Capital Falling Trilogy Box Set [Books 1-3]

by Winkless, Lance

  “Here it comes!”

  Everybody tenses up and my stomach lurches. Josh is correct in his evaluation of the evac, I am going to be very exposed. He knew it as well as me, as did the rest of the men. Desperate times call for desperate measures, no matter how positive I tried to spin it for Josh. With each member of the team that breaks for the Lynx, the more exposed I will be until I will be here alone, with no backup. Just me and the Browning and then, when it’s time for me to break for it, I will be leaving the power of the Browning too.

  Noise from the Lynx’s engines and rotors is now clear to hear. A feeling of relief is there amongst the one of anticipation and fear. I seriously doubt we would have held out for another twenty to twenty-five minutes waiting for the transport arranged by Winters. Whatever happens in the next few minutes was inevitable, even if we’d had to wait, so I’d rather do it now with the Browning loaded with a full chain of ammo.

  “Dixon, before you go, throw two grenades down, okay?”

  “You got it, Sir, and good luck.”

  The Lynx swoops in fast over our heads, before pulling its nose up and air braking suddenly out across from the north side of the building. A glimpse up shows me Alice gripping on at the open hold door, while Alders performs his sharp manoeuvres and a welcoming empty hold behind her.

  Like clockwork, the noise brings the inevitable Rabid attack from the dark depths of the stairwell. I see Rabid heads and eyes first above the mounds of minced flesh on the stairs and in front of the doorway. Multiple targets present themselves as if they know this is their last chance to feed.

  Dixon opens up first, shooting almost constantly at Rabid targets as they surge up and towards the open air. He is closely followed by Downey firing in more short-targeted bursts, and then Watts has to join in too, firing off single shots. I resist the nearly overwhelming urge to pull the trigger and unleash the Browning’s fearsome power as I see the eyes of the baying creatures attacking, thirsty for blood.

  With the onslaught in front, I cannot afford to watch Alders as he positions the Lynx ready for our evac. My eyes flick away from the fight and across the rooftop, checking the Lynx’s progress, willing it to get into position quickly. At least then, Josh can retreat, get onto the transport and get the fuck out of harm's way.

  That in itself will be a massive weight off my mind.

  Each time I do steel a glace away from the attack and over at the Lynx, it is closer, and Alice gets bigger as she shouts directions out to her pilot. Rainwater starts to fly at us sideways across the rooftop as the downdraft from the spinning rotors of the Lynx starts to take effect, affecting our atmosphere. Alders seems to be taking an age to get into position, the noise from the helicopter increasing constantly. This isn’t actually the case. I know that in the heat of battle, things happen very quickly until it’s time to wait for something, especially for help when you’re under fire, and then time extends.

  Dead bodies are piling up inside the stairwell and around the doorway, and I see them all as dead as human dead bodies, not dead Rabids or dead Zombies. They are dead people. They were infected with an evil virus which turned them into horrific deadly creatures. Now they are dead, the virus is dead with them and it weighs heavy on me that we are forced to kill so many people, indiscriminately.

  What other choice is there? We have to slaughter them, as they attack—and slaughter them, we do. Dixon and Downey are firing constantly to keep them at bay. The deafening noise from the incoming Lynx now that it is almost in position is like a drug to the Rabids and revs them up even more.

  “Alders is in position!” Josh shouts at me.

  “Okay, Josh, give me your last grenades and then move now, you two!” I shout back at Josh and Watts.

  Josh gives me two grenades and then immediately makes a break for it, running across the roof, his rifle swinging from side to side in his hands across the front of his body, and water splashes up as his feet hit the sodden roof.

  Watts waits a few seconds; his rifle’s aim not wavering from the doorway. As Josh reaches halfway to the Lynx, Watts shoots out a burst from his rifle into the stairwell before dropping his aim, pulling his rifle in and turning to run after Josh.

  I see Josh climb onboard the Lynx, Alice taking his hand to help pull him in and a wave of relief washes over me. The feeling is short-lived, however, as I turn my full concentration back to the onslaught in front of me and place my finger fully onto the trigger of the Browning.

  Dixon and Downey move across the front of the Browning’s muzzle as they get into position for their retreat, shooting as they go.

  “Move it!” Dixon shouts to Downey, who releases his last few shots and then makes his break for the Lynx.

  Suddenly, there is nothing to shoot at, nothing moving in the dark stairwell. There are no dead eyes or gaping mouths to aim at. Dixon shoots a look in my direction, confusion etched on his face. Is that all of them? Have we won the battle and managed to kill the hoard of Rabids that were so determined to taste our flesh?

  “Go!” I shout at Dixon, who drops his rifle down and turns, ready to run.

  The moment ‘go’ leaves my mouth, the sound of a stampede echoes out at me from the hellhole across from me. Dixon hears it too and is caught in stasis mid-turn, trying to decide whether to carry on and go for the Lynx or reverse his turn, to fight whatever is coming.

  “Go, I’ll cover!” I shout again at him, making his decision for him. Fear rushes through my body as I immediately regret telling him to go.

  Dixon sprints across the roof, making it halfway across to the Lynx in no time. That’s it, I say to myself, Dixon is nearly there, time for me to make a run for it. I glance over again to the Lynx and see Josh at the door, shouting desperately and waving me to come, to run to him.

  Chapter 18

  My hand relaxes slightly around the grip of the Browning and my index finger goes to move from its trigger as I go to make my run to the waiting Lynx. Josh is waving at me to run, frantically.

  Time slows and all the noise around me is extinguished as my brain computes what my eyes are seeing. Heads are bobbing, with wide evil eyes piercing the murky darkness of the stairwell as a new attack is rushing towards me. There are more Rabids than I have seen before coming up the stairwell, trampling over the bodies as if it is one last push for them to finally break out, out of their dungeon. Some Rabids aren’t quick or strong enough and they fall down to be trampled into the mush of flesh below.

  Every fibre of my body wants to run to the Lynx, to Josh and the others. My brain calculates that it will be a fatal mistake, that there is only a second until they do break out into the open air. I would be engulfed with Rabids as soon I attempted to run, there is no one in a position to cover me.

  Adrenaline washes into my bloodstream, and my hand instantly tightens around the grip of the Browning and my index finger pulls sharply on the trigger.

  I barely register the roar from the Browning as it lights up and sprays bullets out of its chamber, into its barrel and out of its muzzle, which instantaneously becomes red hot. The Rabids at the front of the attacking horde don’t stand a chance and are cut to pieces, as are the ones coming up behind them. As they fall and go down, ripped apart, others replace them, undeterred by the fate of their kin. These too are despatched by the Browning with ease; they are all coming from the same place and it can’t miss, its power is too great.

  That power is finite, however, and it cannot last. I try to ease my rate of fire, try using shorter bursts to conserve the ammo contained in the chain being fed into the gun. A chain that is nearly half used already. I desperately hope that the attack will slow or even better, it stops again for them to regroup. The Rabids keep coming though; perhaps this really is their final hoorah, and they are not going to stop until they are all either dead, or I am.

  My mind manages to imagine Josh, even in the middle of my desperation. It sees him trying to jump down from the Lynx so that he can run back across the roof and help me. It sees Dixon
and Watts holding him back, even when he tries to fight. They won’t let him go and in some imaginary way, I thank them for it.

  There is no sign of the attack easing. The Rabids are still hurtling into the Browning’s hail of bullets without hesitation. I have no idea how many I have cut down, but it is a lot and my ammo is depleting rapidly.

  I only have one option that I can think of; use the two grenades Josh gave me. Throw them in front of the door and hope the blasts blow the fuckers back down the stairs to give me the little time I need.

  My right hand on the Browning, keeping it firing, my left hand reaches for the first of the grenades that I’d placed by the feet of the Browning. Picking it up, I raise it to my mouth and pull out the pin with my teeth. The pin slips out and I spit away.

  Throwing the grenade into a good position is not going to be easy, especially left-handed. Bodies and body parts litter the ground in front of the door, two, three and even four bodies deep. All I can do is get the distance right, where it ends up in the mangled mess is going to be a lottery, the best I can hope for is that it stays on top. The first one arcs through the air, but I don’t look to see where it ends up because I am reaching for the second grenade whilst still firing the Browning. I throw the second one, trying to do it as quickly as possible so that the blasts happen as closely together as they can.

  I keep my finger on the trigger of the Browning, firing constantly, using as much ammo as possible, even if I don’t see a target. Any ammo remaining after the grenades go off will be wasted anyway because I won’t be here to fire it.

  Grenade number one explodes and I duck down, taking as much cover as I can behind Dan’s hastily constructed firing point. The blast is considerable. I must have been lucky where the grenade landed, and I hope the second explosion is equally fierce. My hand stays on the grip of the Browning and I keep firing blind, trying not to move its aim away from the door. The heat from the blast hits my raised gloved hand but doesn’t threaten to burn it, and I wait for blast two which will be my signal to make my run.

  Seconds after the first, grenade two explodes. My luck hasn’t held though. The second blast is dulled, the grenade must have nestled down into the bodies. Nevertheless, it is now or never, my right hand releases the Browning, my legs push off and I spring up from behind the firing point.

  As soon as I’m up, I know I’m in trouble and my legs nearly falter. Rabids are at the door already and coming through. How, I don’t know, but they are. The only consolation is that they look dazed and uncertain; could it be the smoke and mist from the explosions is hampering their vision? That won’t last. They are still flooding out and they are right in my path to the Lynx.

  I run parallel to the Lynx in the vain hope that I can run around them. Gunfire erupts from the Lynx, from whom, I can’t afford to look but it does take some of them down. The noise from the new gunfire also has the effect of attracting the Rabids to it—or at least some of them—and away from me, but that is taking more of them into the path between me and the Lynx.

  Shit, I keep running away from the door with nowhere to go and with Rabids spreading across the roof. A chilling screech pieces my ears from behind, I daren’t look back but I can feel them behind me. Not all are going towards the gunfire. The damaged helipad… can I take shelter on that somehow, get out of their reach or find cover for a new firing position? No, I quickly decide, they would be on me before I had a chance to find anything up there.

  I sprint to the only possible harbour there is, the hole in the roof, and the depths of the building below.

  Rabids are close behind me, I can feel them, they are gaining on me. I see the hole coming up in front of me and I never would have thought that dark abyss would ever look so inviting.

  Meters away from the hole, a Rabid is right behind me. I see it out of the corner of my eye, the dark figure almost upon me, ready to pounce. Adrenaline pumps into my legs, forcing them to go faster. They are no competition for the speed of the Rabid though, and the beast jumps at me.

  I drop down below its jump and slide along, through the water that covers the entire roof, aiming for the gaping hole that is just in front and hoping the speed of my slide will carry me far enough to reach it. The Rabid sails over me, flailing its arms down to try and grab me. The creature misses and without me to stop it, it flies over the hole, then hits the edge of the building with a crunch before bouncing off and disappearing over the edge.

  Snatching a look behind me, I see another coming at me. My momentum is more than enough to reach the hole, but I don’t try to slow. I let my slide carry me into the hole. As I reach the edge I swivel and grab hold of one of the fast ropes that still hangs down and use it to control my descent back down into the building. My wet boots hit the sideboard hard and slip from beneath me on the polished varnished top. Falling forwards, I try to stop myself by gripping the rope harder, but it doesn’t stop me going down; the wet rope and wet hands nullify the friction. My stomach hits the edge of the sideboard, bringing me to a sudden stop and winding me, I let go of the rope and fall down onto the floor, gasping for breath.

  Trying to pull myself together, curled up on the floor of Sir Malcolm’s office that is bleaker than ever, the orange light waning, the glowsticks well past their peak. I’m aware of something at the hole above me, peering down. Quickly gathering myself, my hand reaches for the Sig in my shoulder holster, I pull it out and roll onto my back, raising the pistol up in both hands.

  A silhouette drops right at me, its shadowy form unmistakable. As it comes down into the dull orange glow, its mouth is gaping open and a loud screech vibrates down into my ears, threatening to make them bleed. The orange glow reflects into the Rabid’s eyes and I take my shot, aiming right between its dark pools.

  The screech is immediately cut off as my bullet hits its mark. I roll to the side, out of the falling body’s way and I just make it in time. It smacks into the floor next to me with a thud. The dead Rabid’s head bounces back off the floor before it comes to a stop down on Sir Malcolm’s rug, with one lifeless eye looking in my direction. I’m transfixed by that eye for a moment, a moment I can’t afford.

  I don’t register the second Rabid coming through the hole above until it is too late. There is no time to react and bring the Sig to bear on it. The beast lands right in front of me and on top of the dead Rabid, its head whipping around, fixing its cursed eyes on me. Shock rips through me, making my mind flounder and my body goes rigid.

  Mustering some function back into my limbs, my arm feebly tries to bring the Sig up, to try and get some kind of shot away. My arm just isn’t quick enough, it’s not even close. The Rabid’s legs push it sideways straight at me, its twisted face full of hatred and its vile mouth opening.

  A welcome rush of adrenaline finally courses through my failing body, energising it, giving me some strength back. I manage to get my arms up to meet the onslaught, just in time, the Sig dropping to the floor. Off-balance, the Rabid has no trouble pushing me backwards onto the floor, but my arms lock into position. Sitting astride me, the Rabid’s neck stretches as it tries to get its snarling evil face into me; my arms hold firm though against its shoulders, trying to push it back.

  Drool from its wide mouth hits my face but I ignore it; my only thought is to keep those teeth as far away from me as I can. The Rabid’s strength is overpowering, its determination to feed relentless, I redouble my effort to keep pushing it back. Its head goes back slightly, relieving some of the pressure from my arms before it springs forward again, letting out an almighty scream from the depths of its throat. Inches away from my face, the scream is almost overwhelming, penetrating me to my core and the smell from its noxious breath is nearly enough to knock me out, it makes me urge.

  I do not buckle or give in, my determination to fight coming from deep within me. I have to fight and survive for my children, there is no other option.

  We are in a stalemate, my arms holding firm against the Rabid’s strength, neither of us backing down. The
Rabid quietens down and stares at me, looking deep into my eyes as if it is looking into my soul. I stare back into its black eyes, looking for some semblance of humanity, if there is any remaining. Darkness is the only thing I see.

  The pressure is suddenly released from my arms as the Rabid straightens its back and rises up from my arms. At that moment, I gamble, quickly lowering my right arm and reaching for the Glock in my side holster. As I pull the pistol out, the Rabid screams down at me again and swings its right hand towards my face as if it is going to punch me. Instinct makes me pull the trigger.

  Recoiling from the force of the bullet that hits it somewhere in the left side of its body, its swinging hand hits me on the left side of my face. The hand scrapes across my face and I feel the Rabid’s nails dig into my cheek, tearing across it.

  Panic and terror engulf my entire being as I feel my skin tear. I pull the Glock’s trigger, again and again, I keep firing, filling the Rabid’s body with bullets. The Rabid jolts on top of me as the bullets rip into its body until I abruptly pull the Glock up and shoot the fucking thing through the bottom of its jaw. The bullet blows the top of its head off on exit and the Rabid drops back away from me, dead.

  In a daze, I quickly get to my feet and scramble over to the door of Sir Malcolm’s bathroom and yank it open. The darkness inside is almost total and the stench of death fills my nostrils. I search my body for the penlight that I know I have on me somewhere. Pressing the switch, the torches light illuminates the bathroom. Sir Malcolm’s dead body, the cause of the stink, is where I left him splayed on top of the toilet, I take no notice of him. Entering the bathroom, I close the door behind me and lock it; more fucking Rabids are bound to come, following the gunshots. Going over to the marble sink on the left, I look into the mirror above it and shine the light onto my face.

  Blood seeps from three long gashes on my left cheek, my head spins and dizziness threatens to take hold and make me faint as my blood rushes out of control. Dropping to my knees, I put my head down between them, getting blood back into my brain whilst forcing myself to control my breathing.