Whenever there were no infected lumbering through an area, the complete, utter silence still surprised me. Even when I used to go on early morning runs when life was normal, I had the distant sound of trucks on the highway or trains passing through to keep me company. There were dog walkers and taxis, lights on in the 24-7 service stations and laundromats. Now? Nothing—and that was a big part of what made the gang so threatening. When their convoy travelled the streets, and I heard their loud, unbothered voices, it filled me with fear every time.
"Stick with the cars on the perimeter that aren't boxed in," Cruz said. "The others are no good to us."
“Got it.” I scanned the street, and my attention swept over the bodies this time rather than the cars. As I took in the damage and loss around me, a lump formed in my throat. All these people had once had dreams and goals. Families and jobs. Futures. Now they were spread across the ground like roadkill as if their lives had meant nothing—and no one could be given the dignity of a proper burial anymore.
After all the planning and preparation I’d gone through to improve my chances of survival, would I end up on the bitumen like discarded trash, too?
“Try not to think about it,” Cruz said as he took in my expression. “Keep busy, focus on the goal, and the second we’re ready, we're gone.”
He used his take-charge tone whenever our next task looked to be a risky one, and it gave me the push I needed to snap out of my mood. We were out in the open with several roads leading to this spot. We had no cover and needed to move fast. “You’re right. Do you want to start from opposite ends and meet back here in the middle?”
He gave the area a thorough inspection, turning to scan the buildings in every direction. Looking for movement. Danger. I’d considered myself to be a cautious person before I met him, but he’d taken attentiveness to a new level. “Yeah, okay. Let's get this done," he said as his gaze came back to me. "Watch out for corpses in cars. Whistle or wave if you find keys. No shouting.”
This would be our first time separating to complete a task, and although we’d known each other for days rather than months or years, I'd already begun to lean on him. It felt wrong to be apart, but we’d work faster alone, and if we had to run for any reason, taking off separately made us more difficult targets to track.
I nodded my understanding of his instructions, then took off for the other end of the traffic jam.
With my steps light and fast, I scanned my surroundings as I approached the vehicle on the northern boundary. It was a police car with its front doors hanging open and blood splatter on the outside of the smashed windscreen. I pictured the dead attacking as the officers sat inside, trying their best to strategise in a situation where everyone around them had lost their minds. It would have been chaos.
I leaned in to check the ignition, unsurprised to find no keys. Cops would be the least likely to overlook that kind of detail even in a life-threatening situation. It looked like other people had picked the car over at some point. The boot had been prised open, and the interior cleared of any weapons we might have been able to take for ourselves.
I moved on to the next vehicle, a silver family van with the sliding door open.
A movement from the interior caught my eye, and my gaze landed on an infected woman sitting in the passenger seat trapped by her seatbelt. She had tangled brown hair and hollow cheeks, and she wore a floral dress stained with blood and fluids. Her arms reached out to me, her faulty wiring meaning she couldn't comprehend there was no getting hold of me with steel and glass between us. As her mouth gaped and her bloodshot eyes fixated on me, I spotted the dirty bandage wrapped around her neck. Someone had bitten her, most likely a member of her own family.
I killed the urge to create a tragic backstory for her and went around to the driver’s side.
No keys.
Again.
A van would have been useful for carrying supplies and extra people if we happened to stumble on to any who appeared to be trustworthy.
With a sigh, I straightened and stared down the road in Cruz’s direction while I indulged in a briefwhat's-the-point-of-all-thismoment. He saw me looking his way and gave me a thumbs-up to show all was well on his end. I returned the gesture and got back to work, hurrying to the next vehicle in line.
The sooner we could get out of here the better. I yearned for open roads and endless space, and to finally leave behind a city that no longer had anything to offer us.
As I dipped my head and peered into a red sports car, the sound of an engine and pounding music had me freezing in place. My stomach lurched, and I glanced at Cruz to figure out what my chances were of reaching him.
He was still at the far end of the traffic jam, maybe fifty metres away. Given the proximity of the noise, I wouldn’t have time to get to him and hash out a plan. It was either run and hide or stay out here in the open when they came around one of the multiple corners leading to this area. My heart raced and a sick feeling came over me.
Cruz cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled over the sound of the car, no longer concerned with being quiet. “Run and hide! I’ll find you.”
He disappeared in seconds. The moment I lost sight of him, my stomach squeezed with fear. My legs tensed, and I glanced in every direction, trying to shut out the noise in my mind that stopped me from thinking clearly. I needed to movenowto give myself a fighting chance.
Once they saw me, it was all over.
My gaze locked onto a boutique hotel across the road. The broken doors would make access straightforward.
I sprinted in that direction, keeping alert for any obstacles so I wouldn’t do something stupid like trip and knock myself unconscious. The racket from the approaching vehicle drew the dead from a shopping plaza beside the hotel. Several of them wandered outside and staggered along the footpath. Before they could surround me, I ran straight for the hotel’s main doors, praying for a clear lobby.
Two of the infected limped toward me from the open doorway. Another came at me from the side as I Iistened to the car screech to a stop behind me. I couldn’t see the occupants from my position, but it sounded like they’d pulled up near our car, which they'd no doubt immediately recognise since they'd slashed the damn tyres themselves.
Seconds later, a man yelled, “Found her. It's that chick!”
Oh no. Please, please no.
“Nelson, you come with me!” someone called out—presumably Jackson. “The rest of you round up that asshole over there.”
