The moment they dropped into the neighboring yard, the world changed. The relative safety of their own barricaded home, even with its breached walls, was a paradise compared to what they found themselves in now. The sounds they had heard through the walls were a muffled, distant echo of the reality. Out here, the chaos was total.
They scrambled through the unfamiliar backyard and pushed through a wooden gate that opened onto the street. The scene that greeted them was one of absolute breakdown.
The street, once a quiet suburban lane lined with neat lawns and minivans, was now a warzone. A house two doors down was on fire, thick black smoke pouring from its upper windows and orange flames climbing the siding. The air was thick with the smell of burning plastic and wood. Further down, a blue sedan was crumpled against a telephone pole, its horn stuck, blaring a single, continuous, mournful note across the devastation. The street was littered with abandoned cars, some with their doors hanging open.
And there were people. Some were running, their faces masks of terror. Others were not. Quinn saw them—the infected—moving with that same jerky, unnatural speed he had seen in Mr. Henderson. They were gathered around something in the middle of the road. Quinn forced himself not to look too closely.
"Quinn…" Sarah's voice was a weak whisper. She was already leaning against him, her face pale and beaded with sweat. Her injured arm was held tightly against her body.
"I know. We have to move," he said, his voice low and steady. He pulled Lily closer to his side, shielding her view as much as possible. The little girl was silent, her small hand gripping his pants leg. Her eyes were wide and unfocused, her mind clearly retreating from the horror around her. She was in shock.
Quinn's Marine training took over. He wasn't Mark's brother-in-law or Lily's uncle anymore. He was the one responsible for getting his fire team to safety. He scanned the street, breaking it down into a series of threats and opportunities. Cover. Concealment. Avenues of approach and escape.
"We go house by house," he said, pointing with the bat. "We stay close to the walls. We don't stay in the open."
He led them forward, pressing them into the shadows of a large oak tree. From there, he pointed to a thick hedge lining the next property. "Okay. We run to that hedge. On my go. Ready? Go!"
He practically pushed Sarah and Lily ahead of him, his head on a constant swivel. They ran, their feet crunching on scattered debris. They made it to the hedge and crouched behind it, catching their breath. The constant blare of the car horn was maddening.
It was from this new vantage point that they saw the minivan.
It was in the driveway across the street, reversing quickly. A woman was at the wheel, her face a mask of panic. In the back, Quinn could see the small heads of two children. A man was trying to get into the passenger side, fumbling with the door. They were trying to escape.
But they were too slow.
An infected man, formerly a neighbor in a polo shirt, slammed his body against the driver's side window. The woman screamed. Another infected appeared and grabbed the man who was still outside the van. He was pulled down, disappearing from view.
More of them were drawn by the sound of the engine and the screams. They swarmed the minivan, their hands banging on the windows. The van rocked back and forth under their combined weight. Quinn saw the driver's side window spiderweb with cracks, then shatter.
He grabbed Sarah's good arm. "We're moving. Don't look." He pulled her and a still-silent Lily along the line of the hedge, putting distance between them and the terrible scene. He did not need to see the end of it. He already knew what it was.
Sarah stumbled, her legs threatening to give out. "I… I can't…" she gasped, leaning heavily against him.
Quinn stopped behind the cover of a large, overturned recycling bin. He looked at her arm. The blood had soaked through her sleeve, which was now a dark, ugly red. Her face was flushed, but her lips were pale. Her breathing was shallow and fast.
"We just have to get to the end of the block, Sarah. Just a little further," he urged, his own voice sounding hollow.
He peered around the edge of the bin. Further down the street, a lone man with a shovel was trying to fight off two infected. He swung the shovel, connecting with one and knocking it down. But while he was focused on that one, the other lunged and tackled him from the side. They both fell to the ground. The man's shouts were cut short.
Quinn pulled back. Fighting was a losing strategy. Evasion was their only chance.
"Okay," he said, mapping out their next move. "See that gray car? The one crashed into the mailbox? We go there. Now."
They moved again, a desperate, stumbling run across an exposed patch of lawn. They were halfway there when a low moan sounded from their left.
A small group of infected, four of them, had just come around the corner of a house. They hadn't seen Quinn's group yet, but they were shambling directly into their path.
"Down!" Quinn hissed, shoving Sarah and Lily toward the crashed gray car.
They dropped behind the vehicle, pressing themselves against the cold metal. Quinn crouched low, the bat held ready, peering through the spokes of a wheel. Sarah huddled beside him, pulling Lily into her chest and covering the girl's head with her good arm.
The infected moved slowly past them, not ten feet away. Their feet made a soft, shuffling sound on the asphalt. One of them moaned, a long, low sound of mindless hunger. Quinn held his breath. He could smell the sickly, metallic scent of old blood.
One of the infected bumped against the front of the car, making the whole vehicle rock slightly. Lily let out a tiny, frightened gasp.
Quinn's heart stopped. He immediately clamped his hand over her mouth, his eyes wide with fear, staring at the space under the car. He saw a pair of tattered sneakers shuffle to a stop. The infected had heard her.
He tightened his grip on the baseball bat. He prepared himself to stand, to fight, to do whatever it took to give Sarah and Lily another few seconds.
But then, a loud crash echoed from further down the street, followed by a fresh scream. The sneakers turned and shuffled away, joining the rest of the group as they moved toward the new, more interesting sound.
Quinn waited until their footsteps faded before he let out the breath he was holding. He removed his hand from Lily's mouth. They were safe, for the moment.
He turned to check on Sarah. She was shivering violently now, despite the mild air. Her eyes were glassy and unfocused. He reached out and touched her forehead. It was burning hot.
He gently pushed up her bloody sleeve to look at the wound. It was worse than he thought. The area around the bite marks was red and swollen, and thin red lines were beginning to spread up her arm from the wound. Infection. Fever. The Kael Strain, or whatever this was, was working fast.
A cold, hard realization settled in Quinn's stomach. They couldn't keep going like this. Moving in the open, even with his training, was a series of lucky chances that would eventually run out. And Sarah was getting weaker by the minute. She couldn't run much further. She couldn't fight. Soon, she wouldn't even be able to walk.
They couldn't escape the town on foot. Not like this.
His mission objective changed. It was no longer about getting away. It was about surviving the next hour. They needed shelter. Real, secure shelter. A place to hide, to treat Sarah's wound, to figure out what to do next.
He rose slightly, peering over the hood of the crashed car. He wasn't looking for a way out anymore. He was scanning the suburban nightmare for a fortress. A house that wasn't burning, that looked defensible, that could be their sanctuary. They had to get off the street. Immediately.