Page 4

A brunette in her thirties raced toward us from the direction of the car park. For a split second, I wondered if she was primed to attack, but then she kept running, her arm smacking into mine as she passed.

“Good,” I said, throwing a glance over my shoulder. “That’s where we’re heading.”

Car alarms wailed around us, and Ava barely slowed down as she leapt over an open suitcase.

A wheelchair had been tipped on its side, the occupant nowhere in sight. I avoided an empty pram sitting in the road, refusing to think about what had happened to the baby.

This wasn’t just coming from inside the terminal. It had already been out here, but I was too deep in my own world to notice.

I’d nearly gotten myself killed, and I didn’t have a fucking clue.

A man in an airport security uniform lay splayed across the path in front of us, his neck and gut torn open. Blood had pooled around him, and the fingers on his outstretched arm bent and flexed with mindless movements. My throat closed over, and without a word, we sidestepped the body.

“We need to find a car fast,” Ava said. “Anything that moves.”

We stopped at the car park entrance, and the purple-haired woman’s eyes darted around.

“What’s your name?” I asked her.

“Kirby Wú.” She let out a harsh breath, her lips painted a red so dark they were almost black. “You?”

“Luke.” I tipped my head to the left. “This is Ava. We just met.”

Quick footsteps closed in on us from behind, and I moved aside as two men ran by, one of them holding a backpack. They didn’t slow or speak, just went straight to a car in the first row and jumped inside.

Two seconds later, the driver gunned the motor and took off, neither of them sparing us a glance as they tore past.

“Better keep moving.” Kirby pulled the dangling mask off her ear and shoved it in the pocket of her ripped jeans.

Ava rushed over to a white Camry and checked the handle. Kirby and I joined in, and between the three of us, we’d covered a dozen cars in seconds. Every door was locked.

As the shouts and screams multiplied, we moved faster. Ava ran to the next row, testing handles and swearing under her breath. I tried a gold minivan.

“This is a waste of time.” Kirby shot me a look over the roof of a red hatchback. “No one’s leaving keys in an unlocked car. We need to jump someone—or take them hostage with their car.”

“Keep looking.” Distracted, Ava scanned the rows, hands resting on top of her head. “We can’t drag someone out of their car. We’re not doing that.”

Kirby rolled her eyes but didn’t put up a fight.

Smoke from the plane crash floated above the car park. Alarms hadn’t stopped shrieking, and footsteps thudded on the concrete as more people scattered. Any one of them could have been bitten. We needed a barrier between us and them.

I moved back from the rows and gave myself a wider view of the lot.

The chances of finding something were—

Shit.

Four rows down, a dark SUV had been parked half outside its marked spot, the passenger door hanging open.

“There.” I pointed.

Ava stood on her toes, but she couldn’t see from her position.

She gave up and came straight for me, with Kirby only a few steps behind her. The three of us sprinted toward the black Hyundai, the rumble of its engine registering as we got closer.

I pulled up short at the passenger side, the open-door chime dinging as I scanned the space. The interior was empty, everything in order. Not even a tissue or a food wrapper left out in the open. I checked the back seat first—clear, apart from an orange backpack.

“Keys in the ignition?” Ava asked.