I turn to leave, heart lighter, pass the large container truck parked near the entrance, my mind on travel and reaching New York with new companions.

The moment I clear the obstruction, out into the open parking lot again, I feel something grab my arm. On instinct, the calm long gone, I shriek at the smell, the pull, as something jerks against the thick fabric of my jacket. My eyes are drawn downward, to the Shamble who used to be a girl, her teeth embedded in my sleeve, dead ...