The blast of warm air when Sean opened the door was shocking. He stood back slightly, gun raised, then edged forward slowly.
‘They there?’ Jayne asked. She had to raise her voice against the roaring fires, and she realised how close they were. And the fact that they were in an aircraft that probably contained tens of thousands of gallons of fuel hit home.
Sean waved her over with one hand, then shoved the gun in his belt and held out his other hand palm out.
Jayne joined him at the door, wincing against the incredible wave of heat radiating from the conflagration. It stretched her skin and dried her eyes, and when she gasped her lungs burned.
The police cruiser was parked thirty feet away. The truck stopped thirty feet behind that, its bodywork, scratched and bumped. There was a swathe of dried blood across one wing and up the door. Its windows were darkened, and she felt someone – something – staring at her.
The cruiser was similarly battered, and the driver’s window had been smashed. Even before the door opened she saw the size of the man in there, and as he got out of the car and looked up at them, Jayne felt an unaccountable rush of optimism. The cop must have been six and a half feet tall. With someone like him coming for her . . .
She closed her eyes and sighed, wondering how she could be so foolish. Maybe because she had always needed someone to help her look after herself. Was that a weakness? She hoped not.
‘You the girl got bit?’ the big man shouted up at them. He disregarded Sean and stared right at her.
Jayne raised her arm and pulled up her sleeve, displaying the bandage.
The man leaned back into the cruiser and grabbed a shotgun. He held it casually, as if he was used to it. He was sweating visibly through his uniform.
‘Who’re you?’ Sean asked.
‘Sergeant Waits, Baltimore PD. You?’
‘Sean Nott. I’m a sky marshal.’
‘Right.’ Waits glanced around every few seconds.
‘There are lots of them round,’ Sean went on, ‘so be careful.’
‘Careful. Right.’ Waits looked back at the blacked-out truck behind them, and Jayne wondered what might be inside.
‘Did Leigh call you?’ Sean asked.
‘Leigh?’ The big man shifted the shotgun to the other hand, moving forward and leaning against the truck’s damaged hood. The blood did not seem to concern him.
‘About us.’ Sean touched Jayne’s shoulder, and she could feel his hand shaking. ‘About Jayne.’
‘Don’t know no Leigh. Just know a girl’s got bit, hasn’t turned. Been plenty of claims on the register, but none confirmed so far.’
‘Where will you take us?’ Jayne asked.
‘Back to the station.’ Waits looked around again, and gave a vague signal to the truck. ‘From there, don’t know yet. How long you been up there?’
‘Several hours,’ Sean said.
‘It’s fucked as hell out here,’ Waits said. ‘We been through some stuff. But the station’s tight, and it’ll be a damn sight safer than—’
They all heard the sound at the same time – the thumping of feet against metal. Jayne knew instantly what it was, and even as Sean gasped and Waits turned she shouted, ‘Bus!’
The vehicle was between the fire and the aircraft, where it had stood silent and unthreatening since they had closed the aircraft doors. Now she could see movement inside, silhouetted against the flames.
A man appeared on the bottom step wearing a bus driver’s hat, and when he stepped forward it was like releasing a stopper from a bottle. They flowed out behind him, rushing towards the police vehicles as fast as their various injuries would allow. For many of them, their wounds did not slow them at all.
Waits rested his elbows on the cruiser’s roof, aimed the shotgun, and fired. The resulting mayhem was so sudden that Jayne did not even see if anyone fell, and then Sean was grabbing her arm and pulling her inside the aircraft, reaching for the door handle and tugging it closed.