Chapter 17
The ride to the park was shorter than Tom remembered, down a road where the houses on either side yelled at them, and where the zombie people weeded their dead yards, walked up and down the driveway with their rubbish bins or whatever they’d been doing when the smoke hit.
The houses at the edge of the suburb, bordering the bush, were the saddest: because of the fires, all the leaves on the trees in the national park had turned brown. Many had fallen off. The zombies obviously also didn’t care about raking up leaves, because there were piles of them everywhere.
The bus entered the car park. There were many other cars there, and Tom wondered if these were the firemen’s cars or cars of people who had been visiting, since the fire had started on the last day of school and not man
