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“No, you’re not.”

Behind me, Kirby snorted. “Put the freaking jacket on. This is the dumbest thing to be stubborn about.”

I opened my mouth to argue, then stopped myself and took it from him. “Thanks.”

I shrugged the jacket on and zipped it closed, folding the cuffs twice. Encased in blessed warmth, I let out the first truly relieved sigh since my plane had landed.

Kirby slammed the boot shut. “All right, let’s go before I lose feeling in my toes. No one cares about me turning into a human icicle, but I guess I’ll just go fuck myself.”

“You want a hug?” Luke asked.

She pressed her lips into a firm line. “You know what? Joke’s on you, asshole, because I do want a hug.”

She stomped over to him in her chunky boots and threw her arms around his waist. His eyes widened as she rested her cheek on his chest, her head turned to the side. After a split-second of hesitation, he pulled her close and gave her purple hair an awkward pat.

“I haven’t hugged another person in months,” she murmured, her words muffled. “It’s not that you’re special.”

“I know.”

“You’re just convenient and too nice to say no.”

“I know.” Luke’s eyes met mine over the top of her head, his expression mildly amused.

We were becoming a group. Relying on one another—even if we were only one step above strangers.

I drew a breath and tried to smile.

“All right. Are you done?” he asked Kirby, breaking the connection with me. “If we get moving, you can hug your parents in a few hours.”

She pulled back and shoved her hair from her face. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s go.”

With one last look at Luke, I slipped into the driver’s seat and eased the door closed, the light in his eyes staying with me as I reached for the ignition.

Eight

luke

Endless paddocks and hills surrounded us, and the scent of eucalyptus crept through my cracked window. An emergency broadcast played on the radio, the volume lowered after Kirby pointed out the same announcement was repeating on a loop.

Shelter in place. Maintain distance from people showing signs of aggression. If cornered, target the attacker’s head with a heavy object.

Not kitchen gadgets. We’d figured that part out on our own.

Ava’s fingers weren’t pink with cold anymore, and her cheeks had some colour in them for the first time since we’d left the childcare centre. With her hands on the wheel, she split her attention between the road and the trees lining the post and wire fences.

“Another crash,” she said, slowing and cruising around a car sitting across the centre line.

Kirby turned and stared at the wreckage from the back seat, her jeans squeaking on the leather. “Crushed bumper and no other cars around. Weird.”

Ava checked the rearview mirror. “Maybe they hit a kangaroo.”

“Or one of the dead,” I said. We’d seen more of them out here than I’d expected this far from built-up towns.

The road continued straight for several kilometres, past a rest stop where a four-wheel drive towing a caravan was parked. A man in a flannel shirt gave us a wary look before he opened the caravan door and slipped inside.

“The first person we’ve seen in ages,” Kirby said.

I tracked the vehicle in the side mirror until I couldn’t anymore.