Page 121 of This is How We Die

I wove through the crowd and burst outside, immediately dropping my bag and ripping off every piece of plastic and latex.

“Getoffme,” I snapped as my hair tangled in the mask elastic. I fought with the zipper on the suit and yanked it down my body,stomping my feet free. The neck pillow joined the pile, too. The less I had to carry, the better.

When I’d dumped it all in the nearest bin, I slipped the strap of my bag over my head and straightened my shoulders, feeling lighter now.

My dad used to say thatwhat nextmeant you were planning andwhat nowmeant you were complaining. I needed a plan—even if it just covered the first step.

“All right,” I said, scanning the area. “What next?”

A scream ripped through the air, growing louder as the automatic doors opened behind me. I bristled and stepped aside as more people poured out, some sliding past me, one bumping into me hard enough to send me stumbling forward.

“Watch it,” I snapped, clamping my bag against me. Preparing for a confrontation, I set my jaw and waited, but the man didn’t give me so much as a second look. No acknowledgement, no apology.

So, that’s how it’s going to be, huh?

I scanned the taxi rank, where drivers were normally lined up waiting for passengers, but there was no one. Not one car or minibus.

Perfect. I wracked my brain for a solution when a movement caught my eye.

A man sat on the gutter at the far end of the drop-off zone, a solid guy with his elbows braced on his knees, head resting in his hands. His backpack was slumped beside him as if he’d just dumped it there and sank down, his dark brown hair with that overly long look that screamed lockdown.

He was at least ten metres from me and completely unaware of my presence.

I should’ve just walked away. Gone hunting for a shuttle bus or stolen someone’s car.

But something about him had my feet shifting direction and facing him.

The doors continuously opened and closed behind me as people evacuated, rushing past me to God knows where. I couldn’t pick up on the words they were saying, but the panic was palpable.

Why wasn't I caught up in the sea of movement instead of standing here staring at a complete stranger?

“Hey!” I called out to the man.

Before he could lift his head or show any sign he'd heard me, a weird, raspy moan came from behind me. Then another scream, this one with a sharper, hysterical edge to it.

A shiver rushed over me, a warning.

I barely had the chance to prepare myself before I turned and saw it—one person attacking another, but not with weapons or fists. With hands and teeth.

Grinding jaw. Fingers tearing at skin.

And blood. So much blood.

Everything inside me tensed, then a switch flipped in my brain.

“Run,” I shouted at the man on the curb. “Run.”