The motorcycle’s engine thrummed between Ethan’s thighs as he raced the black-and-red bike toward the end of the block. The chilly early March air cut through his woefully inadequate jacket and stung his eyes and cheeks. Ethan didn’t dare look behind him, where he knew that dozens of infected surged toward the house in which he, Cade, and Brandt had managed to spend less than a week. He knew without looking that the infected had continued to merge onto their position, regardless of their prey’s preparations to take flight.
Ethan couldn’t look back to make sure that his friends had made it safely away from the house. He had to trust that Gray had gotten the four of them clear and into the side streets heading south. For now, Ethan had to focus on driving, watching his surroundings as he darted and wove between crookedly parked cars and emptied trash cans that lay scattered throughout the street.
As Ethan took the turn at the end of the block, he let out a steadying breath. He hadn’t driven a motorcycle in years, but it seemed to be coming back to him easily. He’d sold the bike he’d owned throughout his college years to help pay for his and Anna’s honeymoon. Anna hadn’t wanted him to sell it, but he had thought that the trip was more important than the bike. Ethan had been right; their week in the mountains was an experience he wouldn’t have traded for all the motorcycles in the world.
Ethan swallowed hard as his thoughts lingered on Anna, and he forced his mind away from his wife. Contrary to Cade’s insistence, Ethan wasn’t fooling himself about what he would find when he returned to Memphis. He was well aware that the chances he would find his wife alive were slim. But it was that slim chance, that slim hope, that pushed him to go back, to return to her last known location, to try to find her. He couldn’t give up on Anna until he knew for sure whether or not she still breathed.
It took Ethan over an hour to make it to Tupelo’s northernmost city limits. By then, the sun was shining high in the sky, lighting his way more brightly than before. Ethan shivered almost violently. He slowed the motorcycle to a stop in the middle of the highway and braced his feet on the ground as he examined his hands. His knuckles were an angry shade of red from the wind buffeting his skin, and his fingers felt stiff when he flexed them. He rubbed his hands together to help restore the circulation as he looked around cautiously.
The highway was oddly silent and still. Ethan shifted on the leather seat and twisted around to check the roadway behind him, his hand drifting to rest on the butt of his gun. His green eyes skimmed across the highway, and he debated whether he should draw his weapon. There was no immediate sign of danger, though, so instead he retrieved Gray’s maps from his bag.
This trip had the potential to be a logistical nightmare, Ethan realized as he studied the map in his hand. He had wanted to go to Memphis alone; indeed, he had insisted on it, despite Cade’s protests. But now that he had succeeded in departing Tupelo alone, he felt wary and uneasy and unprepared. And exposed. That particular feeling was the worst of all; it gave him a disconcerting tingling sensation between his shoulder blades and made him want to turn and look behind him. He knew it was because he didn’t have anyone to watch his back.
He was still too close to Tupelo for his personal comfort. He planned to get as close to Memphis as daylight and fuel would allow. The motorcycle had over three-quarters of a tank of gas; it would be more than enough for the journey to his city. Barring delays and detours, he estimated that he’d reach Memphis well before sunset and perhaps even have time to begin his search for Anna.
But Ethan would never get to Memphis if he continued to sit in the middle of the highway. He returned the maps to his bag and started the bike’s engine again. As he began the drive north, he figured it would be worth a short detour in the next town to search for a comfortable leather jacket to help block the wind, since the denim one he’d scrounged up wasn’t doing much to keep him warm.
Ethan had estimated that the trip would take two hours, but the journey took closer to six. He arrived at the end of his street just after four in the afternoon. He cut the engine and rolled the bike to a stop as he took in the sight before him. Thankfully, he had traveled unmolested on the trip to the city, but that streak of luck seemed to have come to an end.
The street wasn’t overrun with infected, but it played host to more than just a few. Smoke hung heavily in the air, the stench threatening to make Ethan sneeze. On his approach to Memphis, he had noticed numerous plumes of smoke towering above the city like the world’s tallest skyscrapers, nearly brushing the clouds. The fires were uncomfortably close to the home he’d shared with Anna.
But at the moment, the fires were the last things on Ethan’s mind. He studied the wandering infected on the street and weighed his options as he removed his helmet. He had yet to be spotted, so at least his luck held out in that respect. The next task would be getting to his house unscathed.
Ethan dismounted the bike and let the kickstand down with a quiet click. His ears barely caught the sound, but it was loud enough to draw the attention of one of the infected. And one was all it took.
A dark-haired woman jerked her head around at the sound. Ethan looked at her long enough to take in her bloodstained white blouse and dark skirt, her bare feet and her shredded hose. But what captivated Ethan’s attention wasn’t her disheveled appearance but the expression on her features: a contortion of hatred and hunger, the predatory look Ethan had seen over and over on the infected he’d encountered during the prior month, a look of which he would never have believed a human being capable.
The woman snarled and bared her teeth. The animalistic noise drew the attention of more infected to Ethan. Ethan drew his gun from its holster and aimed it at the infected that were starting to move toward him, feeling panic grow into a knot in his stomach, well up into his throat. He swore and took a step back, glancing quickly from left to right and back again.
The houses within a quick sprint’s distance were boarded and shuttered. They didn’t look safe enough to hide in or easy enough to get into with any degree of speed. Ethan barely had time to think; the woman who had first spotted him was nearly within arm’s reach. So he did the only thing he could do.
He ran.
Ethan lunged to the right and dodged the woman’s grasping hands. He sprinted for the gap between two houses, nearly colliding with a mailbox as he sped across the sidewalk. The mob on the street behind him gave chase as he reached the end of the space between the houses and turned right.
Perhaps he could manage to circle back around the block, get behind the frenzy of infected, and retrieve the motorcycle he had so carelessly left on the street. It was a small hope, but it was worth trying. There was no way he could outrun the group of infected forever; he had to get a method of transportation, and his motorcycle was the closest. Not to mention the fact that nearly all of his supplies were still strapped to it, save for the one small bag slung over his shoulder—which didn’t contain enough to survive on for any extended length of time.
It took Ethan mere moments to reach the halfway point down the block, but to his burning lungs, it felt like hours. The thought of his gun flitted through his mind, and he fumbled at the holster on his hip. He drew the weapon as he ran, his heart hammering against his ribcage.
A shock of blond hair caught Ethan’s eye, and what he saw made him stumble in surprise. A tiny, slender girl stood on the porch of a house. She beckoned to him frantically with both hands, looking between him and the approaching horde.
“Over here! This way! Hurry!” the girl shouted. She didn’t wait for Ethan to respond. Instead, she vaulted over the porch railing with the grace of a gymnast, one hand braced against the wood, and then disappeared along the side of the house.
Ethan clambered over the fence that surrounded the house. He sprinted along the path the girl had taken, his chest heaving as he looked around the dark space alongside the house. Where had the girl gone? Had he just run unwittingly into some sort of trap?
“Here!” the girl’s voice came again from Ethan’s left. Ethan looked over and down and spotted a cellar door jutting up partway from the ground, masked in the dark shadows beside the house. The girl held the door open above her head, and she watched the street in growing alarm as she waved her free hand wildly at Ethan. “Get in! Come on!”
Ethan moved toward the girl, covering the ground in two steps. He glanced back and saw that in the span of time he’d spent looking for the girl, the infected had caught up to him. They were clustered at the chain-link fence separating Ethan and the girl from their jagged teeth. Even as Ethan watched, they grasped the fence and shook it, clawed at it with their bare hands, desperate to get to their next meal. Ethan swore under his breath and slipped past the girl. He stumbled down a short set of steps into the dank-smelling cellar, and the blond girl let go of the door. It fell shut with a heavy thud, swallowing them into darkness.