A Single Light by Tosca Lee

Author:Tosca Lee
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Howard Books

5 P.M.

* * *

“He knows,” I pant.

“Knows what?” Delaney says.

“That we came from the silo.”

“What? How?”

“There’s an exit to the garage on the north side,” Chase says.

North. I glance at the window as I run past a room. See the set of doors at the end of the hall. Seize the edge of a rolling tray serving as part of a tarp shelter and knock it to the floor behind me. Same thing with a metal chair. One of the guys goes down. Someone screams. I don’t know who, am too busy tearing off a tarp, throwing a crate of knickknacks—anything I can reach—down in my wake.

I get to the doors, fumble with the lock as one of the guys grabs my hair.

My head snaps back.

“You ain’t leavin’ yet,” Vin says.

I step back to keep from falling. Pivot round, nearly going to a knee.

Ram my fist into his groin.

Vin drops.

A second later, I’m running past an elevator.

A metallic thud sounds down the corridor like someone banging an aluminum bat against a wall.

“Is that you?” I say, breathing hard.

“Yes. Keep coming,” Chase says, striking faster.

I reach a set of double doors. See Chase through one of the small windows, Otto behind him, sketchbook under his arm. I unlatch the door to the right and shove it open.

Chase slams it closed behind me and rams a lug wrench through the handles.

“Where’d you get that?” I say. He nods toward a nearby car—an old silver Honda with a broken driver’s side window. It’s one of at least twenty cars on this level. Our packs and the gas can sit beside it.

Movement through the window. Vin and the doctor running toward the doors.

“Come on,” Chase says.

He goes to the Honda, loads the gas can in the trunk. The doors of the medical center rattle behind us.

Otto points to himself and then the front seat.

“Sure,” I say, grabbing our packs and climbing in back. The upholstery smells like mold and fast food. And sure enough, there’s a shriveled french fry on the floor.

Only then do I notice there’s a screwdriver protruding from the ignition. Chase turns the handle. The car starts.

“North Platte?” he says.

“Yeah.”

We head to the garage exits, one of which is blocked by a truck with its hood up. As we pass through the second, I notice a figure bent over the engine. A man.

He lifts his head as we drive past. Blood running down his chin, a hose in his mouth.

“Was he—” I stop.

“Eating car parts?” Chase says weirdly.

“So, guys,” Delaney says. “Preston’s calling a meeting to decide what to do.”

“What to do?” I say.

“We can’t stay here. Not if people think we have supplies. Better to take them with us than get killed for them.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, pulling off my gloves and rubbing my eyes. “This is my fault.”

“No, it’s not,” she says, sounding tired. “No one wants to see Julie die. But you’re going to have to figure out what to do when you get back. How you’re going to move her, where you’ll go.

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