“There's something on the roof.” he hissed.
“Huh?”
Sure enough, as they slid closer Kat began to make out human silhouettes moving on the rooftop. As she and Jake sped onward, even though specific details weren't visible yet, she realized the shadowy figures moved about with the trademark zombie-clumsy slouch. This was bad. She and Jake were coming in swiftly and there was no possible way to halt their forward momentum. Even if they could stop mid-slide, the pair would be trapped on the line with no way to return to the safety of Old Hall. All this went through Kat's mind in a second and a half, just before they passed over the roof's edge and their landing site became visible in the darkness.
“Oops,” Kat muttered.
Her grappling hook had found purchase in the protective grating of a large air conditioning unit. It stood roughly four feet off the surface of the roof, just to the right of center, and was surrounded by a group of zombies. Evidently, the sound of Kat's hood impacting into the steel housing had focused their attention causing the creatures to cluster about the dormant machine. This had allowed Cho and O'Connor to zip-line over the clustered dead to what they'd believed to be safety, but would surely get them noticed by the rooftop ghouls. Jake saw the open stairwell door at the roof's corner, and realized the zombies unknowingly waiting for them hadn't gained the supernatural ability to climb sheer walls. The rotten bastards, possibly attracted by just a domestic house cat, had simply walked mindlessly up the interior stairs in search of prey. That was the good news. The bad news was, even though there were only seven or eight of the things on the roof, he and Kat were latched together, unable to use their weapons, and heading directly for them.
Not wanting to play a game of body-based ten-pins with the things, Jake jammed his booted feet against the roof, slid across its rough surface for nearly fifteen yards, and brought them to an abrupt stop. He quickly unlatched the carabineer that secured him to Cho, took a firm grip on her belt and heaved her back the way they'd come. This did two things: One, it sent Kat nearly thirty feet backwards up the zip-line, putting her behind his crouched form and well away from the as-of-yet unresponsive dead. Two, it gave Jake a few seconds to prepare himself and free his crowbar from its scabbard along his back. As he worked, the creatures turned their piss-yellow eyes towards the noise generated by his landing.
The zombies had just begun to register his presence when the hooked, business end of his weapon punched its way into the first one's head. Jake's punishing two-handed smash pulverized its skull, sending chunks of bone into the creature's brain as the crowbar turned its parietal and occipital lobes to mush. That one fell without so much as a chatter of its gray teeth while he yanked his weapon free, spun it end-over-end, and jammed its chisel tip through the second's creature's ear as the moldy thing turned. The steel tip punctured both temporal lobes along with the opposite side of the horror's skull, ventilating its cranium. The zombie stiffened and Jake kicked it in the ribs, sending it sideways to the roof's surface in the first creature's wake. It left awful-smelling gore smeared along half the crowbar's length, which he flicked away by whipping the weapon towards his feet.
By that time, the six remaining creatures were in full-on “hunter” mode. Their jaws were snapping like horrific castanets in anticipation of feeding on warm flesh, sending brackish, black fluid down over their lips and chins as they staggered forward. Jake couldn't say one way or another if said goop was zombie saliva or if their snapping jaws had simply bitten off their own tongues, but he had no intention of getting close enough to find out. He circled away as one by one, each raised its desiccated, ragged-nailed hands towards him and continued their advance. There was ample room on their particular roof, but the open stairwell door worried him. If these had found their way up from street level without signs of human prey about, any number could come traipsing up those stairs. Closing that door was the first thing he needed to do, preferably before more of the rotten shits arrived.
Another of the maggot-heads stumped forward, half-decomposed hands stretched out towards Jake in anticipation of tearing into him. In life the creature had, at least judging from its clothing, been a doughnut shop employee. Jake noticed said fact with some disgust, positive he'd never be able to eat another raspberry-filled again without having flashbacks. If that weren't bad enough, while he was not particularly sensitive to the awful stench that went hand-in-hand with decaying flesh, the thing's rank odor caused him to gag violently.
It smelled like a warm, pickle-flavored yogurt and butt-cheek parfait.
Jake tasted bile in the back of his throat as it stepped closer, noting once again the black goo that coated the creature’s mouth, neck, and apron front. None of his little group of survivors, not even their EMT Maggie Reed, had been able to confirm what the fluid actually was. Jake's opinion leaned toward drool. That posed the disturbing question: While zombies couldn't feel pain, did they feel pleasure? More specifically, did they like the taste of human flesh and blood? He didn't even want to consider that possibility. That would mean, at some primal level, the creatures were actually aware. What if a person's consciousness was trapped inside their body after death, watching as they fed on other humans, helpless to stop the dead shell? It was too horrible to contemplate.
Skipping to the left, Jake jammed his crowbar through the nearest creature's right eye. The thing stiffened briefly then fell, creating a paintball-like splatter pattern as its face impacted with the surface of the roof. As the remaining five zombies shambled closer, Jake dodged around their far side and sprinted for the stairwell door. Upon reaching the darkened entryway, he quickly shut the metal plate, yanked his K-Bar from the sheath on his vest, wedged it sideways between the frame and the door to prevent it opening from the inside, and spun back to face the oncoming dead.
They were close. None of the quintet were able to run. None of the creatures the survivors had encountered so far possessed enough coordination to do so. They were walking pretty damn fast, though. Jake barely had time to set himself before the first grabbed for him. Spinning to one side, he did a full three-sixty and bashed the thing in its brain-holder as it stumbled by. He felt more than heard the back of the zombie's skull give as the tool's rounded end crushed the rear of its flaking head. There wasn't time for him to appreciate the way it lost some teeth hitting the door nose-first before falling truly dead to the rooftop however, because the other four were on him. They were literally unable to feel fear or pain, so Jake was hard-pressed to stay out of their reach. He shoved one hard and sent it reeling to fall backwards onto its dead ass, but the other three were right there. The first of the trio caught the point of his crowbar in the throat.
Jake's thrust caused his weapon to penetrate the zombie's spinal column where it lodged fast, effectively trapping both zombie and crowbar in place. While the thing could paw at him, it was unable to move further down the steel into biting range. Holding the pinned creature at arm's length, Jake lunged forward, took a firm grip on the second one's throat, and used it to hold back the third. Thankfully his hard-knuckled Nomex tactical gloves, and a pair of Damascus FA30 Flex Force forearm guards he'd taken to wearing, after coming close to becoming zombie kibble in a back alley of Columbus, provided the writer some fairly durable protection. This prevented the second and third zombies from clawing into his arm as he continued to fend off their clumsy attacks, but Jake knew he wouldn't be able keep up his defense for long.
The ghoul impaled on his crowbar was still grasping at him, the other two were determined to outdo each other in their attempts to latch their snapping jaws into him somehow, and the one he'd toppled was already getting to its shredded feet. Jake yanked the zombie stuck on his crowbar around and knocked the half-vertical one back to the rooftop. He continued to struggle with the other three and saw the prone creature rise once again.
“Shit!” He used its impaled companion to knock the thing head-over-heels again, but it didn't take long for the rotten corpse to gain its feet once more.
<
br /> Jake knew he was in trouble. While not supernaturally strong, the creatures didn't care about taking damage. They wouldn't feel broken bones or bruised tissue. They didn't need to breathe, and Jake was panting from the exertion now, trying to get oxygen into his system as lactic acid began building up in the muscles of his shaking arms. The zombies were putting up a damn good fight. He could feel panic begin to clench in his guts as the previously flattened creature drew closer and the sound of their snapping jaws sent chills up his spine. Jake ground his teeth together as he wracked his brain for some way to get clear of the dead, if only for a moment or two. If he could just get a good breath, get a little room to work with.
That was when the ghoul he'd been knocking to the ground latched onto Jake's wrist with both hands and bit his arm.
The zombie's teeth failed to penetrate the riot armor encasing Jake's forearm, which is what saved his life, and one of the things incisors snapped off against the thick plate to spin through the air like a gore-incrusted Chiclet.
“You grungy shit-bag!” Fuming, he released his crowbar and slammed a hard-knuckled fist into the biter's face.
While his blow sent the hungry ghoul skidding some distance across the roof, when Jake let go of his weapon the impaled zombie took a double-handful of his t-shirt and tried to pull itself towards his throat. O'Connor managed to get his forearm under the creature's jaw to hold it off, aided by the rounded end of the crowbar that pressed forcefully against his chest, but he realized it was a losing battle. He could barely keep the two he had a grip on away. Bitey-ghoul was on its feet again and coming back for another round, the forth was still trying to get around the zombie Jake had by the neck, and…
Something blurred through the air to hit Bitey in the side of the head with a wet 'Thwap!'. Jake saw the hilt of a slim knife protruding from the creature's temple as the zombie took another step and fell, animation already leaving its yellow eyes. Syrup-thick goop began leaking from the hole in its skull onto the roof as Cho appeared over the rear zombie's shoulder.
While Jake shut the stairwell door and began fighting the clustered dead, Kat finally came to a stop thirty feet up their zip-line then slid back over their rooftop landing site, cursing him quietly all the while. Yanking one of the knives from her belt, the blue-haired ninja-girl quickly slashed the harness away from her waist, and dropped the remaining five feet to the surface of the roof. She landed in an easy crouch, flipped her knife over the back of her hand, caught it again by the blade, and then sent it winging through the air like a deadly hummingbird where it spiked Bitey-ghoul in the temple. Snatching another knife from her belt, she sprinted towards the human/zombie free-for-all at top speed.
By the time she reached Jake and the remaining creatures, Kat was in I'm-Going-To-Kill-The-First-Fucking-Thing-I-Fucking-See mode. She wasn't messing around tonight. Normally, she'd toy with them for a bit, since engaging the corpses was barely a challenge when it came right down to it, unless they attacked in large numbers. But now? Nope. Kat was deadly serious as she pounced on the first zombie, viciously shoving her blade up between its occipital protuberance and the Atlas of its spine. The knife severed the horror's brain from its spinal cord, effectively turning it into a still-snapping mouth attached to two-hundred and ten pounds of unresponsive meat.
Pushing the limp creature to one side as it fell, Kat moved on to her next target. The one Jake had by the throat. Not waiting for it to notice her presence, Cho put a hand on the rear of its skull, grabbed its chin firmly with her other and wrenched the zombie's head forcefully one-hundred and eighty degrees to the rear. Doing so broke the zombie's neck and, in her anger over the nasty thing trying to chow down on someone she cared about, dislocated its lower jaw. The zombie's mouth hung open uselessly, and its dead eyes still oriented on Kat as she stiff-armed the corpse over the roof's edge.
With Kat basically saving his bacon yet again, O'Connor experienced an unreasonable moment of embarrassment. No, it wasn't a sexist, caveman-must-kill-mammoth, thing. He just didn't want any of his companions to feel as if he couldn't handle himself when it came to dangerous situations. Being hip-deep in a zombie apocalypse was bad enough; he didn't need to be labeled as the group idiot to boot. Growling through clenched teeth, Jake gave up on pulling his crowbar from the zombie's neck for the moment. Instead, he slapped its grasping hands away and swept its legs. As the ghoul dropped, Jake yanked his K-Bar from the door frame and slammed it into the top of the creature's head. The zombie made a sound resembling a very wet hiccup and its eyes crossed, as if trying to see what had killed it (again), then it collapsed.
Little known fact: removing a blade that's been rammed through bone, rotten or not, is a pain in the ass. Jake learned this as he strove to free his knife from the zombie's skull. He was still pulling at the blade when Cho stepped in front of him, crossed her arms, and began tapping one biker-booted foot rapidly on the ground.
Ah, crap... Jake groaned mentally and glanced up at her from the corner of his eye as he wiggled the Tanto blade free. Kat’s face displayed no expression at all. Not fear, not relief, not excitement, nothing. Her body language came across as Kat-On-A-Hot-Tin-Roof pissed off, however.
Jake knew this because of her 'tells'. Nearly everyone had them. If you spent enough time around someone and paid attention, you could gauge a person's moods on some of their subconscious body movements. Laurel, for example, nearly always put at least one hand on her hip and cocked them to one side or another when she was irritated. George's was to bite at the end of his ever-present cigar, or clench the muscles in his neck, or both. Kat's worrying tell was when she crossed her arms and went still. That was pretty much when you wanted to be very, very choosy with what came out of your mouth next.
“Uh. It seemed like a good idea at the time?” Jake winced.
Kat's level gaze was disturbing.
“Look, it was either that or… Well, actually I don't have an 'or'.”
Cho held up one hand. “Stop. Just stop talking.”
“But—”
“Seriously? I'm going to slap you in a minute. And it will hurt.” Kat moved to peek cautiously down the darkened roof entrance. “We'll discuss this when we're not trying to avoid tons of zombies. With Laurel.”
Oh, yeah. That's going to be an enjoyable conversation, Jake thought.
“Anything?” Jake retrieved their backpack, and then his crowbar as Kat watched the stairwell. He cringed as his hand felt the grimy wetness of zombie body fluids coating its surface. He wiped the steel clean as best he could on the doughnut shop zombie’s soiled apron before joining her at the door-frame.
“Let's make sure.” Kat pulled a loafer from the foot of the nearest corpse and tossed it down the stairs. The shoe made a few quiet thumps before coming to rest at the bottom, more than enough to attract any dead inside, so she and Jake waited a few minutes for any response.
Satisfied there weren't any Hungry-Hungry-Horrors lurking immediately below, the pair moved slowly into the structure’s interior. It seemed to be some kind of local governmental building, but Jake was at a loss to say which branch. All the offices were the same. The same dust-coated desks, the same inactive PCs, same uncomfortable-looking visitor chairs. Pretty much the average, useless, bureaucratic haven that everyone shrank from entering. A place to “Hurry up and wait”, as the saying went.
Allowing for her greater abilities when it came to moving stealthily, Kat took the lead as they proceeded to check on the dead out front. Jake followed a few paces behind, covering her rear and giving the shadow-quiet young woman a bit of a lead. If there were any creatures at the entrance, they'd have a tough time noticing Kat as she crept soundlessly along, as opposed to Jake's more not-so-silent treads. He watched from the hallway twenty feet away as Cho ghosted across the lobby and looked out front. Kat motioned for him to join her, so Jake did his best to stay low and not trip over anything in the dark, as he moved forward to peek through the dirty glass door. The crowd was still there. Still milling aiml
essly about on the open grounds of Old Hall.
“Doesn't look like they noticed anything.”
“Nope,” Kat said in a low voice, and not a whisper. The sound of someone whispering tended to carry far more easily to the human ear than just speaking quietly. “Keep an eye on them while I check the back door. Make sure you don't make any noise while I'm gone? You know what? Just don't move, okay? That way you won't do anything foolish and attract the big, honkin' horde of zombies outside.”
Jake gave her a level gaze. “You're not too big to put over my knee, you know.”
Kat stuck her tongue out at him and disappeared down the hallway at speed. He watched zombies stagger around and, once again, marveled at her ability to move so quickly without making any sound. It was a bit unnerving, actually. When they'd sheltered (read: been trapped) in George Foster's immense Columbus safe-house, more than once she'd startled Jake badly when he'd turned around to find her sitting next to him at the table. Or in the motor pool. Or on the roof. There'd been no warning. No footsteps, no rustle of cloth, no stray breeze caused by her approach, nothing. She'd just suddenly been there. At that point, Jake was inclined to believe her claim that 'Mom, taught me the Ways of the Ninja'.
Besides, he'd seen Kat fight.
He wondered if she could teach him how to move like that.
“Back's all clear.”
O'Connor started at her quiet voice near his ear. Once his heart rate went back to normal, he turned his head slightly to find Kat looking over his shoulder, not quite touching the side of his face with her own.
“That's very off-putting, you know.”
“How so?” Kat asked, not taking her eyes of the horde.
“What if you scared me and I'd I jumped into the doorway?” He managed not to leap from his hiding place next to the entrance in surprise, but it was a near thing.
Kat shrugged, giving him an easy smile. “You worry too much. You didn't freak out. And you didn't scream like a little girl either. I'm impressed. Really.”
Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) Page 4