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I shake her hand. "Yes, we have a deal. Now, tell me where else Sefton might have gone."
"I don't know."
"Think, Allison. There must be another place that has meaning for him, something related to you."
She closes her eyes as if she's racking her brain for an answer. Her entire face becomes slightly pinched.
Roars and screeching sounds erupt in the distance.
Her eyes flare wide. She flaps her head left and right as if searching for the source of those noises.
"They're blocks away," I tell her, though I'm not certain of that. "Concentrate on where Sefton might have gone."
She drops her forehead into her palms.
Human screams reverberate from elsewhere in the city, and she flinches. Neither of us can help the poor sods out there. Even I am not strong enough to defeat an army of Echo creatures, and I'm positive Sefton limited my strength on purpose.
Allison lifts her head. "The Kimbell. I told him about it, and later he mentioned he'd gone there."
"What is the Kimbell?"
"It's an art museum. I mentioned to Sefton it was my favorite place in the city." She drinks the last of her water and tosses the empty bottle away. "I told him about a painting I've loved ever since the first time I saw it. Sometimes I go to the Kimbell just to look at that painting again."
"He knows how much that artwork means to you."
"Yes."
I jump up. "Then we should go there."
"The Kimbell is a couple miles away, at least. Maybe you're an invincible caveman, but I can't keep trudging through the city. I'm in good shape, but I never trained for long-distance hiking through post-apocalyptic rubble."
Her mention of being in good shape spurs me to skim my gaze over her body, and I can't resist paying special attention to her breasts. Yes, she is in fine physical condition. Fucking her will be incredible. But she does have a point about hiking through the city anymore today. Even I'm starting to feel knackered. Maybe that explains why I've been…somewhat less nasty to her. I'm too exhausted to snarl and shout at the woman.
I survey the area.
Allison clambers to her feet. "What are you looking for?"
Rather than responding, I amble down the pavement so I can get a better look at the car park across the street. Shattered asphalt and lumps of debris from the buildings nearby obstruct my view. So I jog across the street and climb atop a mound of rubbish to survey the vehicles parked there.
Allison races to catch me up. "Are you thinking maybe we can use one of these cars?"
"Yes."
"Do you know how to hot-wire a car?"
"No, but I'm hoping someone might have left their keys in one of these vehicles or hidden a spare one on the underside."
"Good idea. Maybe we'll get lucky."
I shuffle down the sloping mound of debris and start to search the cars. Most are locked, and I'd never learned how to break into a vehicle. Allison searches too, and she's the first to locate an unlocked car. We don't find a key inside it or hidden anywhere on its exterior. After several more minutes of searching, we find a vehicle that's unlocked and has a key stashed under the sun visor.
Allison doesn't complain when I take the driver's seat. It feels odd to sit on the left side. I'm having trouble adjusting to the change since I literally dropped into this country with no idea where I was. It hardly matters if I accidentally drive on the wrong side of the road. There are no other cars in sight, no movement visible anywhere, no sign of life other than the distant screams and roars.
Luckily, we find a way out of the car park that doesn't require driving over the rubble heap. I doubt this vehicle could handle that. But Allison suggests I should drive onto the rubble because it's a "shortcut" and we need to "scram" as fast as possible.
"This is an older saloon, not an SUV," I tell her. "It isn't built for that."
"A saloon? I guess that's the British word for a sedan, huh?"
