JACOB motions to the right and Trouble follows his lead, pressing the accelerator gently. We pass by one of the trains, so close I have to press my face against the car window to look up at it. The carriage windows are vacant of travellers, but thick with smears of blood and death. I shrink back into my seat, trying not to imagine what it would be like to be locked in a packed carriage with an infected person loose. “Some serious craziness went down in there,” I say to Kean. Trouble stops the vehicle again and we all look forward. “That is unfortunate,” Jacob says, after a long pause. We come across yet another blockage and though the gap between the two trains is pretty narrow, we could probably squeeze through if we lost the side mirrors. Jacob doesn’t seem keen. “It’s just paint,” I say. His eyes snap to me. “Just because we live in a largely destroyed world, doesn’t mean we have to destroy everything else ourselves. Some things are still… precious.” “People are precious,”
