Until the End of the World (Book 2): And After by Sarah Lyons Fleming

don’t need me.”
    She thrusts out her lower lip and drums her fingers on her jeans. We sit by the part of the fence that’s chain link, but down and back from the barns it’s made of logs, like a fort. I walk to the fence and lean my head against the metal to get a view. I can just make out something standing near the middle of the wood section.
    “Lexer behind the logs, Banana.”
    Ana jumps up and strolls toward the section. “Here, kitty, kitty.”
    We stop where metal turns to wood. Ana wiggles two gloved fingers through the links and clicks her tongue. A head lunges at her hand, and its teeth bite the empty air where her fingers were a second before.
    “Shit!” Ana says. She shakes her finger. “You’re a sneaky fucker.”
    What was once a woman in a flowered wraparound dress throws herself against the fence. She bites the steel with such venom that I take a step back. I know they don’t have any emotions, but sometimes the hunger looks so much like hate it’s disconcerting.
    Ana ignores the woman’s growls and points at her clothes. “That was a nice dress once. I wish we had some nice clothes. We should go on a clothes patrol.”
    “I wouldn’t mind new clothes, but that is the worst idea I’ve ever heard. Unlike you, I’d rather be alive than have clothes. Now, move out of the way so I can put this poor lady out of her misery, or are you going to do it?”
    It not only frightens me, but it also makes me sad to see what people have been reduced to. I want her dead and gone.
    “Oh. Yeah.” Ana pierces the woman’s eye with a handled spike and turns away from the body. “Well, we’ll need new clothes eventually, so why not nice ones?”
    I look from Ana’s unruffled expression to the heap on the ground. I don’t expect her to be remorseful, I know I’m not, but a split second of something—fear, sadness at the state of the world, even shortness of breath, for God’s sake—would be a nice reminder that Ana’s human. I know it’s in there; I just wish she wasn’t reluctant to show it. “Do you even care that you just did that?”
    Ana doesn’t answer as we walk back to our chairs. She drops the spike in the bucket of bleach water with a splash, and when she turns her eyes are dark. “No, I don’t because she was already dead. They want to eat us, Cass. I’ll save my feelings for all the people who are actually alive, you know? Lexers wanna start shit with me, I’m gonna fuck them up.”
    “You just sounded so Brooklyn.” Penny, Ana and I grew up there, but only every so often does one of us say something that gives it away.
    She laughs and sings, “ Boricua in the house!”
    Ana hides it well, but on her face I just saw the same desperation I feel. The need to protect everyone she loves, even at her own expense. And with her recklessness she’s bound to do something stupid because of it. I should be there to stop her.
    “Maybe I’ll go on patrol,” I say. “If Adrian goes, too. Don’t get your hopes up, though.”
    Ana bounces in her boots and squeals.

CHAPTER 22
    We’re woken up before dawn by an urgent knock at the door. Adrian grumbles and turns facedown into his pillow. I open it to find John fully dressed and pacing the creaky floorboards.
    “Whitefield was attacked,” he says.
    “What?”
    “Lexers. No one’s sure exactly what happened, but a lot of them are dead. Will, maybe all of the 157th, and some more. They’re not sure how many yet.”
    Adrian curses and pulls on pants. I stand with my mouth agape and wonder how that could have happened. They have more guns, ammo, and guards than us.
    “We’ll leave in half an hour?” Adrian asks.
    “That’ll work,” John says. He turns to me. “Can you go wake the others? Maybe seven or eight of us should go.”
    I have a million questions, but I get dressed and head to the cabins. Peter and Ana are ready in minutes, and Ana races off to score coffee from the kitchen for our trip. She and Penny have a coffee