A zombie crawled across the floor. It was almost completely decomposed. The skin on her face was gray and flaking, the skull poking through in several areas. Her arms were bones, with the exception of the hand, which was still covered in a glove of skin. It hissed at me and increased its effort to pull itself forward. I took a step to the side and noticed it was missing a leg. I reached from my gun. Crap! I left my holster in my room. I turned to get it when a moan echoed through the room. I froze. Glancing over my shoulder and the desk, I noticed another creature climbing through the emergency hatch. He was in better shape than the other, but his skin was yellowed and his clothes almost completely ripped off. I could see his torso, a hole ripped through his chest. If his heart had been beating, I would have seen it.
“Quinn!” I screamed and headed to my cell. I grabbed my gun and went back into the main room.
I took out the man first. He wasn’t the closest, but he was the bigger threat. He could move faster than the woman on the floor. The bang of the gun made my ears ring instantly after I fired the shot, but I couldn’t worry about it. It was better to be deaf than consumed alive.
The bullet hit the guy above the right temple. His head jerked back and he fell down the ladder. I turned my attention to the woman. She was a few steps in front of me, still hissing and grabbing for my legs. The bullet hit her in the top of the head. Brain, bone, and ichor sprayed into my face.
“Krista!” Quinn’s voice called behind me.
I didn’t have time to turn around. I ran to the trap door and looked down the hole. Several zombies were clambering over their fallen brother, trying to negotiate the ladder. I slammed the door shut. I grabbed the edge of the desk and tried to pull it over the door, but it was bolted to the floor. I felt hands on my arms and swung around.
“Krista, it’s me.” His voice sounded far off, like he was talking under water. “You okay?”
I took a deep breath and nodded, relaxing just a little.
I turned to Quinn. His cheeks were puffed out as he let out a breath, his hands ran through his hair. Not the best way to be woken up.
“You scared the crap out of me,” he said.
“You? Imagine how I felt seeing a zombie crawling through the trap door. How did they get up the ladder?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know, but they did. We’d better get our stuff and get out of here.”
I nodded in agreement and went to gather my things. As I turned, a pounding resounded on the stairwell door. Quinn and I stopped and looked. Was I hearing things? I had to be. My ears were still ringing from the gun shots. There was no way both of our exits were blocked by undead. We checked everything before going to sleep. The stairway was clear, and the door to the outside from the emergency exit was closed. They couldn’t have gotten through both. They just couldn’t. The pounding sounded louder. My heart fluttered, my breath came in gasps. I glanced at Quinn. His face was white.
“What are we gonna do?” I asked.
“We still have to get out of here. Get your stuff.”
If it wasn’t for the incredible pain in my shoulder, I would have thought I was in a dream. I shoved my stuff into my bag. It didn’t take long, and within a few minutes, I was back in the main room with Quinn. He stood over the emergency exit, his hands on his hips, staring at the trap door.
“What? Is it clear?”
He shook his head. “No.”
I bit my lip and stared from him to the stairwell door. The creatures still pounded mercilessly on the other side.
“How are we going to get out? We’re trapped.”
“We’ll have to go up.”
“Up? Like to the roof?”
He stared at me. He was annoyed. “What other choice do we have?”
I clenched my jaw, angry he would snap at me like that. I wanted to yell back at him, tell him this wasn’t my fault and remind him we were in a jail, but I bit back the words. There was probably some other secret door hidden in the ceiling. There had to be another way in.
Quinn knew what he was doing. I followed him down the hall with the cells. He placed his bags on the floor and glanced up. I followed his gaze. The ceiling was concrete blocks, like the rest of the walls in the area. My hope faltered. He jumped, trying to hit a block with his hands, but fell short.
“Grab me one of the chairs out there, would ya?”
I did as he asked, dragging the heavy metal chair across the floor. It made a god-awful scraping, which caused the pounding on the door to become more urgent, and I was sure I heard the trapdoor rattling. I hurried to the end of the hall. After giving Quinn the chair, I rushed back to the front of the hallway and closed the door. I felt a little safer with one more barrier between me and the undead.
Quinn climbed onto the seat and stretched up. He was still a little short, but he could reach the ceiling with his fingertips. He scraped the surface, and white chunks fluttered to the ground. Steadying himself on the wall with his left hand, he hopped from the chair and rammed his fist into the block. I was shocked when it went through. His fist was caught, and when he came back down, it tore a large chunk out of the block. I ran over to him and glanced up.
Darkness lay beyond. That didn’t sit well with me. Logic dictated the chances of zombies being on the roof were slim to none, but who would have guessed they would be able to climb a ladder? I had visions of skeletons falling from the ceiling, burying us in snapping jaws. Quinn jumped and punched again. More stuff fell from the ceiling. I turned away to keep from getting it in my eyes. Something thudded behind me and hit my ankle. I jumped and turned, a small squeak escaping from my mouth. I still had my gun in my hand, and I was ready to use it. It was just the ceiling block, but I didn’t relax. My hands were sweating, and I needed to pee. I looked back up. Quinn jumped again, trying to get a hold of something in the ceiling I couldn’t see. It took him four tries, but he finally pulled down a knotted rope. He hopped down from the chair.
“I’m going to go up first. You hand me the bags, then I’ll pull you up.”
I nodded.
A knock resounded from the end of the hall. Both of our heads turned to the direction. I hurried down the hall and stopped at the door. Peering through the window, I scanned the admission room. I could see the corner of the trapdoor. It was open. They finally made it through.
Another knock sounded, right next to the window. I glanced into the lifeless eyes of a zombie. Half of his face had rotted off. His mouth opened and closed on the glass, leaving a trail of yellow saliva. I double checked the lock on the door. It would hold. I turned back to Quinn. He was already up the rope. Laying on his stomach, his arms dangled out of the hole. I handed him the first bag. He tossed it into the darkness, followed by the second one.
“Step onto the bottom knot and hang on to another,” he said.
I did as I was told, and he lifted me into the ceiling.
We dug our flashlights out of our bags and shone them around. The area was large enough for us to crouch in, our toes hung over the edge of the opening. Above us was another door. This one was metal. Quinn pushed on it, but it didn’t budge.
“It’s probably locked from the outside,” he said.
He slammed his shoulder into it, and it moved slightly. He did it several more times, hoping to break the lock, but nothing happened.
“Shoot it.”
He stared at me.
“Shoot the lock. It’s the only way.”
“You’ll want to get back down. It’s going to be loud.”
I crouched down and covered my ears. “I’ll be fine.”
He fired two shots. Even though my ears were trying to recover from the earlier shots, I still thought my ear drums were going to explode. It was painful. I briefly wondered if my ears were bleeding, but I didn’t have time to find out. The door popped open, and we clambered onto the roof.
The sun was low in the sky but still a few hours away from setting. I spun as I surveyed the area, my gun at the ready. There wasn’t much on the
roof, just some gravel and a couple of intakes. Once we realized everything was safe, Quinn slammed the door shut, then collapsed on top of it. I lowered my weapon. Out of the corner of my eye, something glinted in the distance. I turned to look at it.
Two buildings away, the sunlight reflected off something. I squinted. From where I stood, it looked like a person looking through binoculars. He realized I was looking at him and disappeared.
“Did you see that?”
Quinn nodded. “Unfortunately, yes.”
“What do you think it was?”
“Someone making sure we didn’t get out of the building alive.”
I jerked my head toward him, eyes wide. “What? You think those zombies were sent to attack us?”
Quinn took a deep breath and got to his feet. He brushed the white dust from the ceiling off his clothes, which didn’t actually come off, but smeared into the fabric.
“We checked everything last night. Nothing. We were secure. Yeah, the creatures could have gotten up the staircase, it’s happened before. But there is no way they could have opened the door that leads outside from the trapdoor. It was locked from the inside. They’re not smart enough to figure it out. I’m guessing someone alive opened it for them.”
“But who?”
He stared at me, his head cocked to the side, the look on his face said I should know who did it. “If I had to bet my life, I would say it was Duncan.”
I let the information soak in for a moment. I guessed if anyone wanted us out of the way, it would be him. He was the only one who knew we were in town, and he was the only one who knew where we were staying. We didn’t tell him that was our plan, but apparently he had spies everywhere. Plus, we’d stayed there before. It was logical. But why would he want us dead? Why wouldn’t he just let us go? He made it very clear he could get along without us, so why not live and let live?
“Why?” I was pretty sure I already knew the answer, but I wanted validation. I wanted to hear it out loud from someone else.
“He blames us.” Quinn scanned the horizon. “I bet he thinks we’re going to bring death to him and his friends.” He turned his gaze back on me. “We’re the only ones who know where he is. If we’re dead, we can’t show anyone else his hideout.”
“So he’s trying to protect those people.”
He spit. “Yup.”
I shook my head. “I guess he doesn’t realize we’re not trying to harm him. If we wanted to, why would we bother warning him about the helicopters?”
“People don’t think logically in stressful situations. You know that. He’s just trying to cover all his bases.”
I holstered my gun and placed my hand on my hip. “So now what? What do you think he’ll do if he knows were still alive?”
Quinn sighed. “I don’t know. But I think it’s best we get out of here as soon as possible. He might not leave it up to the zombies to finish us off.” He looked at me, his eyebrows raised. “And both of us know what kind of weapons he’s carrying.”
“Yeah. Let’s head out.”
We headed over to the side of the building and surveyed the scene. On the bright side, there was a ladder that led to the street. It wasn’t going to be easy, but at least I could make it down with one hand. Zombies streamed in through the front door, and the alley where the truck was parked was full of undead. There was no way we were going to get to the truck unnoticed.
“What now?”
“We need a diversion. Something to draw them to the other side of the building.”
“Like what? Live bait is out of the question. They’ll spot you before you even make it to the ground, and we now know they can climb ladders. If they get up here, we’re dead. We have nowhere else to go.”
Quinn hurried to the other side of the building and glanced over the edge. It seemed so hopeless. If only I had the full use of my arm, it would make things a lot easier. Quinn took long strides back to me.
“There’s another roof over there, about half way down the building.” He pointed toward the edge. “I can shimmy down a pipe and make my way to the street. From there, I’ll draw them away, and you can pick me up when you get the truck started.”
I opened my mouth to protest, to tell him there was no way I could drive a stick shift with my arm in a sling, but I never got the chance. A boom tore through the sky. I felt a deep pressure on my chest, like someone was shoving me, and I was thrown onto my back. Everything went black. I came to a few seconds later. Every part of my body ached, my shoulder felt like it was in a vice. I opened my eyes and stared at the sky. A plume of black smoke blotted out the serene blue. I didn’t have to look. I knew what happened. They blew up the semi. They really didn’t want us to leave. I tried to push myself up on my elbow, but my body wouldn’t comply. I lay back down and placed my hand on my forehead. Why was everyone trying to kill us?
CHAPTER 8
“The building is on fire!” Quinn pulled me up by my shoulders. He yelled, his face was red and his mouth was wide, but I barely heard him. “We have to get out of here!”
My body didn’t want to cooperate. Every jerk and tug he gave me to get me to my feet was like needles being stabbed through my flesh. I was more than convinced my ears were permanently damaged. The ringing was replaced with soft static, like how you hear underwater. They even felt like they were flooded with liquid. I touched one and examined my fingertip, convinced I would see blood. To my surprise, there wasn’t any.
Quinn succeeded in getting me moving, and I followed him to the other side of the building. I was aware of the danger. I knew what would happen if we stayed on the roof. But I couldn’t convince my muscles of the emergency. My feet were heavy. It felt like they were sticking to the roof, and I consciously had to will them to keep moving. I made it to the edge and collapsed, catching myself before careening over the side. There was another roof about half way down, but I was sure something would have broken in the fall. Quinn tossed our bags over the side. A puff of dust rose. I waited for the whump, but didn’t hear anything. I was just thankful there wasn’t anything fragile in there, though I doubted all of the bottled waters made it out unscathed.
I looked at Quinn. He fastened a nylon rope around his waist. It was one we always kept in our bag for emergencies, but I didn’t think it was thick enough to actually do any good. It could have tied our bags up into a tree if need be, but other than that, it seemed almost worthless. I knew what he planned. There was no way I could shimmy down a pipe to the roof. My arm wouldn’t allow it. I just didn’t think the plan would work. He approached and laced the rope around my waist.
“I’m going to lower you down,” he said.
Well, it was pretty close to what he said. I couldn’t really hear him.
“Are you sure the rope will hold?”
He shrugged. “I hope so. If not, it’s not that far of a fall.”
I glanced over the edge again. It may not have been deadly if I fell, but I still didn’t want to experience it. I had enough pain to deal with, I didn’t want to add more. I crossed my mental fingers, hoping the rope would hold.
“You ready?”
I sat on the edge and swung my legs over. “No, but do I have another choice?”
He took up the slack in the rope and I slid my butt of the building. There was a small jerk as I was suspended in the air and he caught my weight. He slowly let the slack out, and I bobbed toward the second roof. I kept an eye on him and the landing and made sure I didn’t bounce off the side of the building. My jaw was sore from clenching it, adding to the pain that already flowed through my body. An eternity later, my feet touched the solid surface. I waved with my good hand to let him know I was down. He nodded, then grabbed the drainpipe and slid down.
I glanced over the side toward the street. A few zombies milled around, but they weren’t paying attention to us. If anything, they’d be drawn to the explosion. At least I hoped so. We still weren’t sure how they tracked people. In any case, we’d be able to make it down, then we’d
have to run like mad. God, I hoped my body would allow me to do that. Quinn stood next to me and took up the slack in the rope.
“Where are we going once we’re down?” I asked.
“Back to the mall.”
I might not have been able to hear very well, but I couldn’t mistake the anger in his voice. I assumed he wanted to find Duncan and put him through the same death he attempted to put us through. I know that’s what I wanted. I wanted him to suffer, hear him scream, and see him eaten bit by bit. How dare he put us through this when all we wanted to do was make sure he was safe. He deserved a horrific death, and I wanted to be the one who gave it to him. It wasn’t the nicest thought, I know. My hatred for Duncan at that moment rivaled my loathing for Liet. Forget compassion. It was hard to care about how the history books were going to tell your story when you had to shimmy down a building to save your life.
Quinn signaled he was ready, so I went over the side. This trip down was a lot faster than the first. I assumed it was because there were zombies in the neighborhood and he didn’t want me to be a piñata. When my feet touched the concrete, I pulled out my gun and stood ready. I shot a couple of creatures in the area. I’m not sure if they noticed me, but I wasn’t going to take the chance. It only took one moan. The bags plopped onto the ground next to me. One of them almost hit me, but that was my fault, I walked in circles, trying to take in my entire surroundings. Still, I looked up at Quinn with a scowl.
He cringed and mouthed “Sorry,” before heading down the drain pipe.
Once he was on the ground, I went for one of the bags. He stopped me.
“We’ll come back for those,” he said. “We need to find a vehicle.”
I glanced around the street. There were plenty of abandoned cars sitting around, but they’d been sitting there for years. More than likely, the batteries were dead or they didn’t have keys or they were occupied by undead. The situation sucked. There was no other way to put it. We ran through zombie-filled streets with nothing but our wits and what ammunition we had left. There was the distinct possibility we would die or get bitten. The one thing that kept me moving was my intense anger. I was so mad at Duncan and his people, I would have jumped through fire to make sure I got my revenge.
Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead Page 7
