Smartly, Zoe was using the metallic telecom antennas jutting up from around the sides of the tower as foot stops to keep from sliding off. The structure looked like a huge aboveground grain silo, with a massive girth that extended from top to bottom instead of the flat base and pencil-thin middle section of most water towers he was used to seeing.
Will had perched himself directly over the ladder extending up from the ground below. It was the only way up, which was more than he could have possibly hoped for. One way to access the rooftop meant only one spot to cover. When he realized that, he suddenly got excited. Up until that point, this had been a suicide run. But now, there was a chance. A slim one, but it was a chance nonetheless.
Yeah, that’s the ticket.
And they were coming, all right — not that he had any doubts they wouldn’t be. If he had learned anything about the ghouls, it was that 1) they weren’t stupid; and 2) they were persistent. Goddamn persistent.
So he kept firing down, but only when the closest ghoul was within five meters of reaching the top. That ensured point-blank accuracy, and allowed for more creatures to be lined up directly below his target so the shot would keep traveling down, gravity giving the silver bullet an extra burst of speed for maximum collateral damage.
And he kept count of every bullet he fired.
Fifteen…
He mumbled a curse each time a bullet ricocheted off a bone and was deflected in a direction other than straight down. It was rare, but it happened.
Twenty-two…
Will pumped the twenty-fourth and twenty-fifth round into the flesh of two separate ghouls, then fired the final two shots in rapid succession while the ghouls were still more than five meters from him, in order to give himself time to reload.
One magazine down, two to go.
The stitches along his side were holding, and he didn’t see blood seeping through his shirt when he glanced down. Thank God Zoe knew what she was doing when she put him back together. He looked over at her now, staring down at the squirming black horde gathered below them, so many that even the grass seemed to have been swallowed up. Her face was frozen in horror, her mouth slightly open, as if she wanted to scream but couldn’t get the sounds out.
He turned back to the ladder and fired the first bullet from the second magazine and watched three — no, four — ghouls tumble from the ladder.
One…
Another shot sent another three down, before the bullet bounced off track.
Two…
The water tower was cold against his backside, and he was high up enough that he could feel the chill night air. His pants were already soaked through.
Five…
He took a moment to snap a glance down at his watch, glowing underneath the darkness. 12:33 a.m.
Not bad. He only had to hold them off until…when? 6:30 a.m.? 7:00 a.m.? Close enough. It wasn’t the worst situation he had ever faced, though he imagined it would be easier if Danny were here.
Or Lara.
Or someone besides a terrified doctor.
Seven…
Zoe hadn’t moved from her spot on the angled roof, her feet spread out in front of her, each shoe pushing against a jutting cell tower. He almost smiled; she looked like a pregnant woman giving birth.
She looked over at him, her entire body trembling, making her stutter the words: “We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“Of course not,” he said. “Don’t fall, and we’ll be fine.”
“Don’t fall,” she repeated. She looked back down at the creatures below. “Don’t fall…”
Eight…
“Don’t look,” he said. “Lay down on the roof and don’t look and don’t move.”
She was clearly unconvinced, but she lay down against the cold slanted metal surface anyway.
Nine…
After the first fifty or so ghouls, the rest began moving at a crawl. He was so used to seeing them attacking at frenzied speeds that watching them climbing up the ladder, being careful with every step, every rung they reached for, was a revelation. For every ghoul that managed to climb, another lost its footing or grip and went tumbling down into the pit of writhing flesh below.
Eleven…
“How many bullets do you have left?” Zoe asked, her voice still shaking.
“Enough.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes,” he lied.
Thirteen…
He was on his last magazine when he started thinking about alternatives.
One…
He had the Glock. That was fifteen more silver bullets. He also had two more magazines in his pouch. That was good for thirty more rounds, for a grand total of forty-five. Which, judging by the speed the ghouls were climbing, would probably get him through another three hours. One hour per fifteen bullets.
Captain Optimism. Danny would be so proud.
Six…
He had his cross-knife. The problem with the knife was that he needed to wait for them to get all the way up before he could strike. Potentially hazardous work. One grab around his wrist, or if the knife lodged in too deep, and he would lose it — and himself right along with it, because stabbing, even downward, required leaning over the edge.
Doable, but risky.
Then there was the whole numbers game. He could only take down one at a time, which meant for every ghoul he dispatched, another would be right behind it, giving him very little time to recover. He couldn’t count on Zoe to take up any slack. He didn’t think it was possible to even pry her from her current spot.
Eleven…
His watch read: 3:19 a.m.
Zoe looked half asleep, lying with her back against the angled roof. Every few minutes she would lift her head slightly to make sure she hadn’t slipped while she had her eyes closed. If she was afraid of heights, she hadn’t said a word as he urged her up the ladder. Of course, she was probably fueled at the time by enough adrenaline for a half dozen people.
Sixteen…
A slight wind had picked up, and Will turned his face into it. He could see most of Harvest from his perch. Or at least, as much as he could pick up with the naked eye. The moon was not being very cooperative, and he had lost the bright headlights of the Ford F-150 within the world of murky blackness, shifting flesh and glinting black eyes swarming the base of the water tower.
A sudden burst of motion drew his attention, and he looked over to find Zoe fighting with her footing, having somehow ended up slightly crouched, knees bent, with one hand bracing against the cool metal under her. After some frantic struggling, she managed to push herself back into position.
“You okay?” he asked.
“I must have fallen asleep,” she said breathlessly.
He turned his attention to the ladder and the nearest ghoul clinging to it, ten meters down. He waited for it to make up the distance, then shot it in the face a few seconds later. The bullet pierced the creature’s chest and caught two more under it, sending all three plunging down. They knocked loose two more from the ladder as they fell.
Seventeen…
“How many bullets do you have left?” she asked.
“Plenty,” he said.
“But how many?”
“More than enough.” Before she could press him again, he added, “Get closer, Zoe, so I’ll be able to catch you if you doze off again.”