We’d made it to the highway on-ramp.
“Nearly there,” I said, sitting up straighter.
For a moment, I let myself believe we’d actually get a clear run to the farm. That maybe the space would give us a feeling of safety we could never find in the city.
But then Theo slowed partway up the ramp. “Tell me if you see anything that looks off,” he said.
A tremor rippled through me as I stared out the window. Even without seeing the source of the shift, I could feel it in the air, the heaviness, the sense that something wasn’t quite right.
The shattered glass on the road was our first sign, tiny pieces glittering in the sunlight.
As we approached the bend, traffic cones were lined up, directing vehicles into one of three lanes. Most had been knocked over, and some were crushed.
“The highway was blocked off,” Theo said absently. “Looks like they were sending people back the way they came.”
I kept quiet, unable to take my eyes off the road. Where was all the activity now?
When we rounded the corner and saw it, my eyes widened, and I gripped the armrest.
Dozens and dozens of cars were crammed in together at odd angles—small trucks and vans. A bus. Two police cars had parked at the head of the group, positioned in a wide vee to stop any traffic that broke through.
And behind them a tank—right in the middle of the city.
Theo and I shared a brief look as he inched toward the traffic jam.
A familiar odour leaked through the vents, but there were no infected weaving between the cars to account for the smell. Nothing moved at all apart from a flag flapping at a nearby car dealership.
So, what was causing—
“Oh my God,” I whispered.
Bodies were sprawled across the ground, half hidden behind open car doors. So many bodies. The closer we crept, the more we could see. The road surface was covered in crimson splatters, some with drag marks at the edges as people tried to claw their way to safety.
Every car had been impacted in the confrontation, windscreens shattered, panels pockmarked with bullet holes. I’d never seen automatic weapons in person, but the sheer extent of the damage couldn’t have come from anything else.
I suddenly wished we’d taken the side streets instead of a more direct route out of the city. “This wasn’t the infected.”
“No,” Theo said quietly.
Not that long ago, the road would have been packed with commuters heading to work. Delivery drivers. Out-of-towners fighting their way across to other lanes after taking a wrong turn. Now there was a silence so eerie it made my breath quicken.
Theo hit the brake and draped his hands over the steering wheel, leaning forward as he scanned the street. “Looks like the army took down anyone who tried to break through the roadblock.”
Killing people who’d been taken by the virus was one thing, but this… this was barbaric. What else had happened since we’d lost access to the news?
I rested my hand on the butt of my axe, sweeping my thumb over the smooth woodgrain. “It doesn’t look like we can make it through. Maybe we should get out. Take a look around before we leave.”
“Hmm,” he said. “No one’s alive, and we don’t need their supplies.”
“I’m thinking more about the guns. They might still be here somewhere.” A movement in the side mirror snatched my attention—a station wagon with belongings strapped to the roof rack, slowing just like we had. “Theo…”
His gaze flicked to the rearview, his body instantly on alert. “Let’s get out of here.”
Without another word, he swung around in a wide U-turn and took off back down the ramp. Part of me wanted to talk to the family in the wagon, swap stories and share some basic human interaction, but we couldn’t risk it. At the very least, they might want to take what was ours. At the worst, one of them could have been bitten.
A young boy gripped the ledge of the side window and pressed his face to the glass, his eyes meeting mine as we passed. If he’d had any wonder or excitement about the world at one point, ithad drained from him now. My heart thumped, and I raised my hand, waving.
He didn’t get the chance to wave back. They were already in our rearview.
