Beth had said it took several hours for the hollows to leave once they could no longer hear any noise. Clare hoped that would be true of the car, as well. If they waited long enough, they might be able to get across the yard without being intercepted.
She already knew the wait would be painful, though. The small room smelt foul. With the door closed, there was no way to get fresh air in, and the odours seemed to build on themselves until she was afraid of gagging.
One of the hollows returned. Clare couldn’t see much with their torch facing the opposite wall, but she felt Dorran tighten as the shuffling footsteps climbed the metal stairs. She held the radio in her lap but didn’t try to use it. Every additional noise would only prolong their stay.
The hollow scratched around the door. The sound of fingernails on metal set Clare’s teeth on edge, and closing her eyes, she tried to ignore it. She and Dorran remained completely silent. After what must have been minutes but felt like hours, the scratching ceased, and the hollow climbed back up to the outside world.
Time stretched on. Clare tried to count the seconds in her mind, carrying a running total so she could guess the length of their wait. She lost count somewhere around half an hour.
Then Dorran dipped his head closer to hers and whispered, “When we reach the car, are we returning to Winterbourne?”
It was a loaded question, and Clare wasn’t prepared to answer it. She glanced towards the five words scribbled on the wall. They shimmered in the dull light. “Beth wanted me to find her message. I’m sure of that. The address is important.”
They were quiet for a moment as they made sure their whispers hadn’t attracted any further attention. Then Dorran asked, “How far away is it?”
“I don’t know the building. But the city is about three hours away on the freeway. Double that if we take the backroads.”
Again, they fell into silence. A question hung between them. Are we going?
“Winterbourne’s garden will need us back soon if the plants are going to survive.” Clare adjusted her position against the door and flinched as her shoulder protested. “And getting through the suburb was challenging enough. The city must be absolutely overrun with them. Plus, we don’t actually know what we’ll find there. It’s just an address. Maybe Beth was trying to tell us to stay away from it.”
“Be honest.” His fingers rubbed over Clare’s own. “Are you trying to tell me you don’t want to go, or are you giving me reasons for why I can refuse to take you?”
“The latter,” she admitted. The torchlight flowed over a stretch of grey skin in the early stages of decomposition. She tried not to stare at it.
Dorran waited. With anyone else, the silence would have been uncomfortable. But Dorran wasn’t using it to apply pressure; he was waiting for her to get all of her thoughts out. He wanted to know how she truly felt.
“It’s just that… we didn’t find her body. And the bunker’s door was closed when we arrived. That is such a Beth thing to do. Shut the door on the way out.” She smiled, but it vanished quickly. “And my mind just keeps swirling around that. What if she’s still out there? And what if she left me directions for how to find her?”
Dorran nodded but still didn’t speak. Clare had the horrible impression that he was staying quiet because his mental train had diverged from hers.
“What are you thinking?” Clare leaned into him, nudging his shoulder with hers. She could barely see his eyes in the dim light, but the emotions in them weren’t happy. She swallowed. “Please. I want you to be honest with me.”
He took a deep breath and held it for a beat. “I don’t believe Beth left that message for you.”
“Okay.” She’d been braced for dissent, but it still felt like a knife in her stomach.
“I understand why—why you want it to be. But…” He glanced at her, and she nodded back, resolute, telling him it was okay to continue. “Beth was adamant that you should stay at Winterbourne. She did not want you to come here.”
“But she knew I would anyway.” Clare’s voice rose louder than she’d meant, and she forced it back to a whisper. “And—and so she left it just in case.”
“The address has no meaning to you.” Dorran looked sad, almost apologetic for having to say it. “If she wanted you to find it, she would have included an explanation. Or even just your name, to make sure you would have no doubt about its purpose.”
Clare shook her head furiously. She hated feeling like she was grasping at something hopeless. “Maybe she didn’t have time. Maybe she fought off one wave of hollows and only had seconds to write down her destination before escaping.”
Dorran glanced at the words. Clare looked, too, and felt her heart sink. The scores were jagged, but not wild. The address had been written with care in neat, straight lines by a steady hand.
“If she had time to write the address, she would have had time to bring her radio,” Dorran said.
“Maybe… maybe…”
“Perhaps she heard someone share the address on the radio and scratched it into the wall to remember it.”
Clare tilted her head back and blinked furiously at the shadowed ceiling. “Yeah… maybe it’s the address of a safe house. She might have been planning to go there.”
“I think that is plausible,” Dorran said.
Hope exploded in Clare’s chest. She gripped Dorran’s hand too hard. “We might find her on the road. That hollow with the knife in its head—it was still alive when we found it. She probably hasn’t been gone more than a couple of hours. She might not have even left the suburb yet!”
Outside, a hollow
