Chapter 3

I led them down the west stairwell.

The emergency lights were still on, a harsh, icy white that stretched everyone’s shadow into long strips sliding down the walls with us.

Nobody dared speak. Even Thomas kept his mouth shut, hugging two bulging supply bags to his chest as he wheezed along behind us.

We’d barely reached the first landing when a dragging sound rose from the stairs below.

I raised a hand. Everyone froze.

Marcus stood just behind my left shoulder, tightening his grip on the wrench. Grant halted too; the irritation had drained out of his face, replaced by stiff alertness.

Victor and the others crowded together in the back, even their breathing controlled, like quiet alone could keep whatever was down there from noticing them.

I moved down slowly with my gun up.

A zombie was crouched over something on the steps, back to us, shoulders jerking as it fed.

Maybe it caught our scent. It snapped its head around, torn meat still hanging from its mouth, and lunged.

I didn’t back up. I fired once.

The shot cracked through the stairwell and made the people behind me flinch. The zombie took two more steps, then dropped hard at the landing. I stepped past it, checked for a second one, then signaled for everyone to keep moving.

Thomas’s voice shook. “Won’t that bring more?”

“It will,” I said. “So move.”

Two floors down, the next one came from the third-floor corner. It had been wedged against the railing, half its body crushed out of shape, but it still tried to claw its way up when it heard us. I didn’t fire. I sidestepped, grabbed the back of its neck, and slammed its head into the wall. My knife went up under its jaw. When I pulled the blade free, blood splashed across half my hand.

Marcus glanced at me without speaking, then kicked the body aside to clear the steps.

The others looked worse by the minute. Audrey barely dared look down. Victor didn’t say anything, but he started moving faster.

We made it to B2. The garage entrance was right ahead.

The rolling door was only halfway up. The lights inside flickered. Rows of parked cars filled the space, and farther in, a few shapes swayed in the shadows. The air was thick with motor oil, old blood, and the stale damp of a sealed underground level. The space was wide—sound carried, and if things went bad down here, it would be worse than upstairs.

I stopped and turned to them.

“Listen carefully,” I said, keeping my voice low. “Marcus and I clear the way up front. You follow the right lane and run to the car. Don’t stop. Don’t break formation. Thomas—hold your supplies. Don’t dump anything on the floor. If you fall, you get up. Don’t expect anyone to come back for you.”

Thomas nodded immediately and tightened his arms around the bags.

I moved first, eyes sweeping row after row of parking spots.

It didn’t take long to find what I wanted: a gray SUV, big enough for seven people, parked closest to the exit ramp.

Yesterday afternoon, while scavenging the empty offices, I’d found a set of keys under an overturned desk. Next to them was the corpse of the employee they belonged to, his ID badge soaked in dried blood. I’d seen his car before. I knew the plate.

But the ramp was blocked.

A black sedan was wedged sideways at the mouth of the exit, its front end smashed in, like someone had tried to flee when the outbreak started and slammed into the barrier at the worst possible angle. If we wanted to drive out, we had to move it first.

I tossed my backpack to Thomas, then threw the SUV keys to Victor.

“Start it,” I said. “Pull it up to the exit and wait for us.”

Victor caught the keys and blinked like he hadn’t expected to be given an order.

“Me?”

“You can drive,” I said. “Don’t waste time.”

Then I looked at Grant. “Go check the car blocking the ramp. If it runs, drive it out. If it doesn’t, we push. Simon—help him. Audrey, stay with Victor. Thomas, don’t wander.”

Once the orders landed, everyone moved—not because they worked well together, but because they all understood that one extra second could get them killed.

Marcus and I pushed forward first, clearing the closest zombies.

The first one came from behind a car’s rear bumper. I dropped it with one shot.

The second was faster—almost springing off the ground into Marcus. Marcus swung the wrench into its temple, crushing half its face, then hit it again and again until it stopped moving.

“Right side,” I warned.

He pivoted as a zombie in a security uniform charged from behind a concrete pillar.

I fired into its chest, but it didn’t drop. Marcus met it head-on, wedged the wrench across its throat, and pinned it against a car door. I fired again, this time through the eye. It sagged and slid down.

Behind us, the sound of metal scraping against concrete had started.

Grant had reached the black sedan. He yanked the door open and tried the ignition twice. The engine coughed once and died.

He bent to look underneath and swore. “It’s leaking! The undercarriage is busted—won’t start!”

“Then push,” I said.

Grant climbed out and braced his shoulder against the trunk with Simon beside him. The sedan didn’t budge. Marcus glanced back, gritted his teeth, and ran over to help. The three of them heaved together; the tires squealed, and the car finally shifted, inch by inch.

I held the line between them and the growing cluster of zombies, firing and stepping back, dropping each one that rushed in.

Every shot drew more. Deeper in the garage, the swaying shadows started to move toward us—more footsteps, more bodies, closing fast.

That was when the gray SUV came to life.

I was about to call everyone in, but when I looked up, the SUV was already at the ramp. Victor was behind the wheel. Audrey and Thomas were in the back. Thomas had both hands on the window, his mouth moving—either yelling to stop or cursing them out.

Grant had just cleared the path. He sprinted to the front of the SUV and threw his arms out.

“Stop!” he shouted.

The SUV actually stopped—for half a second.

The others surged forward, yanked open doors, and piled in. The moment they’d barely wedged themselves onto the seats, Victor stomped the gas. The SUV lurched forward.

“Rain’s not in yet!” Marcus roared from inside the vehicle.

“You didn’t see what’s behind us?” someone shouted—either Simon or Victor. “If we don’t go, we all die!”

Marcus wasn’t even fully seated. He lunged for the steering wheel. Inside the SUV, bodies collided, Audrey screamed, and Thomas got crushed against the glass. The SUV fishtailed at the top of the ramp, tires shrieking, nearly ripping an unlatched door open as it swung.

I didn’t chase it down on foot.

It was too far—and I’d already seen another option.

To my right, three rows over, a white sedan sat intact: windows unbroken, tires full.

Yesterday I’d collected more than one key ring. I’d meant it as a precaution. I hadn’t expected to need it this soon.

I sprinted to the sedan, yanked the door open, dropped into the driver’s seat, jammed the key in, and turned it. The engine growled and caught.

The SUV was already climbing the ramp.

I threw the car into gear and went after them. In the rearview mirror, the garage was filling—shapes drawn by gunfire and noise, stacking closer and closer. I didn’t look back again.

Outside the ramp, the streets were worse than I’d expected. Wrecked cars lined the curb. Farther ahead, figures darted between intersections. Victor clearly had no idea how to drive under pressure.

The SUV swerved left and right like a drunk, nearly clipping a lamppost. I stayed on its tail, closing the distance.

At the next junction, a small cluster of zombies spilled in from the side and blocked the lane.

Victor panicked and yanked the wheel hard to the right.

Crash.

The SUV slammed into the roadside barrier. The front end dipped violently, white smoke belched up, and the engine died.

I hit the brakes, swung my sedan sideways behind them, and got out.

Cold morning air slapped my face. Inside the SUV, bodies moved in frantic silhouettes—hands on door handles, fists pounding glass, everyone suddenly loud with panic.

I raised my pistol, aimed at the driver’s seat, and walked forward one step at a time.

Inside, every face locked up at once.

Victor’s hands were still on the steering wheel. His neck turned toward me in slow increments, his face drained white.

Simon’s mouth hung open like he’d been about to say something.

Audrey had folded into the backseat corner. Thomas pressed against the door, staring at me like he’d seen a ghost.

Marcus and Grant had only just managed to sit down. They hadn’t had time to move.

I stopped at the window, lifted the gun, and aimed straight at Victor’s head.