He moved quickly and quietly down the hallway, still on edge despite the relief of no undead groaning in the distance. He reached the stairwell—the one he’d been trying to get to on the twenty-third floor—and wrapped his hand around the knob. He readied his knife, and opened the door just a hair, ready to slam it shut if need be.
When he met no resistance, he opened it a little more, and it creaked a tiny bit, making him draw in a sharp breath and freeze. There was nothing in his immediate vicinity, and he poked his head into the stairwell, looking up and down the flights before him, seeing nothing.
Guess everybody was going up the other set of stairs, he thought with relief, and stepped into the stairwell. He tried to close the door as quietly as he could, but the latch echoed in the tall corridor, and he winced at the sound.
Thankfully, the moans sounded distant, as if they were very far below, and from what he could tell, there were none above. Doesn’t look like I’m getting all the way down, but this should shave off a good chunk.
Kenny descended the stairs, moving as quickly as he dared without making too much noise. The lighting was just as bad in there, so it was difficult to see much further than a landing or two ahead. He stopped at every set to look down and make sure he wasn’t running right into an onslaught.
Several floors down, the moans were significantly louder, along with the rhythmic pumping of footsteps shuffling on concrete. He readied his sledgehammer, sheathing his knife, and moved cautiously, wanting to squeeze every last floor out of his journey but also not wanting to be so eager it would lead to an early grave.
He stood at the top of the eleventh floor flight, finally seeing a mass of rotted flesh staggering up into the light.
“Guess this is my stop,” he muttered, and turned to the door. This time, instead of throwing it open, he knocked on it, and almost immediately received banging from the other side. “Guess the twelfth floor is my stop,” he corrected, and tore back up the stairs.
He knocked on the door loudly, and then waited. After what felt like not long enough and too much all at the same time, nothing happened, and he didn’t want to wait any longer for his pursuers to make it up to him. He opened the door a crack, seeing nothing but a mostly empty hallway, with just a lone zombie about twenty yards away. It stood, dumbly staring up at one of the emergency lights as it flickered on and off.
He stepped into the hallway, letting the door swing shut behind him, and swung the sledgehammer just as the ghoul turned towards the noise. He bonked it on the top of the head, the corpse crashing to the floor, twitching. Once down, Kenny froze and listened hard for any other moaning or movement.
There was nothing, aside from the moans echoing in the stairwell, louder and louder as they tried to follow him through the closed door.
He made his way to the center lobby area with the elevators, and pulled out his flashlight. He shone it down each of the other three hallways, revealing only a couple of zombies down one of them.
He took a deep breath. Come on, buddy, let’s finish ‘em off so you have time to think. He returned the flashlight to his pocket and tightened his grip on the sledgehammer, waltzing down the hallway as if it were any normal day. The sounds of hammer versus shredded flesh weren’t anything normal, but at least he was able to make quick work of them and return to the lobby.
“All right, walk it through,” he said to himself, voice more confident now that he was sure he was alone. “Stairs aren’t an option. And if you ever go out on a patio above the second floor again, I’m gonna smack you silly, so that’s out.” He looked at the elevator, and clicked his tongue, puffing out his cheeks and letting out a deep breath. “Guess we’re hitting the lift. Just gotta hope it’s on another floor.”
He stepped forward and tried to jam his fingers between the doors to try to pry them open, but they were stuck fast. He pulled his knife and wedged it in between, cracking them open just enough that he could get his fingers in. He heaved a grunt as he pulled, straining his muscles to pull, and then finally the doors gave in, rolling open.
He rested his hands on his knees, elated to see an empty shaft in front of him. He pulled out his flashlight and leaned in, shining down to see the car several floors down.
“That doesn’t look like the bottom, but it’s a lot closer to the bottom than here,” he murmured, and clicked off the flashlight, putting it back in his pocket. He held on to the side of the door, and reached for the large cable running to the car below. He pulled the thick cord to him, and then pushed off, wrapping his arms and legs around it like it was a firehouse pole.
He swung out into the center of the shaft, gripping tight until the swaying subsided before beginning his descent. He loosened his grip a little, sliding a few feet, and then tightening to stop his momentum. He did this a few times, so that he wouldn’t pick up too much speed and slam down into the elevator car.
When he finally reached the bottom, Kenny gently stepped off of the cable, shaking out his hands and loosening his limbs from the descent. He looked around, noticing that the car seemed like it was stuck between floors. The doors in front of him were a few feet above the top of the car, the floor at waist height.
All right, let’s see what we got, he thought, and knelt down to the trap door in the top of the car. He found the release and popped it open. The stench slapped him in the face like a wet blanket, and he jerked back, covering his mouth and nose.
There were easily a dozen zombies packed inside, writhing together in a big mass of rotted flesh. Putrid hands reached up to him, the moans and groans growing excited by the square window of fresh meat above them.
“Sorry y’all, but I think I’m gonna get off here,” he said, and waved at the excited corpses before shutting the trap door. He secured it, regardless of the fact that they wouldn’t be able to open it inside.
He pulled his knife and wedged it between the doors in front of him, digging his fingers between to pry them open like he had upstairs. They opened a lot smoother than the last ones, rolling back by themselves after the initial shove, which was good, because he needed to back up straight away.
Eight zombies stood in the hallway, quickly turning towards the noise, mouths opening with excited shrieks and moans. He scrambled to sheath his knife and pull the sledge from his back, eyes wide as saucers.
The first one staggered forward and fell into the shaft, tumbling down onto the elevator car. Like lemmings, a few more fell in after it, and Kenny frantically played whack-a-mole, smashing their heads as quickly as he could before they could get back up. Another ghoul made to step off of the platform, and he quickly thrust his hammer up, catching the falling zombie in the gut and using the momentum to flip it over his head.
The corpse flew and smacked into the cinderblock wall, tumbling headfirst down the shaft, sliding between the elevator car and the side until it’s waist. The legs stuck out of the space, wriggling all over the place, but at least the business end was secure.
Kenny turned and brought his hammer back into striking position, and a fallen zombie managed to grab his ankle, pulling its gnashing teeth closer and closer to him. He brought the hammer down on the back of its skull, and shook his foot fiercely to dislodge the tight-gripped hand.
A few more stumbled to their feet as two more fell into the door, the cluster between him and his escape growing thicker. He held his hammer out like a lance again, shoving it into the lead zombie’s chest, giving a hard shove to send it back into the other three like a battering ram. The gap between the elevator car and the wall was bigger on that side, and the quartet of dead friends crumpled into the space, plummeting into the chasm below.
He threw the hammer at the next one’s knees, tripping it right at the door. He lunged forward and grabbed it by the back of the shirt as its chest hit the floor, and yanked it down into the gap, cracking its skull on the edge of the car on the way down.
Kenny took the brief window of opportunity to haul himself up into the hallway, rolling quickly to take out t
he legs of the last zombie. It fell face first into the ground, and he jumped to his feet, giving it a swift kick to send it sprawling into the shaft on top of its other friends.
He looked side to side down the hallways, seeing no other immediate threats, and scrubbed his hands down his face to catch his breath. He leaned over, mind reeling with the fact that he very closely became a mid-morning snack. He stared down at the zombies on the elevator car, all of them having rightened themselves and clustered at the door, unable to climb back up. They groaned and reached for him, the sad song of hungry corpses unable to get to their meal.
“That was a whole lot closer than I would have liked,” he told them, and straightened up. He looked around and located his sledgehammer, picking it up and holding it in his fists, at the ready. He studied the signs on the wall. “Although fourth floor is definitely closer than I thought I’d gotten,” he said.
Two arrows pointed in either direction, the left reading Amenities, and the right reading Model Apartment. He took a deep breath and headed left.
“Let’s go see what this place has to offer,” he murmured, leaving his groaning dead buddies to cry after him.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Floor 4
Kenny headed for the door leading to the main amenity area. He looked through the small glass panel, noting that the hallway was clear. He slipped through, closing the door silently behind him, and looked down the walkway heading to the end of the building. To the right, there were a couple of doors that led to the business center, as well as a huge conference room. To the left was an open wall, so that people could look out over the main lobby of the building.
He checked the business center first, checking to make sure there was nothing inside. He also made doubly-sure that the doors were secured, just in case something was hiding that he couldn’t see. The last thing he wanted was for a zombie conference to come shambling out to eat him while he lined up his escape.
He headed back to the left side, and stepped up to the railing overlooking the lobby. Below was the huge lounge area, with couches and recliners that stretched out another fifteen feet before another railing on the third floor, and then the main lobby was beyond that took up the remaining two floors. Part of the lobby was obscured by the giant balcony on the third floor, but he could still see the front doors leading to outside, and none of what he could see was good.
There were hundreds of zombies roaming about, many staggering in through a shattered front window on the far side. Kenny stared at it, and scrubbed his hands down his face in disbelief.
So much for walking out the front door, he thought, and took a deep breath to try to steady himself. He began to pace back and forth, tapping on the chain across his chest.
“Think Kenny, how the hell you gettin’ out of here?” he muttered as he moved. “Parking garage is out, since it’s underground. These things are bad enough i the daylight. The back exit leads straight to the beach, and I’m not about to be tryin’ to outrun these things on sand. What else is there?” He wrung his hands. “Garbage chute maybe? Nah, with my luck, that trash can will be sealed up tight. Not risking that.”
He continued to pace, and then a big green sign caught his eye. He stopped moving and stared at the arrow boasting the word Pool - 1st Floor. A smile grew on his face, the first one in what felt like forever as his chest leapt with hope.
“There you go, private staircase to the pool,” he said to himself. “It’s on the side of the building, and looks out towards the street. Get down there, hop the fence, and you’re on your way.” He jogged to the end of the hall, turning towards the door to the pool stairwell.
He slowed down and peered through the glass door, his stomach immediately sinking at the sight of dozens of zombies inside.
“Would be real nice if one of these staircases would come up empty,” he groaned, and turned back, heading to the railing with his tail between his legs. He looked over the edge, noting the ten foot drop to the floor below. Just to the left, there was a large couch directly underneath the balcony.
He pursed his lips, staring down at it, and then shook out his hands. “Yeah, I can make that.” He shook his head as he once again climbed over a railing, lowering himself to dangle off of the side like a madman. He braced himself before letting go, dropping onto the couch, and bounced a bit before landing with a dull thud on the carpeted floor.
He quickly pulled his sledgehammer from his back, whipping around in a circle just in case there had been anything out of sight from his previous vantage point. Thankfully, there was nothing on the landing with him, and his shoulders relaxed. He kept his hammer at the ready as he headed towards the third floor amenities.
There was a massive gym on the one side, the wall to the hallway all glass from floor to ceiling, allowing him to look inside. There were coagulated smears of blood across the inside, making him clench his teeth a few times. There was movement inside, but with the low light and the obstructions of the machines, he couldn’t tell how many were in there.
You know what you gotta do, buddy, he thought, urging himself forward. Pool is on that wall, so you gotta get through ‘em.
He headed for the door, and opened it as quietly as he could, latching it behind him so that nothing could surprise him. The soft click alerted the zombies in the room, and upon closer inspection, there were three. They were all wearing mangled workout clothes, torn beaters and bloody yoga pants, spread out as if they’d been having their own undead gym class.
They all began making their way towards him from the respective spots, and Kenny made a snap decision to get rid of them while they were still far enough apart. The first one was a muscle-bound zombie that looked like it had spent half its living life lifting weights. Its right arm bulged with sinew, a wet hunk of muscle hanging by a thread from a bite wound.
Kenny lifted the hammer and clonked it on the head as it rounded a treadmill, and waited for the body to crumble before skirting the machine and heading for the next zombie. It had once been a blonde woman, matted hair tangled up in a bloodstained headband, and it reached for him, the shirt getting caught on the side of a weight machine.
Kenny swung like a baseball player, smooshing her head into the heavy weight bars, corpse slumping from the pins by the fabric of its sweatshirt. The final zombie was a tall hulking beast, staggering down the center aisle next to the cycling machines.
“Man, you are one big boy,” Kenny said, and ran through a few plays in his head. He contemplated going for a shoulder tackle to ensure a hit to the head, but instead opted to pick up a ten pound dumbbell and throw it. He managed to hit the thing directly in the face, knocking it back. It tripped over its own feet, and came crashing down onto one of the cycling machines, head cracking against one of the support bars.
Kenny jogged over and made quick work of its head, whipping around to sweep the room once more to make sure no other hulking creatures were hiding in the shadows. Once he was satisfied he was alone, he headed to the window overlooking the pool. It was a two-story drop, but this was likely as close as he was going to get. There were two zombies roaming around in the fenced-in area, but luckily not much else outside of it.
He studied the window, and then slung the sledgehammer back over his shoulder. He didn’t want to risk getting cut by the glass, so he went back for a twenty pound dumbbell and returned, hurling it at the glass wall.
The weight soared end over end through the air and crashed straight through the window, sending shards flying everywhere. As the hunks of glass settled, he stepped forward and looked through the jagged hole. The weight landed on one of the pool chairs below, narrowly missing one of the zombies looking up at him.
“Man, almost got a two for one, there,” he said, shaking his head. He sized up the pool, chewing his lip. “Maybe this isn’t the best idea, buddy.” He scratched the back of his head and then checked his watch. The timer read 1:45, and he sighed. He was burning through time.
Still got fifteen blocks and the pier to get th
rough, he thought. Don’t really have time to be looking for another way. And he knew that there would be a hell of a lot more corpses to mosh through on the outside.
He stared down at the pool, hyper focused on the eight-foot deep end. Come on, buddy, this ain’t no different than that time in high school when Eddie Buck jumped off his parent’s house into the pool, he thought as he bounced back and forth on the balls of his feet. Just don’t pay attention to the third jump when he overshot it and broke both his heels. He did just fine the first two times. You got this.
Kenny took a deep breath, and a few steps back from the window. Before he could talk himself out of it, he sprinted forward and leapt.
Time seemed to slow to a crawl, the air whipping past him for what felt like an eternity. His aim was true though, and he landed in the center of the deep end, sending up a giant splash. He sank to the bottom rapidly—between his massive frame and the added weight of the hammer—and his trainers hit the pool floor with a moderate amount of force despite the water slowing him down. He winced as his tender quad muscle sent a painful shock up his right leg.
But he refused to drown in the apocalypse, in a damn pool in South Beach. He kicked hard despite the pain, and pulled himself up to breach the water. He hung in the center of the pool as the zombies shambled towards the noise.
“That’s it, come on,” he urged, and soon they splashed into the water. As soon as they hit the pool, Kenny swam to the shallow end and climbed out. He looked back, dripping wet, and saw the creatures sinking to the bottom, unable to stay afloat despite their lust for his flesh.
He shook himself like a dog to get rid of the excess water as he hobbled over to sit on one of the pool chairs. He massaged his quad, wincing all the while.
“Come on now,” he muttered to himself, “you weren’t hurt that bad before you were hitting pro receivers at full speed. You ain’t gonna let a cannonball into the pool do you in.”
Dead America The Third Week Box Set, Vol. 1 [Books 1-6 ] Page 24
