Scarlett half-carried, half-dragged me through the confusion toward the compound's outer gate. Her red hair was plastered to her head with sweat, and I could see the strain on her face as she supported my weight.

"The car's just outside," she panted. "Few more steps."

We made it to her beaten-up sedan, and she shoved me into the passenger seat before running around to the driver's side. The engine turned over on the third try, and we were moving, tires spinning on gravel as we fled the ...