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Several of them are burning. A couple look like they’ve been completely mangled. It looks like two of the tunnels have collapsed, brick and dust spilling out of them. My stomach twists as I wonder how many cars might have been inside it when they were destroyed. There are plenty of people around.They climb over the piled-up cars, disappearing into the darkness of the remaining tunnel. Desperate to get out of the city I’m working so hard to get deeper into.
    The driver doesn’t slow down even though cars jam the street. Instead, he just slams on the horn, causing people to scatter as we race towards them. We take the bumper off a taxi and then clip the front of a little red sports car. The bus shakes and I have to hold on to the rails above me to keep from tumbling back.
    â€œDude, we can’t get through there,” the other guy who helped with the hot-wiring says. “Take a side street or something.”
    â€œEverybody hold on,” the driver shouts as he shakes his head.
    â€œThis isn’t your taxi . Are you sure you know how to handle this thing?”
    â€œI see a path but it’s gonna be tight. Besides, you really wanna risk going through Midtown ? You saw the news right? Midtown’s a war zone.”
    â€œYeah, but . . .” The other guy notices me coming to the front. “What do you want?”
    â€œJust seeing if I can help,” I murmur.
    â€œAre you crazy, girl? Sit back down and hold on. We’re gonna . . .”
    I stop listening and try to focus on the cars we’re rushing up on. Maybe I’m powerful enough that I can push them out of the way. Maybe I can help get usthrough this— then I’ll worry about where we’re going.
    I don’t know if it’s because we’re moving so fast, or that the cars are too heavy, or that I’m too far from them—whatever it is, they don’t budge. I concentrate harder, ignoring the pounding in my head.
    Focus, Dani. If you can help clear the path, you’re that much closer to Mom.
    The right side of the windshield suddenly breaks, fracturing like a spiderweb. The left windshield is separated by a piece of metal and is fine, but the driver still swerves a little, startled. He hits the side of a stalled-out car, sending me falling back into the laps of some of the passengers.
    So much for helping.
    â€œHere we go!” he shouts.
    He leans on the horn again as we blow through more parked cars. The passengers cry out. The woman whose lap I’ve fallen into holds me close, but I don’t know if it’s because she’s trying to keep me from being thrown to the ground or because she’s just scared out of her mind. I don’t see what we hit but I feel every impact. Everything around us lurches and shakes, but hardly slows down. Sparks fly into the back of the bus through the opening where the door was.
    Somehow, we make it through.
    The driver lets out a whoop as we hit clear-ish road again.
    â€œAll right,” he says. “Everyone pray that the Holland Tunnel is clear. We’re getting the fuck out of the city.”
    â€œHold up,” I say, getting to my feet again. “I’m not going to Jersey.”
    â€œDon’t be stupid. We can’t stay here.”
    â€œI have to get downtown! My mom—”
    â€œKid . . .” He cuts me off, but he doesn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he just points to the massive spaceship over Midtown.
    The bus has done a fine job of getting me farther downtown, so I really hesitate to cause a scene or yell at the driver. On the other hand, the only person I have left in the world is somewhere down by Wall Street, and I’ve got a badass superpower. I don’t have to take no for an answer.
    â€œStop the bus before you get to the tunnel,” I say firmly, calmly. “I’m getting off.”
    The driver laughs a little.
    â€œLike hell you are.” He glances at me. “There are