The only problem was that the Tuas Checkpoint—a customs facility—was shut down, according to the sign.

Even if it wasn’t closed, they couldn’t pass. The three lanes that fed into the checkpoint were completely jammed with hundreds of abandoned vehicles—some of them half turned around as panicked drivers foolishly tried to reverse direction in the one-way traffic.

Even the bus lane was jammed with abandoned vehicles. Everyone was gone, too—only vehicles remained. It reminded Jack of a giant painting he once saw at a county fair, The Rapture, only without the crashing airplanes and spirits flying into the sky.

“We’re done,” Paul said, sitting up. Rain slashed against the windows and thudded on the steel panels. The noise was deafening, and nearly maddening.

“Can you walk?” Jack asked.

Paul nodded. “Sure. Just don’t ask me to run.”

“What’s the plan?” Lian asked.

Jack checked his watch. They had just under four hours to complete the journey and make contact with somebody who could stop the virus. “If the causeway was closed because of the storm, then all of this traffic got trapped. But there might still be a way over. Follow me.”

Jack and Lian each supported Paul by the arms as they walked the hundred yards as fast as they could in the driving rain between the lanes of abandoned cars and trucks. They reached the sheltered concourse soaking wet but relieved to escape the ceaseless downpour. The open-air building looked like a giant airplane hangar without walls.

“Now what?” Lian asked. There were dozens of vehicles abandoned in here, too: the first ones prevented from crossing the causeway.

“Let’s get to the head of the line.” Jack pushed forward through the terminal, passing a small booth enclosed in one-way black glass. As the three of them scrambled by the door, a uniformed Immigration and Checkpoints Authority official bolted out of the tiny station. His blue shoulder boards bore silver sergeant’s chevrons.

“What are you doing here? There’s a big storm! Can’t you see?”

“Where is everyone else, Sergeant?” Lian asked. Her command voice caught the officer by surprise. Lian had passed through the Tuas Checkpoint many times. Normally, there was a small army of uniformed officers and civilian immigration officials to process the tens of thousands of people passing through here each day.

“Most went home to their families. Others are over in Terminal One. I stayed behind out here to keep an eye on things. Who are you?”

“We need to get to Kuala Lumpur, right now,” Jack said.

“You’re not going anywhere in this weather. The causeway is shut down until noon tomorrow. You can camp out in Terminal One with the other stranded motorists.”

Jack’s hands clenched. He hated the thought of clocking a cop just doing his duty. But too much was at stake, and they needed to get across the causeway.

Lian saw Jack’s fists clenching, too.