It collapsed at Bryce’s feet, a stinking grey mound. He tossed aside the headless golf club and helped Maddy to her feet, warning her, “The only way out is down the front stairs. It’s going to be tough…and a little smoky.”
“A little smoky?” She laughed and instantly regretted it. Her shoulder was still aching from the gunshot. Working her arm around in a circle, she asked, “And what about the fire? Are you going to call that little as well?” He growled and was about to make an excuse when she pointed up. “The only way out of here is from the roof. We’re going to have to jump to another building.”
She started pulling him along to the stairs, but he balked. “Hold on. A jump? What sort of jump?” He could feel her pulse through her damp hand. It was revved more than usual. She was afraid…more than usual.
“A big one across the back alley.” She wouldn’t look up at him.
“Yeah? Can we make it?”
Her shrug brought about a wince. “Maybe. Probably.” There’s no way, she thought. Still, they had less chance going through the smoke and the fire…and the zombies. There were too many zombies and they scared Maddy more than any fall would. Even then a dozen people were screaming, dying slowly.
Bryce heard the lie in her voice and it scared him. “O-Okay. Let’s see this jump.”
They abandoned the screamers and the people hiding in their closets, doing their best not to think about how this was their fault. But it was in the back of their minds, nonetheless. They had brought death to the people in the building. Death seemed to follow them, or it was in the air around them. Maybe it was in their touch. Neither knew, but it felt as though the two instigated all of this by turning down Magnus.
Of course, this was absurd, and yet guilt was frequently an absurd beast and that was especially true in this new world. It had no place there.
At the stairs they both stared down in shock. The fire could be seen as a hellish red glow and the heat from it seared into their faces. It was out of control and soon it would force everyone and everything up to the roof. Their time was running out. They raced upward and found that the rooftop door was closed against them. It could not be locked from the outside, though it could be held. On the other side was the musketeer. He smelled of blackpowder.
“It’s us, open up,” Bryce said, tapping on the door.
“How do I know you’re not one of them? Or that you don’t have one of…”
Bryce slammed his shoulder into the door, knocking the man back. There was no time for useless fear. There were plenty of real fears in front and behind. Bryce strode out into a cold night. Right away he felt the cold in the split of his pants. Embarrassed, he cast a look back at Maddy. Split pants were the furthest thing from her mind. She only had eyes for the little ledge and the gravel-covered roof across the canyon of brick. It was a long way.
There were seven of them up in the cold and none were more afraid than Maddy. She was the smallest, the chubbiest, the least athletic. The man with the burned hands held them in front of him; they were shaking. Next to him was a soft and balding of forty. He stood a few feet from the edge, muttering and shaking his head. Behind him and using him as a shield against any stray wind that might blow him over the side, was the musketeer. He was stark white and kept looking back and forth from the door to the edge, trying to decide which was worse.
The decision was going to be made for him soon enough. Someone was racing up the stairs, trying to outrun a pack of zombies.
Only Bryce and Maddy heard the person coming. They looked into each other’s eyes and saw that each was thinking the same thing: if they held the door shut, the person’s death would give them an extra couple of minutes to come up with an idea. Ashamed, Bryce turned away.
“Someone get the door,” Maddy ordered. “Someone’s coming.”
The musketeer felt a surge of crazy hope. A moment before he hadn’t wanted to let the people knocking through the door, now he latched onto the idea that maybe this “someone” would be able to help them. It was a childish thought.
The person who came up was a shrieking woman. She ran up out of the stairs and then ran in a circle around the roof, her eyes wide and crazy. “How do we get down,” she cried, clutching at the man with the burned hands.
“Get that door shut!” one of the men barked. The disappointed musketeer slammed it shut and for a few seconds it was silent on the roof. All eyes went to Bryce. Somehow he had ended up in the middle of the group and they were all looking at him for answers.
Which doesn’t make any sense, he thought. I’m just me. I’m no one. This was true, but they didn’t seem to understand. With every eye on him, he went to the edge of the roof and looked across the alley. It was frightfully far, but it was fast becoming their only hope. The zombies were just on the other side of the door. “Who wants to go first?” He certainly didn’t. Yes, he might have been in the middle of a curious physical change, but mentally he was still the same slightly built, easily frightened little man he had always been.
Sid flicked his cigarette away and pushed out of his chair. “That’ll be me.”
There was a thud as something smashed into the door. “Hold on!” the musketeer shouted. He had his back to the door while the balding man was trying to block it using the folding chair. “We need a real plan. One that doesn’t involve jumping. What about climbing?”
Again, everyone looked at Bryce. He glanced down again and then up at the surrounding buildings. Without ladders and rope, climbing up was impossible and climbing down meant falling. There were just too many places where there weren’t holds of any sorts. And anyone who actually made the climb down would have to deal with zombies falling from up top and likely, more waiting below.
Had it not been for the fire they had set, they might’ve been able to pile themselves against the door, but that bridge was burned along with half the building.
“Jumping is it. It’s our only choice.” His eyes flicked to Maddy. She wouldn’t look up.
“If you even call it a choice,” the musketeer snarled. “You did this to us. You set that fire. You should be the one who goes first.”
“No,” Sid said, quickly. “I’m going first.” He looked down at the drop and spat. Reaching into his jacket, he pulled out a flask and took a swig. He then held it out to Bryce. It was pewter and engraved: William, The Best Man is also my Best Friend.
Bryce took a slug of very expensive whiskey—it still burned going down. “I can go first if…”
Sid shook his head. “If you don’t make it, I might lose my nerve.” He unslung his pack and heaved it across. The bow went next, then his coat. The Hawaiian shirt he had on made no sense. “Wish me luck,” he said, backing up. There was no preamble, no short speech, and no hesitation on his part. He took off at a run for the edge and threw himself across the chasm.
Breathless, everyone watched as Sid sailed through the air. His arc did not end with him landing on the roof, but rather against the wall of the building with a heavy grunt. He was high enough that his chest hit the lip. Like a desperate cat, he scrambled to hold himself up. He kicked and clawed his way onto the other roof. Then he lay there, gasping.
“I want to go next.” It was the forty-ish balding man who was holding the door shut along with the musketeer. His name was George Rawlins and although suicide had been much on his mind the last couple of months, he didn’t want to go out kicking and screaming with some grey-faced punk eating his pecker off.
The musketeer looked panicked, as if he would have to go third simply by being next to George. “No. Someone’s got to hold the door with me.”
“I’ll do it,” Maddy said, her voice a harsh whisper. Her fear was a raging monster inside of her. As bad as the zombies were the jump was insane. She didn’t want to be anywhere near the edge of the roof. She couldn’t even think about it.
Bryce pulled her away from the door. “She’s too small. One of you other guys will have…” One of the men rushed to the door; he was supposed to hold it cl
osed but it looked like he was holding onto it for dear life. It was an unsettling display of cowardice which made George hesitate. He had been working himself up to attempt the jump; now he turned away.
Bryce found he couldn’t look in their direction. “You’ll be fine,” Bryce told Maddy. “I’ll go before you and, and, and I’ll catch you.” It was a ridiculous thing to say and they both knew it. She wouldn’t get close to the wall and if she did, how was he supposed to catch her? Even if he managed to grab one of her hands, simple physics would suggest that she would pull him right off the roof.
“Maybe,” she whispered. Or maybe it’ll simply be easier to stay up here and get eaten. The thought was cowardly and she hung her head in shame.
“Get out of the way,” George cried in a high warbling voice. “Step back. Get the fuck back!” There was already a clear lane through which he could run. Nonetheless, everyone stepped back. It was to George’s credit that he didn’t pause. He sucked in a huge breath and ran for the edge of the roof
He had been an athlete once, and his eighteen-year-old self would’ve landed feet first on the other side. Even his thirty-year-old self would’ve hit much like Sid had. This version of George was years past his prime. His thighs were soft and marbled with fat. His calves were thin and grew quickly tired. When he couldn’t lounge, he liked to sit. His jump was poorly timed and poorly executed. He had wanted to take off from the lip, thinking the extra ten-inches in height could make the difference. But his stride was off.
At the last second, he saw that his jumping foot was going to come down two inches too short, so he stretched his leg slightly. This, in turn, made his bunched muscle slightly longer, giving him less spring.
“Shit,” Bryce whispered while the man was in mid-flight. He wasn’t going to make it. Even stretching out his long arms did nothing. When his body slapped against the wall, his fingertips were three inches from the top. In vain, he scratched at the wall like a cat trying to climb a tree. Even claws wouldn’t have helped. His nails ripped from their beds and he fell, screaming.
Chapter 30
George hit with an appalling splatting thud. There was silence on the roof for only a few seconds before the woman who had come charging up last let out a long wail. Her legs buckled and she collapsed on the roof, covering her face with her hands. She was still howling in misery when the door banged again. She was exciting the zombies.
“Someone shoot me,” she said. When no one said anything, she pointed at Maddy. “Shoot me.”
Maddy had forgotten she was even holding the musket. She let it fall from her hands. “I can’t.” It wasn’t as if she was against the idea. Far from it. Going out in a blink was smart. She was just against the idea of becoming a murderer in her last few minutes left on earth.
“No one’s shooting anyone,” Bryce said, forcefully. “We can figure this out.”
“What’s there to figure out?” the woman said. “I can’t jump across and there’s too many zombies to fight. The only thing that makes sense is to kill ourselves as painlessly as possible. But if you got some big idea, let’s hear it.”
She waited patiently until it was clear Bryce had no big idea. She then got up and went to the gun. It was a big piece, long and unwieldy. Sitting down, she pulled off one shoe and stuck one toe in the trigger guard. Twisting slightly, she was able to put the bore to her forehead. “I’ll do it myself,” she declared.
Maddy held out the powder horn to her. “I’ll go next,” she said.
“You won’t,” Bryce snapped, grabbing her arm and dragging her away. “You’re going to make this jump.” He tore off his backpack and held up the shoulder straps. “You see these? I’ll have a hold of this side; you just have to jump and grab the other. I’ll stick it out as far as I can and that guy will hold my legs.”
As though he was viewing the live performance of some sort of bizarre theater, Sid had been watching the others and sipping from his flask. “I can do that.” He pointed the lip of the flask at Bryce. “You just got to make the jump first.”
The frightened energy racing through Bryce evaporated, leaving behind only fear. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah. Okay. I-I can do it. We can do it.” He leaned in close to Maddy. “Magnus changed us. We’re stronger now. You and I can both do this.”
“I can’t.”
“Yes, you can. All you have to do is get close…If you don’t trust me, trust Magnus. Come on. Don’t you want to see where this goes? Don’t you want to see what you’ll become?”
A part of her did. More and more she knew she wasn’t going to turn into a zombie. Instead, she was turning into someone much greater than she had been. Yes, her heart was tripping and the sweating was unnerving, but every time she was able to rest, she came back that much stronger.
The words: I think we should give you a chance, floated through her mind. Magnus had said that. Was this her chance? This thing he did to her? Looking out at the chasm it didn’t feel like much of a chance.
“I’ll catch you,” Bryce repeated. “Just promise me you’ll jump if I make it.”
Maddy glanced over at the woman who was getting step by step instructions from the musketeer on how to load the weapon. The moment was surreal. Zombies were banging on the door. Black smoke was billowing up the side of the building. The city was black and full of death. Sid raised his flask to her.
“Okay,” she whispered.
Bryce gave her a false grin. He was scared to death. “Don’t look down,” he told himself. “Look at the lip and then…yeah. Then jump.” After throwing his pack across, he took a couple of steps back, scraped out a mark and then came forward, taking large, exaggerated steps to the edge of the roof. There would be only one shot at making the jump and he wanted it perfect.
At the edge he told himself not to look down. But he did and it was a mistake. George was not dead. He had broken over fifty bones and was bleeding both internally and externally, and yet, for the moment, he was still alive. A zombie was trying to suck the marrow from his shattered femur. George was making a gurgling sound and beating his hand lightly on the creature.
“Shit,” Bryce whispered. He backed away and went through the steps again. He was ready, and so was the woman with the gun. “I’ll catch you, too,” he promised her. She said nothing; she only looked down at the gun and ran her hands along the beautiful stock. She would wait and see. They all would. Everyone stared in silence.
Bryce went to his mark and began to take large breaths as he bounced up and down. This was it. Putting it off for even a minute might doom them all. He took a great gulp of air and took off for the edge of the roof with one goal in mind: he’d make the takeoff perfect and everything else would fall into place.
The jump was very much like that first front kick had been. It felt right. His foot came down on the lip exactly on the ball, and his momentum added to his leap, and out he sailed over the sickening drop. Now his eyes were on the other roof.
He was not going to make the jump; he was coming in short. The question was how short and could he throw out his hands far enough to make any difference? George had done nothing to change his trajectory. Bryce kicked like he was still running in the air and stretched out a single arm as far as he could. Unlike George, he didn’t slap hard against the brick. His one grasping hand was hooked into a claw, while he used the other to protect his face and absorb the impact.
That hooked claw held tight to the edge of the roof.
“Gimme your udder hand,” Sid said, suddenly appearing above him.
Bryce swung his hand up and Sid grabbed his jacket. Looking into his face, Sid said, “If I pull you up, you gonna owe me a life debt. You cool with that?”
“Yeah, Christ! Just pull me up.”
“Christ, huh? It’s good you a Bible man cuz you can’t go back on a life debt,” Sid said, and began pulling as hard as he could. Hauling one’s self up in this way was not like it was in the movies. It was much like the last couple of days: a desperate clawing fight to live.
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Once he got one elbow up, he knew he was safe. Sid kept pulling until Bryce was lying, gasping on the roof. He rolled over and stared upwards and saw a few stars straining to shine through the smoke. Theirs wasn’t the only building on fire. The view from this roof was more open to the west and he could see all the way into New Jersey. There had to be a hundred fires scattered across his view.
Just like Bryce, people were discovering that fire was a double-edged sword. “It’s still a sword,” he muttered, justifying his actions under his breath.
“You wants a sword?” Sid asked, grinning. He was becoming softly drunk. There was a nice phlegmy purr to his voice and warmth behind his eyes. It was the perfect state, he thought. He could still function but not give a rip about the screams and the people trapped on the other roof. They were all going to die, one way or another. The thought soured his buzz and he took another swig.
The woman with the gun had the right of it. Best to go out quick and easy.
But she was hesitating now that Bryce made it across. In the back of her mind was a murmur of hope. She looked up at Maddy, thinking if that girl could make it then she might have a chance too. “Go,” the woman said to Maddy.
Maddy had been staring across the alley. She had said she would try, but all the strength had drained from her legs. Bryce had barely made it. His approach, his launch, his form in the air had been perfect. The word Olympic danced through her mind. She couldn’t equal it and she would fall.
“I can’t,” she said, her words barely audible.
“Yeah. That’s what I thought.” The woman pulled the bore of the gun up under her chin. As she worked her toe into position to press down on the trigger, she said, “There’s no shame in this. I always said I wasn’t built for an apocalypse. I thought it would be the food. You know? I can’t eat canned food over and over. It would make me crazy.” She laughed and although it was soft, it still wasn’t sane. “Do me a favor?”
Heroes of the Undead | Book 1 | The Culling Page 22