The scratching sounds again, from a new place. The door to the room.
Zoey hugged her leg. Max barked loud and aggressive, staring at the door, ready to rush whatever came through. The sound echoed through the room, and Mira grimaced. If these things didn’t know they were here before, they knew now.
Mira got to her feet, reached for the window, gripped it, and yanked upward.
It moved maybe an inch … then jammed.
“Oh, you gotta be kidding,” Mira mumbled.
Why would it open from the outside and not now? She pulled up on the window as hard as she could. It rocked up, moved another inch, but no more. It felt even more tightly wedged than before.
The door handle at the other end of the room began to rattle. Something was trying to open it. The door was locked, but who knew what age had done to the dead bolt; it was probably ready to fall apart.
Mira looked around for anything she could break the glass with. An old armchair sat in pieces in front of a crumbling desk. She grabbed the biggest piece she could find and spun back around.
“Stay back,” she warned Zoey, swinging the chair leg into the window.
It shattered and sprayed glass everywhere. She used the chair to clear out the rest of the windowpane. Broken glass covered the floor like crushed ice.
Not the most elegant solution, but—
Zoey screamed as a dark shape appeared in the window. Mira raised the chair in defense.
It was Holt.
Mira sighed in relief. “Something’s—,” she started desperately.
“Forsaken,” Holt said, cutting her off.
At the word, Mira felt icy terror grip her insides.
The Tone turned most people who heard it into the Succumbed, the mindless slaves of the Assembly. But for others it had unexpected effects. The Heedless were one: people like Holt who were immune.
Then there were the Forsaken. People who didn’t Succumb to the Tone, but rather were driven completely insane by it, reduced to horribly violent, animal-like monstrosities. They were drawn to one another somehow, lived in commune-like groups in various parts of the world. At least that was what the stories said. Few who found them lived to tell about it.
“Are you … are you sure?” she asked, disbelieving.
The front door exploded open. Two wild-eyed humanoid shapes burst inside, their eyes completely white. Their skin was leathery and black, their bodies covered in cuts and scrapes; what was left of their clothing hung around them in soiled tatters, their hair mangled and wild. They wailed insanely, leapt for the group with curled fingernails.
Holt ripped his shotgun free, blasted the two figures out of the room and back into the hall. “Yeah. Pretty sure,” he said. “Zoey, come on!”
The little girl flung herself into his arms, and he lifted her gingerly through the broken window.
“Why didn’t you just open it?” Holt asked Mira testily.
She glared at him in anger. “I was trying to, but—”
He grabbed her and yanked her through the window, followed quickly by Max.
Behind them, more crazed blackened figures rushed past the door, hissing and jabbering.
The four didn’t wait around: they rushed up the fire escape. The stairs shook and groaned as they ran and Mira could feel them ripping dangerously loose with each step.
Below them, more shadows leapt through the window, chasing after them. The stairs shook and contorted, pulling free from the brick wall.
They reached the roof. Holt ran forward, but Mira stopped short.
“Holt!” she yelled. The top of the fire escape was secured to the building by large rusted bolts, and they were barely holding on. They shook and pulled as the Forsaken rushed up the ladder below.
Mira kicked the top of the fire escape. It separated from the wall. But just a little.
She kicked it again. “Holt!”
He saw what she was thinking, turned and ran back. They both kicked at the fire escape in unison, tearing it loose from the wall. When the top broke away, enough supports were gone below that the whole thing pulled free from the building. Mortar and plaster sprayed everywhere as it ripped off. There was a groaning as the rusted metal contorted and warped and fell in a fury of twisted debris.
The Forsaken screeched as the entire structure crashed down, spraying black water everywhere.
They were safe. For the moment.
“This might be easier than I thought,” Holt said, smiling. Mira smiled back.
They ran for the other edge of the hotel roof, where Zoey and Max stood stock-still, staring out over the breach. When they got there, Mira saw why. The hotel looked out on all of the flooded city, hundreds of buildings illuminated like ghosts in the bright moonlight.
And on every building, shapes moved. Pouring out of windows, climbing up the walls, swimming through the horrid water. Hundreds and hundreds of them, in every direction. Hissings and jabberings filled the air all around them as the Forsaken cried out in their nonsensical, insane voices.
And each one of them was rushing toward the hotel, desperate to reach them, eager to rip their curled fingernails into them.
“Then again … maybe not,” Mira said, instinctively moving closer to Holt. He put his arm around her. All four of them stared in terror at the wave of murderous insanity flowing toward them from all sides in the darkness.
20. UNTIMELY RESCUE
HOLT STARED DOWN AT THE DARK SHAPES of the Forsaken swarming below, hundreds (maybe thousands) of man-shaped shadows that dripped up and over the sunken buildings, surging toward them in the bright moonlight.
“What do we do?” Mira clung to him tightly, her voice strained.
The Tavern Inn was the tallest structure in the ruins, which meant the roofs of most other buildings were too far below to jump. There was only one that was close enough, an old office building. From there, they might have more choices of escape.
But escape seemed almost impossible then. The Forsaken were everywhere. No matter which direction they went, they’d run into them.
“We have to keep moving,” Holt said in spite of the circumstances. “If we stop, we die—they’ll overrun us.”
He moved for the other edge of the roof, staring at the office building next to them. It was maybe ten feet below, and six feet away. They could make it. Maybe.
“We don’t have the bridge anymore,” Mira said.
“Don’t have time to use it if we did.” Holt looked down at Zoey, grabbed her, and flung her up onto his back. Her arms circled his neck. “I’ll get Zoey, you take Max.”
Below, the jittering, gurgling shadows of the Forsaken reached the hotel. They started scaling straight up the walls, from all sides. Hundreds more were right behind them.
“I’m not carrying the dog,” Mira said with a scowl.
Max looked up at her, growled in response, echoing her sentiment.
“You have to take the Max!” Zoey cried.
Holt took a few steps back, stared at the edge of the roof ahead of him, and exhaled a long, slow breath.
“I’m not taking the dog,” Mira said with emphasis.
“I’m sure you two can work it out,” Holt said, almost smiling. “Close your eyes, kiddo.”
Zoey did.
Holt ran for the edge and leapt forward as hard as he could.
He sailed into the breach, legs kicking under him in the open air. He saw the sunken ground float by below, the squirming shadows.
And then he hit the roof. His knees almost buckled, but he managed to stay up, skidding to a stop in the gravel. When he had his balance back, he quickly let Zoey down. “Still with me?” he asked.
The little girl opened her mouth to respond … then screamed at something behind Holt.
Holt spun, ripped his rifle loose, and fired.
Two Forsaken took slugs in the chest, shuddered, and fell to the roof. Holt spotted a third, just crawling up and over the edge, aimed, fired, missed, but the bullets sparked near it. The man-thing�
��s hands lost their grip, and it fell gurgling off the roof into the waters waiting below.
Behind him, Mira and Max landed. Max wasn’t a small dog, almost half Mira’s size. He squirmed in her hands, growling and snapping.
Holt caught her before she crashed on her face.
“Get this disgusting thing off me!” Mira shouted.
Max dropped to the ground, barking furiously at her.
She glared back. “Last time I help you!” she yelled down at Max.
“I really think he’s starting to warm to you,” Holt said.
Behind them, the walls of the old hotel were covered in Forsaken: black, dirty shadows that swarmed up its side like giant spiders.
They were running out of time.
Holt ran for the edge of the new roof, scanning the buildings around them, looking for choices, looking for anything that might—
Two more Forsaken appeared in front of them, crawling up the edge, hissing, staring with their sightless, insane white eyes.
Holt fired and dropped them. But he saw the hands of more clawing at the roof, pulling themselves up.
He turned on his heel, ran toward another side of the building. Mira, Zoey, and Max followed after him. They were almost there when more hands appeared, pulling their dirty, less-than-human owners onto the roof.
Three Forsaken rushed for them madly, screeching and hissing.
Holt fired, got two shots off, dropped one of the savages … and then the gun clicked empty.
“Back!” Holt yelled. “Back, move back!” In one smooth motion, he shouldered the rifle, drew the shotgun, and fired.
The blast flattened one of the crazies.
The other one was on him before he could fire again, driving him to the ground. Zoey screamed; Mira grabbed her.
Max growled and slammed into the thing with all his weight. The dog knocked it off Holt, and it screeched as Max bit down on its arm, shaking it back and forth.
Holt jumped up, flipped the shotgun around, gripped it like a baseball bat, and swung.
The gun’s wooden stock connected with the thing’s head, hard. It slumped to the ground, out cold or dead. Either way was fine with Holt.
Max kept right on attacking the thing.
“Max! Come on!” Holt shouted, moving for—
The Forsaken swarmed over every ruined building visible around theirs. Groceries, gas stations, liquor stores, flower shops—they were everywhere, chanting and gurgling loudly in the night air. The sound was overwhelming.
Even more were climbing onto the roof of their building, an unending assault, pulling themselves up, eager to get to the four survivors on top.
There was nowhere to go. They were surrounded.
Holt looked desperately around, spotted a bank of four large, rusting air-conditioning units on the roof near them. “There!” he yelled, rushing for what was left of the machines. They were old and in disrepair, but they were still thick and big: they’d provide cover. For a little while.
As he moved, Holt blasted two more Forsaken to the ground, but more were coming.
The others ran after him. When they reached the air conditioners, they crouched down behind them.
Holt dropped his shotgun, grabbed his rifle, and started reloading it.
Mira grabbed the shotgun, and Holt tossed her shells. She started stuffing them into the barrel.
“We’re, um…” Mira looked down at Zoey before she continued, who was staring at both of them with fear in her eyes. “We’re in trouble, aren’t we?” She knew they were in more than trouble.
Holt knew it, too, knew what she really meant. “Yeah,” he said. “We got real problems.”
They looked at each other, loading the guns, the sounds of a thousand crazed, incomprehensible yells echoing off the buildings around them. More and more Forsaken were climbing onto their roof, dozens and dozens, soon to be hundreds. They could hold them off a few minutes with the guns, but they would run out of ammo long before the Forsaken ran out of insane cannon fodder.
They were going to die. It was just that simple.
“Mira, I’m sorry, I…,” Holt started but trailed off. Why was it so hard? “I’m sorry … I got you into this,” he said.
Mira smiled. “Technically, you could say I’m the one who got you into this.”
Holt almost laughed. He liked Mira. More than he should. A part of him wanted to tell her that. Especially now. But … even given the finality of their situation, the words seemed pointless.
Forsaken climbed onto the roof, rushed toward them, moaning and jabbering.
Holt took the shotgun from Mira, gripped the rifle. Max growled with anticipation. Mira pulled Zoey close to her.
“Mira…,” Zoey moaned into her chest. “They found us.”
“Ssshhh, honey,” she said, never taking her eyes off Holt. “I know they did. Close your eyes.”
Holt raised the rifle up and over the air conditioner, sighted down it. Dozens of Forsaken, rushing for them, more climbing up every second. God, they had maybe a minute left. Maybe two, if his aim was good. His finger tensed on the trigger.…
“Not the scary men, I mean,” Zoey said. “Them.”
Holt moved to fire—
—and then flinched violently as the first volley of plasma fire ripped past them, burning the air, incinerating a dozen of the Forsaken where they stood.
Holt quickly ducked back down behind the rusted machine, eyes wide.
More plasma fire flared in the night, lighting everything yellow. It slammed into the Forsaken on their building, decimating them, blowing away the ones climbing up the walls, knocking huge chunks out of the edifice.
Holt watched in shock as the Forsaken were mowed down left and right by the yellow bolts.
It took a moment for his mind to process what it meant.
Zoey was right. They had found them. The Assembly were here, had somehow tracked them all the way into the Drowning Plains.
Holt stood up, looked past the edge of the roof. In the dark, under the moonlight, illuminated by the flashes of their plasma cannons, Holt could see ten Assembly walkers.
They had taken up positions all around the city, on the rooftops, all along the perimeter.
And they were unlike anything Holt had ever seen.
Tripods, three legs, maybe seven feet tall, lithe, agile … and, most strikingly, they were green and orange!
If he hadn’t seen it for himself, he wouldn’t have believed it. How many different Assembly factions were there? And why the hell were they all hunting Zoey?
Holt looked at Mira. She looked back at him, stunned.
“I have a very specific policy about these things,” Holt said. “Never refuse a rescue.”
“That’s pretty similar to my policy,” Mira replied.
They all made ready to move, while the yellow bolts burned the air around them, blowing to pieces anything they touched. Holt had never been so happy to see plasma fire.
21. HUNTERS
THE TOP OF THE OFFICE BUILDING was chaos. Dozens of Forsaken littered the roof, but they were being ripped apart by flying plasma bolts. Explosions flared up all around them, and Holt watched the drugstore he’d looted collapse in flames.
The Forsaken were torn between pursuing their original prey, and attacking the new, much more potent threat of the strange green and orange walkers.
Holt was glad for the confusion.
He looked over the roof, out into the sunken ruins and saw that they were at the edge of the city. Only a few more buildings lay between them and the open water, and the water appeared to be growing shallow just on the other side.
If they could make it to the waterline, they might have a chance. But jumping between buildings wasn’t an option anymore. They needed something faster.
Mira screamed and covered Zoey as plasma bolts incinerated two nearby Forsaken. More of the yellow bolts slapped into the roof right next to them, barely missing them.
Between the two attacking groups, if they
didn’t get out of here fast, they’d be lucky to join the Succumbed in the Presidiums. More likely, they’d all be dead.
Holt saw something on the next building over. The faded letters of a radio station, KCLE, half sunk in the floodwaters. On top of it was a giant rusting radio tower.
As he considered it, a plan began to form. A crazy one. But it was all he had.
“We need to reach that tower,” he announced, then promptly ducked as more plasma bolts burned past.
“We’re not going to take two steps in this!” Mira yelled at him. She flinched as explosions blossomed in the distance. Holt blasted two Forsaken as they rushed toward the air conditioners.
“Got anything that can help?” he asked Mira as he reloaded the shotgun. “It’s just one building over.”
Mira thought about it a second. “Maybe,” she finally said, digging through her pack. “Gotta buy me some time, though.”
“Let me see what I can do.” He lifted back up over the AC. “Zoey, stay down!” he shouted when he saw her trying to peer over the old machine with him.
His rifle flashed, dropped two Forsaken rushing them. He fired again, and a third fell.
The crazies were adjusting to the distraction of the Assembly. All around them, he saw them pouring off the buildings surrounding theirs, rushing with their insane gurgling in all directions.
They were going after the walkers.
Ten Assembly with plasma cannons versus a thousand psychopaths. Seemed like fair odds to Holt. If he was lucky, they’d all kill each other.
But the Forsaken hadn’t totally forgotten them yet. Holt saw four more of the savages running for them, screeching, their tangled hair flying after them from behind.
Holt dropped two more before the rifle clicked empty.
He shouldered it, drew his Beretta. As he did, he clicked his tongue and whistled.
Max barked when he heard the command and charged forward toward the two Forsaken while Holt calmly ejected a clip from the gun, grabbed a new one, and slammed it in.
Max rammed into and drove one of the things to the ground. The other one shrieked, turned toward the dog …
Midnight City: A Conquered Earth Novel (The Conquered Earth Series) Page 13