Two long-dead corpses, more desiccated skeleton than anything else, lie intertwined, the arm of one over the other as if they lay down one night to sleep and never woke up.

My eyes burn and I hold back tears. I toss the blanket back over their bodies, giving them peace. They already gave me what I needed anyway. Shoving the flint into my pocket and taking the lantern in one hand, the machete in the other, I race back down the hallway and start down the stairs to the ground level, wondering what it would be like to die in the arms of the one you love most.

Chapter XLII

The bottom floor is a chaos of noise: the sound of so many bodies beating against the walls, the wails and moans, the creaking of old wood about to give way. There are thousands of dead surrounding the building now, clawing and beating and shoving—all sensing me. All needing me.

Brick and mortar are only so strong. Already I can feel the vibrations through the building, hear the strain of it trying to stay standing. It’s just a matter of time before they force themselves inside.

I find my way to a huge empty room. Thin streams of light filter through boarded windows, over enormous faded pictures of half-clad boys and girls in sunnier days that crumble from the walls. My only thought as I race past them is how vulnerable they look—how naive to be so unprotected in a world with so much danger.

Frantically, I search for another stairwell leading down, figuring that any access to the tunnels has to be underground.

Against the back wall I find a narrow door blocked by a web of rusted bars. I growl with frustration as I yank at them, the sharp end of one slicing along my forearm when I pull it free. I fling the bars over my shoulder; they make a hollow sound when they clatter to the floor.

I can barely squeeze through into a dark hallway that smells of mold and decay. I fumble with the lantern I took from upstairs, lighting a low flame that sputters and sways.

All around, shadows threaten to swallow me whole, and once again I have to remind myself that I can survive—I can find my way out of this mess.

There are a dozen doors lining the hallway and I throw open each one. Every time my heart freezes, terrified something’s trapped behind it. My mind conjures up the worst sort of nightmares, until I’m almost convinced that just by thinking them true they’ll exist: bodies with nothing but mouths and teeth and infection.