Returning to the exit was a no go, so I aimed for the ramp up to the next level. I had no intention of taking that but hoped to find a staircase close by. Doors were often problematic for them. Also for us, considering creaky hinges, but I figured I could always slam the door and hide to lay a false lead.
Sadly, the staircase turned out to be not an option, since it was on the other end of the level—where there was a huge chunk of the building missing where a crane had crashed down on it, tearing through the four levels above and leaving the ground level a giant heap of cement rubble and bent rebars. Sunlight was streaming in from the side, turning it all into a devastatingly beautiful landscape of light and shadow.
To say the effect was lost on me was an understatement.
I chanced a glance over the cement balustrade that was between me and the street. I could have crawled over that, but since the street outside was teeming with shamblers, that wasn’t a good idea. Maybe trying the street Hill had turned down would be better? Since it was the only direction that I could head in where I had cover, that sounded like a good idea. But it turned out as much of a bust as the other since a good third of the pursuing zombies had made their way down there as well.
Fuck. Looked like the field of rubble it was after all. With luck, they wouldn’t see me as they were still avoiding the sunlight, and I could make it to the other side and escape that way. The only upside of so many shamblers around was that the sound of a misplaced step or scrape against a car didn’t draw much attention since, en masse, they weren’t exactly silent themselves.
It was due to that very fact that it took me more than a minute to realize that I wasn’t the only one hiding in here. Moving alongside the balustrade at the very outer edge of the car park didn’t help with getting a good overview, but when a few of the zombies startled for the third time, I managed to get a sense of direction. Pausing for a few seconds did the trick, and I caught sight of a head popping up behind a car hood for a second. Extrapolating from there, I caught him again a few cars further down—Cole. And Richards right behind him, if I wasn’t completely mistaken.
I considered trying to signal them but didn’t want to risk it. Now that I was aware of their presence, I managed to track their progress easily enough. They were moving parallel to me yet on the other side of the level, and would arrive at the debris field maybe a minute ahead of me.
Something caught my attention a few cars farther down my track—something glass or metallic reflecting the sunlight at the other end of the level, beyond where the crane had bisected it. Since there were plenty of cars remaining there, that wasn’t out of the ordinary. But then it glinted again, and again, and I realized that someone was signaling with a mirror or some other reflective surface. And when the next instance pretty much blinded me for a second, I got the sense that they’d seen me, too. I could have done without losing my vision for a few priceless seconds, though.
I blinked furiously until I could see clearly again, making sure I remained out of direct line of sight until I caught the signal again. Then I raised my right arm and flipped them off. Two quick flashes made me guess they’d caught that. Awesome.
I scampered forward to the next car and found myself face to face with a shambler that had been waiting there for me. Well, the upper half of a shambler since it ended in shattered hip bones, its entrails dragging on the ground behind it. It had been a while since I’d seen one still around that was this damaged. Judging from the fact that I could see where it had been dragging itself underneath the car, it was probably a recent injury, maybe even from one of the others. Fucking great. At least I could permanently dispatch it easily enough with one well-placed ax swing—but not without alerting half the undead population around me to my presence.
First, one started to growl, then five more picked it up, partly hidden by rows of cars as they were but coming closer. My first instinct was to keep going but another flash of light made me hesitate. I was crouching right next to a flat-bed truck that looked fancy enough that I figured it had been a vehicle of vanity, not necessarily use. With the shamblers preferring to hide on the ground, up was always an option. Casting around, I saw no immediate danger, so I grabbed the side of the truck bed and hauled myself up, immediately flattening myself against the dusty metal. If they’d seen me, I was busted. If not, they might get distracted by the dead shambler on the ground.
Closing my eyes for a few seconds, I forced my breathing to slow down as I did my very best to relax. Listening to the undead draw closer wasn’t very conducive to relaxation. Feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins, neither. I still managed to even out my breaths, at least until their stink drew closer. Then I switched to shallow breaths through my mouth only, and hoped for the best.
Staring straight up, I caught a glimpse at the very top of the heads of two shamblers to my right—where the dead one was. They paused and keened at each other, close enough that if I’d reared up, I could have sliced at them with my ax. A step closer, and all it took for them to see me would have been a turn of the head. But they didn’t look to the side, instead dropping down, and a moment later the telltale sounds of flesh being ripped from bones made me want to grimace. Good for them—and if it kept them focused on their meal, good for me as well. At least until the sun set completely, and we’d all be caught out in the open with nowhere to hide.
Yeah, that wasn’t going to work so well.
Thankfully, before I could consider whether the shamblers were distracted enough with eating that I could ease off the truck bed on the other side, I heard cement grate on cement, followed by the sound of pebbles rolling away. Red and Cole must have made it to the rubble and were using the momentary commotion at my end to make their way out into the open. The shamblers next to me stopped in their feeding frenzy for a moment but almost immediately resumed, a sure meal more important than uncertain anything.
The damn light hit my face again, but this time I didn’t mind so much as I recognized it for what it was: a signal for me to get moving.
In reverse effect to before, I had to will my muscles into action, instinct locking down my body. Yet unlike the damn rope climbing, this was something I knew how to do. Nate and I had spent a lot of time on what had started out as a mix of yoga and stretching to keep all the parts of me limber that weren’t in prime, untarnished condition—and said activities had often evolved into a rather different kind of movements—but had eventually taken on a dynamic of its own, based on the fact that we had no equipment for strength training beyond our own weight. Suffice it to say I’d never expected to master that kind of control over my own body, and it had seemed more like a fun novelty to perform than actually useful, besides keeping my core engaged. Now, I was grateful for every second that I’d spent doing all kinds of plank variations, up to completely balancing my entire body on my arms only. It may have taken me a good five minutes to slowly ease myself off the truck bed and over the side, but it beat dropping down with a thunderous crash that alerted every shambler in the city to my presence. But damn, my nerves were frayed once I felt the soles of my boots touch down onto the ground with the ease of a feather landing.
As much as the countdown to sunset clamored in the back of my head, taking my time came with one advantage: Richards and Cole were halfway across the debris field by the time I could check on their progress, and while it was slow going, they easily outpaced the shamblers that kept trying to rush after them. Throwing caution to the wind, I started toward the gap in the building myself, my left shoulder almost brushing against the cement balustrade. Fifteen cars, ten, then five, and finally I reached the last vehicle. By then, the other two had almost made it across the rubble field. My turn would likely be faster and easier since there were more intact pieces of concrete on this side, but a different problem was looming. As I pushed myself forward and into the debris, the last rays of sunshine started to recede, leaving me scrambling at the very edge of darkness. I only realized just what a difference that made when, almost i
mmediately, the shamblers all over the building surged forward—and after me.
Throwing caution to the wind, I did my very best to gain speed—and keep my backsliding to a minimum. I gave up checking behind me after a few moments when I realized that I lost momentum, and if they caught up to me, I’d be dead whether I saw it coming or not.
I was halfway across the gap when the sunshine disappeared.
The howling and growling behind me increased in pitch and volume almost immediately. I tried to tell myself—quite rationally—that I was just imagining things, but it must have been more since I felt an almost visceral shudder run through me as the baser parts of my brain responded. Exhaustion was still weighing my limbs down but I managed to increase my speed further, jump farther, and get to the finishing stretch quicker.
There was only one problem: on this side, the crane had pretty much buried the ground level completely, and there was a huge gap between the highest part of the debris and the next level up. I’d never hated my lack of physical height, paired with my other limitations, that much in my life.
For a second, I considered diving into the darkness beyond that gap and hope I didn’t spear myself on a rebar. Maybe there was a way out on the other side, and it might make for a good place to hole up. Yet ending up wedged in the opening, ready to be plucked up by the shamblers, didn’t sound like so much fun, and neither was the idea of fitting through with several of them following me. No, the only way was up, even if it looked borderline impossible. I still had around fifty feet of distance to traverse to come up with a plan.
Just my luck that Hamilton turned out to be my best bet for survival.
Movement in the shadows beyond the ledge that I had to reach drew my focus. Two hulking figures materialized into people—one of them Burns, the other Hamilton. I had no attention left to check whether he was sneering down at me, but I would have been more surprised if that hadn’t been the case. Thirty feet, and I realized that I only had one chance, and couldn’t be picky or demanding. I was sure that Hamilton hadn’t volunteered for the job but they must not have had anyone else to spare for it. Part of me still hoped that Richards would show up next to him, but this once my knight in shining armor left me hanging—hopefully not literally, I prayed… and jumped.
The last three steps I got lucky and had good, stable footing, so I could launch myself forward and upward at maximum momentum, pushing myself off the concrete with as much power as possible. I knew from the moment I left the ground that it wouldn’t be enough to reach the ledge and pull myself up, but both men were crouching down, ready to reach for me. My arms were already halfway up and I strained my body to reach higher and further, fighting for every fraction of an inch—
And slammed into the ledge, torso first, the impact hard enough to leave me disoriented and scrambling.
Strong, sure hands grabbed my arms and pack, hauling me up against inertia and gravity’s pull. My stomach revolted, and then I felt as if I was airborne again when their combined effort to heave me onto the ledge proved stronger than necessary for my weight. Still half locked in their grasp, I had no way to evade or cushion my fall, but Hamilton’s body did a great job providing a buffer between me and the concrete.
Neither of us looked very happy with the result, I might add.
He let go of me the same moment as I pushed up and Burns gave my pack another hard pull, ending with me pretty much flying off Hamilton’s prone form. Staggering against Burns was a much better outcome, even if it might have earned me a nasty glare from Sonia. I couldn’t tell as I was much more preoccupied with getting away from the ledge and the surge of undead below than to see if she was even around, let alone her reaction. A moment of elation was all I got; then Burns gave me a shove toward the back of the room, just a few more feet away. The crane had taken out the ramp, but the staircase looked intact enough where Cole was keeping the door open. Below, Richards was playing lookout, and as soon as he saw me stagger down the rubble-strewn steps, he took off running down the street at breakneck speed. Why became apparent the moment I staggered out of the staircase, and found masses of shamblers waiting for us. For every stupid one that was still trying to brave the debris, five smart ones had simply followed the streets running alongside the block made up by the building.
I didn’t think. I didn’t question how intelligent it was to try to run away from them, or where we were headed. There was an alive human being running in front of me, so that’s who I followed. The three men caught up to me, but seeing Hamilton push past me gave me an extra smidgen of energy, helping me not to fall behind more than a step or two. Ahead, Red careened through an intersection without checking and took a hard turn right, Hamilton following in his steps. Not bothering with good form, I stumbled onto the sidewalk and through the remnants of what used to be a FEMA roadblock, this cutting a good three feet of distance from my route. The road ahead was empty but I saw shamblers trickle onto it four or five blocks away. Richards did another turn, back in our initial direction—south. One block, two, and then more shamblers came running and screaming toward us, an entire wave of them from how they suddenly filled out the street. Yet Richards pushed on, running right toward them, missing the last possible route away from them as he ran straight across another intersection. My instincts were screaming for me to take the turn he’d missed but I forced myself to follow and only concentrate on catching up to him.
With half of block of distance to the shamblers left, Richards suddenly hurled himself onto the sidewalk and through a small portal barely broader than a normal house entrance. In the deepening shadows, it looked more like a dark maw into hell, but turned out to be a short staircase, less than ten steps deep. Beyond that was a ramp just about broad enough for a car, although obviously meant for pedestrian traffic only. One of the entrances to the Dallas pedestrian underground tunnels, I realized—not quite what we were headed for, but the next best thing, and better than getting torn to shreds by the undead.
My shorter legs cost me a few feet of distance down the stairs so Hamilton managed to catch up to Richards in the meantime, with the three of us following. Not a bad turn, I realized, when Richards hesitated at the first intersection yet Hamilton barreled right on, heading straight, then left, and straight again, as if he had a map of the pedestrian tunnels memorized. That was likely what was happening, I realized, as I followed him blindly, not looking at any of the side tunnels that we didn’t take.
On and on we ran—and we were far from alone in the tunnels; more than once, a huddle of shamblers lurched toward us, but they clearly didn’t belong to the hunting mob we had encountered on the surface, too slow to be much of a menace to us. We must have run well over a mile when Hamilton picked another ramp upward, leading us back to the surface. I had just enough time to feel my animal brain react to the stench my nose must have picked up before my mind noticed it; then we were crashing into a crowd of shamblers, out onto another street clogged with wrecks. I almost went down but a strong hand grabbed my arm and pulled me forward, and down the street we went with the confused undead coming after us. My vision was swimming with patches of color as hypoxia set in, my lungs incapable of drawing enough air. I knew I had maybe a minute of this in me, two tops—
But it turned out, all I needed was another fifteen seconds before Hamilton launched himself into what looked like an ordinary entrance to a building’s underground parking lot. With mounting panic I realized that it was a dead end—until a sudden shock of bright light revealed an exit where there shouldn’t be one, at the very back left corner of the level. Nate and Blake were waiting for us there, urging us on with silent gestures. Needing no incentive, I staggered through the gap in the concrete, slipping through easily while Burns had to actively squeeze himself through. As soon as Cole was the last to get in, Nate and Blake pulled what looked like a rusty sheet of iron across the gap, effectively sealing it shut. A locking mechanism engaged, and not a second too soon as the repeat sound of bodies slamming against the other side of
the barrier proved. It didn’t budge or give—or even shake, really—way sturdier than it looked.
Hunching over, I did my best not to fall flat on my face as I sucked air into my lungs, feeling like my entire body had just gotten worked over by a sledgehammer. The guys didn’t look to be in much better shape, although Hamilton was trying to hide it. I honestly didn’t give a fuck, as long as I was safe from the undead for the moment. Beyond what little illumination Blake’s flashlight provided, I could see the other surviving members of our team huddled together, equally happy to be alive. My earlier guess had been correct, it turned out—only Eden and Amos were left of the scavengers, the other two members of their party gone. Considering what the last two days had been like, it was bordering on a miracle that any of us had survived, but I couldn’t help but feel that special kind of frustration rise inside of me that I’d gotten awfully familiar with over the past few years: that senseless loss of life when really, we couldn’t afford to lose anyone. I tried to console myself that it wasn’t any of my friends—and least of all Nate—but couldn’t ignore the bitter taste it left on my tongue.
“We move out in five,” my dear husband grated out, the first loud words any of us had uttered in what felt like ages.
I glared at him between pants that made me sound more canine than human, but didn’t protest. We’d made it to the abandoned railway tunnels. Our destination was less than two miles of hopefully mostly straight paths away. That was enough time to catch my breath. And, soon enough, we’d find out whether we had risked our lives for something worth risking it for, or all the senseless deaths had been for naught.
Chapter 13
We did not move out in five, as it turned out. That order had come before Nate had gotten a chance to realize how badly wounded Fletcher had gotten, and that Scott’s two remaining marines were both pretty beaten up and needed some rudimentary checkups and bandages. Sonia could easily take care of that, but even before she hesitated with Fletcher, Nate told her to steer clear of him. I would have preferred to sit this one out—literally, since my lungs and legs were still protesting after the recent abuse they had suffered—but all the tall, hulking guys seemed to think that cleaning savage bite wounds warranted a woman’s gentle touch.
Green Fields Series Box Set | Vol. 4 | Books 10-12 Page 63