Cat just shrugged.

"What's your deal?" I finally asked.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean even after all this time, I still don't know anything about you. None of us do. Like why'd you leave the Young Officers Camp?" A part of me wanted to get to the bottom of it, but a bigger part wanted to find some dirt-something to hold against him.

He gave his head a shake. "You don't want to know."

"Sure I do."

"No, you-"

"I do."

He sighed loudly.

"They're so messed up over there," he said, talking more to himself than me. "They're convinced the only way to survive another Omega is to eliminate others. Dissidents, political activists . . . Less Thans."

"Why should you care? You said it yourself: we're not normal."

"Because they made us do some of the actual eliminating."

He gave his head a shake, as though trying to erase an image from his mind. Fat from the lizards dripped into the fire. Sizzle. Pop.

"That's why you got out of there?" I still wasn't sure I understood.

"And didn't stop until I reached the mountains. At first I liked it up there. I was able to catch enough food. I could stay up late, sleep in, fish when I wanted. . . ."

"But?"

"I couldn't stay forever. Didn't want to stay forever. So I burned off my marker, descended the mountain . . ."

". . . and came across the No Water," I finished.

"Tried to cross the No Water. Didn't quite make it." He shook his head, probably remembering how close he'd come to dying.

"Why Camp Liberty? Why not someplace else?"

"Because I knew someone there."

It suddenly dawned on me. "Your source."

"That's right."

"But you asked me to get you out of there."

"Because I didn't mean to be found like that. Didn't want to be discovered by Brown Shirts."

"So . . . who was it? Your source?" I ventured.

Cat let the silence lengthen to something odd and uncomfortable, and his eyes flickered. When he finally looked back, he really looked at me.

"Major Karsten," he said at last. I felt the air leave my lungs.

"Major Karsten? But . . . how? Why?"

"Because he's not just my source. He's my father."

It was like movie night in the mess hall when the picture'd be all blurry and out of focus, and then, presto, one adjustment later, it was clear. All the details sharp. That's what happened when Cat told me about his dad. Everything suddenly turned crisp and clear.

"That day we found you in the No Water and Karsten checked your arm, he wasn't looking to read your marker, he was making sure it was burned off."

Cat nodded. "Otherwise, they would've been able to identify me for sure."

"And the slaughter up in the mountains. You'd seen one before."

"Dozens, actually. My dad used to take me. Officers teaching their sons to be men and all that rah-rah bullshit." He spat on the ground. "That's why I ran away. I wanted to get away from all that." He hesitated. "As it turns out, there's no avoiding it."

I suddenly remembered the roll call. "But when Karsten burned that tattoo on your arm, he seemed to be enjoying himself."

Cat shook his head. "Just a show. To fool Westbrook."

"But he was cursing you."

"That's what he wanted it to sound like."

"Why couldn't he just acknowledge you?"

"'Cause who knows how Westbrook would've reacted. An officer with a son who runs away from YO Camp? Not good. And the night we escaped-my dad made so much noise banging on that door to help us, to give us time to get away."

A picture began to take shape-a picture far different from one I'd ever imagined. "So the Brown Shirts really hope to wipe us out?"

"Anyone and everyone who doesn't look like them."

I was in shock. It didn't lessen my jealousy of Cat, but it gave me a fuller picture of who he was. There were still a million questions I was dying to ask, especially about his dad, but the aroma of grilled lizard had awakened the others. The conversation ended as abruptly as it'd begun.

Once the other Sisters and Less Thans saw what Cat was cooking, they went on a hunting rampage of their own, spearing and grilling as many lizards as possible. We devoured the blackened reptiles, bones and all. After a diet of grit and sand, they weren't half bad. The tails were like crunchy hash browns.

"What, no ketchup?" Flush asked.

"It's over there with the ice cream sundaes," Diana said.

Although it wasn't much, it marked the first time Less Thans and Sisters had really spoken to each other.

"How about some steaks?" Red asked.

"Right after we finish the lobsters," Helen said.

Ripples of laughter followed, and more jokes after that. Finally, when Twitch chimed in and said, "I think we've got company," we all assumed he was talking about the flies.

"You ain't kidding," Flush said, trying to shoo them away, as the rest of us laughed.

"That's not what I mean."

We looked up. In the far distance, coming straight across the desert itself, was a rising coil of smoke. Vehicles.

My heart rose in my throat.

"Smother the fire and head for that rise," Cat said, pointing to the far side of the road. "There's a gully there we can hide in."

The laughter was long gone, and everyone scrambled into action. We threw handfuls of sand onto the flames and retrieved our belongings. Racing across the blacktop, we shot a look at the approaching vehicles. Not Humvees. Not dirt bikes.

Four-wheelers. Around a dozen of them.

Hunters.

Cat and I exchanged a look. In that brief glance was all that needed to be said.

We reached the gully at the same time, tumbling in the small ravine. Cat withdrew his binoculars and gave a look. His jaw tightened and he passed the binocs to me.

The four riders in front of the procession were painfully familiar; they were the very ones we'd seen in the mountain. Once more they were led by the man in blaze orange-the hunt master-who'd taken such pleasure in finishing off Cannon.

My mouth was so dry I could barely swallow.

I had to admit it was an impressive sight, especially for those of us who'd never seen the Hunters before. Twelve four-wheelers, all souped-up, tricked-out, armor-plated. Part prehistoric beast, part futuristic time machine. Locked and loaded, ready for battle.

They veered apart as they approached the gas station, arriving at the building from different angles. An impressive display of military precision. They lined up their four-wheelers at the gas pumps and switched off their engines.

"They don't know about us," Twitch whispered. "They're just here for gas."

It was true; they were jury-rigging the pumps, figuring out a way to siphon the fuel. Once they filled their tanks they'd be on their way. We'd caught a break and all of us knew it.

One of the Hunters went around to the side of the gas station, probably to take a leak. Something by his feet caught his attention and he bent down to pick it up. Even before he grabbed it I knew exactly what it was. Breakfast. Lizard-on-a-stick.

The Hunter motioned for the Man in Orange.

It wasn't long before the Hunters found the fire pit. They kicked at the sand, extending hands to feel the heat of the glowing embers. The more animated their voices grew, the more my stomach clenched.

"But they don't know which way we went," Flush said, as though his insistence would make it true. "Right?"

No one had the heart to answer him. All the Hunters had to do was cross the road to see twenty-some sets of footprints leading to the gully. A bunch of them began inserting magazines into their M4s. Even from a couple hundred yards away we could hear the cold, metallic clicks.

Cat slung a quiver of arrows over his shoulder and leveled his gaze at us. "Don't fire until you see them start to move," he whispered. "Then give 'em everything you've got."

He scrambled away, clutching his bow. I watched him leave, not knowing what he was planning, or if we'd ever see him again.

We spread out, stretching our line fifty yards from left to right. As the Hunters mounted their vehicles, I felt a tightening in my chest. The lead four-wheeler neared the road and Dozer yelled, "Fire!" We let loose a volley of arrows, darts, and stones. Although all fell off target, they were enough to get the Hunters' attention. They scrambled to find hiding places.

"More!" Red commanded. We loaded up as quickly as we could and fired again. We began to find our aim. An arrow struck a Hunter's leg. A Sister's dart grazed an arm. Maybe we could hold them after all.

"Take that!" Diana cried when one of her darts pinged against the pump a Hunter hid behind.

"Hunt this!" Flush screamed as he reached back and let loose the rubber sling. His rock shattered the gas station's front window. It spiderwebbed and left a gaping hole. Sisters and LTs alike let loose a full-throated yell.

Then the Hunters returned fire and the ground exploded. Bullets pockmarked the earth, spraying sand. We ducked into the gulley, shielding our bodies while the rounds went zinging overhead.

"Where the hell's Cat?" Dozer yelled.

He was nowhere in sight.

The Hunters were remounting their vehicles, shielded behind armor plating. We stood little chance of stopping them. Whatever Cat had planned, I knew it had to happen soon.

Then I caught sight of him. He had made his way around their left flank, crawling low through the desert. An arrow was poised against his bowstring and it guided him forward. He raised and fired. The arrow caught a Hunter in the middle of the back and he crumpled to the ground. None of the other Hunters noticed.

Cat ran crouching to the Hunter's side, stripped the weapon from his hands, and scurried back to a low ditch.

A moment later we heard the revving of engines.

"They're coming!" Twitch shouted.

A rain of rocks and arrows bounced weakly off the vehicles' steel plating. The thought of running away suddenly made sense. Although I knew we couldn't outrun the Hunters, it seemed just as crazy to stay. Like we were serving ourselves up to be massacred.

That's when Cat rose to a kneeling position, the butt of the rifle pressed against his shoulder, eye peering through the scope. He was behind the Hunters now, out of their line of vision. He fired, smoke curling from the barrel. The bullet ricocheted off the back of the Man in Orange's ATV. He turned and pointed, and the Hunters swarmed in Cat's direction, guns blazing, muzzle flashes spitting orange.

"Cover!" Red yelled.

All of us pelted the Hunters with everything we had. The Hunters didn't seem to care. Their attention was suddenly on the lone Less Than who had the audacity to outflank them.

"He's gonna get himself killed," Flush said.

And it was true. There was no way out . . . and I regretted every jealous thought I'd had of him.

Bullets rained. The earth exploded at Cat's feet. Still, he knelt there, unfazed, sighting down the rifle barrel.

A bullet struck a rock and a fragment of stone bit into his shin. His leg buckled and he fell to the ground, the rifle nearly slipping from his hands. With a grimace he regained his balance. The injury only seemed to make him more determined.

"Come on, Cat," I found myself saying. "Get out of there."

Others were echoing me. "Get out of there, Cat. Run away!"

And then he did a curious thing. Right before he squeezed the trigger, he swung his weapon around, away from the Man in Orange, away from the other Hunters. It wasn't a person Cat was aiming at, but a thing.

The propane tank.

A blinding explosion swallowed up the world as we knew it. Cat was thrown off his feet and tossed backward some twenty yards. A wave of heat raced across the desert and shoved us on our backs, searing our bodies. By the time we reopened our eyes, an enormous orange-and-black fireball mushroomed upward into the sky.

Whoosh! The gas station, the car wash, the Hunters, and their ATVs were vaporized. All that remained was a yawning crater of scorched earth. The sand around it was inky and petrified. Shards of burning metal discharged a choking black smoke.