CHAPTER 44
Tana drove across town in a daze. She had no idea where she was going. But it didn’t matter. She was on the move in a stolen car and not lying dead on the floor of some abandoned warehouse. She was alive. But she could still hear their screams as their hands burned down to ashes. Still see them twisting in agony. Still smell their burning flesh. She suddenly pulled over, threw open the door, and vomited on the pavement. Then she wiped her mouth, pulled out her phone, and figured out where she was going and how to get there. She was too scared to go home, and needed to be with Powell, wherever he was.
An hour later she was rolling past a shuttered wholesale produce market north of the Amtrak station and blocks from Oakland’s Jack London square. The lights of the square had fade
