my palm again.

"Bert... don't..."

"It's too dangerous..."

"I'll be okay..."

I didn't answer.

I didn't have a choice.