I keep knocking down the crates, hoping that the crazies will find it harder to reach us with the obstacles in the way. At the same time I rip a strip of cloth from my uniform, hold it between my teeth, and fumble in my bag for matches. Finally, I find them. I light the end of the fabric, stop, turn, and throw it into the strewn coal and splintered wood. The splinters act like kindling and the fire spreads quickly. But it’s too low. The heat might slow the crazies but it’s not enough to stop them.

Jack and Penelope dart toward us, sprinting past the fire and back to the group. They’ve managed to cause a lot of damage between them, but there are still crazies standing and they’re getting very close. I grab one of the crates and throw it with all my might at the fire.

The others finally realize what I’m doing. They all stop too, quickly building a waist-high barricade with spare crates. The fire catches, and at last we have a barrier. Some of the crazies run straight into it, setting themselves alight.

“Come on,” I say. “Let’s keep going.”

We leave the flaming barricade behind us and sprint along the tunnel. Jack is right by my heel and I’m so grateful for his bravery back there. He slowed the crazies down long enough for me to collect my thoughts and come up with a plan.

Smoke is starting to thicken in the tunnel as more and more coal starts to smolder. It’s thick, making it difficult to breathe. The kids start coughing.

“We have to get out of here!” I yell.

“I can see a ladder!” Zeke shouts from up ahead.

We all hurry toward him and see a rusty, half falling apart metal ladder screwed into the wall, leading up to a round metal cover. It’s a manhole, presumably leading out to the streets of Toledo.

Zeke’s up it quicker than I can blink, slamming his shoulder into the cover at the top. It opens and cold evening air blasts us. He disappears out the top, then his face reappears.

“Come on!” Zeke cries, holding his hand down.

We pass up Charlie and Bree. Molly starts climbing, with Penelope under one arm. The ladder groans under her weight. The screws in the wall seem loose and they rattle with every step she makes.

“Brooke,” Ben says. “You’re the lightest, you should go next.”

I look from him to Ryan. I can’t go up knowing one of them will be last, that the ladder might not hold out for one of them and send the other plunging to his death. But I don’t get a choice, because Ryan suddenly sweeps me up in his arms and shoves me onto the first rung. He pushes from behind, and I have no choice but to climb.