The loading bay door lurched inward at the bottom, the warped frame giving another inch, and through the gap came the smell, that specific smell that Michael's brain had catalogued in the first week and never stopped recognising, and with it the sound of the horde pressed against the outside of the building, a continuous low roar that had no beginning and no end, just pressure.
The leader looked at his two women at the back of the group, then looked at his men and the door.
"Move," he said.
---
Maya led the way and Michael let her because she was already three steps ahead of everyone else in terms of knowing where they were going.
She went down the central corridor at a pace that was fast without being panicked, reading the building as she moved, her eyes going up to the ceiling supports and across to the wall joints with the automatic assessment of someone who couldn't turn it off even now.
