The Doc pulled on the lock to no avail and gave the door a frustrated kick. The rest of the team milled about, unsure what to do. Doc Samuel turned to Will, his mouth set in a tight line. "My apologies, William. This door wasn't padlocked when I was last up here."
"No need to apologize- we'll figure something out."
Danny spread his hands wide. "How? Terrence is the only one who knows how to manipulate locks and shit."
Will ignored him. "Jax, you were a cop. Can you finagle this?"
"I guess I can take a shot at it," Jax replied, but his tone was dubious. He spent a couple of minutes inserting different objects into the lock's key-entry, trying to turn the tumblers inside. The rest of the team milled about and tried to hide their impatience.
Finally, Danny had more than he could take. He took Jax by the bicep and pulled him away from the door. "Here, I’ll do it. Everybody go back around the corner."
Will regarded him with narrowed eyes. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to shoot shit until something breaks."
Will snorted. "Son, that's an impenetrable padlock and a metal door. Maybe we could blow through it with one of those AT4s, but they’re in the van. If you shoot at that door with the rifle on your shoulder all you’ll do is get yourself killed by a ricochet."
"I've done this before- I know what I'm doing. A ricochet may kill me but I'll get the door open."
"I'll tell you what- you try and shoot our way out here. Meanwhile, we’ll be around the corner coming up with a different plan."
"That works for me." Danny braced the butt of the M4 against the shoulder and clicked off the safety.
As Will walked away he called out over his shoulder. "Do you have any last words for Becky?"
Danny, concentrating on aiming the rifle, answered without looking. Tell her I would have made her a better husband."
Will snickered as he turned the corner.
Danny squinted through the gun's sights, moving the barrel a millimeter here and three millimeters there. He stood well back away from the door, aiming at a raised target. It was a difficult shot because his target was minuscule. Coy could make it one handed in a windstorm, but Danny wasn’t near the shooter Coy was. But a faint grin played on his lips because he had done this before.
Everybody shot a padlock the wrong way. You didn't aim at the body of the lock if you wanted to shoot it open. You aimed at the shank, the narrow U-shaped part that snapped into place when you closed the lock.
He exhaled until his lungs were empty, paused a moment, and squeezed the trigger. His first shot was off-left; it banged against the door, its ricochet producing an angry and high-pitched squeal. Danny ducked out a reflex and grinned sheepishly.
He popped off two more shots, missing both times.
Will's voice floated from around the corner. "Are you still alive?"
Danny ignored him and re-sighted the rifle. He fired again and produced the now-familiar banging sound. He felt the projectile scream past his head as it ricocheted and punched a hole in the corridor wall behind him.
"Jesus Christ!"
"Shut up, Will," Danny muttered. He was sweating profusely and took a moment to dry his face with his shirttail.
Will's head popped around the corner. "Are you damaging that thing at all?" He squinted at the lock and gaped at Danny in disbelief. "Shit, son you haven't even hit the motherfucker!"
"I’m not aiming at the lock. Would you get out here and let me shoot?"
"Buddy, we can't hang around here all afternoon while you waste ammunition."
"You don't have a better idea yet or you’d be trying to drag me out here. I can do this, boss. Let me."
Will withdrew back behind the wall, cussing a blue streak.
Come on, Danny. Get this done. Once again, he emptied his lungs, paused a beat, and fired. Instead of the banging sound, he was delighted to hear an odd plink and the tinkling of metal landing on the cement floor. He stared at the broken lock as if it were a trick and then threw his hands in the air in triumph. "Fuck yeah! I am the man!".
Will popped out from around the corner again, a quizzical look on his face. "Did you…."
"Hells yeah I did. C'mon, let’s get going."
Will gave Danny an affectionate grin and ruffled the younger man's hair. He called to the team and they resumed their trek.
Fifty-One
* * *
The crew walked up the short staircase and through the doorway out on to the bank's roof. A three-foot retaining wall ran along the edge, presumably to keep workers from wandering off the building. They gathered along the wall to look down at the street.
Jiri sucked in a breath. "Shee-it."
Will responded without taking his eyes off the scene on the ground. "Let’s hope it’s better at the end of the block."
An army of dead shuffled and staggered through the avenue. They moved without purpose, their moans filling the air. The dead were riled up- they responded to stimuli that told them to rend flesh and sate their endless hunger. But all they saw were other dead.
Mixed in with the mob were survivors of the earlier grenade blasts. Creepers missing limbs and others with empty eye sockets or gaping wounds in their chests and stomachs limped and crawled about. One poor creature dragged itself along with its hands, dragging strings of wet and red intestines behind it as it went.
Will pulled his eyes away from the scene below. "Let's go. We're not making any progress standing here staring at them."
The building next door was their first obstacle; the jewelry store’s roof was twelve feet lower than the bank's. Will gave the Doc a questioning look. "Doc?"
"Ah, yes. Daniel, I'll need your help, please." Without waiting for an answer, he walked toward the other side of the roof. Danny shrugged and followed. They returned a minute later carrying a fiberglass extension ladder. "We found this when we were reconnoitering escape paths before we hid the weapons," the Doc explained. They rested one end on the jewelry store roof. Andro and Will held it in place as the crew climbed down, one by one.
The next rooftop was the same height as the jewelry store and they trotted across it with no problems. The last building on the block was two stories high; once again, they used the ladder.
Doc Joseph led them to the edge of the roof. Will placed both palms on the retaining wall and looked down at the street. He let out a relieved sigh and allowed himself a small bit of hope. “That’s not so bad,” he thought aloud. Five creepers littered the side street beneath them, with a few more shuffling toward them. They all seemed headed in the same direction, toward the mass of dead moaning and milling about around the corner.
A cut-out in the retaining made for easy access to a fire escape platform. Will pointed to it. “Is that the way down, Doc?”
“It is.” A rickety-looking staircase led to a rusted platform caged on three sides with wrought-iron railing; on the fourth side hung a fold-out ladder that appeared as rusty as the platform. “The ladder stops roughly five feet from the ground. A short drop and we’re bound for the truck.”
Jax cleared his throat with force, as if needing to clear a mountain of phlegm. He was red-faced and breathing heavy. "I don't get it. We have to run through these fuckers for half a block, turn, and run another half block. That seems stupid. Why didn't we park right here, for a quick getaway?"
"Because if we did that, we would have to run to the bank from here, blind." Will's folded his arms across his chest and tapped the toe of his boot on the tar roof-cover. "We parked so we could make a quick dash to the bank and come back out without going through the lobby. Either place we park there’s a short run and a longer run. It seemed prudent to make the longer run after we’d blown up the lobby and drawn the local dead to it.”
The ex-cop wasn't backing down. "You could've left somebody to drive it around here when the time came."
"Leave an able body behind to drive a block? Shit, with ideas like that it's no wonder you guys were living on Twinkies and not putti
ng out guards before we showed up at the quarry." Jax bristled and tried to interrupt but Will continued. "Running through the dead is what we do, Jax. It doesn't seem to bother anybody but you. But if it scares you that bad you can stay here on the fire escape and we'll drive over to pick you up. Hell, I'll even pull up with the bed under the ladder." he sliced the air with his hand. "You can let go and drop right in there."
Danny smirked at Jax. "If you do that you'll never get a chance to try out all that cool padding."
Jax glared at the pair. "Go to hell. I was just asking a question."
Will dismissed him, turning and striding to the fire escape. "Here's how we’ll go. Jiri, you first. I'm last. We’ll shoot any creepers that get close from here. After you hit the ground, keep it clear from here to the corner. One person on the ladder at a time; it doesn't look too solid. Once we get going, do your best to stay in a line and only shoot at one in your own lane. We don't want five people shooting at the same creeper, and we don't want one person wandering into someone else's line of fire. Any questions?"
"Yeah, I've got one," said Jax. "Who's driving the truck?"
Will gave him a toothy grin. "Now that's a good question. Get in and sit anywhere you can. The keys are in the ignition; whoever ends up behind the wheel drives us out here. We can sort out who sits where down the road a piece."
Fifty-Two
* * *
Jiri scampered down the fire escape with ease. On the ground, he tried to meld with the mid-afternoon shadows and make himself as unobtrusive as possible. The Doc went next, descending with a speed that belied his age. A few of the dead picked up on the movement and the noise; when he was halfway to the bottom they turned and shuffled toward the building.
Up top, Jax lifted his rifle and took aim at a creeper twenty yards away from Jiri. Will raced over and brought his forearm down hard on the gun barrel, causing Jax to miss his shot.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jax spat.
"I said don't fire until they are close. If you shoot now you’ll bring them in from everywhere."
"So we'll shoot them as they come in!"
"Dammit, Jax- not if there is a thousand of them. Are you trying to blow this thing?"
"Why you-" Jax drew back a meaty fist, but Will didn't flinch; he stood his ground, daring the man to swing. "Damn you to hell for saying that."
Before Will could respond, Danny interjected. "Uh, guys- we’re ready for the next person on the ladder. Maybe you could finish this later?"
Will kept his eyes on Jax. "Send Andro down, then Tara." He took a deep breath and tried to calm his temper. Jax stared back at him, eyes blazing. "You do whatever you want, man. Run where you want, shoot when you want, it's up to you. But when we get back to camp, me and you are going out on the bottom to settle this." His foe didn't respond, only stared.
Will focused his attention back to the activity on the ground. Andro was almost to the bottom of the fire escape and Tara waited to begin her descent. Jiri and the Doc stood with their backs to the wall and their rifles to their shoulders. Jiri aimed at a creeper coming from the right and about ten yards away; the Doc swept his weapon back and forth to the left.
Andro hit the ground with his nine millimeter up, searching for a target; Tara started her turn. Will took aim at a bloated creeper approaching the Doc, but before he squeezed the trigger Andro blew a hole in the side of its head.
Tara blazed down the ladder as graceful as she was fast and Will tap Danny on the shoulder. "You’re next, followed by Jax, and me. We have to move fast, fellas." The sporadic gunfire picked up in pace and the flow of the dead from around the corners grew. Will had hoped to have everyone on the ground by the time they were this thick, and he began to mumble, cussing a blue streak between shots.
Danny clanged down the fire escape steps in a blur, and Will nodded at Jax. "You're up."
Jax took one last check of the pads on his arms, strapped on his helmet, and strode out on the platform. He descended the stairs at a crawl, keeping a hand on each guardrail and watching his feet every step of the way. He paused with his hands on his knees for a moment on the riser, then stepped on the next ladder. He moved with care, stepping on each wrung with both feet and gripping the rails hard enough to turn his knuckles white.
He was a little more than halfway to the bottom when the ladder gave an alarming creak. With a metallic snap, one rail broke free from the landing. Unmoored on one side, the broken ladder twisted in the air with Jax clutching it and bellowing. It swung clockwise and back counter-clockwise. As it slowed, Jax’s weight became too much for the remaining rail to bare. It made a rusty creaking sound, then clanked before it broke off, sending Jax plummeting the last twenty feet to the ground.
He landed with a meaty thump and his helmet cracked against the sidewalk.
* * *
“Oh, shit," Will muttered as he dashed onto the platform. He hurried down the stairs as far as he could go, stopping on the riser that no longer afforded a ladder to the next platform below. All the while he kept his eyes on the action around the fallen team member.
Tara and the Doc crouched over Jax's still figure. Andro and Jiri closed in and provided protection against the ever-increasing dead. The Doc removed Jax’s helmet and gave each cheek a sharp smack. Jax opened his eyes with a start and tried to sit up. The Doc pushed him back down; Tara bent and whispered in his ear.
Will shouldered his rifle and popped off four quick shots, putting down the three creepers closest to the trio. So far the living had kept up; the dead moaned and gnashed their teeth as they shuffled forward but once they got close enough, a bullet put them down.
The Doc waved a hand and caught Will's eye. "It looks like he's okay. He’s dazed and possibly concussed, but there’s no blood and I don't find any breaks."
Will nodded. "Looks like that padding came in handy after all."
The Doc, Tara, and Andro tended to Jax and helped him to his feet. Danny and Jiri walked backward, guns up, and met underneath the landing supporting Will.
"What you going to do, jump?" Danny asked without looking up. He kept his focus on the incoming dead.
"I don't see much of a choice. Here, catch this." He laid down and dangled his rifle over their heads by its strap, lowering it until six-foot-six tall Jiri could reach the other end. "Keep them off me until I'm ready to fight.”
Moving fast, he sat on the platform with his legs dangling in the air from his knees down. He turned 180 degrees so he hung over the edge at his waist and grabbed the landing with both hands. A reverse chin-up lowering him until he dangled from the landing fully extended, his feet about ten feet off the ground. And then he let go. He bent his knees as he landed, letting his body absorb the impact. His left ankle turned and a bolt of pain shot through it.
Weapon back in hand, he took three trial steps. Each produced a fresh burst of pain, as if ground glass filled his ankle joint, whenever he asked it to support him.
A creeper with one empty eye socket and a half-rotting face shambled close, clutching at him greedily with swollen and misshapen hands. Before he raised his rifle, gunfire sounded to his right. The side of its head erupted in bits of bone and gore and it fell to the sidewalk.
Will looked at the source of the shot; Tara’s rifle was still at her shoulder. He nodded his thanks and she winked in return, then swiveled the gun away in search of another target.
The Doc left Jax propped up against the wall under Andro’s and scampered over to Will. "How bad is it?" he asked, squatting to inspect Will's ankle.
"Not very, just a sprain." Yelling over the gunfire and moans of the dead, he spoke to the group. "We've got make our way to the truck now."
The Doc inspected his ankle, squeezing here and poking there. "Lift your leg," he commanded; Will obeyed. He moved the ankle left to right, back to front, and in a circular motion. Three times, a fresh bolt of pain exploded from the joint.
The Doc patted him on his thigh. "You can make it. We'll get you fixed up back at
camp." He turned from Will and raised his rifle.
Danny approached and hooked an arm around Will’s shoulders to support him but Will shrugged him off. "I'm fine," he snapped. "Get to the truck."
They advanced in a line, walking fast and paying more attention to the dead in front of them than those in the rear, the way they'd learned in their months on the road together. Tara guided Jax with one arm; with the other, she brandished her nine millimeter. They put down creepers with bloodstained mouths and others with oozing eye sockets. A woman with a missing bottom jaw shuffled toward them, leading a pack of four. Strings of the drool hung from her top lip and her tongue lolled against her throat. A creeper with its neck chewed open, its front a blanket of dried blood, got close enough to Andro to clutch at his shoulder with long, yellowed fingernails. Andro bashed it in the face with the butt of his rifle until it fell and fired three shots point-blank into its head.
Every step that Will took with his left foot sent fresh pain shooting through his ankle. Rivers of sweat streamed down his face and at times he gasped at the severity of the pain. He began to drag the foot behind him, thinking darkly that from a distance his gait resembled a creeper’s. He missed a shot at a creature in a letter carrier's uniform, hitting it in the throat. It fell to the ground with its head hanging from its body by a few strings of meat. It gnashed its teeth at him as he walked by.
At the end of the block, he allowed himself to think they would make it. To the right, where the bank sat, the street teemed with the dead. But to the left it was a different story. Twenty or so creepers shuffling in the street was all that stood between them and the Ford.
Right when he processed that thought was the precise moment Andro fell.
Fifty-Three
* * *
Storm Horizon Page 18
