Jacob was not faring much better, having being scratched several times across his face and arms by
the two infected women in the room. His hand shot down and drew the Beretta 92 from his holster. A
muzzle-flash momentarily lit up the room and the death snarl of the nearest banshee, a sizzling hole
in her face.
However, he was immediately tackled by the other woman, the pistol wrested from his grip. He was
thrown backward against the wall and roared in pain when she bit into his forearm, drawing blood.
"Holy shit!" Markus exclaimed to the sounds of gunshots, one of which happened just outside the
safe-room. He cast a longing glance at the machine pistol sitting on the safe-room table in
dismantled pieces. Goddamn it, they have to go and get attacked while my Glock's being cleaned…
He swung open the steel door, leading with his SIG-Sauer and flashlight.
The young man was immediately met with a pair of dead white eyes.
His knee-jerk reaction of pul ing the trigger saved his life. The Common Infected just outside the door
convulsed and fell, an exit-wound through the cranium.
Markus took a moment to regather his wits and comprehensible thought, before stepping out into the
hal way, legs spread wide, pistol held in a firm two-handed grip. He immediately caught sight of
Samantha being held up against the wall by a raging woman. He rushed forward, pressed his SIG-
Sauer to the attacker's head and fired.
Samantha took a deep breath of air and rubbed her neck. "Thanks, Markus. You saved my life."
"Don't mention it. Where are the others?"
The former col ege girl stooped to recollect her fal en pistol and motioned toward a closed door.
"Something's going down behind there. Cover me and make sure nothing comes in behind me."
Markus nodded and pressed his back up to the wal , holding his pistol up near his head and keeping
watch in both directions for any more Common Infected that may appear. Samantha, for her part,
held her gun to the door's keyhole and fired twice, annihilating the lock.
She pushed the door open and rushed into the suite, hearing the sounds of struggle coming from the
bedroom. Upon reaching the doorway, her flashlight found Corvo, pinned under a particularly bulky
male. She let out a cry and delivered a hard kick to the man's chest, knocking him off Corvo. The
infected man's head snapped up to face her, his eyes wild and livid. He opened his mouth to roar in
anger, but never got the chance as Samantha shot him through the eye.
Meanwhile, Jacob grappled with the woman who had him up against the wal and managed to pry
her off his arm. With a surge of adrenaline, he spun her around and threw her against the window.
The glass shattered and the infected woman let out a cry as she stumbled through it and out into the
dark evening sky, falling eight storeys straight down.
"Are you guys alright?" Samantha asked breathlessly.
"Yeah… thanks," Corvo answered shakily, climbing to his feet.
"Jacob, you're hurt," she said, noticing that he was grasping his arm as blood oozed from the wound.
"I'l be fine," he said dismissively.
"Come on, let's get you patched up," she insisted. "Markus and I found a first-aid pack in the safe-room, on the body of an army medic. Let's go, before more people show up."
"What happened?" Corvo cut in. "Were you two attacked?"
"Yeah... I was ambushed in the hallway." Samantha grimaced as she recal ed the bloodthirsty
madness in her attacker's eyes as she was throttled. It was something she would likely never get
used to. The young woman jerked involuntarily when she felt Corvo's hand on her shoulder, turning
her back to face him.
"Were you bitten?" he asked.
"Huh?"
"Samantha, were you bitten? Or scratched?"
"Uh, no," she answered, checking herself over.
Corvo visibly breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank goodness."
12.5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE
Later on, the two suitcases of clothes had been dragged back to the safe-room. While Corvo treated
Jacob' injuries, Markus scavenged a pair of jeans and a white polo shirt. Apparently, no matter the
situation, the man had style.
Samantha, having made the guys turn around while she changed, found herself a clean short-
sleeved white shirt and a pair of dark jeans. However, she elected to keep her red track jacket – it
had been part of her uniform when she was on the women's field hockey team in col ege. It was sil y,
but the jacket helped to serve as a reminder of better times, and she preferred to hang onto it.
Besides, it was not that dirty – just a few dirt-marks here and there –
Her train of thought was cut off by a strange noise that issued from the radio's speaker without
warning. Corvo rushed over to the table and began to adjust the dials until he final y found the right
frequency.
"– lost east sector of the terminal to the Infected. Fal ing back to the runway."
Horrible screams and gunfire could be heard in the background.
"We need backup and heavy fire support now !" a different voice shouted. "There's a fucking twelve foot tal monster tearing through our ranks!"
Corvo and the others exchanged glances. Just what the hell was going on over there? He seriously
started to wonder if going to the airport was the right idea. But then again, it was the only plan they
had at present.
He waited for a few more minutes, but no more transmissions came through the radio. He picked up
the microphone. "This is Wil iam Overbeck, broadcasting from the Harbour View Hotel. Can anyone
read me? Over."
There was a moment of silence, before a crackled voice came through. "Lieutenant Robinson, is that
you? Over."
"Robinson is dead, son," Corvo replied, identifying the man next to the radio by his dog-tags. "I'm all you've got."
"If you aren't Lieutenant Robinson, then you aren't authorised to be on this channel," the voice answered coldly. "Clear off – we need to keep this line open for official traffic."
"I am broadcasting from the Harbour View Hotel – your garrison here is dead. I have three more
civilians with me and we are requesting asylum, sir."
"…The Harbour View Hotel? You'l have to speak with Captain Wil iams – he's in charge of this base.
Broadcast again in thirty seconds."
Corvo nodded at the others. They were final y getting somewhere. He waited exactly thirty seconds
before speaking into microphone again. "Captain Williams. I am sorry to intrude on your channel like
this. My name is Sergeant Wil iam Overbeck, and I have three more civilians with me. Over."
There was a hiss of static, before –
"What?!" a new voice barked. "Who the fuck are you? Over!"
Samantha was taken aback by how stressed the man on the other side of the radio sounded. Jacob
looked testily over at Corvo while the man in question raised the microphone again.
"My name is Sergeant William Overbeck, and I have three other civilians with me. We are requesting
asylum. Over."
"Sergeant Overbeck, unless you're flying a C-130 Hercules-sized escape vehicle, I don't want to talk to you right now. Take a seat and take a fucking number."
"Listen to me, boy," Corvo practical y snarled. "Isn't it your job to protect the public? I want you to give us some goddamned instructions right now, or when I crawl my way out of this mess – and you
mark my words that I wil – I'm gonna personally find your commander and chew him out for a piss-
/> poor effort. Over!"
"Is that so?" Captain Wil iams' voice sounded less than impressed. "Let me tell you something, sir .
You missed the evacuation by over five days."
Five days…? Samantha took a moment to close her eyes and breathe deeply, lest she lose her
shit completely.
"What you've stumbled onto is the tail-end of a lost battle," Wil iams continued. "We're pul ing out. So unless you can get your asses to the airport by 0530 hours tomorrow morning, there won't be
anyone left in Newburg that can help you. Over."
"That's… news to us," Corvo final y answered, at a loss of anything else to say.
" There's something else you should know. If you can't get to the airport in time, then get the hell out of the city. Since we were unable to retake it, the failsafe wil be in effect. Be advised – it is in your best interests not to be in or anywhere near Newburg after dawn tomorrow morning. Over."
The old man's frown deepened. "What is this 'failsafe' you're talking about exactly? Over."
" There are a number of refugee camps in the area, and it's too dangerous to leave an entire city ful of the Infected which could threaten them. To this end, the failsafe wil be executed at 0600 hours –
an entire squadron of F-16 fighters loaded with high-ordnance bombs. If you're caught on the ground
when they get here, you're fucked."
The group had not thought it possible, but their night had just become a whole lot worse.
"What?" Lous exclaimed. "They're going to level the entire city? I don't believe this!"
Fucking army, Jacob thought to himself. Bunch of useless prats.
"We'll make our way to the airport," Corvo spoke into the radio. "Where can we meet up with you?
Over."
"Our defence is focused around the main runway," Wil iams answered. "Make your way there. Over."
"Got it," he answered. He made to start gathering their supplies together, when the captain's voice spoke out again.
"While you're out there, I have to ask… Have you seen any of my men downtown?"
The four survivors glanced warily around the room at the grisly remains of the army personnel,
before Corvo spoke into the mouthpiece again.
"No one alive, I'm afraid. I'm sorry."
"…I was afraid of that. Good luck, and Godspeed. Over and out."
Without a word, Corvo gathered their remaining food into the backpack and handed it to Markus,
before gearing up. The others fol owed by example, and were soon ready to depart.
"We stay on-route, and we'll get to that power-plant Samantha mentioned soon," he announced. "I saw it earlier in the map book."
"What about al the Infected out in the streets?" Jacob pointed out tersely.
"They should have lost our scent by now. We stay low, and keep quiet."
"If all else fails, we have the safe-room to fal back on," Markus offered, in an effort to raise spirits.
"If all else fails, we'll be zombie chow." Corvo tossed the red first-aid pack across the room over to Jacob, and then lifted his assault rifle. "We'd better get moving. We have some ground to cover."
Chapter 50
12.25 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE
Darkness surrounded the group as they careful y made their way down the stairwel just outside the
safe-room. The four flashlights were unable to penetrate the inky blackness very far, and the team
was very much on edge despite the slight reprieve they had in the panic room.
It probably did not help matters that they had been ambushed by the Infected in the hallway, and
then learned that the heart of the city they were in was set to be level ed in just over twelve hours.
No pressure, right?
In addition to the total darkness and threat of attack that fil ed the atmosphere, Markus had not been
enjoying the oppressive silence that hung over the hotel when they set out. But after they passed
what must have been the third floor down, another more haunting sound drifted from somewhere
above, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand on end.
Horrible and grief-stricken crying could be heard echoing off the wal s.
The young man gulped and glanced upward, his gun-hand trembling in spite of himself. "Jesus. Let's
get the hell out of here."
"Agreed," Jacob grunted.
Samantha, however, stood irresolute for a few moments, blocking Corvo's way forward as he
brought up the rear. "This isn't right," she finally said.
"What do you mean?" Jacob asked, glancing back up at her over his shoulder.
"What if it isn't one of those… Jaguares up there? What if it's someone who's hurt? Or if there's a
little girl who's al alone?"
"Samantha, we can't afford to have a bleeding heart," Corvo said, irritation in his tone.
"But what if there's someone up there who needs our help?" she protested, her voice rising slightly.
"We're abandoning them without a second thought!"
"We don't have time for this horseshit," he said gruffly. He planted himself squarely in the middle of the winding staircase, blocking the former col ege girl's way back up the stairs. "I'm not about to let
you go up there and investigate a sound which has a ninety percent chance of leading you to a
monster which would tear you limb from limb!"
"A fifty percent chance!"
"How many crying girls have we encountered in the past few weeks that are stil human?! It's
a ninety percent chance! Probably more!"
"Yeah…" Markus interjected quietly. "Have you forgotten about the claws on those Jaguares,
Samantha?"
The woman in question was frankly quite surprised and appal ed. Was this what they had come to?
Abandoning what could be a person in dire need of help without hesitation?
"Let me go up," she said, her tone determined. "I'll check it out myself."
"No," the old man replied.
"Let me up, Corvo!"
"The answer is no. You're not going to go and risk your life on some noble crusade. Not on my
watch." When Samantha refused to back down, so did he. "Start moving. I won't ask again."
Aside from the lonely sobs in the air, the stairwel was silent. After what seemed like an eternity, the
young woman clenched her teeth and tightened her grip on the butt of her pistol as she whirled and
marched away down the stairs. She pushed her way past Jacob to take point, wanting nothing more
at that moment than to be as far away from Corvo as humanly possible.
No more words were exchanged within the group for the rest of the way down. Unbeknown to the
others, Corvo cast a longing glance back up the stairs, before he sighed and turned to follow the
others.
No more words were exchanged between him and Samantha for quite some time after that.
12 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE
Newburg was wel into the evening by the time the survivors left the hotel, emerging from the
stairwel into a narrow alleyway lined by tal and ugly buildings. The sky was dark, although sinister
orange glows could be seen in the distance in several directions, from what could no doubt be huge
fires.
Samantha started off down the al eyway toward the street in front of the hotel, but was pul ed back
by Jacob' beefy hand.
"You're way too pissed off to be taking point at the moment," he said. "Let me."
She frowned at him, but stood aside and al owed him to take the lead nevertheless. The burly biker
careful y led the way to the edge of the hotel, where he paused and peered around the corner,
before waving Corvo over.
"Shitloads of Infected al over the street," he reported. "What should we do?"
&
nbsp; The war veteran frowned, before looking the other way. "If we circle back around the block, we'll be
able to cross the road further up. Since they were al drawn toward the hotel by the Spitter stink on
us, there should be less for us to deal with the further away we get."
"That's assuming they haven't already dispersed in the time we took inside the safe-room," the
younger man argued.
"You got a better idea?" Corvo said, bristling slightly.
Unfortunately for Jacob' pride, he did not. Without a word, he hefted his submachine gun, turned and
moved down the alleyway in the opposite direction, shoulders hunched forward. The others fol owed
suit, moving silently as a single unit past bul et-riddled dumpsters and corpses, in various states of
decay. The acrid smell assaulted everyone's sinuses, although they were too much on edge to
comment. Partly because of the overwhelming presence of the Infected very nearby. Partly because
of the twelve hour deadline they now knew of.
And partly because of the tension in the group.
They presently rounded the far corner of the hotel and turned north, following a narrow laneway of
sorts behind the hotel. Dark loading docks lined both sides of the path, and a storm-drain ran parallel
to the narrow single-lane road.
Straggling Common Infected stood here and there, facing the wal s in silent contemplation of god-
knows-what. Their thoughts were suddenly and permanently ceased by Corvo's rough hands brutal y
twisting their heads sideways before releasing them to fal to the ground, their necks broken.
The ones that did notice them coming were too out of it to even cry out in surprise before they
caught a bul et to the head, courtesy of Jacob' Beretta 92. Whenever this happened, he looked
around warily, as if he was afraid that the occasional gunshot would draw in a horde that would
sweep over them like an unstoppable wave.
Markus stole a glance upward every now and then, as though he expected bombs to begin raining
from the dark sky at any minute.
Fortunately, neither of these things happened.
Samantha and Corvo's faces were unreadable, except for whenever he glanced back and caught
her eye. Whenever this happened, she scowled and looked away.
The laneway soon emerged into a large construction site, neatly concentrated around a network of
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