Aftermath (Book 1): Only The Head Will Take Them Down (18 page)

John ducked down back into position, having no idea as to whether or not he had killed his target, but feeling fairly confident from the screams that followed that his shots had at least achieved a decent hit, a belief further compacted by the dialog that carried along the now empty outside air.
“That son of a bitch…he…he got me”, yelled one voice.
“God damn it!”, yelled another, “Plan B, right now!”.
John looked over to his companion, confident that he had indeed hit his mark, but concerned at just what exactly ‘Plan B’ might be.
Donald clearly shared his concern, his face reminiscent of a soldier taking cover before a shelling. But as the two sat hunkered down, waiting for what seemed like an eternity for something to happen, they heard no further gunfire. In fact, they heard nothing at all for the next few seconds, though neither was willing to risk their own neck standing back up to view their attackers just yet.

“We’ve gotta’ look”, Donald said eventually.
John knew he was right, though he hated to admit it. “Alright”, he replied, “Blind fire down there, I’ll take a look”, he ordered, gesturing with his gun for Donald to simply point it out the window and fire, rather than risk emerging himself.
Donald did as asked, pointing his M4 out of the window in the general direction of the men, and squeezing off four shots, the third of which John chose as his moment to stand.
As he emerged, he was surprised to see that the car was in fact driving away, in the direction he and Donald had come from no less. The injured man was nowhere to be seen, and the remaining men had seemingly packed back into the sedan, perhaps fleeing a conflict they felt they couldn’t win. But John knew better than to believe that, and he knew only too well that this wasn’t over.

“They’re gone”, John said as he continued to survey the area through the scope of his M14.
“They left?”, Donald asked in disbelief, slowly rising back up to the window, before seeing for himself that there was in fact nobody to be seen, “Where’d they go?”, he asked.
“Hell if I know, they didn’t even touch the truck”, John added, looking over to the Toyota, all windows – bar the rear one John had shot out earlier – still intact, along with all four tires seemingly fully inflated, judging by the trucks level stance.
“But why would they just leave?”, Donald asked, still in disbelief.
“To escape”, John replied, his eyes widening in horror.
“Escape what? Those pussies outnumbered us!”, Donald replied.
“Not us”, John replied, as the heat from the flames engulfing the side of the building roared up to the window with immense speed and ferocity, the dry, wooden features of the Hospital an immense catalyst for a spreading fire, “To escape that”.

Chapter 19: Run

“Get the door!”, John yelled to his companion, whilst attempting to pack away his M14 and pull his Remington back out as he did.
Donald understood, and sprinted to the door they had so recently entered through, grabbing the handle, but recoiling and stepping back before he had a chance to open it.
“John”, he said as he took further steps away from the exit.
“What is it!?”, John barked without looking up, almost ready to swing his backpack onto his shoulders and head out.
“We aint’ leaving that way”, Donald answered.

John looked up, just in time to see a rotting hand plunge straight through the door’s window, shards of loose glass cutting deep into the uncaring flesh, as it clawed away at the air on their side of the door. Almost immediately it was joined by the hands of multiple others, and the loud banging of limbs against the doors wooden exterior. It was impossible to tell just how many there were, but judging by the sea of moving figures clearly visible behind the initial few, John knew there was no chance they were leaving the way they had entered.

“Guess now we know what that barricade was for”, John said as he swung his backpack on and stood up tall, “There another exit?”, he asked.
“Only the windows”, Donald replied, knowing that under normal circumstances the windows were not an exit, but also knowing that these were definitely not normal circumstances.
John looked around frantically, trying as hard as he could to identify a better alternative, before eventually looking back to Donald, “Guess that’s what we’ll use then”.
Donald appeared shocked – apparently having assumed John would never really give the order – and was now looking back and forth between the shattered windows, and the man saying they had to go out of them, “How do we get down!?”.
“We don’t go down from here”, John explained as he walked over to the empty frame, “Long as it’s clear, we just get down one floor, and go from there”.
“But the rooms below us are all barred shut remember?”, Donald pointed out, thinking back to the numerous attempts they’d made to gain entry to the lower areas.

Donald was right of course, and John knew it, but he wasn’t about to give up yet. Cautiously approaching the window, he peered out for just a few seconds, surveying the area for the slightest of stirs that might indicate their newfound enemies were still nearby, before ducking back in once more, and bracing himself for the gunfire that may follow.

The two stood in silence, watching the window, ready for the sound of metal hitting brickwork to fill their ears, but it never came. Had they left the city? Or at least gone far enough out not to see them embarking on their daring escape? It would have been stupid for the attackers to leave without making sure their targets were dead, but then the noise and light emitted from the fire would no doubt attract quite the horde, so perhaps they were simply prioritising their own escape over being thorough.
“Looks like we have our way out”, John said whilst looking at Donald, before leaning back out of the window to plan their escape, still cautiously watching for movement out of the corner of his eye.

The only route John could see was a drainpipe heading up the side of the building, right in the middle of the two windows. It wasn’t ideal, and he had absolutely no idea whether the rickety old metal would take the weight of a full grown man – though he was fairly confident it wouldn’t take two – so  they had to move quickly, before the group of biters on the other side of the door managed to force their way through.
“We go up the pipe”, John announced, “Stay close but do NOT get on while I’m still on it, I don’t fancy our chances putting that much weight on it at once, alright?”.
“Got it”, Donald replied, “Let’s go!”.

John went first, brushing the remaining shards of glass off of the edging before climbing backwards out into the night sky, his feet on the ledge and hands holding onto the wooden frame of the now empty window. Almost immediately he began to feel the immense heat below, a heat that gave John yet another reason to be as quick as possible, or face an alternative but still very gruesome end.
“Get ready on the other window, we’ve gotta’ be quick!”, John yelled into the darkened room, the sound of feet scuffing along the floor a sign that Donald had understood.

John knew that if the pipe didn’t take his weight, they had no chance, and so rather than slowly inch his way onto it – in order to test each additional piece – he decided there and then, to go for it, and hope to God that it didn’t end his journey through this hell-hole right here and now. As his feet left the ledge, his entire body falling towards a pipe designed to take no more weight than its own, he couldn’t help but think about his family, hopefully tucked up safe somewhere waiting for him. More than likely however, they were at that very moment in some grim location, fighting for their lives each and every day, something he had absolutely no intention of leaving them to sort out by themselves. Nearing the pipe, his hands extending to grab hold of the nearest section, his feet flailing in a hopeful attempt to make contact with one of the screw fixtures securing the pipe to the wall, John was relieved beyond all measures to feel the solid metallic joints underneath his worn old boots, and feel the firm grip of the metal tube in the palms of his hands.

“We’re good!”, John yelled to Donald, who had watched the move with every ounce of attention he could muster, knowing he would shortly have to repeat it.
“Then get up there!”, Donald replied, keen to get John up to the next floor so he himself could also escape the room, his own eyes darting back to the door, only to see more and more biters forcing their various limbs through the missing window.
John meanwhile began quickly climbing up, his footing only relatively stable, but the pipe itself getting hotter and hotter the longer he held onto it.
“John we got a problem down here!”, Donald yelled as the door began to prise open, giving in to the huge force generated by the crushing stampede that lay behind it, “They’re coming!”, he yelled upwards hopelessly.

The first few were no threat, most had been in a deadly crush for the past few minutes, and so as the doors hinges finally gave way, they fell quickly to the floor in a heap. Those behind them though were a different story, their first meal in what had probably been months now coming into sight, and from just a few metres away at that. It seemed almost like they had been saving their energy for this very moment, each using every ounce of it to propel themselves towards the window.
“Shiiiiiit!”, Donald yelled as the biters made it half way across the room, a point that he knew marked the time where he simply had to run for it.

John knew exactly what had happened without even looking. He heard the bang of the door falling down, the stampede of new feet pounding against the floor inside the room, and of course, the yells of his companion. What he noticed more than anything though, was the worrying sound of creaking emitted by the structure he was currently held to, a noise he knew meant that Donald had been forced to join him on the pipe, despite both men knowing it was unlikely it would take their weight. There was nothing else for it, John had to get off, and so he jumped for the nearby window, much sooner than he would have liked to have done, but no later than he could afford to wait.

Donald looked up just in time to see the procedure, his companion swinging to the left and then propelling himself to the right. His hands stretched out towards the lower ledge of the fifth floor window, as his feet pushed hard off of the pipe to give him whatever final piece of momentum they could find, just as the first biter arrived at the window below, grasping outwards for the human flesh it had so recently caught sight of. Back above, John dangled helplessly from the upper floor, the relief of making yet another daring manoeuvre just setting in, only to be cut short by the worrying sight of a closed pane of glass above. Thankfully for John however, his companion was way ahead of him, carefully withdrawing his M4 and taking aim at the window above one handed. The thin sheet of single glazed glass no match for the roar of the rifle, a noise that shattered the night air and engulfed John’s ears, deafening him for several seconds.

John clenched up drastically, looking away from the newly smashed window just in time to feel numerous shards of glass rain down on both himself and Donald, as well as the distant floor below. After a few seconds though, John could once again look up, this time at the now empty entrance to the floor above, which he promptly pulled himself up towards. As he did, he prepared for what might be inside, the thought of a similar horde of biters as the floor below crossing his mind, amongst other things. To his relief however, he saw nothing, and was instead greeted with an incredibly dark room that appeared to have once been a relatively typical office space.

Back below, Donald awkwardly slotted his M4 back into the straps of his backpack, and began making his way up the pipe, the sight of his companion breaching the floor above enough to spur him on with a sudden burst of energy. Just below him however, a single arm lunged out of the window, grabbing enough of Donald’s foot to throw him completely off balance, his entire body swinging to the left side of the pipe, mercifully freeing it of the tight grasp as it did. He kicked out violently with his right foot, desperately attempting to keep the biters away and allow him to get a foothold once more, but there were too many, and he was too exposed to fight back, he had to climb up. Grabbing furiously at the pipe above, Donald slowly pulled himself upwards, inch by inch, his feet dangling pointlessly below, unable to latch onto the pipe and help push him up. When he was eventually far enough away from the many hands now extended out below however, he managed a single good grip on the pipe once more, and used the force of his now usable feet to quickly propel himself upwards.

Above, John flicked the flashlight of his shotgun back on, just in time to see a single biter hunched over in the corner of the room, seemingly deceased, and well into the beginning stages of decomposition. This was no time for chances though, so John shifted the shotgun to his left hand, and withdrew his knife, moving quickly to the still creature, and plunging his blade deep into the centre of its skull. To some this might have seemed like an overly violent act, but the sight of a final gasp of life escaping from its deadened face told John that he’d been right to be cautious.

Quickly John rushed back to the window to assist his companion’s awkward entrance.
“Gimme’ your hand!”, he yelled at Donald, who was now parallel with the open window.
“Here goes!”, replied Donald, who held out a hand, before lunging towards the window once John had a firm grip.
Donald dangled for a moment, at complete mercy of John and his next decision, a moment which John used to ponder the possibility of forcing the location of his family out of Donald. But John was an honest man, and he liked to do things fairly, so he instead opted to slowly pull him up, his reasonably heavy weight cascading through the open window at the first chance it got, knocking both men onto the ground, each panting heavily at the physical exertion they’d just been through.

This was no time for rest though, and so both men got quickly to their feet, briefly surveyed the office, and then moved to the door leading back into the hallway.
“Ready for this?”, John asked as he placed his hand onto the handle.
“Ready as I’ll ever be, replied Donald who swiftly raised his M4, having withdrawn it from his rucksack once more.
John swung the door open, himself raising his Remington ready for whatever lay on the other side, and quickly firing off a round into the head of one biter who stood particularly close to the window. The shell exploded with an almighty force, propelling numerous shards of metal deep into the biters skull, shoving it several feet across the room into a crumpled pile.