Page 92

“Mostly.” She kept her eyes averted from Dustin’s body. “I just want to keep moving.”

Without another word, Varesh reached for the door.

Two of the infected we’d killed yesterday blocked our exit, the guy in the rugby shirt and the woman in the robe. “I’ll clear a few of these bodies so we can get out,” I said.

“All right.” Tim clasped Ava’s upper arm for a moment. “Let’s just get on the road. We can talk later—or not. Whatever you want.”

“Thanks.”

The apartment building disappeared in the rearview, the rooftop hidden behind a row of brick units and eucalyptus trees.

Ava sat beside me, staring out the passenger window.

The woman’s voice on the navigation system instructed me to take a left in forty metres.

“They’ve had semi-permanent roadblocks around here for almost a year now,” Tim said. “No idea which way Sadie and Theo went, but I’d ignore the GPS and head right. There’s less traffic that way.”

“Usually,” Varesh added.

The tyres rolled over wet bitumen, wipers sweeping the windshield clean. I swerved around a forgotten motorbike taking up half the lane. “We’ll take our time and just focus on getting there safely.”

“And we have a rule about not stopping for anyone,” Ava said. “Just so you know.”

“I think that’s wise,” Varesh said.

Tim sat behind Ava, and Varesh occupied the seat behind me. No one sat in the middle anymore, and I’d never realised how much space one person could leave behind.

A white Hilux reversed to the end of a driveway, stopping as a woman rushed from the house and jumped into the passenger seat. A brown-haired boy who must have been around twelve sat in the back, face pressed to the glass as a yellow Labrador encroached on his personal space.

I slowed as the driver pulled out onto the street, and he gave me a nod before taking off in the opposite direction.

At the next intersection, the traffic lights were dark, and a silver SUV crawled through, the woman behind the wheel checking every direction.

“Look out.” Ava grabbed my arm as a car careened by the SUV. The side window was splattered with fresh blood, the driver’s forearm raised as he fended off an attack from his passenger. My fingers clenched around the wheel as he zigzagged past the SUV, tyres screeching before crashing headlong into a telegraph pole. Glass shattered, and a hollow bang reverberated down the street.

I flinched in my seat and swore under my breath.

“Jesus Christ,” Tim said from the back. “I’m getting PTSD.”

“Were you with Sadie when she crashed?” Ava asked, turning in her seat. “We saw her car yesterday.”

Tim shifted, getting a better look at the cars. “Yeah,” he said. “We were lucky, though. No serious injuries.”

Varesh hadn’t said a word, too focused on the road ahead as I turned the corner and left the wreck behind us.

At the service station on the upcoming corner, the bowsers were abandoned, and a fuel hose swayed in the breeze, the nozzle clanging against the pump.

Someone had written empty across the price board in yellow spray paint.

The smashed door of the 24/7 convenience store beside it hung open, the shelves near the entrance almost picked clean. A packet of barbecue chips lay in the doorway, untouched.

Tim gripped the side of Ava’s seat. “I know you said we’re not stopping, but that’s my favourite flavour.”

“They’re okay, I guess,” she said, deadpan. “A distant third to salt-and-vinegar and chicken.”

He scoffed. “You’ve got to be joking.”

Varesh met my gaze in the rearview. “Don’t encourage him,” he said to Ava.