“I’m not entirely sure, Andy. Could it be a second wave of some kind?”
“It could very well be; whatever it is it can’t be good!”
“No,” Stan agrees.
“Right, Stan, we can’t keep this room secure with any certainty. I need you to take control from the Tactical Room on floor seven. We may have to retreat to the higher floors sharpish and if we do, we will need you to lock the building down behind us. So, I need you to be ready up there, okay?”
“I expected that. I’m packed and ready to go.” He is already picking up his bag.
“Thanks, Stan. Tell Emily I’m fine and brief Catherine please, discreetly.”
“Of course, Andy. I’ll see you up there and don’t be a hero, my friend; your daughter will want her Dad back with her.”
“I know, thanks, mate. Be ready.”
“I will be.”
Stan and I leave the Security Room and as soon as we do, we can hear a commotion from the level above. Dan can be heard shouting orders and the sound of moving furniture is clearly audible above the general din of voices.
I take the stairs two at a time, leaving Stan trailing but not far behind. He goes straight over to the windows and stops for a minute, to take in the chilling view. I, however, stop for just a second, looking around at the new preparations going on around me. Furniture is being moved and piled up into barriers to use as cover about four meters back from the windows, far enough away to be clear of the windows if they’re to give way but close enough to give sight of the outside, partially anyway.
Then deciding to recce the courtyard myself, I quickly join Stan who is motionless looking down at the shocking faces about level with his waist. The thought hits me that this would probably be the first time he’s seen these infected Rabid things in the flesh and not through the screen.
“They certainly aren’t pretty, Stan, are they?” I say in a low voice, but Stan does not reply.
There must be at least ten to fifteen of them to each side of us, with their twisted faces at the window, some trying to bite at the windows and the sound of their teeth clanking against the glass is chilling. Others are banging the windows with fists or heads, or both. The sound is dulled somewhat by the thickness of the glass, but not a great deal.
At each side, other Rabids are grabbing at the arms and backs of the ones at the sides, trying to get up to the window, trying to pull the ones there down to make room. There is nowhere they can go though, because behind and just below the ones at the windows, are many more pushing and clawing, trying to climb closer. It reminds me of the throngs you get at a large rock concert, everyone fighting to get to the front.
There is a sudden movement farther back; a Rabid is running across the top of the masses below it, running over and on their heads. And then about ten rows from the front, it jumps—flies—what seems an impossible distance and height through the air, and it lands, crashing onto the windows just above our heads, both Stan and I ducking in reflex.
“Holy shit!” Stan exclaims.
We both straighten, the window-rattling a little but holding. We watch the Rabid, which looks from what I can tell to be a young black teenage kid. It, or he, slides back down the window until the creature’s soiled white High Top trainers come to rest on the heads of the ones below.
The kid is going crazy, its eyes so wide that surely its eyeballs must pop out of their sockets, its mouth and teeth gnashing uncontrollably at us and its arms outstretched, hands like claws trying to dig into the glass. The kid is wearing a black t-shirt with a large luminous green plectrum on the front, with the words Ibiza Rocks. The kid is going so crazy that he loses his balance and falls backwards, rolling down the hill of bodies behind.
The kid soon comes to a stop, however, and tries to get back to his feet, staring in our direction. But just as he about manages to stand, a foot slips, the kid falls and—this time—he is swallowed up into the mass of Rabids below.
“Stan.”
“Yes, Andy?”
“You need to get to the Tactical room. I think we have just found out what the other build-up is for.”
“Yes, I think you’re right, I’m on my way.” Stan sounds relieved, turns and walks at speed towards the lift, something telling me he will be happy to get back to watching this on the television.
“Stan, arm yourself!” I shout after him and he swerves towards one of the trolleys containing the M4s.
That second wave could come at any time, but judging by what we just saw with the kid, they need to do a bit more building first or it will fall back into the mass. Maybe that was some kind of test, or maybe I am overthinking them, and it’s all just random.
I see Steve is now positioned to the side of where I am, and that he’s arranged some cover for himself, consisting of two filing cabinets on their sides and stacked one on top of the other, giving him a good solid shooting position. Going over towards him, I also see that he has his M4, a large stack of magazines for it, and an assortment of grenades.
“Steve, what do you make of that?”
“God knows, Andy. That hasn’t happened before, but it looks like some kind of charge is coming.”
“I agree, this is where they are going to attack.”
Adjacent to Steve on the opposite side of the window, one of the other men is also covering the windows with pretty much the same setup, but more cover is needed here.
“I’m going to get two more men out here with you, Steve. Get them set up covering this section of window. Stan will let me know of any other build-ups if they happen and we can adapt to compensate, okay?”
“Yep, no problem, Andy.”
“Good, we will be moving to the higher floors soon and locking it down here, hopefully before any drama, but we need to get as many supplies up there as we can first. We don’t know how long we are going to have to hold out for up there.”
“Sounds like the best plan, but how long you think?”
“Really not sure, buddy. I’m going to see how it’s going now. Let me know of any change or movement, okay?”
“Will do.”
Away to my left, Mick is patrolling the far windows overlooking the courtyard with an M4 across his chest which is now covered in body armour. I decide to leave him where he is; it would be no surprise if another build-up of Rabids were to form in that area considering how many there are down there. He would also move quickly to cover this position with Steve if needed.
In front of me is the canteen and through the open doors, I see Dan talking to the civilian members of staff stranded here. Walking toward the doors, it becomes clear there’s a mixture of both men and women, most of whom don’t look too happy. And who can blame them? They’re all seated at one of the longer tables in the middle of the canteen, listening to Dan. The canteen is quite a big area with tables scattered around, some bigger than others, then there are a few vending machines on the left wall, toilets on the right and the serving area for the kitchen at the back.
Going in, it’s obvious that Dan’s having some trouble with the staff. I walk up behind him and two of his men who are flanking him, including Ian. The staff are asking some very valid questions about what is going on, arguing different points about the situation. Dan’s doing his best to put their minds at ease, but we haven't got time for this.
I turn, going over to one of the vending machines, its lights displaying all the confectionary delights inside through the large plate glass window. I nod to Kev, another one of the lads, as I walk; he too is freshly kitted out with the new firepower and armour.
I reach the machine, raising my rifle to head height and then I bring the rifle down, swiftly smashing it through the display glass. The sound rings out around the canteen and the glass shatters into thousands of safe little pieces. Then I scrape the rifle around the edge, dislodging most of the remaining glass that is hanging on.
Turning to my left, I go over to the second machine which this time vends sandwiches and other savoury snacks and do the
same. The noise seems even louder now everyone is silent.
“Listen up!” I shout, turning to face the staff. “There is a shit storm just the other side of the glass out there and it’s trying to smash its way in here to attack us. We need to get all the supplies up to the sixth floor as quickly as possible. Load all that you can into the lifts and get it up there. Once that is done, we will be moving to the higher floors and locking this floor down. Questions and discussions can be done once we are off this floor. If you have a problem with that, you are welcome to sit where you are and stay down here, but if you are with us, get up and get your arses into gear. Do as my men tell you to get this done. You can start with these vending machines but be careful not to cut yourselves on the broken glass.”
The eight stunned staff at the table get up en masse ready to help, and Dan starts to give them all their tasks.
Ian and Paul Deep, known as Digger, stand with Dan and are about to start getting supplies together themselves. But I call them over and tell them to go and see Steve for further instructions.
I know Digger well and these two are more than capable of helping cover and, if necessary, defend the front. They move out without question. I’m not their superior officer and not even their boss anymore in these circumstances, but they know all too well the need for a chain of command in a combat situation. Without one, things can go to shit extremely quickly.
I then go over to Kev and ask him to go and round up the other guys who will be watching the perimeter in the other rooms on this floor, and get them to help with the supplies.
My radio sounds, “Andy, over.”
“Yes Stan, over,” I reply, walking to Dan.
“I’m at Tactical. I have eyes on and am standing by. Your daughter and everyone are fine, and they are expecting you up here soon, over.”
“Understood, Stan. We are loading the supplies now. Inform me immediately if there’s any change outside the building, over.”
“Affirmative, Andy, over and out.”
Dan is just finishing with the last of the staff when I get over to him.
“Sorry about the theatrics, mate,” I say to Dan who is looking pretty exasperated.
“But things aren’t looking good out the front.”
“No apology required, Boss. It did the trick, nice touch smashing the glass too, that hit home with them. Bleeding civilians don’t like taking orders, do they.”
“No, they bloody don’t, mate,” I say rolling my eyes. “I’ve sent Ian and Digger out to cover the front with Steve, and Kev is getting the other men together to help in here where they will be of more use. Stan is watching the building perimeter and will radio if there are any other threats.”
“Okay, Boss, think you’re right, I have a bad feeling we haven’t much time. Those fuckers are going to be in here soon, whether we’ve cleared out or not,” Dan says, his hands gripping his M4 tightly.
Trying to relax Dan slightly, I tell him, “We have got through the crap before, mate, with hostiles that shot back. That bunch of zombies out there should be a breeze for hardened combat soldiers like us, even if we are veterans now,” I half smile.
“At least before, they went down when we shot them and didn’t try to chow down on us. But you’re right, it’ll be a piece of piss,” Dan says, half smiling too.
“Yes, good point, mate. Right, I’m going to see how it’s looking up front. You want to go and check on them in the kitchen?”
Turning, Dan says, “Will do.”
Two of the staff members are unloading the first of the vending machines into a large battered cardboard box. I recognise one of them as Jill from the data processing department. She must have been on the early shift this morning. She has children, but I can’t remember how many; she must be worried to death. To be fair, it’s no wonder the staff are anxious and were giving Dan a hard time. They must all be worried sick about loved ones, whether they are safe and if they are ever going to see them again.
Outside the canteen, the sun is streaming into the foyer. A couple more covering positions have been set up. Steve, Digger and the other lad, one I don’t know, are all set up at their positions, but Ian is over by the main window. Mick is still over to the right, and I walk quickly over to see him and to check how things are outside.
“Alright, Mick, things still quiet on this side?” I ask as I reach him.
Mick gives me a quizzical look, “I wouldn’t say anything is quiet today, Andy, but they do seem to be concentrating over there. That is where they will make their move and I don’t think it’s going to be too long before they do.”
Looking out, I see exactly what he means. The second bunch has grown, but over this side, the concentration of Rabids is a lot thinner. I can even see the ground of the courtyard in small areas.
“We are getting supplies together now so we’ll be moving sooner rather than later.”
“Right you are, mate, I’ll let you know if anything happens in the meantime.”
“Thanks, Mick.”
Just as I am about to go and check in with the other lads, I see Jill coming out of the canteen heading towards the lift, carrying the box of plundered food from the vending machine.
“I’ll get that for you, Jill,” I say jogging over to her.
“That’s okay, Andy. I’ve got it; can you just press the lift button for me?”
“Sure,” I reply and do exactly that for her, the lift doors opening immediately just as Jill arrives with her box.
“Here, let me take that,” I say whilst swinging my M4 on its strap around to my back. The box isn’t that heavy, and I put it in the corner of the lift.
“Here they come!” someone shouts at the top of their voice.
Turning out of the lift, I see Jill has a look of panic on her face and she moves towards the sanctuary of the lift. I reach to my back and pull the M4 around; in a second, it’s resting in both my hands, pulled into my shoulder and pointed forward towards the windows in front of the four men.
I take a couple of steps forward and then drop to one knee, the M4 now primed and trained, seeking out targets. Ian has turned away from the windows and is running for his cover next to Steve.
“How many?” I shout, at the same time reaching with my left hand. I turn my radio which is attached to my chest towards my mouth, press the receiver and shout, “Incoming!”
Turning his head slightly, Steve responds, “A shitload! Fifty plus, at least. Jesus fucking Christ!”
In my peripheral vision, I see Mick has moved forward and is now aiming his M4 at the target area; he too has taken up a firing position down on one knee.
The foyer is suddenly quiet for a second in anticipation, Jill now moved off into the lift, but the doors are still open, and her head is out slightly, looking towards the window. Stan's advice flashes through my mind about not being a hero…and about how Emily needs me. My heart flutters, a mild palpitation, but just for a second or so. I cannot let my personal situation stop me from taking action; dammit, I have to focus!
I could retreat now into the lift and go up to my girl, telling Stan to lock this floor off from the rest of the building, and then make myself safe and have done with it all. But that’s not in my DNA; I cannot leave my men to their fate or the staff who are still down here for that matter. This task is mine.
"Jill?"
"Yes, Andy." Her voice is nervous, breaking up slightly.
"I need you to go back through to the canteen right now and get everybody to evacuate up to the sixth floor. Tell Dan to send some men to cover the canteen doors. Can you do that for me?"
There’s silence for a moment, but then without a word, Jill runs out from the lift behind me, across the foyer floor and back into the canteen. The lift doors close behind her.
Just as she makes it into the canteen, the first Rabid hits the window—a man, is all I can tell from the silhouette, but he or it bounces off the window and falls back out of sight. The thud is loud and travels through the foyer. The tension is
palpable, and I can feel us all tense up, preparing ourselves for battle.
"Hold your fire,” I instruct. "Wait for my order. Take head shots when you can. If not, take out the legs. Stop the fuckers moving in on us!” Nobody voices a disagreement. The air is thick with tension.
Shadows appear across the windows, many shadows…and then they hit. Rabids, one after another, slam into the glass in front of us, more or less in the same place as if they are all targeting the same window. And the window is rattling under the bombardment. Some of them fall away back into the mass, but some are sliding and falling onto the ones below, building up the numbers already there. Then, just as I am starting to take in this bombardment and thinking the window may hold, they start hitting the glass in numbers, in twos, in threes…and more. The window is rattling badly now, the actual glass holding but the fixings straining to hold together. With the constantly added-to weight of the Rabids pushing up against the window, together with the force of the ones hitting it with force and intent, it’s inevitable that the window won’t hold. And it now seems obvious it never could.
A group of three hits simultaneously and the window gives way slightly at the top left-hand corner, the fixings cracking and breaking under the pressure. For a second, I kid myself into thinking that it may hold and keep these fucking things out, that we are safe in our modern high-tech, high-security tower, that the carnage outside can’t get into us.
But I am very wrong. Of course, I am.
One hits the window top left and grabs on through the gap that has appeared, then starts to pull itself up. More cracking sounds are heard, and the gap increases, the Rabid now pushing its head face-first and sideways through the gap, its mouth wide and screeching. And we are all still, nearly frozen, just watching its ugliness.
“Steve!” I shout.
A shot rings out almost immediately from Steve's M4, the sound deafening in the enclosed space of the foyer, and the Rabid’s head bursts open, spraying the windows around with its vile contents. The body slumps and then slides down the window slowly into the Rabids below, leaving a long dark smear along the glass. The Rabids claw at the sinking body as if it is some kind of prize, and the noise from the gunshot has sent them into an even more frantic hysterical frenzy.
Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3] Page 11
