Nightfall by Ellen Connor Page B

gaze sweep in a slow circuit, taking stock of their surroundings. Christ.
    Th other woman shivered, tightening her arms around her daughter. “This is hell.”
    The trees hung heavy with sickly moss, tangled so tightly overhead it blocked any chance of sunlight. Underfoot, the ground felt unnaturally soft, slick, and sweet with the smell of rotten things. The pit was filled with bleached bones and liquefying corpses. Good to know they decomposed, becoming part of the topsoil like everything else.
    â€œWe need to bail,” Tru said. “I have a bad feeling about this.”
    Mason flashed him a smile. “You and me both, Skywalker. Let’s find the fastest way to get the coach out of there.”
    Jenna moved to the edge of the pit, where Bob had managed to clamber about halfway up. “I’m thinking human chain. Mason, hold my feet?”
    â€œGotcha,” he said, coming up behind her.
    His hands curled around her ankles. She didn’t hesitate to shimmy down the side of the hole, headfirst. Muck and a foul sort of grease slicked her shirt and oozed between her fingers, but seeing the desperation on Bob’s face made it worthwhile. She couldn’t imagine the horror of being trapped with all those corpses. A shudder rocked through her.
    A flash of orange caught her eye. Those were ... no. Couldn’t be. But it was. On one of the dead, she saw part of a number inked onto an orange jumpsuit.
    â€œMason?” Her voice shook. “Why is this hole full of dead convicts?”
    â€œIs this time to chat?” he said, teeth clenched. “Just do your job. Get him out of there.”
    Anger churned, but he was right. This wasn’t the time.
    â€œTake my hands,” she said to Bob.
    The coach latched onto her wrists. Mason inched backward while Ange and Tru anchored him. A slow, arduous process. Slime crawled into her shirt as she slid up. Mud and guts slicked Bob’s hands. Her arms began to ache, wrists and forearms burning.
    â€œJesus,” Tru said with a grunt. “Fewer burgers and more tofu, Coach.”
    They hauled him up so far that he could use his legs in the dirt, helping to scramble out. They fell into a filthy pile. Mason rolled to his feet immediately, spinning to sweep the area. Tru followed his example.
    â€œYou son of a bitch,” Ange bit out as soon as Bob got up. “You lost my daughter! What’s wrong with you?”
    Coach looked defensive. “I’m telling you, she was there when I jumped.”
    â€œShut it,” Mason said. “And pick it up, people. We’re stepping triple time the rest of the way.”
    â€œHit it, Pops.” Tru fell in, rifle in hand.
    Mason took off at a dead run, calling over his shoulder. “I’m scouting the last leg. I’ll fire two short bursts if I hit trouble before I get there. Tru, take point. Ange and Bob in the center.”
    â€œI’m carrying Penny,” the redhead said curtly, holding her daughter close.
    â€œDon’t care,” Mason called back. “Just don’t slow us down. Jenna, rearguard. Move out.”
    Jenna ran as if there were demons at her heels, which was seriously close to the truth. The backpack weighed like a bag of stones between her shoulders, pulling her, slowing her. With every thudding footfall, she relived that beast’s otherworldly growl. In her mind’s eye, she saw Mason struggling with it. An ache sprung up, too fierce for tears, as she considered what it must have been like for him all these years, fighting against the damage inflicted by the change. She’d never met anyone so alone.
    I’m here. And I’m on your side. You’re not a one-man army anymore.
    A flicker of warmth touched her, as if Mason had skimmed his palm down her back and settled his comforting touch at the base of her spine. She actually looked over her shoulder to make sure she was still guarding the rear. Nobody. Nothing but dark, still