The Hunted Read Free

said.
    “And I’m telling you again.”
    Shy pointed to the sky. “Why can’t we just hand it over to whoever’s in that emergency helicopter?”
    Shoeshine paused to stare at Shy. “Who was operating the last one you saw?”
    Shy looked away. It had been Addie’s dad, Mr. Miller. The man who’d created Romero Disease in the first place. The man who’d planted it in Mexican villages along the border to try to scare Americans into coughing up money for his meds.
    Shoeshine had a point.
    Shy handed the waterproof duffel over the side of the boat, and Shoeshine pointed at him and Marcus. “Wrong person finds out what we’re carrying and soon everyone knows. And then it’s gone.”
    Shy turned back to the masked kids.
    Still just sitting on their bikes, staring.
    They had no way of knowing that he, Carmen, Marcus and Shoeshine had already been vaccinated. That they had seven more shots tucked safely inside the duffel, shots that could save seven lives—or the lives of everyone, if they were able to get the syringes into the right hands.
    Shy and Marcus hopped out next, and the four of them waded through the tide until they were safely on dry land, where they collapsed on a patch of sandy concrete.
    Shy lay on his back, staring up at the helicopter, which was framed by a perfect sunset. He held the ground around him to try to stop the world from spinning, but it wasn’t working. His legs felt like Jell-O. His stomach was twisted with nausea and hunger and thirst. He’d lost his shoes before they set sail from the island, and his bare feet were blistered and raw.
    But they’d made it.
    They were back in California. On land.
    He allowed a relieved euphoria to settle over him as he slowly closed his eyes and breathed in the crisp coastal air. Forty-four days ago he’d set off on what he believed to be his final voyage as a Paradise Cruise Lines employee. He was only supposed to be at sea for eight days.
Eight!
Then he’d be back home with some cash in his pocket and two full weeks of doing nothing before his senior year.
    So much for
that
plan.
    He pictured his mom and sis and nephew again. He’d give anything to know they were somewhere safe right now, waiting for him.
    But what if they weren’t?
    “Yo!” Shy heard Marcus shout. “Where the hell you going?”
    Shy sat up quickly, his brain still floating on the water. When his eyes adjusted, he saw Marcus was standing. Then he turned toward the kids on bikes.
    They were riding away.

3
Home Versus Arizona
    “I’m not asking for no welcoming party,” Marcus said, “but damn.” He waved the kids off and sat back down.
    Shy saw that they were sitting on a long patch of sandy cement, like a wide sidewalk or a basketball court. A fallen stretch of chain-link fence was visible in the tide to the right of them. Beyond the fence sat a wrecked Honda Civic, water rushing in and out of the busted windshield. Behind them, all the seller stalls were scorched and a bunch of chained-up food carts were tipped on their sides and already showing rust. The only thing Shy halfway recognized was the blackened remains of Muscle Beach to their left, where he’d once stopped with his old man to watch a group of ’roid heads tossing around free weights.
    He turned to Carmen. “So how we supposed to get down to San Diego from here?”
    She shrugged. “There’s gotta be buses still running. Or trains.”
    Marcus frowned. “You’re kidding, right?”
    “What?” Carmen said. “There could be limited service or whatever. Like, just on freeways.”
    “Look at this place,” Marcus told her. “Ain’t limited
nothin’.
”
    Were
there still buses? Shy wondered. What about food stores and hospitals and gas stations? And then another question occurred to him: was Addie out here somewhere?
    She’d left the island on that helicopter with her dad, but where had they gone? And what would he do or say if their paths crossed again?
    Shoeshine lifted their last jug of water out of