by DeWitt, Dan
Jumping between rooftops was nothing like in the movies.
It was much, much easier.
Ethan insisted on making the first jump, visions of Rachel coming up just short dancing in his head. He was compelled to be there to catch her just as she was about to plummet three stories to the alley below, where she would be fortunate just to die from the impact instead of at the hands of a ravenous zombie horde.
As it turned out, Ethan overjumped and nearly broke his leg on a loose piece of heavy pipe. Rachel made it with ease, landing lightly on her feet and rolling with it. They made the next dozen jumps in whichever order presented itself.
Less than ten minutes had passed from the time they'd said goodbye to JD to them standing on the roof of the dry cleaners, gauging their chance of success in getting to the car. There were about a dozen zombies patrolling the parking lot, and about twice that number of truly dead residents of and visitors to the island. The lot itself had a few empty spaces. It had been packed by the time Ethan had locked his pickup and started his walk to meet Rachel, but, presumably, a few people had made it to their cars. Whether or not they'd made it to safety or ended up as one of the scores of cars left driverless on the roads, he'd probably never know.
The zombies were slowly weaving in and out of the spaces between the cars, but they weren't the biggest problem. Ethan figured he could run across the car hoods and jump into his ride through the moon roof. It was closed, but he could smash it with the crowbar.
No, the biggest problem was getting safely to the ground. There was a fire escape on the alley-side wall, but there was no chance that he'd be able to get all the way down unnoticed. When, not if, he was spotted, not only would he be trapped on the fire escape, but he would have shown them something they had yet to figure out on their own, and that was how to get to the roof. No, thank you. this was all assuming that the rickety fire escape wouldn't just detach from the wall on its own and bring him screaming to the ground. That'd be a hilarious way to go, he thought grimly.
Aside from the fire escape or a three-story drop, he couldn't see any exterior way to get to the ground.
That meant his route had to go through the interior of the dry cleaners.
Ethan shuddered involuntarily at the thought of what may be waiting inside, but he didn't see much of a choice. They had to get to his car if they were to have any hope of getting to his mother. The top two floors of the building were available rental space, and the laundromat itself usually only had a skeleton crew of two or three, anyway.
"What do we do?" Rachel asked.
"I'm going through the building. This time 'we' don't do anything. Please, please, please stay here. Promise me."
"I don't like the thought of you in there alone. I don't much like the thought of me up here alone, either."
"It'll only take a few minutes. I'll pull up to the fire escape and you can hop in. Be quick." He kissed her. "I love you."
"You already said that."
"Just making up for lost time."
"Just be safe, okay?"
He nodded, held up the Fubar and the flashlight as weapons, and moved to the door. The door was locked, as he thought it might be, but the door's wood was old and he figured that one good whack would take care of it. He raised the tool to break it off, but Rachel said, "Wait a sec," and pulled off her sneaker. She slipped it over the doorknob. "Noise."
"Good thinking. Watch the parking lot." She got down low and peered over the edge again. He brought the Fubar down on the knob. It tore free from the wood with relative ease, and he had to admit that it made a lot less noise than he would have feared. He never would have thought of it. He looked to Rachel who, after a few seconds, gave him a thumbs-up signal to let him know they hadn't been noticed.
He opened the door and clicked the flashlight on. He'd taken two stairs before he saw a light switch on the wall. He flipped it and two bright pockets of light burst forth from dual 100-watt bulbs. "I won't be needing this," he said, and handed the flashlight to his girlfriend. This comforted him, in a way. He felt like complete heel for leaving her defenseless on the roof; now, she at least had something capable of crushing a skull, if it came down to that.
Ethan took a deep breath, inhaled, and made his way down the stairwell to the third floor. The floor was, as he suspected, completely abandoned, and had been for some time. A veil of dust was starting to accumulate on the floor. It was thick enough to show any footprints which, mercifully, weren't there. He hadn't expected them to be, but the confirmation made him feel a lot better.
He didn't bother searching the rooms, because he knew that the chances of finding anything useful on the abandoned floor were remote, at best. Any possible gains that he might make would cost him time, and that was a trade he was unwilling to make. He moved quickly down the stairwell to the second floor, which was identical in both layout and condition.
He approached the stairwell to the first floor. He readjusted his grip on the Fubar as he willed himself to become even more aware. If he was going to run into real trouble, it would most likely descend upon him within a few seconds of him opening this next door. He tried the door, but it was locked from the inside. He was about to curse when he realized that he had a crowbar in his hand. He wedged it between the door and the jamb. He took a breath and applied steady pressure. Again, the wood gave before the hardware did. It was unavoidably loud, and he waited a few seconds before opening the door fully.
The hinges creaked, of course, but the stairwell was clear. So was the landing. And the back room with all the machinery. And the front area. It was as empty as the floors above it. The fading summer light spilled through the big plate glass windows. There was more than enough light for him to see that he was alone in the laundromat. He made his way towards the front desk when a barely audible sound made him jump. He raised the Fubar to strike, but it was only the sheer plastic bags that covered the newly cleaned and pressed clothes. The slight breeze caused by his passing the carousel had made them rustle.
He had an idea. He double-checked that he was still alone and unnoticed. He was, and he started to rifle through the clothes.
From what he'd seen so far, the infection or whatever was transmitted through bites, so he thought it might be a good idea to protect himself as much as possible. He'd flipped through about two dozen garments when he found what he was looking for: a shiny black leather jacket that looked about his size. He pulled the bag off and tried it on. It was a little tight in the shoulders, but the fit was good enough. He zipped it up all the way, sealing it against his neck. It was snug, and he'd be thoroughly uncomfortable in the August heat, but that was a small price to pay for a second chance if a zombie got close enough to sink its teeth in.
He kept looking until he found another jacket that was right for Rachel. He settled on a knee length brown leather coat. She'll look totally hot in this. It was a normal thought in a a situation that was anything but normal. He rolled the coat, twisted another garment bag tightly, and secured it. He felt a little better, a little bit more in control of his future.
He crept up to the front door and leaned over to peek into the parking lot. Outside, the zombies still just milled around, finding nothing interesting enough to get their attention. His rooftop assessment was that he could sprint out into the lot, get on top of the cars, and jump over them to his own vehicle practically before he was noticed. Now, at ground level, he was even more sure of it. It was only fifty feet to the first vehicle, a tricked out, lowered, Camry. He wasn't sure whether the owner was fast or furious, but it was thankfully low enough to the ground to make it very easy for Ethan to get up quickly. Then it was over to the Taurus, the Scion, the other, stock Camry, the Pinto, of all things, to his moonroof and driver's seat. Ten, twelve seconds if he made no mistakes. And never if he did.
Simple.
He unlatched the deadbolt. It made a small, but unnoticed, click. He turned the knob.
Twelve seconds from transportation.
He rea
died himself for a quick sprint and yanked open the door.
He was ten feet from the door before his brain registered the alarm that he'd just set off. He skidded to a stop and saw a dozen heads swivel in his direction. He backpedaled through the front door and slammed it shut.
They abandoned the laundromat in the midst of a zombie attack and still set their freakin' alarm.This is bad, this is bad.
It got noticeably worse when some of the zombies began throwing themselves against the glass.
* * *
The alarm startled Rachel so much that she nearly fell from her observation perch on the roof. Her left hand found the vent pipe and she pulled herself from the edge.
"Oh, oh no..."
She watched as every zombie in the parking lot sprinted for the entrance. At first, they disappeared under the eave and from her line of sight. As more and more of them got there, they began to stack up like cars in traffic. Some more zombies from surrounding areas made their way into the lot, attracted by the alarm. Her initial estimate was over forty.
She didn't know what to do. The alarm went off, so that meant Ethan had made it to the front door, and she knew that the zombies hadn't gotten in yet. Would he come back the way he came, or would he still try for the truck?
She was afraid that she knew the answer already. They needed the truck. If they went much longer exposed like this, they were dead. With transportation, they at least had a chance.
She guessed that's why she started yelling. She was drowned out by the alarm, and she started screaming for all she was worth. Still, she got no attention. She ran halfway down the fire escape, turned on her flashlight, and started waving it back and forth across the throng. She got noticed by one, then two, then many. Roughly half of the zombies broke off from their assault on the laundromat and came for her.
I can't believe I actually wanted this. She ran back up the fire escape, intending to lose them on the rooftops. She made it to the other side of the roof and waited a few seconds for them to see her. She knew by now that she could make these leaps with relative ease, and her hope was that the undead would have more trouble.
The first zombies reached the roof and saw her. When she knew she'd been noticed she jumped to the next roof, ran across it, and jumped again. She turned around to watch her pursuers fall into the alleys below. She got her wish, but not to the extent she wanted. The zombies were locked onto her and threw themselves over the gap. Some missed their jumps and ended up disappearing from sight, so they shouldn't be a problem for her...or Ethan...anymore. But far too many made the leap, if clumsily. The ones who didn't snap their leg or spine got up and resumed the chase. She jumped again, planning to keep at least two buildings in between them at all times and winning this battle by attrition.
She had similar luck on the second roof, as only some of the zombies made it over the shorter gap. She retreated again and again, and the number of zombies dwindled down with each rooftop. She hoped that Ethan had gotten to the car, because she was running out of roof. Even if she wasn't, the further she got away from him the harder it would be for them to reunite. The absolute last thing she wanted was for anything to happen to him, but a close second was the fear of being left alone in this madhouse.
Unless her situation dramatically, and immediately, changed, she would have to fight. She wondered how many people had made a similar choice within the last few hours. Then she wondered how many of those had been successful.
Those kind of thoughts aren't helpful, dummy. Get your head in this. What are you going to do?
The zombies advanced, and she jumped one last time. The rooftop after that was what had been the first: the movie theater. She could go back down inside, but she didn't think there was a chance that it wasn't overrun by now. She said a quick prayer for JD, and wrapped her hands around the flashlight with plans to use it as a bludgeon. Then she remembered the length of pipe that had almost taken out her boyfriend. She found it and held it in her hands like a baseball bat. It was about three feet long and heavy enough to do serious damage, she thought. She had one advantage over her pursuers: she was already here, and they had to leave their feet to get to her.
Now or never.
She moved to the edge and adopted a batter's stance. She imagined that she was back in the state softball tourney and waited for the pitch as calmly as she could. The first zombie reached the opposite edge and jumped. She swung from her hips with everything she had. She connected with the thing's face in mid-jump and felt more than heard a tremendous crunch. The unexpected impact hurt her hands, but she held on for dear life. The momentum of the pipe stopped enough of the zombie's to knock it slightly sideways. She didn't know if she'd "killed" it right away, but it fell to the ground half on and half off the roof. She thought it might get back up, but it was unbalanced enough that the weight of its legs dragged it off the roof and down. She wanted to celebrate her little victory, but she had no time, as the second zombie followed its brethren across the gap. Rachel swung again. This time, she anticipated the contact, and managed to swing all the way through. Blood and teeth exploded from the thing's head. It hit the roof and rolled into Rachel, knocking her on her back. She anticipated an attack and began kicking, but it was truly dead.
She handled the remaining zombies in relative short order. A few actually made it to her rooftop, but she was used to the pipe's length and heft by that point and dispatched them with accurate blows to the head.
When it was over, she was spattered with blood, surrounded by dead bodies, and the sun was setting at her back. She leaned against the pipe and tried to catch her breath. She kept her head level, not wanting to look at the bodies anymore than she had to. She was horrified by what she'd been forced to do, and she was barely holding on. She thought she might break down in hysterics if she saw a familiar face in the pile.
Ethan, please be okay.
She started working her way back to the laundry roof. She was getting tired, and the jumps became more difficult, but she'd make it.
Chapter 15: Hell and Gone
Ethan knew that, even though the storefront window was hardened security glass, it wasn't going to stop the relentless onslaught of zombies for long. He looked around the room for another way into the parking lot. He dismissed the thought of retreating back to the roof out of hand. All that would do is forestall his and Rachel's grisly deaths. He had to get the truck.
The alarm was making it very hard for him to concentrate. They were going to get inside before the second hand of his watch made another full sweep. And once they were in, they were coming straight for him. They didn't use any guile whatsoever; they were all brute force, and they would try to go through whatever was between them and food.
He could use that.
The store had a side window into the alley. He ran to it and saw what he hoped to see; an alley devoid of zombies (because they were all at the front window) and a big, rolling dumpster.
He tested the window, and it slid up easily. He closed it again, but left a gap of about six inches. He wanted to keep any strays out, but he also wanted to be able to open the window in a hurry. He grabbed a nearby table and slid it directly in front of the window. He stacked another table on top of it, right side up, creating a gap big enough for him to wriggle through but hopefully small enough to slow the things down for a few seconds.
He moved to the front window and put himself in full view of the zombies, which seemed to make them even more determined to get in and feed. The window was going to give anytime now, so he readied himself to go. The window spiderwebbed with a blow. The cracks became larger with the next and the next.
Ethan willed himself to stand there; every instinct told him to run. If he moved too soon, they'd come at him from two directions, and he'd be finished.
A fist crashed through the window. Razor-sharp glass took flesh from the arm in ribbons, but its owner didn't seem to notice. Ethan was pretty sure that the window was going to shatter in seconds, so he moved to the side window a
nd opened it. The alley was still zombie-free.
The mob finally breached the window. Glass exploded into the laundromat, and zombies began to pour in. It seemed like an endless stream to Ethan, but it was what he was counting on. They fell through the window and all over each other, in an almost comical tangle of limbs. It stopped being funny as soon as the first zombie spotted Ethan in the corner. They rose en masse, and Ethan felt like he imagined a plant might feel when it saw a swarm of locusts bearing down. It broke his inertia. He vaulted through the window into the alley. He didn't bother to shut it; instead, he grabbed the rolling dumpster and started to push. He was scared that the wheels might be rusted from lack of use, but the dumpster rolled easily. He put it in front of the window and pushed it up tight. It didn't cover it all the way to the top, but he didn't need it to. He only had to hold them for a little bit longer.
His back to the dumpster, he concentrated on being absolutely silent. He heard more zombies following the others into the laundromat, as that was the last place they saw him. He didn't want to think how many of them were at his back right now, but the window and dumpster kept them at bay. The only sound of note was the hollow sound of fists pounding against a nearly-empty dumpster. He took a few deep breaths and got ready to go.
"Ethan! It's almost clear!" He heard a voice above him and yelped.
"Rach! Shhhh!" He pointed to the fire escape and indicated that she join him. She came down, careful to avoid making any loud noises. She joined him at his side. He noticed that she was carrying a length of pipe, but would ask her about it when they were driving. He handed her the keys and peered around the corner. She was right; the lot was clear. He didn't want to waste any more time. "Go!" he said, as loud as he dared to.
She didn't hesitate at all; she just went for the truck. He took one second to make sure the dumpster wasn't going to just roll away and leave them exposed. It felt solid enough, and he was soon right behind her, weapon in hand if there were any strays in their way. Rachel held out the keys and unlocked it with the remote as they ran. The lights blinked and the horn gave a brief honk. The zombies closest to the window heard it, and they started running. The entire mob reversed course and began pouring out of the laundromat now.
