Motes of dust hanging in the air reflected the sunlight, and he found the display to be strangely beautiful. What the fuck is wrong with me? He couldn't understand himself anymore and felt like he'd never be normal or happy again.
The window stood only four feet away and he readied himself to climb through, when he froze. Something was wrong. He couldn't place it and he looked around rapidly for any clues. His eyes fell on the balcony and he saw a long shadow cast upon it. Gripping his pistol tightly, he waited.
The shadow moved a little. He held his breath and lined up his gun with whatever was blocking the light. He crept around the corner and fired. A loud bellow sounded and he knew his bullet found its mark. A large man whirled into view and started firing back at him. Paul jumped to the side, landing behind an armchair. The chair offered little protection and the shots pierced the cushions, narrowly missing his body.
A loud footstep sounded as the man entered the building and Paul stood up again, firing at the man that stood no more than five feet in front of him. The bullets smacked into his chest, but the man kept moving, advancing towards him with grim determination. The man's gun clicked empty and he dropped it, drawing a large, wicked looking knife. With a tense twitch, he leaped at Paul.
He was strong, and his thickly knotted muscles bore down on Paul. Paul struggled in his grip, using both hands to push the knife away from him. But the man was too strong and slowly the blade inched closer to his chest. With a final burst of strength, Paul rolled to the side, gasping in pain as the knife ripped through his left arm. He scampered to his feet and ran into the kitchenette, ducking behind the counter.
He waited there and listened for the footsteps that never seemed to come. All he could hear was the man's laboured breathing. Keeping his gun aimed at the corner of the counter, he waited for the man to come into view. He was totally unprepared when the man leaped over the countertop, landing on him hard. The gun slid away from his hands and just a foot stood between Paul's throat and the knife that was pressing down on him.
The man flung all his weight down and the knife closed in on Paul. He felt the sharp point press against his throat and he summoned every ounce of strength from his tired arms. He pushed back, but gained no leverage.
The knife pierced the skin, but try as he might, the man couldn't get it in deep enough. Paul continued his struggle and rolled out from under him again. The blade slashed across his throat, but the cut was shallow, and Paul crawled over to the gun, raising it and turning just in time to fire it at the man's face.
The shot ripped through his jaw, but the man kept coming, growling like a wild animal. Paul fired again and again, emptying his clip. After what seemed like an eternity, the man slowly dropped to the ground and his body went limp. Still not convinced he was dead, Paul pried the knife from his fingers and stabbed the man repeatedly in the back of his neck. The feel of the blade scraping against bone revolted him, but he kept going until he finally collapsed, exhausted.
The man was dead. Paul had his revenge. He thought he would feel differently after killing his brother's murderer, but nothing changed. He felt exactly the same as he did before, only now he was tired and wounded.
He sat on the tiled floor for a long time, staring at the corpse at his feet, trying to force himself to feel good about what he did. But no matter how hard he tried, he still felt the same cold numbness. The only thing he could feel was the sharp pain in his injured arm, so he instead focused on that. At least he was feeling something.
After a long time had passed, he stood up on shaky legs and walked over to the window. He blinked and opened his eyes wide. Am I seeing things? It looked like snow falling outside, in the middle of the summer. He stepped out the window and held out his hands. Ash. It was raining ash. It took a moment for the realization to register, before he realized that there must be a fire in town.
With renewed purpose, he ran back home, all the while the ash continued to rain down upon him. He hoped the fire was far, but he knew his luck wouldn't hold for that long. He just hoped that when he got home, it wouldn't be too late.
Chapter Forty Five
God Isn't Here
Eileen sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. It only took her a moment to notice Paul's absence. Not again. Clive was still there, though, and Noah was resting
peacefully. She got up and walked to the window. She squinted and stared at the snow that was drifting lazily down. Sticking her hand out the window, she pulled back in a few flakes. She rubbed her hands together, leaving her palms coated with chalky, gray ash. The fire!
She ran over to Clive and shook him violently. “Wake up! Quick!” Clive opened his eyes. “What's wrong?” He hopped to his feet and grabbed his pistol. “We need to leave, and fast.”
“The fire must be close now. It's raining ash.”
“What about Paul?”
Clive looked around. “Where is he?”
“I don't know, he was gone when I woke up.” “ Well, I hate to say this, but he chose a really stupid time to leave. We have to go, now, with or without him.”
Noah sat up and looked around. “What's happening?”
“We have to leave now, sweetie. Don't worry, it'll be alright.”
The little boy nodded and walked over to the door. “Ready.” Clive grabbed a bag of food with his free hand, and together the three headed out. The stairwell was dark, but a trickle of light from the rooftop shone through the crack in the half open door. They reached the roof and Noah danced out, waving his hands in the air.
“It's snowing!”
“No, sweetie, it's not snowing. There's a fire, and this is just ash. Try not to breath it in.”
Clive walked over to the rooftop and looked down. “Oh, shit.” Eileen followed. “What is it? What do you -” She looked down and saw it. The streets were filled with shambling people, a mass of hundreds of infected walking aimlessly about. “Oh my God.”
Clive grimaced. “God isn't here. Just us, and them.” Noah joined them and screamed at the sight of the bodies below. One of the infected threw back its head and let loose a blood-curdling scream. Soon the air was full with a cacophony of howls and moans. Bodies started climbing up the ladder and Clive opened fire. The bodies dropped, but there were too many of them and he didn't have enough bullets.
“What are we going to do?” Eileen asked as she clutched Noah tight.
“We need to get out of here, but where?” They looked around, panicked, and finally Clive spoke up. “We have to get over to the other roof!” He pointed to the neighboring building and they ran over to the ledge.
The ground below seemed so far away, and the gap between the buildings impossibly far. The first of the infected scrambled over the top of the ladder and Clive turned just in time to put it down with a shot to the breast. His eyes darted back and forth and he saw a long wooden plank resting against the back of the rooftop entrance. Running as fast as he could, he grabbed it and lifted it high in the air. He breathed a deep sigh of relief as the board connected with the other side and he ushered Eileen over.
“ Get across, quickly!” He turned again and fired into the rapidly growing crowd climbing to the rooftop, and Eileen slowly crept across, arms held out. The ground below swam before her, and she let out a scream as the board cracked underfoot. Paralyzed with fear, she listened as the cracking grew louder, overshadowed by the sound of Clive's pistol.
Gathering her courage, she leaped across and landed on the rooftop with a heavy thud. She climbed back to her feet and looked on at a wide-eyed Noah standing on the other side, with Clive behind him, firing desperately into the stream of bodies that popped over the ladder.
“Hurry, Noah!”
Noah looked down in fear and shook his head.
“You have to hurry, there's no choice!” She waved him over. He closed his eyes and stepped up to the ledge. With shaky feet, he stepped onto the board and started inching across. The board cracked again, and he froze.
“Noah! Run!” He gul
ped and nodded and took off at a run, his little legs pumping furiously, landing on thin air as the board broke way beneath him. He plummeted to the ground below,
screaming in terror, until his scream was cut short by a sickening thud. Eileen looked down in horror as the infected swarmed the boy's broken body and she threw up over the ledge. She vomited so hard she thought her eyes would bug out of her head and she looked up at Clive, who still bravely fired into the onslaught.
His gun clicked empty and he reached for his pocket, pulling it back empty handed. He was out of ammo, and out of hope. He stepped up to the ledge and looked down. Turning his head, he watched the running bodies approach and he turned back, mouthing a silent “goodbye” to Eileen. She screamed and he jumped, body bouncing off the brick wall, which sent him into a sickening spin before crashing into the tangle of bodies below.
The infected on the other rooftop continued howling and she ran to the other ledge, looking down at the street below. Most of the infected were gone, but there were still a few dozen remaining and they pounded furiously on the front door. The door quickly gave way and they flooded into the building. Trapped, she looked around for anything that might save her. She found nothing. The fire was rapidly approaching and the building behind her was covered in flames. The blazing inferno licked up the walls and the outer edges of the flames flicked against the walls of the building she was on, threatening to spread.
Fire and the infected. She didn't know which would be the worst way to die, and she was sure that it was inevitable. There was no way down, and even if she could stave off the hungry beasts at the door, she would surely perish in the flames. She fell to her knees and cried out.
Footsteps coming from below snapped her back to attention and she looked at the rooftop entrance, panicked. Running as fast as she could, she started gathering up everything she could find on the roof and started piling it against the door. Cinder blocks and scrap wood made up the bulk of it, but it seemed to flimsy too hold for more than a few minutes. A couple lawn chairs were added to the mix, and she almost laughed at the absurd idea of cheap aluminium chairs holding up against a barrage of pounding bodies.
She looked around for something, anything, that she could find to add to the pathetic little barricade. She found nothing. Soon the door shuddered as the first person slammed into it and it began to shake violently. She knelt down and held her head in her hands, crying from the sheer terror of her impending fate.
Throwing her head back, she screamed. It felt like all the anger and sorrow and fear rushed out of her, spewing forth into the air. A voice answered and her eyes shot open. “Eileen!”
“Paul, help me!” She ran to the ledge and looked below. Paul charged over to the apartment building, dispatching the stragglers with his pistol. He reached the fire escape ladder and started climbing up.
She called out to him. “Paul, I'm over here! Don't go there, it's not safe!” He didn't hear her and kept climbing. She watched as the infected on the other rooftop gathered over by the edge, waiting for him to reach them. The mass of bodies pushed tightly against the ledge. One of them was pushed over and fell down to the ground below. Paul froze and stared up, seeing the infected above for the first time. She screamed again and he looked over to her.
“ Fuck!” He yelled. He started climbing back down the ladder as fast as he could, hitting the ground running. She watched as he charged through the front door, and waited, praying that he could do it. The door
continued to shudder, and she watched the fire start to climb up the walls of the building she was in. She hoped Paul would make it in time, for her time was rapidly running out. The flames drew near enough that she could hear them crackle and roar, and the smoke rose up into the sky, great billowing clouds of black and gray rolling up the sides of the building.
She dropped to the floor, drawing up her legs under her. There was nothing more for her to do, but wait. Wait for either her rescue, or her painful death. She didn't know which would come first.
Chapter Forty Six
Rescue
Paul ran down the street as fast he could move. When he rounded the corner, he saw the smoke clouds growing and the buildings in the distance were burning. A scream raised high into the air.
“Eileen!”
The familiar voice answered back. “Paul, help me!” He charged forward and ran to the ladder. Three infected men ran out of the alleyway at him and he fired into the thick of them, not breaking his stride. The bodies fell and he felt a surge of pride. He could do this. The ascent up the ladder was swift and he was half way up when he saw a body tumble past him. He looked up and saw a swarm of infected crowding over the ledge, staring down at him and gnashing their teeth.
Another scream sounded and he turned his head to the right, looking up. She was on the other building. “Fuck!” His voice rang out and he slid down the ladder two rungs at a time, hitting the ground running. He charged into the open front doors and made his way for the staircase.
The doors ahead of him were all broken open and he whispered a silent prayer that he could get there before it was too late. A woman stood at the other end of the hallway and she growled at him.
He raised his gun and fired. The woman dropped, but around the corner came four more of the damnable infected, running at him at full speed. He fired again, but there were too many, and by the time he killed the second one, two bodies collided into him at once. He struggled to get to his feet, but the bodies were too heavy. Four arms grabbed and pounded and clawed at him. Jamming his pistol beneath the jaw of the larger one, he squeezed the trigger and the body fell limp on top of him. A searing pain in his arm made his eyes shoot open wide, and he looked down to see teeth ripping into his flesh. He jerked his arm away, and as he did so a large chunk of sinew was torn loose. Blood sprayed out violently, coating the face of his attacker in dark crimson. He fired another shot into its face, and it too fell limp.
Rolling out from underneath the heap of bodies, he staggered to his feet and inspected his arm. Blood was flowing out rapidly and a large chunk of flesh was missing. He dropped his pistol and used his free hand to rip a piece of his shirt off, and he tied it around his arm to stop the blood loss. It didn't work, but only managed to slow the blood that trickled from his body. He stooped over, grabbed his pistol, and ran on shaky legs down the hallway. The staircase loomed before him and each step he took seemed impossible. When he reached the third floor, he froze. The sudden realization struck him. He was going to die, and soon. Sinking to his knees, he felt a wave of despair wash over him. He thought that he was ready to die. But when the time came, he realized that he wanted to live. For the first time in his life he wished he believed in a heaven so that he'd have something to look forward to, instead of the impending darkness and emptiness and nothingness that came with death.
A muffled scream came from above and he stood back on his feet. He might be dying, but he wouldn't let her die too. Not without a fight. Gritting his teeth, he charged back up the staircase, ignoring the lightheaded dizziness that was rapidly clouding his mind.
Rounding the final corner, he saw several bodies pound against the door. They hadn't noticed him yet, but they were about to. He opened fire into the thick of them, and one by one they tumbled down, piling up at his feet. By the time they realized what was
happening, they were dead, and Paul climbed over the heap of corpses, running up the staircase.
He pounded on the door. “Eileen, open up! It's me!” He heard a cry of relief and the sound of various junk being slid out of the way of the door. Sunlight streamed through as the door burst open and Eileen flung her arms around his neck. The warmth of her body against his felt good and he almost, for just a moment, forgot about the pain and his rapidly
approaching death. She cried tears of joy into his chest and Paul wished that they could stay that way forever. And for him, the moment seemed to stretch on for a short eternity before they parted and Eileen stared up into his eyes.
“
Thank you. I thought I was going to die.” She smiled at him, eyes glistening. The mention of death reminded him of his own fate and his heart sank in his chest. He stepped through the door and felt the sunshine on his shoulders. Smoke
surrounded them and the buildings around them were nothing more than blazing infernos. He walked on shaky legs to the ledge and looked down. The fire had spread to their building, rapidly climbing the walls. He jumped as a loud booming sound roared through the air, accompanied by a ball of fire that exploded out from a window below. Glass rained down onto the pavement below, clinking like thousands of little chimes all sounding at once.
“ You're hurt. Are you okay?” Eileen rushed over to him and grabbed his arm gently. He yanked his arm away and grit his teeth. “I'll be fine. We need to worry about you now. This building is burning and I can't see a way down. There seems to be no ladder that leads up to the roof.”
“We have no choice, then, but to go through the building.”
Paul hesitated, then nodded. “You're right.” He walked to the door, until a howling sound rang out in the air, over the noise of the fire. He ran back to the ledge. Looking down, he slumped his shoulders and sighed.
Chapter Forty Seven
Caravan
Vincent woke up and groaned. He was hanging upside down, held up only by his seatbelt. He unbuckled it and fell to the ground hard. The jeep was laying on its back, with the passenger side wrapped around a large tree. Crawling out through the driver side window, he stood up and quickly fell back down. His head was swimming, and he frantically tried to shake the dizziness away.
Looking forward, he saw Steve's lifeless, crushed body, and sighed. Remembering the others, he forced himself to stand upright and began searching the vehicle.
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