She scowled into his shirt. Dorran seemed content to hold her and stroke her hair. He hummed under his breath, a slow, soothing tune. Clare sat still and let him enjoy what he seemed to believe was a victory. Her mind worked furiously. There had to be a way out. Something she’d overlooked. Some way past the hollows. Then all they needed to do was find a way to carry Dorran until they found a safe space with food and water for him to rest. There had to be something.
She ran her thumb over the ring then turned her hand into a fist. Dorran thought she just needed time to adjust to the idea. He also thought she was stubborn; he hadn’t seen anything yet.
Hollows screamed outside the elevator. Fingers returned to the door, scratching and prying. They stayed for several painful moments before their owners gave up and paced away. Clare wondered if there was anything left of Ezra. She had seen the creatures eat bones; by that point, he probably only existed as a stain on the carpet.
The building creaked around them. She couldn’t see the lightning, but she could feel the thunder. Her mind circled around their options for what felt like the thousandth time, hunting desperately. Their masks were lost in the office area. They could not reach the maintenance room to put out the power or Ezra’s laptop to turn off the recording. And the hollows would not leave for as long as it played. Maybe not even then.
Is Dorran right? Does one of us need to die to have any hope of escape? She squeezed her eyes closed. Then we will both die here together.
Dorran lifted his head. For a second, Clare believed he must have heard her thoughts, and prepared herself for another fight. Then he said, “What was that?”
“What did you hear?” She blinked against the harsh elevator lights. Time had slipped away from her, and her legs were stiff from sitting.
“An engine. I think.”
Clare frowned. Now that she was listening, she thought she could hear it too. Underneath the thunder and chattering hollows were sounds like an engine being revved. But that couldn’t be real; the city streets were impassable.
Then a car horn blared through the chilled air. That was unmistakable. Clare shot up, her pulse hammering, as she stared at Dorran. “Someone else came.”
His wide eyes stared back. “It doesn’t seem possible.”
“They must have heard the radio signal…”
The car horn sounded again, this time loud and long. The chattering in the building grew frantic. The driver was courting danger by advertising their presence so loudly.
The driver outside could probably see the unlocked window on the ground floor, she realised. With hollows running in and out of the building, the newcomer was looking for some kind of response from the tower’s occupants in case the building wasn’t deserted.
This is how we get out.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Clare faced the shiny metal doors, her heart hammering. Eight floors below them was rescue. Who, what, or how, she didn’t know, but they had no choice but to accept.
She pulled on Dorran’s arm, getting him to his feet. He felt cold. As he stood, a drop of blood ran from his nose. He wiped the back of his hand across it, smearing it away. Clare clutched his arm. “We have to get to them. I know you’re tired, but you have to fight a little longer.”
“I—”
“So help me, Dorran, you’re getting into that car, or else I’ll throw myself into a horde of hollows.”
He shook his head, a thin smile tugging at his lips. “Have I ever won an argument against you?”
“No, and you’re not about to start now.”
The car horn blared again, with a series of quick, sharp honks. The engine revved. Hollows had to be converging on the noise already. The stranger wouldn’t stay for long. There was no time for subtlety or strategy. Clare hit the button for the foyer, and the elevator started moving.
The ground floor will be full of them, and we have no masks or armour. Clare chewed her lip. Dorran found her hand and pressed it. Together, they faced the doors, and Clare took a stuttering breath. “I think we’ll just have to run for it.”
Dorran nodded. The hollows would know they were coming; the pinging elevator doors would make sure of that. But if she and Dorran kept their heads down and moved fast enough, they might still have some small element of surprise.
The car horn sounded again, and the noise held for several seconds. It struck Clare as a final attempt to make contact. A last warning. They were already out of time.
The elevator whirred as it came to a halt. Clare leaned forward, exquisitely aware that the next few seconds would save or ruin them. Dorran tensed at her side. She kept a tight hold on his hand, silently telling him to stay with her.
Slowly, agonisingly, the doors trundled open. Clare’s first glimpse of the foyer sent tremors through her chest. It was worse than she’d expected. Two dozen sets of eyes turned in her direction. One mouth opened in a piercing hiss.
There was no time to hesitate. The doors were wide enough, and Clare leapt forward. Dorran matched her pace. She stayed close at his side and put her head down and her arm up to shield her face.
Teeth locked onto her forearm. She didn’t try to recoil, but barrelled on, using momentum to push through. Arms grabbed at her legs. She stumbled. Dorran yanked her back up. She couldn’t see the windows, but she could remember which direction they had been in. Bodies were blocking the path. Too many. Far, far too many.
Then light exploded through the foyer. An engine revved as the car directed its high beams towards them. Hollows hissed and screamed as they ducked away from the sudden harsh light. Clare lowered her arm. She could see the open window.
