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Luke’s hand closed around my wrist, and I jolted, unused to being touched after so many months alone.

“We need to go,” he said.

“I know—but where?” I looked around. “Where do we go?”

“Anywhere but here.”

The plane hit something I couldn’t see. A building. The runway. It made no difference. An almighty bang rang through the air, the impact shaking the ground.

A plane. Full of people. Coming home, just like me.

Luke’s hold on my wrist tightened. He stared at the terminal even though we couldn’t see the crash from here. “It just…”

Fire erupted above the roofline, black smoke billowing in a massive, opaque cloud. Car alarms screeched. The bitten ones turned toward the sounds, momentarily distracted.

The woman with the purple hair sent one terrified look over her shoulder, then met my eyes and yelled, “Wait! I’m coming with you guys.”

Three brains had to be better than two—even if we were strangers.

Maybe she had a car. Maybe she knew more than we did.

Luke didn’t object, and as she ran toward us, I checked her over for injuries. There was no blood on her clothing, and the rips in her jeans looked to be intentional.

“Hurry!” I yelled.

My underarms were sticky with sweat, and the green cotton of my long-sleeve tee clung to my back. Thankful I’d worn sneakers for the flight, I took off with Luke and the other woman, a small group with no destination and no plan.

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luke

My head spun as we ran.

As soon as the plane hit the light tower, every detail I’d ignored in the previous hours slammed into me. The thumping in the bathroom on my flight, and the pallor of the man sitting two rows ahead of me. The woman they wouldn’t even let on board because she’d lost her shit standing in line.

None of it had seemed important at the time, and now it all made sense.

They weren’t rumours.

The explosion vibrated through the soles of my feet and shot up into my spine, clattering my teeth.

My hold on Ava’s wrist loosened, and I ripped the mask from under my chin as we ran.

“Do you have a car?” I asked the other woman.

“Nope. I’m just trying to get the hell out of here.”

By unspoken agreement, we followed the signs to the public parking area.

Ava moved ahead of me, sweat dampening the space between her shoulders, her long brown hair flying out behind her.

The purple-haired woman stayed close, boots thudding across the ground. She wasn’t carrying a handbag like Ava. No backpack either.

“Which direction are you heading?” I asked her.

More passengers had spilled outside. Shouts and screams tore through the air, and people were being tackled to the ground.

“Melbourne,” she said, panting.