Too many. Always too goddamn many…
Even as they collapsed left and right and over each other, more were climbing through the windows every second. Every half-second. He found breathing difficult as the floor began filling up with their stench. There was a never-ending stream of them, and he guessed this must be what it was like trying to hold back a flood with your bare hands.
And Shorty was standing in front of him, shooting and smashing the buttstock of his rifle into the creatures as they surged toward him. He was backpedaling, but not fast enough. Too slow. Way too slow.
“Shorty, goddammit!”
He didn’t know if the other man could hear him. Probably not. Shorty didn’t seem capable of moving any faster, and soon—
They were on top of him. Driving him to the floor.
Shorty started screaming.
Then the sea of black tar began changing directions and converging on Shorty. He saw Shorty’s hand sticking out of the squirming mass of shriveled skin and bony limbs.
Keo turned and ran, reloading at the same time, dropping the long, slender magazine. He didn’t have to look to perform the task. It was second nature by now.
He made a beeline for the same stairwell door he had come through earlier.
The tsunami of bare feet slapping against the floor burst through his eardrums as the creatures gave chase. He guessed not every one of them was going for Shorty anymore. How many were back there on his heels? A dozen? Hundreds? How many undead things could fit into one floor, he wondered.
Too many. Always too damn many…
Keo didn’t look back. It was pointless because he knew what was back there. And he didn’t want to see Shorty’s death. He couldn’t even hear the kid’s screams anymore. He couldn’t hear his own breathing, for that matter — only the relentless pounding in his chest.
Around him, their stench overwhelmed the stale odor of the abandoned floor.
They were fast, but he was faster. A steady diet of beef jerky and protein had kept Keo lean, and the nearly three-month long jaunt through the woods, being hunted by psychos with assault rifles, had forced him into the best shape of his life. He was also blessed with a long stride, one of the benefits of being six-one.
He grabbed for the stairwell door with his left hand, his right still wrapped around the MP5SD with the forefinger against the trigger. He twisted the doorknob with one fluid motion, pulled the door open with another, and was greeted by total darkness—
— except for the pair of yellow, crooked teeth coming at him.
He squeezed off a burst, slicing the creature in half. It fell soundlessly, thick clumps of black liquid splashing the wall behind it.
Silver bullets. Silver fucking bullets!
Keo jumped over the shriveled-up dead thing.
Sounds — coming from below this time. That meant he couldn’t go down. Which wasn’t his first choice anyway, but it would have been nice to actually have a choice.
So what was left?
He glanced up the flight of stairs, just as—
— THOOM-THOOM-THOOM as they crashed into the stairwell door behind him with the intensity of rabid dogs that hadn’t eaten in days, weeks, maybe months.
He went up.
They were coming. Fast-moving bastards. The manic tap-tap-tap! of bare feet slammed against the solid concrete of the stairwell, echoing along the length of the confined space. He didn’t look back, didn’t look down. The rush of wind caught up to him from behind as the fifth-floor stairwell door was flung open and they poured inside, the very distinctive splatter of feet against black blood spilled by the dead ghoul ringing in his ears.
He reached the rooftop door faster than he expected and burst outside, boots crunching against familiar loose gravel. He darted across the wide-open spaces, intimately aware that he was going to run out of space soon.
Very, very soon.
Darkness, moonlight, and a pair of smaller buildings around him, including one directly in front. A two-story building, with a bar on the first floor and living quarters on the second. He had scouted it earlier in the day with Zachary but hadn’t gone inside because the windows and doors were locked. The most important thing, though, was that the windows were not covered, which meant there were no nests inside.
That was the good news.
The bad news? The building was three stories down, with just over four meters of empty space between rooftops. It was going to be a hell of a drop if he couldn’t make the jump.
London Bridge is falling down, falling down…
Shut up!
They flooded out of the stairwell behind him and were battling against the loose gravel. He wondered if it looked nearly as comical as it sounded.
I should have brought a camera.
He unslung his pack, and with a meter left until he reached the end, flung it and watched it disappear into the night. He glimpsed the edge — was he running to it, or was it coming to him? — and lunged forward with his left leg, landed solidly, and catapulted himself up and over and forward through the cold, chilly Louisiana air.
So this is what it feels like to fly.
The rooftop of the building next door came into view as he plummeted back down through the darkness, way faster than he had anticipated. He tried to pick up where his pack had landed while he was still in the air so he wouldn’t have to waste time looking for it later—
— If my legs aren’t broken when I land—
— and saw it lying almost near the far edge. Jesus, how the hell had it gotten that far?
I must be stronger than I look.
He almost laughed out loud, but before he could put thought into action, the flat rooftop was there and he managed to land in a crouch, his momentum carrying him forward into a tuck and roll. He snapped back up on one bent knee, shocked and joyous that he was still alive, that neither one of his legs were broken even though pain shot through both and up his thighs, his entire body seeming to vibrate for a few seconds afterward.
Daebak!
He was on his feet instantly and rushing toward his pack. He snatched it up and slipped it through his arms as—thoomp! thoomp! — two of the creatures landed on the rooftop behind him.
He glanced back, saw them floundering like fish out of water, bony arms and legs snapping in every direction and at one point actually became entangled with one another. But that didn’t last, and they quickly became two separate creatures again—
He shot them and watched them drop, even as more fell out of the inky black sky like raindrops, landing one after another…after another. Bones snapped and broke, then another, then another still — not that it stopped any of them.
They kept coming — falling over and over, then actually on top of one another when they ran out of space. And still they kept dropping out of the sky…
Keo backed up until cold air was brushing against his backside. He looked over his shoulder at empty space, having nearly backpedaled right off the edge. There was a catwalk below him.
He emptied the remaining 9mm rounds into the mass of creatures in front of him, watching as they stumbled and fell, still amazed that they were going down, that he was actually killing them for once.
Killing them again? Re-kill? Whatever.
When the submachine gun ran empty for the second time, he slung it and dropped off the edge without looking back. It wasn’t a steep fall, only a few meters, though it felt like more. He landed on the catwalk with a loud bang!, the structure threatening to buckle under him, to pry itself free from the brick wall it was fastened to.