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correct?”
    â€œYup,” says PJ.
    â€œSplendid,” he says.
    As we drive, a city—Kendra says a name I can’t in any way reproduce, “Ban-yar-museen” — passes in the distance and I watch its skyline roll by, surrounded by waving trees and scummy clouds. Everything about this place, even the city out my window, feels new and crazy, like none of it fits right and I don’t belong here. Maybe it’s the jet lag and the rain getting me down, but it’s like everything’s happening too fast, like we’re running headfirst into a totally nut-bar situation where people’s lives are on the line, and are supposed to accept it. And I think about my dad. I feel lousy about lying to him, and if I hadn’t, I’d still be at home.
    It’s too much. All I ever wanted to do was play basketball and chase deer.

Chapter Five
    Kendra
    O bviously, our current situation is dire. With that said, I cannot help but think of how lucky we are to get opportunities like this.
    Indonesia is as we speak transitioning from its dry season to its rainy season, which lasts throughout the winter, resulting in a sky dark with a massive gray Cumulus Arcus cloud. Out my window, the skyline of Banjarmasin shines over the thick green canopy of trees, looking both old world and ultramodern simultaneously. Part of me wants to tell our driver to get off at the next exit, take us through the busy streets, get us bowls of the local cuisine (I’m almost positive it’s a tripe dish here—cooked intestines—but given what I’ve seen as a Gravedigger, I think I could handle it), and maybe escort us to the nearest Buddhist temple, where we could pray to the powers that be for good karma on this upcoming mission.
    There’s no time, Kendra . This isn’t a research trip. You are not here to learn, or teach, or discover. A man has kidnapped your friend and may feed her to monsters. It might be your job to kill him .
    As I think it, a shudder runs down my spine, and I watch Ian staring out his window, PJ with his eyes closed and his breaths measured. No one has mentioned this yet. If I had to guess, I’d posit that none of us are prepared to confront it. So far, being a Gravedigger has entailed murdering monsters, returning the dead to their appropriate state. All of O’Dea’s long-distance teachings made sense in the context of battling zombies. But if Dario Savini is threatening to harm our friend or release a horde of the undead, our options may be limited. We may have to be assassins on this trip. A heartbeat will stop. I am unsure if we can handle that.
    â€œWhat’s the game plan once we get to the cave?” asks PJ.
    â€œThat’s where Danny’s research ends,” I answer. “There are apparently caves over the city that may be able to lead to it, but no one seems to know how one goes from the former to the latter.”
    â€œAre you kidding me?” says Ian, looking amazed. “We’re just going to these caves and hoping we’ll find an entrance into Kudus?”
    â€œWe may have to do some searching,” I say with a shrug. “We’ll have to keep an eye out for signs of Savini or O’Dea having been there. If we don’t see an entrance quickly, we may have to split off from the tour group and explore some less-traveled corners of this place.”
    â€œWe’ll find it,” says PJ, eyes closed, voice almost sad. He sounds so sure, but in a grave and fatalistic way (appropriate for our trip, and a helpful distraction—one).
    PJ, what is going on in your head? What am I missing?
    â€œLet’s hope,” grumbles Ian. He raises a hand and starts writing “Kudus” in the steam on the window with his fingers, his brow furrowed.
    This won’t do, Kendra. You need your troops rallied. PJ may be in his quiet meditative head, but Ian can’t afford to be petulant. For an adventure like this, our