A white van drove slowly—as slowly as only an inexperienced and frightened driver could go—
down San Pablo Avenue. It came to a stop at a distance, and Caine found himself hoping it was
trouble. Trouble he could handle. A fight would be a wonderful relief from the tedium.

Endgame,” Sam muttered, not really expecting Caine to hear.
“Yep,” Caine said. “That’s right. Endgame. The FAYZ barrier is coming down; at least that’s my
bet. But there’s also a ninety percent chance you and me both end up dead. Ten percent chance we
both actually get out of here alive. In which case we end up sharing a cell somewhere.” He laughed.
“Kind of unfair, really, what with me being evil and all, and you just so darned virtuous and heroic.

It took Caine a few beats to get it. “No. Go kill yourself. Eat your own gun. No. No no no.”
“You’re happy here counting fish and nagging kids to work?” Edilio asked.
“He’s not,” Virtue said, beating Toto to the punch and earning an annoyed glance from Caine.
“He’s only done it for two days since the battle, and he’s already bored.

But hey this was the FAYZ, where all you could really hope was to delay the pain.

Delay of pain: that was the meaning of life, wasn’t it?
“I’ve made some bad decisions,” Caine said, not really meaning to say it out loud.

But then had come the voice that said, "Come on, you little freak, wherever the hell you are,
whatever the hell you are, let’s get this done with.