“The rest of your family?”
Jacks shakes his head, his face darkening. “My parents got divorced when I was little. My dad . . . He wasn’t really around at the best of times. I mean, he’d send us money and call on our birthdays, but we never really saw him. My mom died just before the infection broke out. Cancer. My dad offered to take my sister, Layla, but I was eighteen, and wanted her to stay in the same house and school. So I became her legal guardian. . . . We got along really well. She was so excited for our trip. Thought it would be the best summer vacation ever. She thought she would come back and go into school the coolest ninth-grader because I agreed to let her get one tattoo.”
“So she’s here? Your sister?”
He shakes his head and looks down, his jaw tight. “She didn’t survive Fort Black.”
We’re quiet for a moment, and I try not to imagine what it would be like to lose Baby forever.
“I’m so sorry. You have your uncle, though. Here.”
“Yeah. Right.” Jacks snaps back to the present and motions around us. “If you ever need to get out of the Yard fast, come up here to the wall. . . . There are stairs all along the perimeter now. They’re new. Built a few years ago. That’s why they’re wood and not stone.” I nod and continue to look down at the human chaos below.
My heart pounds against my chest as I look out at the crowd. It’s so different from New Hope. So much more . . . free, unplanned. And frightening.
“So now I know the layout. . . . Tell me about the setup here. Prisoners, guards, and random survivors—all mixed together?” How would the guards cope with living side by side with men they were once in charge of?
Jacks nods. “Anyone good with a rifle becomes a guard now and gets to shoot Floraes all day.”
“You said helping Doc was one of your jobs. Does that mean you also shoot Floraes?”
“No. I’d suck at that. My second job is still tattoo artist. Tattoos are in high demand,” he tells me, perking up. “People trade food and clothes for them.”
He points out a group of men below. They jump another man and run off with his half-eaten can of food.
“Survival of the fittest,” he says.
“Well, I can protect myself,” I say with a confidence I don’t feel.
He studies me. “So where are you going to stay, after our twenty-four hours are up?”
“I’ll figure it out.”
“I’ve got space,” he offers, not looking at me.
“I don’t think so. Besides, I’m not staying. I’m just here to find—”
Suddenly I see a flash of white in the yard. A lab coat. The man wearing it has dark black hair. . . . It can’t be Doc.
“That’s him.” I turn to Jacks. “That’s Ken. Hey . . . Ken!” I yell.
“Amy—”
“It’s got to be him. I’m going down there.”
I can hear Jacks shouting behind me, but I’ve already broken into a run and am flying down the stairs.
Yet once I’m in the yard, I can’t see anything. It’s so crowded, I can barely put my hand in front of my face. The noise of voices is deafening.
“Have you seen a guy in a white coat?” I ask. But no one will talk to me. Even the kids turn away.
And suddenly I feel hands on me and my arms are pinned behind me. Then everything goes black.
Chapter Twelve
“Jacks!” My head is covered in a musty cloth. Several hands hold my arms. My legs go out from under me as I’m dragged. My legs bump against the hard ground as I’m pulled against the concrete. I scream at the top of my lungs, but no one does anything.
I’m shoved into something soft, a rotting cardboard box by the smell of it.
“Well, what have we here? Aren’t you a tasty snack?” a voice rasps.
“I found her in the Yard. She’s gotta be a newbie,” responds the person holding my wrists in a death grip. “And a full pack, too? What goodies could be in here?”
“Let me go!” I yell, trying to wrench free. Someone pushes me down and puts their knee into my back. My mouth is full of dirty cloth, muffling my screams. Even with all my training, this is going to be tough to get out of.
I wrench my right shoulder up, trying to surprise my captives and break free. The man holding me falls to the side, and I roll around to my back, trying desperately to get to my feet. I’m not fast enough, and another pair of hands forces me back down, grabs my face, and presses it firmly into the hard ground.
I try to think beyond my fear. I lift my head to free my mouth. “Jacks has claimed me!” I spit, my mouth barely able to form the words. “I belong to Jacks!”
I can hear everyone go quiet. “Well, he’s not here now, is he?” the raspy voice says at last.
“Let. Her. Go.” It’s Jacks. I’ve never been so glad to hear a voice in my life.