The engines drew closer.
At first, they sounded like distant thunder rolling beneath the skin of the earth. Then the sound separated into layers, one engine, then another, then a third behind it, each growl uneven against the ruined country road.
Tang Li Yue stood in the yard with her gloves pulled tight over her fingers. Her face had gone calm in the way that usually made sensible people walk backward.
The dezombified chihuahua crouched near the fence, teeth bared toward the dark road. Its red-veined fur glowed faintly, like embers hiding under ash.
Tang Li Yue looked down at it.
"You better not be trying to redeem yourself by being useful again."
The dog barked once without looking back.
She clicked her tongue. "So arrogant."
From the porch, Chen Qiao hurriedly strapped on his gear. He nearly shoved one arm through the wrong sleeve before Zhou Han grabbed the vest and turned it properly for him.
"You're wearing it backward," Zhou Han said.
