“I’ll drive for a stretch.” Dorran folded the map and placed it under the radio, which still crackled and hissed.
“No. I’m fine.”
“Clare, you are exhausted. You’ve been driving for hours, and the stress is breaking you.”
He wasn’t wrong. Clare’s nerves were ragged. Her eyes burned, and her head ached. Every minute she spent in the locked traffic, listening to the white noise and staring into the broken faces that leered at her through filthy windows, made her want to scream. But she still shook her head. “Your arm. It would be painful. I can keep driving for a while. Once we’re off this freeway—”
His hand landed over hers, and he grazed his thumb across her knuckles, coaxing her to release the grip on the wheel that made her fingers, arms, and shoulders ache. “I can drive with one hand. Move over.”
“Really. I’m fine.”
“Well, I’m going to drive. You can either move out of the way or let me sit on you.”
Clare blinked at him. Dorran smiled back. His jokes were always delivered with such deadpan calmness that they caught Clare by surprise. Slowly, she began to chuckle and put the car in park. “Okay, okay. But be careful with your hand. I can take over again once we’re back on a clear road.”
They opened their doors. It was the first time Clare had been outside the car in hours, and her leg and arm muscles cried for the freedom. She stretched them as much as she could as she rounded the car but refused to linger. They hadn’t passed any hollows outside of their vehicles, likely because the freeway was too exposed for them to linger, but the fact remained that they were still surrounded. All it would take was for one to finally find a way to break free—or a straggler lurking on the freeway who had avoided their notice—and they could be in a much worse situation.
Dorran slid into the driver’s seat and waited until Clare had her door closed before putting the car back into drive. “Do you think you could sleep? We’ll be here for a while, and rest might help.”
“Maybe.”
The car bumped forward, jolting them, and Clare gripped her seat belt. Dorran made a faint noise and tried again. This time the car moved smoothly.
“It has been a while,” he said, sounding apologetic.
“Since you last drove?”
“Yes. One of my uncles taught me how to years ago, but there is not much cause to drive when you cannot leave your property. I tried to keep in practice, but… well…”
He steered them around an abandoned motorbike, and Clare began to relax. He seemed to think he needed to apologise, but he actually wasn’t bad. He kept his injured hand resting on the armrest and steered lightly with the other. Clare waited a moment, making sure he was comfortable with the car, then she pulled her jacket out of the back seat and bundled it up against the window.
Her skull throbbed with a low-level headache. She leaned against the makeshift cushion and tried to make her muscles relax. Dorran wanted her to nap, but she couldn’t. The hollows still surrounded them, clawing at windows and skittering across seats. The best she could do was keep her eyes focussed just on the road ahead, not on any of the motion to the sides.
The dashboard clock hit midday. They had passed the four hours Clare had estimated it would take to get to Beth’s.
How long will her oxygen last? She watched the radio, silently begging it to give up some kind of noise except for the maddening hisses and pops. How much air does the bunker hold? Is she already dizzy? I know she kept some bottles of wine down there. Maybe she’s drinking them now, trying to steel herself for opening the door and everything that will bring.
If she just picked up the radio. If she would just talk, even once, so that I know she’s still there…
Dorran drove smoothly. Clare had thought it would be difficult to give up control to him, that the frustration and powerlessness would make her irritable. But it didn’t. His bearing was as calm and steady as it always seemed in stressful situations. He didn’t drive recklessly, but he was efficient, and soon Clare found it easy to let her attention wander, knowing he would be making the best choices he could.
Dorran brought the car around the outside of another pileup and released his hold on the wheel to tap the CD player’s power button. Clare smiled as the bright tunes filled the car again.
He’s a good man. The best kind of man. I’m lucky to have him.
With the music drowning out the hollows and the car’s gentle rocking, she closed her eyes and let them rest. Time blurred together until she suddenly realised they were moving faster. She peered through half-opened eyes.
They were back amongst farmland, racing down the rural road they had covered hours before. Clare sat up and blinked sleep out of her eyes. “We’re off the freeway.”
“We are. We left it behind a half hour ago.”
He’d wound the windows down an inch, and the heat had dissipated. Clare stretched and felt muscles in her back ache. “Do you want to swap back?”
“Not at all. I am enjoying this.” Dorran was relaxed, one hand holding the wheel steady as the car raced across the asphalt. “You can rest for a while more.”
Clare rubbed at the back of her neck. The town they had passed through earlier that day appeared ahead of them, its jagged, low rooftops interrupting the skyline. Dorran didn’t slow as they passed through it. Clare caught flashes of motion in the windows and doorways, but they were gone before she could tell what she was looking at.
She pictured the map in her mind. The road to
