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“How—how’d you know my name?” Kmart asked with a sniff.

“Magic.” Carlos smiled.

Claire sighed. “Let’s go gather everyone up.”

A few minutes later, Carlos faced the rest of the convoy—what was left of it. Besides the kids—and that they’d kept them alive was just about the only thing Carlos took pride in right now—the only survivors were Claire, Kmart, Joel, Dorian, Alice, and Carlos himself. Some of the kids were crying; hell, so were most of the adults.

He outlined his plan. “Once I set off the tanker, there’ll be a clear path to the weather station. When you get down there, you make for the helicopter. Alice is right—we can’t be the only ones left.” He thought about Jill, driving all across the country and dropping survivors with Carlos and Claire. He thought about the red journal. He thought about this fenced-in base, which couldn’t have been the only haven from the zomboids. “There are others like us out there, somewhere. You make it to Alaska—to safety.”

Without another word, Carlos turned and climbed into the tanker.

Alice intercepted him before he could shut the door. She took his hand and pressed something into it. Looking down, he saw it was a pack of American Spirit cigarettes.

“Found these,” Alice said with a conspiratorial grin. “Don’t tell Claire.”

He handed them back. “Thanks, but they don’t count.”

Shrugging, Alice said, “Just as well—those things’ll kill you.”

It was a terrible joke, and Carlos laughed so hard he coughed again.

When the coughing fit ended, Alice was staring at him with those damnably amazing blue eyes of hers. “Carlos, I know we—”

Shaking his head, Carlos said, “Save it. Just promise me one thing. When you get in there…”

He trailed off, but he knew that she knew what he meant.

“Consider it done.”

Nodding, he closed the door and started the tanker up. Looking down between the two front seats, he saw the fuse that led to the explosives they’d taken from the Umbrella tent. Combined with the gasoline they’d put in the tanker, it’d cause a nice big bang once Carlos lit it.

Glancing into the side-view as he drove ahead, he saw Alice saluting him as she climbed into the Hummer with Claire, Kmart, and the rest.

He returned the salute, then looked ahead.

No point in looking back anymore.

Cliché dictated that Carlos’s life would flash before his eyes, but it didn’t now. Not that there was much of a life. Childhood was constantly moving around Texas while Papi tried to find work. As soon as Carlos graduated from high school and could get as far away from Papi’s indolence and Mami’s misery, he enlisted in the Air Force. After serving his bit there, he joined Umbrella, rising quickly through the ranks of the Security Division.

Every attempt he’d made to have a proper childhood had been shitcanned by Papi moving them somewhere new, forcing him to make new friends. As an adult, service had been his life.

If it came to that, the same could be said for what happened after he quit Umbrella. He and L.J. and Jill and Angie and Alice, and later Molina and Jisun and King and Briscoe, and still later Claire and Chase and all the others—they’d fought to keep humanity alive in the face of the most overwhelming odds the species had ever faced.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad life after all.

He sighed. “Wish I had a smoke.”

Now he could see the backs of the zomboids, all shoving forward toward the only sign of live flesh in the general area. Some of them turned around at the sound of the approaching vehicles. Checking the side-view, he saw the Hummer way behind him, far enough away that it wouldn’t be hit by the explosion.

Carlos slammed his foot down on the accelerator, and the tanker rammed into the tide of zomboids.

It was easy going at first, but the density of animated corpses started to slow the tanker down, and Carlos found he had to fight for control of the wheel.

“Just a little bit more…”

Suddenly, the tanker jolted, sending Carlos flying upward, just as the tanker itself started to list