“What was that sound?” Meg asked. She had a bad feeling. It had been a loud boom, the kind of sound a jet made when it broke the sound barrier. With everything going on today, she knew it couldn’t be good.
“I don’t know,” Wendy said. “But I think you’re right. I think we should get out of here.”
“And go where?” Meg slid off the stack of boxes she was sitting on.
Wendy picked up her bag. It looked heavy. “The cops. My car is out front.”
“What about Lane?” Meg asked. “I can’t just leave her. I need to go find her.”
“Are you crazy?” Wendy turned abruptly and looked at Meg as though she’d lost her mind. “We don’t even know where she is. The best chance she has is if we get to the cops.”
“What made you change your mind?” Meg asked. “You were all set on camping out here.”
“I needed time to think. And now I have. We can’t just stay in here. What if there are more of those…those people out there? They’d overrun us.”
“But you’re okay with going out there where they are?” Meg asked.
“What choice do we have?” Wendy said, tightening the straps on her bag the same way she seemed to be strengthening her resolve.
Meg had to admit, Wendy had a point. They couldn’t stay in here forever. In the last hour, the cavalry hadn’t ridden into town and saved them. And 9-1-1 wasn’t picking up either.
“But, Wendy, if the cops aren’t picking up the phone, doesn’t that tell you there might be no one there to pick up the phone?”
Wendy nodded. “Yes, I thought of that. But they might be holing up like us. And we can’t stay here.”
Meg sighed. Wendy was right. But Meg couldn’t help thinking of Lane out there all alone. Had she heard the boom too? Or was she already dead? The police department was a brisk fifteen minute walk from the library. Presuming she and Wendy made it there and there were some cops who, for whatever reason, weren’t picking up the phone, maybe they could get Lane help. Wendy was right in that it was Lane’s best hope. What was Meg going to do? Fend off the likes of Celia with a chair leg like she had now?
“Wendy, you said you’re storing the Viking shi—stuff in here,” Meg said.
“That’s right.”
“Any chance there’s a fucking big sword in the haul?” Meg asked.
Wendy shook her head. “I’m afraid not.”
“What about in the exhibition?”
Wendy huffed out a breath. “Weren’t you listening? I told you already—someone broke in to the library last night. They stole everything from the exhibition.”
“Oh. I’m sorry. But is there nothing in here we can use to fend them off with?”
“No, honey. I told you. It all got stolen. Besides, apart from a knife, it was all trinkets and jewellery.”
“Okay, never mind,” Meg said. “I guess the chair leg will have to do.”
Meg put her ear against the door. She couldn’t hear anyone outside. Not that that meant anything. Slowly, she opened the door and held it there with her foot against the bottom, waiting to see if anyone would try and push through. No one did.
Meg opened the door a little farther so she could look down the corridor. It was dimly lit, but she could see nobody lurked in either direction. She pushed the door open a little wider and stepped out.
Meg could feel Wendy pressed against her back, and it felt weird and comforting at the same time.
“Head for the back exit again,” Wendy whispered, and Meg nodded. She strained her ears to listen for any strange noises or groans.
Together, they shuffled down the corridor, Meg with the chair leg resting on her shoulder like a bat, and Wendy with her bag held tightly against her chest. Even though Wendy didn’t have a weapon, that bag looked heavy enough to brain Celia if she showed up.
Ahead of them lay the fire exit door. So near and yet so far. Meg kept expecting something to jump out at them. A shadowy figure to block their path. She tried to tell herself to stop thinking like that, but she couldn’t help it. Her heart beat hard in her chest, and her legs itched to run. Her brain wanted to unleash panic, but she held on as tight as she could.
Finally, they reached the exit door. Meg let out the breath she’d been holding. Wendy did the same, still up against Meg’s back.
Meg pushed open the door and stepped out into the dusk.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could a glimpse of movement. Something ran straight at her, and she didn’t have time to react.
It hit her hard and knocked the scream right out of her chest. She fell to the ground. The chair leg rolled out of her hand and out of reach. Shit.
* * *
Lane saw the door to the library open about the same time the huge grey chief zombie shot a bolt of whatever the fuck was in his mouth at her. She just had time to dodge and pull whoever was coming out of the library to the ground. She prayed it wasn’t a shuffler.
She was aware of a second person stepping back inside. That was good. At least they were out of the line of fire.
Lane scrambled up and off the poor person she’d flattened, grabbed their hand, pulled them up, and dragged them back inside the library. She leaned her back against the door, knowing they didn’t have much time.
“Lane?”
It was Meg. What were the chances? Pretty good, Lane supposed, seeing as this was where she said she’d be today.
“We have to go,” Lane said.
“What do you mean?” Meg asked, not moving.
“She’s right,” the woman with her said. “He’ll break down that door like it’s nothing. We need to go out front, to my car. He’ll keep coming for us. I’m Wendy Moon, by the way. You must be Lane. Welcome to Provincetown.”
Lane looked at the other woman—Wendy. How did Wendy know it was a bloke? And how did she know it would keep coming for them? Lane suspected Wendy knew something about what was going on. But that was for later. Right now, they needed to get away from here.
“Come on, Meg,” Lane said and took hold of her hand. Lane tried to pull her along.
“Celia might still be out there.”
“We can handle Celia,” Wendy said, drawing her bag close again. “Him, not so much.”
Meg’s grip tightened on Lane’s, and she allowed herself to be led to the front of the building.
“Fine, but one of you needs to tell me what’s going on.”
Neither Wendy nor Lane answered her.
* * *
Out front, all was quiet. Lane looked up the street and couldn’t see any more zombies. She guessed they were all still around the back of the library with the chief zombie shooting blue shit at stuff.
Meg had stayed silent and passive—not her normal mode at all—and Lane guessed she was in shock. They all probably were. This was beyond anything Lane could ever imagine.
“This way.” Wendy hurried to a beaten-up old hatchback parallel parked opposite. Lane wasn’t at all sure it would start. The thing looked like it was on its last legs. “She’ll start, don’t worry. She may be beat-up, but she’s as reliable as anything,” Wendy said as if she’d read Lane’s mind.
The three of them climbed in, Meg in the rear and Lane and Wendy up front. “I need to do something first. Before we go to the police,” Lane said.
Wendy started the car. “No, we go straight to the cops. He’s going to come out of there any minute—”
“Then I’m getting out,” Lane said and opened her door. She knew they didn’t have much time before Chief Zombie came out—in fact, why was he taking so long?
Lane felt Meg’s hand on her shoulder. “What is it you need to do?” It was the first time she’d spoken, and Lane was relieved she wasn’t catatonic or something.
“The little girl—Joanne’s little girl. I need to find her,” Lane said, remembering how she’d caved her mother’s head in. She felt an almost paralyzing sense of guilt. “Joanne is one of them now. I need to find her daughter.”
“Wendy, head to Joanne’s place. We can’t leave Lois,” Meg said. Her voice was stronger now and more Meg.
“No. We should go to the cops—”
“Wendy,” Meg said, “we don’t have time for this. I’m not leaving a six-year-old kid to fend for herself. And Joanne needs us too.”
“No, Joanne is one of them now. I killed her. With a vase. I had to,” Lane said.
Lane felt Meg’s hand squeeze her shoulder. “You did what you had to. We can talk about it later. Wendy. Joanne’s. Now.”
Wendy sighed and put the car in gear. “Fine, but I’m telling you we should be going to the cops.”
“We get Lois, and then we get the fuck out of Provincetown. We can drive up to Wellfleet or Hyannis. They’re a better bet than the cops here,” Meg said.
Lane felt a little lost when Meg’s hand left her shoulder, and she sat back in her seat. Lane had barely heard the click of her seat belt when the car suddenly rose up off the ground and was hurled down the street.
Lane grabbed the dashboard and gritted her teeth. The sound of screeching metal drowned out Wendy’s screams as they hit the ground and were dragged along the road by some invisible force.
The car had landed upside down, and Lane fumbled with the seat belt clasp. Her fingers, greasy with sweat, kept slipping off the button. Suddenly, the car was lifted up again like a child’s toy, and they were hurled into a wall. Lane’s teeth clicked as her head snapped back.
“Meg? Meg, are you okay?” Lane tried to twist her head around, but the car had landed up at an awkward angle on its side, with the crushed roof inches from her head.
“Yes. You?” Meg replied.
Lane closed her eyes in relief and swallowed a sob. “I think so. Wendy?”
Beside her, Wendy stayed silent. When Lane looked, her eyes were closed and blood trickled from a small wound to her forehead. Wendy groaned. They had to get out of here. Fast.
“Meg, can you get out?” Lane asked.
“I think so. The window shattered, and I think I can climb through it,” Meg said.
“Okay. That’s good. Try and—”
Another loud boom. Fuck, the chief zombie was back. Had to be him that sent the car on a magical mystery tour down Commercial, and now he was coming for them.
* * *
Meg heard the boom and struggled to free herself from her seat belt. She clambered out through the broken window and immediately saw a problem. Lane’s window was directly against the ground, and an unconscious Wendy blocked her path out through the driver’s window.
“Get out of here, Meg,” Lane called out. “Find Lois and run.”
Meg looked up the road. The big grey zombie—he had to be a zombie, right?—was coming, and he had a lot of smaller zombies with him. There was no way she’d get Wendy out in time to let Lane escape. “No. I’m not leaving you.”
“Yes you are. I might get lucky. They might think I’m dead and leave me alone. If I can’t get out of the car, there’s a good chance they can’t get in the car. Please, run. Find Lois.”
Meg ignored Lane and shook Wendy. “Wendy, wake up. Wendy you have to wake up.”
Wendy groaned but didn’t come to. “Shouldn’t have done it,” she sleep-muttered.
“Seriously, Meg. Fuck off.”
“I’m not leaving you here.” Meg couldn’t stand the thought of it. Lane had come looking for her. Had pushed her out of the way of that blue bolt or whatever the hell it was back at the library. There was no way she was leaving her here to die. Or worse, to become one of those people.
“You have to. They’ll kill you for sure, but me and Wendy might have a chance. Just go.”
Meg shook her head, but her resolve was wavering. There was no way she was getting Wendy out by herself. There was a chance the zombies would think Lane was dead. And there was a six-year-old out there who might need help.
“Okay,” Meg said. “Okay, I’ll go. Do you remember the Squealing Pig?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“Meet me there. I’ll go and get Lois if she’s not already left town. You and Wendy head to the Pig.”
“Yes. All right. Now go.”
Meg took off. She hurried down a side street she knew would take her along the beach. She could get most of the way to Joanne’s house without having to come back up onto Commercial. It would involve a little trespassing, but that was the least of her worries right now.
Meg heard another boom as she slipped down the side street. She tried not to think about Lane trapped in the car. Lane would be okay. She had to be.