Capital Falling | Book 4 | Sever

by Winkless, Lance

  By the time my head has come up level, Alpha’s concentration has shifted. The creature is looking forwards and looking at a flight of stairs that leads up and into the Lloyds building. My suspicions were right, that is where Alpha is leading his pack, into Lloyds, a building that I saw for myself from the air was ablaze on the day Dan and I found Josh. Why is Alpha leading us there, is the building the pack’s lair, where they exist when not out on the streets hunting? If it is, why choose the burnt Lloyds building, why not pick one of the countless other buildings there are to choose from, ones that haven’t been on fire?

  Perhaps, before Alpha was turned into its current undead state, he was one of the toffs that worked inside the building and so it brings with it familiarity? Was Alpha inside when Rabids swarmed in and was that where his metamorphosis took place? Are the rest of his pack former work colleagues, was he their boss and now they find themselves under his command even as undead zombies?

  As usual, I must remind myself that I am overthinking. I will never know if any of the pack actually worked inside the Lloyds building, none of them are going to offer me an explanation any time soon, so it’s academic. The only thing I need to worry about is leaving these Rabids behind and getting on with finding Karen and Jim. Get them, get back on the boat and get the fuck out of here, nothing else matters.

  My phone is slipped back into my pocket, my other hand gripping my rifle tightly. I have reached my destination so why not pull the M4 up and spray the beasts with bullets. I’m confident that I could deal with the five Rabids effectively, even Alpha’s bulk would be no match for the M4’s firepower. His head would split just as easily as the others.

  No, I tell myself, bide your time and slip away quietly, do not draw any more unwanted attention. There is no way to know what other creatures are in the area, other packs of Rabids could be sizing us up right now. And who is to say that these five Rabids are the only members of Alpha’s pack? His lair is upon us and untold numbers could be poised inside, ready to steam out of the Lloyds building at the first sign of trouble.

  My hand loosens slightly on the grip of the M4 as I decide to continue to play along. Alpha’s leg is already reaching for the first of the steps that leads up to the open doors of the building and I get ready to follow his lead and mount the steps myself.

  Chapter 15

  The smell of the now extinguished fire is almost overpowering as I reach the final few steps and then pass through the entrance and into the Lloyds building. As I enter the lobby, I am transported back to my childhood, to when my family and I returned home from a weekend away to find our house had caught fire in our absence. The difference here is that the smoke hasn’t cleared, it hangs in the air like a fog, clinging to everything.

  Alpha doesn’t pause in the lobby, he aims for a jammed open door at the back of it, the smoke spiralling around his wide shoulders as he moves. I can only hope that wherever the door leads, the smoke will have dissipated, because my eyes are beginning to water, and my lungs are rasping.

  The whole building opens out into a cavernous open space beyond the door. In front of me, sitting on an expansive white marble floor is a tall wooden pergola like structure with a clock mounted at its peak. Each side of the marble floor are rows and rows of workstations and desks, an open-plan office, and a trading floor the size of which I have never seen. Zigzagging up in the centre of the space are five sets of escalators and above them is nothing but a vast expanse… and smoke. The interior of the building is completely open, all the way up to its glass atrium roof that must be fourteen or fifteen floors above.

  Thankfully, the smoke haze isn’t as dense in here, but it is there none the less. I cannot see any evidence of the fire that has burnt somewhere in the building, perhaps it took hold in another wing or on higher floors. Unfortunately, the thin layer of smoke does nothing to hide the carnage that ripped through the trading floor. Below my feet, the once pristine white marble is stricken with contrasting dark red bloodstains, from small splattering’s to large, congealed pools of body matter. A stomach-churning smell of rotting corpses is drawn into my lungs together with the smoke, a hideous cocktail that forces an uncontrollable retch out of my throat that I fail to hold down.

  I quickly turn away from the pack, afraid that my watering eyes and red face, together with the sound of my retching will draw close scrutiny. They will finally see straight through my charade. I can barely see through the tears as my sickness grows deep inside me, and I take to breathing through my mouth to try and lessen the stink, desperately trying to regain control of my bodily functions.

  I concentrate on controlling my stomach and gradually my nausea subsides, and my eyes begin to clear. The loud retch doesn’t seem to have riled the pack, and I remember the retching creature I had a close encounter with inside the Tower of London. Perhaps, stomach-churning retches are not unusual for these beasts.

  My clearing vision brings into focus a petrified dead face opposite from me on the trading floor with massive bruising around its forehead. The body of the well-tailored corpse is spread across the floor on its back, its blood-stained shirt in tatters and its belly and guts missing, eaten away. My vision moves away from the torrid scene and out over the trading floor in front of me. Corpses are strewn in every direction, on the floor, across desks, some are weirdly still sat slumped in their office chairs. Not all the flesh has been feasted upon, not yet. The Lloyds building is a veritable larder of meat for the undead and now I understand why Alpha’s pack use it for their lair.

  A screech rises, echoing into the cavernous space. The sound reverberates around me, reaching up to the atrium, before bouncing back down, until the call is suddenly cut off. In trepidation, I turn around to see Alpha bringing its head down and shutting its gaping mouth.

  My confusion at what the call was for is short-lived. The area around the base of the escalators in the middle of the space begins to move, dark shadowy figures move out from around the bottom of the escalator and come towards Alpha. The Alpha creature’s pack is more than only five beasts, there are more, many more and they are coming my way.

  I have my answer, this is where the undead are concentrated, at least in this part of the city. I would gamble that just like a pride of lions, Alpha and the other four undead creatures were out patrolling their part of the savannah when they came across me unconscious in the road. There will definitely be other Rabids wanting to feed when I get Karen and Jim and head back to the boat, loaners or smaller packs, but there is a good chance that this is the main concentration.

  So, what do I do, my mind races as the Rabid horde gets closer? Do I back off and slip away? Get out of the building while Alpha’s concentration is diverted, as he stares at the oncoming mass of figures. That will only delay the inevitable when we hit the streets to get back to the boat. No, I tell myself, you need to disrupt the horde here and now to give us any chance.

  Even now as I am debating this with myself, I am visualising my route out of the Lloyds building, to run across the street and get into Karen and Jim’s building. I take a step backwards from the pack and reach up to my combat vest where my grenades are secured. Gently releasing the M4 onto its tether, I pick off three grenades, my fingers curling around them, my nausea replaced by tension. I lower my hands holding the explosive balls to my front and proceed to carefully pull out the safety pins. Not allowing the pins to drop to the floor to clatter against the marble, they hang off my little finger as I prepare myself.

  Alpha’s head begins to turn in my direction as I drop the first grenade out of my left hand. Does the creature sense my fear or is it my malice? I think as my foot kicks out slightly to cushion the grenades drop and to direct it forward into the middle of my five new acquaintances. My questions about Alpha’s perceptions are instantly overridden when my right hand swoops up to throw the second two grenades across the wide-open space. I aim for the glut of dark figures coming from behind the escalators, hoping for them to land in the centre of the Rabid horde.

/>   As I spin to make my break for the entrance, I see the change in Alpha’s features to anger and hatred, and possibly betrayal. I have no time for Alpha’s feelings, my ten seconds until the first grenade goes off is already nearly up. I race for the entrance, the M4 gripped in my right hand, not looking back.

  My time is up, I know it and I dive for the jammed open door. The first, explosion hits while I’m in mid-flight, careering through the door. Searing heat and shrapnel rush through the door as I hit the ground just inside the lobby. Only for a second do I pause, spread-eagled on the floor searching my lower half to feel if I am injured. No pain travels up to my brain and so my knees jerk up as my arms push me off the ground and I’m quickly kneeling and taking hold of the M4 in both hands.

  As dust falls on me the M4 is pointing back through the door, ready to fire. I have no recollection of the second two grenades exploding but judging by the amount of debris billowing in the air beyond the door they certainly did. I can’t see anything moving and nothing rushes at me through the clouds of smoke and so I pull the M4 in and push myself to my feet.

  I quickly move across the lobby and take cover next to the top of the steps down to the street to check my rear. Still nothing moves from beyond the door, so I change my stance and point the M4 down the steps, which are also clear.

  Filling my lungs with the relatively fresh air of the outside as I descend the flight of steps, I again take cover when I reach the bottom, but I see no threats and move again. Pushing myself off, I sprint the short distance across the street aiming directly for the shattered glass and steel girders that leads the way into the Cheesegrater tower.

  My heart is pounding by the time I reach the nearest towering girder and take cover behind it. I scan my new surroundings which are a chaos of shards of shattered glass and grotesquely mutilated bodies, none of which move, however, so using the grey girder as a shield to hide behind, I edge round to see if any of the undead has followed me out of the Lloyds building.

  The only thing that has followed me out is yet more dust and smoke, the street is clear. I pull the M4 in and whilst resting my back against the girder, I catch my breath and get my heart rate down before I move out and into the next building.

  “Dad, come in, over,” Josh’s voice squawks over the radio attached to my chest.

  “Receiving, over,” I reply, my left hand pointing the radio towards my mouth.

  “Report, did we hear explosions, over?” Josh demands.

  “Nothing to report. I have just reached their building and am going inside now. Will report in when leaving, out.”

  “Copy,” Josh replies.

  There is no point in trying to go into the ins and outs of the mission so far over the radio. That would only make him worry more and there’ll be plenty of time for that later, hopefully…

  Across from my position, two sets of escalators seem to be the way into the building, one reaches higher than the other and that is the one I decide to use, even though the other is closer. But just as I prepare to move, my phone vibrates in my pocket. Fuck’s sake, I think, what is this, twenty questions?

  “I’m just about to enter the building, hold tight,” I say immediately, not waiting for the ‘hello.’

  I just about hear Jim’s voice say ‘okay,’ before the phone is stuffed back into my pocket.

  Glass crunches under my boots as I finally leave the steel girder behind, my heart rate now under control. I stay low behind my M4 as I move slowly across the front of the building, in between the bullet filled corpses. Light diminishes somewhat as the glass canopy above, which only has a few plates of glass remaining, is replaced by the dark underbelly of the building.

  I reach the bottom of the taller set of escalators, that probably stopped their travels as soon as the electricity to the tower was cut and take one last scan behind me. Thankfully, there is one flight of steel stairs that is corpse free, and I step onto it. It seems that practice makes perfect, I climb the escalator without issue. I seem to have to climb escalators more than they carry me of late and I can’t see that changing any time soon.

  The area at the top of the escalator reminds me of a tube station, it is basic with a row of low-slung walk-through barriers. All the barriers glass doors are wide open, so I simply walk through them rather than having to climb over.

  I follow the unfamiliar layout that I presume leads to the stairwells and the lifts, the smell of death concentrates the farther I go from the opening at the top of the escalators, but it is manageable.

  Banks of lifts are at the back of the building, on the vertical side of the tower. I walk past the touchpad screens sitting on poles outside each stainless steel sliding door to look for the stairs leading up. Even if I was so inclined to use the lifts, I see from the black touchpad screens that they are not operational.

  Past all the stainless steel doors is another door that I see leads to the stairs as I peer through the door’s glass panel. The area on the other side of the door is clear and I push my shoulder against it, a whooshing sound accompanies the door opening as the air equalises and the air that flows out to greet me is stagnant and rancid with the smell of death. Once more I must concentrate to hold my stomach down, but I do it while I move, confused why my stomach has become so weak.

  Luckily, the stairs have windows bringing in light from the outside, and I hope that the tower's design keeps those windows, at least until the tenth floor. Reluctantly, I remove my foot that is holding the door open, and allowing some fresh air in, and let the door close. Another whooshing sound accompanies the door swinging back into its frame leaving me with only stagnant air to fill my lungs. I try not to dwell on the fact that I am breathing in death and instead try to concentrate on the route ahead.

  With my M4 pointed up the first flight of steps I begin my climb. Sticking to the outer perimeter of the enclosed space gives me the best angle to bring the M4 around onto the next flight and check for threats. The first corner rounded; I see the door to the next floor at the top of the second flight.

  I reach the first door, which has a number 2 sign mounted on the wall next to it, which will save any confusion about what floor I am on. I don’t feel foolish about needing the signs, with the way the entrance is designed, I’ve already come up one escalator and there was another one next to it going to a different floor. Either of the floors the escalators met with could have been considered the first floor, or the ground floor for that matter? Even with my suspect mathematics, I am confident in my calculations that tell me I’ve got a total of eighteen flights of stairs to climb to reach the tenth floor, with two of those already behind me.

  The glass panel in the door to floor two shows me nothing of interest. I can just about see the edge of one of the touchscreen panels for the lifts but not much else. Under different circumstances and if I had a team of operatives with me, I would have the area outside the door cleared before we continued, but it’s just me and I’m running late, so I leave the door alone, and shut.

  Floors three and four are passed without incident, but as I approach floor five a sound begins to burrow its way into my ears. The low rasping sound is becoming well known to me by now. At least one Rabid is in the stairwell with me and I would be incredibly surprised if it is just one. Nothing appears as I reach floor five, but there is blood on the floor next to the lifts as I look out of floor five’s door panel. The blood is smeared in a hectic pattern across the floor, and I’m pretty sure that there was a struggle in that area to create such a pattern. No matter how much I strain to see through the glass panel I can’t see anything else, no body and no Rabid.

  Having no other option other than to continue without disturbing the door, I turn and begin to climb up to floor six. My approach to door six is clear but as soon as I arrive, I see a pool of dark red blood at the bottom of the steps up, opposite the door.

  Cautiously, I inch around to get a view of the stairs above, my M4 leading the way. As the steps come into view, I see blood staining each of them, t
he blood has flowed down the flight from its source like a ghastly waterfall. As I inch around, the source presents itself to me, the torrid horror sickening.

  On the top step of the next flight, a head hangs down, almost resting onto the step below it. A man’s face stares upside down at me from above, his eyes wide and filled with terror, a terror that has stayed with him even in death. The doomed soul’s mouth is gaping open in a silent scream, frozen in time. Hair hangs down from the top of the corpse’s head, the strands matted and clumped together like straw, the remaining blood in his hair, congealed and dried before it had the chance to flow down the stairs with the rest of it.

  The poor bugger must have cracked his head open, I think as I approach the stairs. But I quickly think again, as I come to a sudden stop and duck down out of sight of the top step. With my focus caught on the dead upside-down face, I missed the squelching sound that now seems so clear. But it is not until I see the movement above, and beyond the head that I realise that the man’s body is being fed upon.

  Suddenly the rasping sound returns and a Rabid rises off the body below it, its head floating up as if by magic from behind the petrified dead face. The back half of the creature’s navy-blue blazer is still almost in pristine condition, in complete contrast to the double-breasted front, which is doused in thick red blood.

  Oblivious to me crouched down near the bottom of the flight of stairs, watching the scene in horror, the creature continues to stare down at its meal below. The beasts lower face, in profile to me, glistens with its meal’s red liquid, the light reflecting off its jaw as it chews on its mouthful of flesh.

  With my sudden fright passing, if not my horror, I begin to stand and as I do the Rabid finally notices me. The creature turns its head in my direction, its jaw working overtime to chew up its meat. The beast gives me a cursory look before jerking its head back to allow its mouth full of flesh to slide down its throat. As soon as its mouth is empty, it turns away from me, its back bending to let it carry on with its feast.