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“All right, I’ll leave you to it.” The woman nodded and headed back the way she’d come, disappearing around the side of the house.

Thirteen

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Kirby had found the fob on a hook beside the back door, the roller door remote dangling from the keyring. With our base secured for the night, we’d gone straight back outside to make the most of the remaining daylight.

Now, the three of us were sitting in the car with the open roller door in front of us, holding our collective breath. No one said a word as Luke pressed the start button.

When the engine turned over on the first try, the steady idle was almost like a tease.

Luke’s relaxed smile had my heart tripping. “A house and a car.”

“Thank God,” I said. “I’m hanging on by a thread here.”

“Sounds better than the last one,” Kirby chimed in from the back seat.

It smelled better too, but the hint of new-car smell left me even more conscious of my odour.

The thought of changing into something fresh and leaving sweat and death behind made my stomach twist. A hot shower. Food. We’d eaten nothing substantial since our planes touched down over twenty-four hours ago.

Luke took his time leaving the garage, one hand on the wheel. “We’ve got three-quarters of a tank,” he said, pressing the remote to close the roller door. “Should be enough to get us the rest of the way to Melbourne tomorrow.”

My chest ached at the word tomorrow. Too many things could go wrong between now and then. “I hope so.”

As he pulled away from our temporary base, a curtain shifted in a house a couple of doors down.

“Think that’s her?” he asked.

My fingers curled into a fist on my thigh. “Hard to tell. I can’t believe she just walked into the backyard like that without a weapon.”

“She’s been safe at home until now,” he said. “She hasn’t seen the things we’ve seen.”

He had no idea how much his words comforted me. Sadie should be safe at home, too, and not exposed to the dangers we’d faced.

We went back to Jeremy’s broken car for our bags, then followed the signs out of the older part of town, venturing into a section with four-lane roads that turned dark and smooth beneath us, the marked lines bright white.

Half-built houses were lined up along one side, their frames still exposed, bricks and roof tiles stacked on pallets. Plastic wrap snapped in the breeze, and a concrete mixer had been left in a driveway.

“This is bizarre,” I said. “Like it’s not even real.”

On the other side of the road, new homes were mostly finished but lifeless. Some front gardens had been landscaped, while others were patchy with dirt and weeds. Wheelie bins were still left out on the curb, and a kid’s bike lay on its side in a driveway.

“It would have been a nice place if they ever got to finish it,” Kirby said.

I shifted in my seat, scanning the road ahead, then the mirrors. The dead roamed on footpaths and loitered in gardens, but there were no people.

A large overhead sign came into view—Bellmere Gates Shopping Centre—with a red banner underneath, still so new it hadn’t suffered from weather damage yet.

Luke slowed and eased into the turning lane, taking us to the main car park entrance.

A black van and a motorbike had stopped near the front of a store, and several cars were scattered at odd angles. The driver’s door hung open on one, and another had a full trolley resting against the rear bumper.

A man in a beanie left through the damaged entrance of an outdoor goods store. He caught sight of us and speed-walked to the van with his haul.

The shops were massive concrete buildings with glass fronts. Furniture. Electrical. Clothing and toiletries were at the far end in Walsh & Co.

Luke nodded at the department store. “Is that where you want to go?”