A shot fires.

I turn, pulse hammering.

Dax’s body whips back. The impact sends him over the railing, his arms flung wide.

I hear the splash before I can process what just happened.

No. No, no, no.

Something inside me snaps.

I shove the barrel of my gun beneath the inmate’s chin and pull the trigger.

The shot is deafening. Blood and bone spray across the deck. His body twitches once before going still.

I push to my feet, my balance swaying, my mind locking onto one thing. The water.

Dax isn’t there.

I lurch forward, but Zachs moves past me. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t stop, just dives over the edge in a blur of motion.

Wilkes follows.

I can’t breathe.

Trip grabs me before I can throw myself after them, his arm locking around my waist. “With me.”

I fight him, but he holds firm. I know he’s right. I have to trust them.

Gunfire erupts from the dock.

I turn.

More zombies.

More than before. Too many.

Trip’s grip tightens. “Shit. I’m low on ammo.”

I force myself to focus. Dax isn’t my fight right now.

This is.

I scan the deck. The corpses. “We need more rounds,” I say.

Trip follows my gaze. “On it.”

We move fast, yanking weapons free, checking chambers.

A few rounds in each. Not enough.

I glance back toward the dock, my stomach twisting.

Zachs breaks the surface.

He has Dax. Wilkes is there. They’re dragging him toward the edge.

He’s not moving.