Page 107

A horn sounded somewhere near the warehouses opposite, one long, continuous note that blared across the estate before cutting off. No cars appeared, and no one shouted.

The silence that came afterward had me pulling in a trembling breath.

We were in for a long night.

The office gradually darkened around us, but no one bothered reaching for the torch I’d pulled from Luke’s backpack. The faint light glowing through the window gave us just enough to see, and it was smarter to keep our location hidden.

Tim had already set up his bed in the far corner—three stacks of cardboard as a mattress, and a folded blanket for a pillow. With another blanket laid across his lap, he sat upright with his back against the wall.

Luke unwrapped a protein bar and took a bite. “I’ve been thinking,” he said around a mouthful. “Those people were fighting when they got bitten. Panicking and running.”

Varesh paused as he set up his makeshift bed next to Tim’s. “And?”

Luke nodded towards the road and bit into the bar again. “The ones who’ve turned would have been high on adrenaline, fighting for their lives. They never made it somewhere safe like we did.”

Varesh frowned. “They didn’t have a chance.”

“Exactly. That’s my point.”

“Maybe the adrenaline and fear, all the running, speed up the process,” I said, setting up my bed on the other side of the room.

Luke shrugged. “No way of knowing for sure.”

“You could be onto something,” Tim said. “If the injury’s bad enough to kill you on its own, it makes sense that you’d turn straight away. If it’s minor, the virus takes you out after it’s worked its way through your system.”

I remembered noticing the difference between the people who’d been attacked at the airport. Some had died in front of me and turned, while others had been wandering around, dazed and hurt.

Varesh sat back on his haunches and looked at Tim. “Speaking of injuries, you haven’t mentioned your shoulder in hours. You’re not even trying for sympathy like you usually do when you’re not well.”

Tim took a sip from his water bottle and replaced the cap. “It’s called stoicism, love. Look it up.”

Varesh rolled his eyes. Luke smothered a laugh.

With a smile, I stood and headed off to the bathroom.

When I came back, the sky outside had already deepened to charcoal, and the office had gone from a fridge to a freezer.

Movement on the street became harder to distinguish, a collection of silhouettes, some moving and others not. The dead no longer wandered alone through the wreckage as they had earlier in the day. Small groups had gathered, weaving between the crashed or abandoned cars, their moans blending and drifting in the wind.

Every so often a human voice would reach us, but I could never pinpoint the location.

Luke hooked my elbow as I was passing and eased me against his side. The two of us stood before the window while Tim and Varesh reclined on their beds.

“Are you using me for warmth?” I slipped my arm around him and took in his profile.

He dipped his head and touched his lips to mine. “Says the woman who’s currently burrowing her hand inside my jacket.”

I let out a laughing breath. Some habits were impossible to break.

Through the window, another infected stumbled into view between the rows of abandoned cars, the reflective strips on his hi-vis shirt shining in the low light.

Luke followed his progress until he bumped into another one.

A while back, they were easy to count, but then two became three, and three turned into five.

Now, I’d lost track.

Thirty