I pass Ryan’s broken window, refusing to look inside, and clamber onto the roof. It’s not a steep pitch, which is lucky; several homes in the neighborhood have rooftops way too steep for safe climbing. I straddle the peak, bracing my back against the chimney, which is already feeling warm from the fire below.

Our house is on a slight rise—as much of a rise as one can find in Columbus—and it’s too early for the trees to have greened out. Which means I can see a good half mile in every direction. Only two houses east is High Street, Columbus’s main thoroughfare. Everything is still. No smoke from chimneys, no moving cars, no glowing traffic lights, no pedestrians. Never in my life have I seen High Street without traffic.

A few blocks north on High are the remains of a major car pileup. A black Chevy Suburban lies on its side, its roof so dented and scraped that it obviously rolled. A smaller sedan is lodged between its front wheels, its windshield shattered. A pickup is spun off to the side, its nose wrapped around a utility pole. Other cars lie scattered beyond, but I can’t see much past the SUV.

I imagine the sounds of horns and tires squealing, the crunch of steel. So much violence happened right outside my door, and I slept through it all. What became of the drivers? Maybe they’re still inside their cars, rotting along with the rest of my neighborhood.

In spite of the bright sunshine, the horizon is hazed and dirty. A layer of gray chokes the earth. It’s the bugs, maybe. Or smoke.

What I don’t see, what I hoped desperately to see, is any sign of human life.

The icy breeze stiffens my cheeks and my limbs. I’m like a gargoyle crouching on the edge of a roof, gone to stone with cold, looking out over a ghost of a city.

Maybe I’ll come back up tomorrow. And the day after that. I can figure out a way to signal from the roof. Maybe mirrors. Or flashlights at night. If someone is out there, I’ll get their attention. I’ll . . .

No, I’m stronger than this. Denial is not my style. I know what Mom would say. Face facts, Paige. You’ll make better decisions. And the fact is that no one else is out there. Not nearby, at least. What I need to do is come up with an exit strategy. Find food and clean water for me and Emmaline. I need to get the hell out of here before all the decomposing bodies make it too dangerous. If they haven’t already.