Amy leaned out and pointed to a white sedan parked not far away. “It’s that one. Alex is in the back seat.”
“It’s locked?”
“Of course. I’m not that stupid. What if someone tries to steal it while I’m gone?” Amy said.
“Do you have the keys?” Dylan asked.
Amy nodded. “I do.”
“Give them to me. When we get there, you stand guard with the shotgun while I open the car and haul your brother out.”
Amy eyed her with cold blue eyes. “No offense, lady, but I don’t know you. I’ll unlock the door first, and then I’ll stand guard while you get him out.”
Dylan chuckled. “You’re a smart one. I like that.”
“What’s the plan?” Amy asked.
“We run like hell and hope nothing without a pulse spots us,” Dylan answered.
“That’s not much of a plan,” Amy said.
“Yeah, well. I’m not much of a planner. Let’s go,” Dylan said, dashing out of the alley.
She ran straight for the sedan, reaching it within seconds. She hunkered down next to it and was joined by Amy a moment later.
“Did any zombies spot us?” Amy asked, her head swiveling like an owl’s.
Dylan took a careful look around. Cars pushed up the street, swerving around knots of feeding infected and crashed cars, while a steady trickle of people ran past them. These were mostly families or singles carrying their belongings, and she even spotted one lady with a parrot on her shoulder.
One heavily armed group jogged along the opposite pavement, heading to the evacuation zone. They were more organized than most with their senior members and children clustered in the center. They gunned down anything that looked like a threat, a bonus for Dylan. Most of the feeding infected had now focused their attention on this group, leaving Dylan and Amy in the clear. “Now’s our chance.”
Amy quickly unlocked the back door and opened it while Dylan peered inside. Sprawled on the seat lay a young man of solid build, and she wondered whether she’d be able to carry him by herself. “We’ll just have to see, won’t we?”
Dylan tucked her machete into her belt and leaned over to grab his shoulders. With Amy’s help, she managed to lever him upright into a sitting position. Looping one arm around his back, she propped him onto her shoulder and heaved him upright.
By this point, Alex was semi-awake and doing his best to help with Amy’s gentle prodding. “Come on, bro. You can do it. We can’t carry you all by ourselves.”
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, shuffling his feet forward in a semblance of a walk.
It was good enough for Dylan, who hustled him forward as fast as she could manage. She hated being out in the open and exposed like this. They reached the clinic doors, and Amy raised one hand to Dylan. “Wait here while I check inside.”
Dylan glanced around, relieved to see they were in the clear for the moment. No one paid them much mind, and the infected had all fallen to the armed group’s guns. “Okay, but hurry.”
Amy shoved the doors open with one shoulder, her shotgun raised and ready for anything that might be inside. She disappeared for a few seconds, but to Dylan, it felt like forever. She glanced around nervously, shifting from one foot to the other.
Alex was growing heavier by the minute, his cooperation fading as he drifted in and out of consciousness. Even through his clothes, she could feel the fever blazing from his skin. His heat matched hers, and she became more aware of her own advancing infection. He’d better be on his feet soon, or I’m taking those keys and leaving by myself.
Amy returned at last and waved them inside. “It’s clear.”
Dylan rushed inside, never happier to hear the sound of doors being shut behind her. Amy dropped the blinds and pulled a heavy chair in front of the entrance, blocking it off. “That should hold us for a while.”
“Alright. Where to now?” Dylan asked.
“Follow me,” Amy said, leading the way to the waiting room where long leather couches lined the walls. “Put him on one of those.”
Dylan shrugged Alex off with a sigh of relief, massaging her aching neck. “Man, he weighs a ton.”
“I know. That’s why I needed your help,” Amy said, which Dylan could believe with the girl’s petite build.
She eyed Alex’s husky frame and dark hair, comparing it to the blonde, blue-eyed Amy. “You don’t look like brother and sister.”
“I take after my mom,” Amy said. “Alex looks more like my dad.”
“Where are they?” Dylan asked.
“Dead.” The word came out flat, but the look of grief on the girl’s face caused a pang of sympathy to rise in Dylan’s heart. She regretted the question instantly. I can’t afford to feel sorry for them. Not if I might have to steal their car.
“Where’s the medicine?” she asked, changing the subject.
“I’ll go get it. Just watch him, please. He’s all I’ve got left,” Amy replied before rushing off.
“Will do,” Dylan said, squashing another jolt of regret for the girl. She liked Amy. The teen might be young and small of build, but she was tough, and no fool either. That was the problem. She couldn’t afford to form attachments. Not with her injury.
After a couple of minutes, Amy showed up with an armful of goods which she dumped onto an empty space on the couch. While she set to work sorting the stuff out, Dylan unslung her duffel bag and removed a bottle of water and a protein bar. She quickly ate the bar and downed the water with a handful of the pills Ethan had given her for the fever. It didn’t feel like it was helping much, but at this stage, she figured anything was better than nothing.
She also checked the remaining bullets in her gun. The magazine was about half-full, and she still had one more loaded handgun and the rifle as a backup. The machete wasn’t half-bad either. The blade was
