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Run. Hold on to Lizzie’s hand. Don’t Look Back. Look back and you’re dead.

“Alana, I’m tired. I can’t keep going.”

I look down at Lizzie. She’s running alongside me, but her knees are buckling, her thin frame visibly straining with exhaustion. As we run, I scan the street. Just in front of us, a few feet to my left, a shop has collapsed but there’s a gap leading inside. We can shelter there for a second and, thanks to the rubble, we can hide. Diving beneath the doorframe, we settle inside. I shield Lizzie. The room’s empty. I crouch down and brush a lock of hair out of her face. It’s thick and knotted. She does the same for me, and smiles weakly.

“Hey smidge, how you holding up?”

“I’m so tired,” says Lizzie. “And my head hurts. Can’t we stay here?”

“You know we can’t, smidge, it’s evacuation day. No one survives evacuation day standing still.”...