Chapter 22

Dominic

She weighs nothing.

That’s the thought that keeps hitting me as I carry her through the packhouse, past the tree and the frozen faces and the silent jukebox, down the east hall toward the clinic. She weighs nothing at all. I’ve carried rifles heavier than this. I’ve carried Ellie heavier than this, when she was twelve and broke her ankle at the quarry.

Her head lolls against my shoulder. Her skin is burning through my shirt. Her hands, where one of them has fallen against my chest, are like ice.

Mercy, I send through the link, as I shoulder through the doors at the end of the hall. The clinic. Now.

Already on my way.

Behind me, I can hear the others. Asher’s voice, sharp. Ellie, crying. Footsteps. Somebody asking what happened, and somebody else saying she must be drunk, and Asher snarling something that shuts them up.

I don’t look back.

The clinic is two small rooms at the end of the east win