I attack the store window with a solid oak coat tree. On the fifth wham, the coat tree sails right out of the shop and clatters against the opposite shop window, trailing cubes of shattered glass. I leap out and begin running through the mall, leaving Rachel’s split-open body behind.
Ötzi–well, the cloud of gnats that he’s become–twists as it follows me, hovering a perfect metre above the ground, fixed on my torso.
I’m running for a touchdown. If I waste time checking behind, I’m dead.
For a hundred metres of mall, I sprint directly towards Kmart. It’s when I see the store up ahead, the children getting into formation ready to greet Rachel and her baby, that I decide to take the killer swarm away from the children–the children except autistic goody-good Autumn, that is, who can’t unders
