Green Fields (Book 3): Escalation (20 page)
Something grabbed my pack and wrenched me around, making me stagger and almost go down. Instinct more than actual thought had me raise my shotgun and fire, blasting the zombie that was coming for my face right in the torso. Blood and flesh splattered everywhere, the stench invading my nostrils. My own momentum carried me on, letting me get a good look at what was behind me.
They were everywhere. Pouring out of the auditorium. From every window and door of the dorm I’d just left behind me. The Business and Sports buildings. Abandoned cars on the parking lot. Hundreds of them, likely already over a thousand—and every single pair of insane eyes was fixed on me.
The empty shell casing hadn’t yet popped out of my shotgun as I was turning around, kicking off the asphalt to propel my body forward. My mind had barely enough capacity left to notice that the zombie that had grabbed me had been one of that suspected leader group but neither the female nor Raul. Then I was running again, pushing myself even harder. No telling what became of it, but the screams behind me didn’t change, so not many could have stopped to devour it.
One house, two passed by me, and still the howls increased in intensity and rage, drawing ever closer.
“Guys?” I huffed, trying to shout but lacking the air for more than a huff. “Any time you’re ready now!”
Nothing happened, but then I wasn’t anywhere near the other campus yet, and Burns and Cho could be hiding further down the road. Or they’d already abandoned me.
I hit the next intersection, and from the corner of my eye I saw motion there, but couldn’t concentrate on it before I was between the houses again. Probably just more zombies streaming my way.
I more felt than heard the detonation going off behind me, the shock wave licking at my heels as first one, then two more grenades exploded, hopefully tearing into the zombie horde hot in pursuit. Just knowing that I wasn’t alone out here—that they had my back—gave me a morale boost that got me flying down the block. And then the last house on the left broke away, with just one more on the right, and beyond the crossing street I saw the open grass of the campus ahead, with the two tall buildings looming left and right.
Tires squealed and the scent of burned rubber hit my nose, a dark figure on a motorcycle sliding into my vision from my right. I didn’t need any encouragement to hop on behind Nate, wrapping my arms around his middle and squeezing for all I was worth. The moment he felt my weight settle behind him, Nate gunned the throttle, sending the bike forward, the front tire leaving the road for a second. Angry shouts got louder behind me and I squeezed my eyes shut tight, not wanting to see if he was too slow and they caught up with us. But then the bike got traction and surged ahead across the parking lot, swerving around the few cars parked there. We’d barely hit the middle of it as I heard the twin sound of assault rifles going off, switched to full-auto mode.
Wind sliced across my face and made tears sting in my eyes as I looked back, seeing the zombies jerk and fall under the spray of bullets. But not all of them—the first, maybe twenty individuals strong group got spared, leaving them to chase us without even slowing down.
Nate sent the bike right into the grass where the parking lot ended, the resulting jerk charring my entire body. I tightened my grip on him, hoping that he wouldn’t send us both to the ground, buried underneath a heap of scrap metal, served on a silver platter for our entourage. It took a few glances down to register that what I’d thought of as grass was really a path, fallen into disrepair as nature had a full three seasons to eat away on it. The zombies followed but fell behind a little, giving us a much needed breather.
“What is your plan?” I shouted, not sure if my mic was even still on, hoping that Nate would understand me this way.
“Not get torn apart,” he replied, his words whipped from his lips but moderately clear in my earpiece. “Hold on. Just a few more seconds.”
That didn’t bode well, and I so didn’t like him steering toward one of the buildings to our left, a squat block rising from the ground. It certainly looked large enough to house enough lurking shamblers to make those coming after us pale in comparison.
“When I tell you, let go and hop off. I’ll be right behind you,” Nate told me, pulling my attention back to him. And, as usual with him, that left me just long enough to process the message before he kicked in the brakes, sending the motorcycle spinning to the side as it came to a charring halt. “Now!”
I more pushed off Nate and let gravity do the rest than actually “hopped off” the bike, landing in a staggering half-crouch, half-run. Not waiting for the zombies to catch up, I aimed for the glass doors ahead of me, throwing myself through the shattered remains of the left most one. Behind me, I heard the engine of the bike die, followed by a series of popping sounds. Then Nate was coming through the same door as me, following my panting run deeper into the gloom of the building.
It was a library, that much was certain, even before I read the signs. Beyond the foyer, the main floor opened, rows and rows of tables and chairs stretching out before us, with more cozy seating to the side. Several heads rose from between the desks and looked toward us, making me aim for the stairs rather than the maze of shelves. Up it was.
By the time I reached the first floor, Nate had caught up with me, yet instead of overtaking me, he just gave me a shove farther up the stairs—not that I needed any encouragement, with yet more howls rising below us. Glass splintered as the zombies from outside didn’t bother with choosing the already cleared path. Taking the stairs two at a time, I used the handrails to pull myself up, going as quickly as I could. My lungs were burning and the painful stitch in my side made every inhale even worse. I didn’t care. As long as I still felt discomfort, I was very much alive, and intended to remain so.
“Stick to the stairs,” Nate called out from behind me. Not that I had much choice, as yet more zombies were surging toward us from the side as we reached the second floor landing. I didn’t bother with readying my gun but simply ran on, forcing my body to comply.
We hit the third floor landing, and there were no more stairs. Not that the building had caved in—it still looked almost pristine, except for the squatters—but this was the end of the staircase.
“Where to now?” I panted, looking around frantically. The howling below drew the few shamblers that were up here, but I could only see six come toward us, and considering that the mass behind us was already loud enough to make communication hard, I didn’t expect many more to be around.
Nate scanned the room, then took off right toward the zombies. “There’s another staircase over there.”
Grabbing my shotgun as I fell in behind him to the right, I aimed and blew the head off of the first zombie that was stupid enough to come within comfortable range, never missing a step. Nate disposed of two more while I took the remaining other two, and we reached the secondary staircase just as the horde came out of the other. I only spared a look over my shoulder, but that was enough to make me stumble up the steps rather than sprint. This was so not looking good.
Ten seconds later, we reached the landing of the final floor, only to be met with yet more shelves—and a trap door right above us. Nate was already lacing his fingers together in front of his body to boost me up. Rather than fiddle with the lock, I aimed my shotgun up. Two shots and the lock was history, the cover swinging down to greet us. Aided by Nate, it was easy for me to reach the iron rails that were intended as makeshift steps and pull myself up far enough that my free foot reached the lowest rung. The second my weight was off him, Nate heaved over one of the shelves, using the rickety wood to bridge the gap that would have been too large for me this way. By then I was already pulling myself up into the darkness of the shaft, until my hand brushed against the roof cover above me. Reaching into the side pocket of my pants, I got out my flashlight, quickly locating the latch that would open the hatch. Then it was just a matter of shoving the cover up with my shoulders. Wet air blew into my face, fresh after the stale stench of the library. Old books might be one thing—old books mixed with old zombie, not my new favorite scent. With the flashlight gripped between my teeth, I climbed out, quickly looking over the roof.
It was a flat roof, last fall’s half-rotten leaves clustered in the corners where wind and rain had plastered them into heaps that no one had removed this spring. The upper floors of the library weren’t as sprawling as the ground level, forming somewhat of a turret. That got confirmed as I looked over the edge, seeing the lower floor below and the connective tunnel to the next building.
Nate heaved himself out of the shaft behind me, quickly pulling the cover shut, but even so I could hear the howls and screams of the zombies below.
“Think they will come up here?” I asked, belatedly wondering if shooting off the cover at the bottom had been my brightest idea. It certainly had been the fastest, and we’d likely be dead if we’d have cast around for another solution.
He shrugged, that alone incredibly upsetting. “If they are smart enough to pull one or two more shelves over the one I toppled over, who knows? I don’t intend to stick around long enough to find out.” Coming over to me, he quickly looked down at what lay between this building and the next before he motioned me to turn around. Frowning, I did, not sure I liked where this was going when I felt him rummage around in my pack. His was nowhere to be found. If he hadn’t ditched it earlier, I doubted I would have been able to hop onto the motorcycle behind him.
Nate pulled out the tightly wound coil of climbing rope I had in there, followed by the bolt cutter and pliers. “What—“ I started to ask when he shook the rope out, crossed the utensils over each other, and began binding them together. My stomach sank, which was a feat, considering that I didn’t feel too happy about the zombies raging below us already. “A grappling hook? Seriously?” He didn’t pause but still managed to send me a brief look. “You do remember the part where I’m afraid of heights?”
“I do remember the part where you’re even more afraid of being eaten alive,” he pointed out, measuring how much of the rope was left. I didn’t protest, but that didn’t mean I was very fond of the idea.
“Can’t we just outwait them?” I asked. As soon as the words had left my mouth, something slammed against the shaft cover behind us, making the heavy metal rattle. “Uh, never mind,” I amended as I joined Nate where he was now standing at the edge of the roof.
“Do you want to go first?” he offered, only looking at me for a moment before he threw the grappling hook across, the rope unfurling except for the last loop that he had wrapped around his hand tightly. Just what an insane idea this was showed when he needed a second try to send the hook through a window in the adjacent building where it caught on the sill.
I considered for a moment, but shook my head. Throwing the hook would be a pain in the ass for me, but as long as I held on to the rope, I could try again. Now, throwing the whole rope and hook back to the other roof, or else dooming Nate to certain death? That wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. “You first. You can always shoot them off my back if I take longer.”
The look he sent me told me that I’d better not fudge this in the first place, but he left it at a curt nod. “See you on the flipside.” With that, he gripped the rope more firmly and jumped over the edge, just as if it was just a ledge into a swimming pool. I held my breath as I watched him swing toward the other building, expecting the contraption to disassemble any moment and for him to plummet to his death. Of course he made it to the other side with ease, breaking his momentum with a few hops along the side of the building. He even made it look easy as he pulled himself up to the window of the next floor—two floors below where the hook was lodged—kicking it in before he disappeared inside. Endless seconds went by as only the wind, rain, and the pounding of the zombies trapped in the shaft kept me company, before Nate appeared at the upper window, breaking the glass before he pulled the remainder of the rope in. Five seconds later, the rope, securely wrapped around the makeshift hook, came sailing over to me, hitting the roof right next to me after flying in a perfect arc.
Picking the thing up, I shook the rope free, weighing the grappling hook in my hand for a moment. It looked balanced enough that throwing it should be easy—for someone who could throw stuff. Which I didn’t. Years of bungling throws in PE classes crashed down on me, adding fuel to the fire of doubt. I did my best to ignore all that, but that was about as possible as not hearing the zombies that were straining to reach me. I had no idea how Nate had gotten the cover shut, but there was already one arm reaching through the widening gap. Any time for hesitation that I’d had was up.
Exhaling forcefully, I wound the end of the rope around my hand just as he had, gripping the other end about a yard down from the hook. I swung it around experimentally before I sent it flying toward the building. It didn’t even sail halfway across the gap before it fell straight down, jerking hard on my hand. Cursing under my breath, I started pulling it up again, shuddering when I heard a decidedly non-muffled howl behind me but not bothering with looking. Nate was frowning slightly, and I could tell that he was already debating whether going first had been a good idea. Then again, he was probably happy that his survival didn’t depend on my throwing abilities.
Taking a little more time to get a feel for how the hook swung, I tried again. And again. On the fourth try, the hook plunked against the wall below the window, but fell away without catching on to anything.