Chapter 16
The Civic was maybe seventy yards away.
It might as well have been a mile.
I passed the first row of cars.
No movement.
Second row.
My lungs still burned from smoke.
My right hand throbbed.
The hammer felt slick in my grip.
I glanced back.
Dombrowski was moving toward the corner of the building.
Marcy and Tanner had reached their Mazda.
Mrs. Patel stood beside her SUV, fumbling with something.
The woman in the parking lot had started toward Dombrowski.
Not fast.
But purposeful.
I almost turned back.
Then movement appeared ahead.
A man stood near my Civic.
No.
Not at it.
Two spaces over.
Dark work pants. Reflective vest. Maybe maintenance or a delivery driver.
His back was to me.
I slowed.
He turned.
Blood covered his mouth.
I stopped.
The Civic was right there.
Twenty yards.
Keys.
I reached into my pocket.
Nothing.
My heart stopped.
I slapped the other pocket.
Phone.
Backpack strap.
Hammer.
No keys.
"No."
I checked again. Empty. They had been there.
I turned.
Something metallic reflected beneath a parking-lot light fifteen feet behind me.
My keys.
They must have slipped out when I ran from the building.
No.
The man near the Civic started toward me.
I backed away.
The keys lay beside a black SUV, closer to the building and the woman following Dombrowski.
I had no choice.
I ran back.
My shoes struck the pavement too loudly.
I bent for the keys and missed them with shaking fingers.
"Come on."
The second grab got them.
Something hissed from the other side of the SUV.
I looked underneath.
Feet.
Someone standing there.
I rose too quickly and hit my shoulder against the vehicle.
The figure came around the rear bumper.
A teenage boy.
Maybe sixteen.
Half his face bloodied.
He reached for me.
I shoved him with both hands.
He hit the SUV and fell sideways.
I ran.
The man in the reflective vest had moved between me and the Civic.
Of course he had.
I angled left.
He followed.
My mind began calculating distances automatically.
Civic ten yards. Man six. Other infected behind me unknown.
Could outrun him. Probably.
I sprinted right.
He lunged.
His hand caught the backpack.
The strap jerked me backward.
I twisted, dropped one shoulder, and pulled free.
The zipper split halfway open.
A water bottle fell out and rolled beneath a car.
I almost stopped.
Leave it.
The man stumbled.
I reached the Civic.
Pressed unlock.
The lights flashed.
Too bright.
Too obvious.
I yanked open the driver's door.
Something struck the rear quarter panel.
The teenage boy had reached the car.
I threw myself inside.
Door.
Lock.
The boy hit the passenger window with both palms.
The man in the reflective vest slammed into the driver's side.
I shouted and jerked away even though glass separated us.
Keys.
Ignition.
My hand shook so badly I missed the slot.
"Come on."
Again.
Missed.
The man struck the window.
A spiderweb crack appeared near the edge.
"No."
Third try.
Key in.
Turn.
The Civic started.
The sound was impossibly normal.
Quiet four-cylinder engine. Dashboard lights. Seatbelt warning. The radio tried to connect to my phone.
For one insane second, I almost laughed.
Instead I shifted into reverse.
The man was still against my window.
I backed out hard.
He fell.
The teenage boy moved behind the car.
I hit the brake.
Couldn't see him.
Could not—
Something struck the trunk.
I flinched.
Then drove forward.