Last Man Standing (Book 2): Cordyceps (13 page)

Jacob Moore stands with his back pressed against the concierge desk, praying for the others to return while there's still time. Everyone else ran upstairs to take potshots at the infected from above, leaving him alone with nothing to protect himself but his dad's old Mossberg 500 shotgun. He stares through the revolving door with wide, tear filled eyes at the swarm of infected still beating against the glass, and at one in particular: his dad.

Jacob had been due to go on guard duty with his father. He should have been out there, but he'd been caught short and rushed off to the bathroom just ten minutes before the swarm breached the perimeter. He'd watched through the glass as a group of them had descended on his dad, and his feet had been frozen to the ground as he watched them crack his bones until his arms hung loose in their sockets. As one of them leaned down and clamped its jaws over his dad's face he'd felt the warmth spread in his pants, but still he'd been unable to move. Even if he could have gotten through the door to save him he'd have been powerless. He was frozen with fear, and now that fear was multiplied beyond counting.

His dad's face is contorted with rage, barely recognizable as he pounds madly against the glass. His right cheek is missing, and his dentures have slipped so far to the side that they're almost falling out of the gap. Blood gushes down his dirty white shirt, drooling down his chin and spraying against the bulging window as he yells wordlessly.

The glass is breaking under the weight of the infected. With each pounding fist it shatters a little more, the tiny fractures spreading ever closer to the frame. Jacob knows that at any moment the whole door will shatter, and once that happens he's dead. There's no way he can take out more than a couple with the two 00 buckshot shells in the Mossberg.

He also know he can't fire on his father. He can't fire on the man who saved him when his mother turned; the man who dragged him to the car and gunned the engine until they were far away from the house... far away from the bodies of his mother, brother and sisters.

He knows his dad's gone. He's scared, but he's not stupid. He knows the creature pounding at the glass isn't really his old man any more. Even so, even as the window bulges in just a little more he knows he won't be able to pull the trigger. He won't be able to fire, knowing that the shot will take away the last member of his family.

He closes his eyes when he hears the glass finally give way. He squeezes them tight when he hears the groans and pants of the infected, and swings the shotgun around as he hears their footfalls on the tile. The barrel slips awkwardly between his lips, chipping a tooth in his haste, but he ignores the pain. He reaches down and his fingers hunt for the trigger. His thumb closes over it, and he pulls down while holding the barrel steady against the roof of his mouth with his tongue.

He isn't fast enough. His attacker knocks his hand away from the trigger before he can fire, and he loses his grip on the gun as he's pushed backwards over the concierge desk. He falls to the ground, his eyes open, and looming above him he sees his father, bloodstained and wild eyed, lunge down towards him with clenched fists.

The boy stays conscious for... who knows how long? Nobody alive is there to see it, and nobody alive cares about his pain. He feels every blow. Every bite. He feels it as his father gouges his left eye deep into his skull with his thumb. He feels his own eyeball burst, and his mouth opens in a silent scream until the pain is so great he slips away.

There's no more pain. He doesn't feel the punches any more. He doesn't feel it as the rest of the infected find him and begin to feast. The spores in their saliva race through his bloodstream, but by the time they take hold there isn't enough left of Jacob to bring back.

Daniel Moore stands from the remains of his son when there's nothing left to eat. He's still hungry, and he knows there are many more meals waiting for him here.

He moves towards the staircase.

I can't believe my luck. One moment I was racing down the hallway in search of the fire escape, and the next I heard a loud bang behind me. I turned around just in time to see a pane of sheet rock fall to the ground, closely followed by a pair of legs. When Vee dropped softly to the ground I could barely believe what I was seeing.

"What the fuck are you doing there?" I demand, half expecting her to vanish like the figment of my imagination I'm sure she is.

Vee dismisses the question with a shake of her head. "Long story, don't worry about it. Did you assholes let a bunch of infected inside?"

Nope, she's real. "Umm... yeah. It was the only way to get you out of here. We needed a distraction to get past the guards."

Vee snaps her head around at the sound of screams in the distance. They're coming from inside the building. "Great distraction, genius. Where are the guys?"

I shrug. "We got separated in the lobby. I think they headed up this way, though. You wanna go look for them?"

She shakes her head. "This place must be twenty floors, we'd never find them. No, Warren knows what he's doing. Soon as he hears those screams he'll know to head for the door. You got a weapon for me?"

"Shit, sorry, I think we left it downstairs." I hold out my Beretta. "You want this back?"

"Uh uh, you keep it," she replies. "I'll make do." She turns to the wall and pulls a fire extinguisher from its bracket, then scans the emergency exit map beside it. "That's where you were headed?" She juts her chin towards the fire escape at the end of the hall. I nod. "No good. I got a look at the fire escape on the way in, and it leads right back to the front of the building. No..." She looks back at the map and points to an exit on the other side of the building. "This one leads across to the parking garage next door. Maybe it's still in one piece."

I look back with dread at the way I came. It leads back towards the lobby staircase. Worse, it's the direction from which the screams came just a moment ago. I'd rather take my chances climbing down to the infected swarms at the front of the building than head back that way.

"I hope you know what you're doing, Vee. I'll lead the way but watch my back, OK?" I set off along the hallway at a slow jog, and moments later my fears are confirmed. Two men appear on the staircase from above, one running and one tumbling head over heels. The fallen man sprawls on the floor for a moment before regaining his footing, and he continues down towards the lobby just moments before a group of infected race down in pursuit. Vee and I press our backs against the door of the closest room, forcing ourselves into a hiding space just a few inches deep, but the infected don't seem to notice us.

We continue on after a few deep breaths, and as we reach the top of the staircase I risk a look down into the lobby. The two men are nowhere to be seen, but we hear the echo of snarls and screams reverberate across the marble and up the stairs. Something tells me down isn't a good option. Ahead seems clear enough, though, and the fire escape is close. I just pray it's passable. Apart from a few rooms leading off the hallway there would be no escape if we found ourselves trapped down there.

Vee takes the lead, sensing my hesitation, and I quickly follow when I realize I'm out in the open, visible to anyone who might come down the stairs right now. I run to catch up and regain safety in numbers, and I reach her just as she presses her shoulder against the fire escape and pushes open the door.

I catch hold of her just in time, grabbing at the back of her collar as she loses her footing and starts to tumble out the door. She loses her grip on the fire extinguisher, and it falls through the air until it clangs on the asphalt two floors below. The noise attracts a group of infected who look up and begin to snarl and growl at the two of us far above their reach.

The fire escape is gone, sheared away where it should meet the wall. All that's left is the bolts that used to connect it, but beyond them blackened, jagged steel is the only evidence that the staircase was welded until the steel came free.

"Shit!" Vee yells, pulling herself back in through the door. "Fucking idiots could have just blocked it at ground level."

The fire escape used to run down to the narrow alley between the hotel and the parking structure next door, and from the look of the sheared steel on the opposite wall about ten feet away from us it looks like it also served as a walkway connecting the two buildings. Just a few steps or a single leap away, tantalizingly close, the entrance to the garage looks like a wide open mouth. It's a little below us, maybe a couple of feet lower than the hallway, and it looks like we might just be able to make it.

"You think you can make that jump?" Vee asks, already taking a few steps back.

"Ummm... I don't know. Maybe. I'm... shit, I'm not sure."

She pushes me gently aside. "Well, it's either that way or back out the front door, and I don't wanna get eaten today. Just follow my lead, OK? If I can make it so can you." She takes a couple of deep breaths, swings her arms back and forth and breaks into a run towards the door. I barely dare to watch, but I force myself. She leaps from the very edge, thrusting both arms forward as soon as she leaves the ground.

For a moment it looks as if she'll fall far short. I almost yell out, as if there's anything I could possibly do to save her if she missed, but before I can open my mouth her feet connect with the concrete on the other side. She falls forward into a graceful roll, and before I know it she's back on her feet and breathing easy.

"Come on, your turn," she says, beckoning me forward. I feel like my feet are cemented to the ground, but when I hear another scream echo down the hallway behind me I know there's only one real option. I take a few paces back, drop into a runner's starting position and, after a few more seconds of painful indecision, launch myself off the block towards the edge.

"Tom!" I hear the yell from behind me just as my feet are about to leave the ground. It's too late to pull back, and my jump loses power as my mind yells at me to stop and turn. I sail through the air but even before I'm halfway across the chasm it's clear I won't make it all the way.

My ribs bash against the concrete on the other side, knocking the wind out of me, and I start to slip backwards as my weight pulls me over the edge. I scrabble at the ground but there's nothing to grab hold of, and my heart lifts to my throat as I feel myself tip over the edge.

I'm barely even aware of Vee grabbing me by the arm. I don't know what's going on, but I feel my fall arrested just enough that I can scrape from feet against the wall and regain some purchase. I open my eyes, look up and see Vee straining against my weight, her small frame struggling to hold me steady, and from unknown reserves of energy I kick myself up against the wall until I feel the ridge of my aching ribs scrape across the edge and move my weight onto solid ground. I turn and roll, desperately moving until finally I feel the ground beneath my feet.

"Warren, get down here!" I hear Vee yell. I look back at the hotel and see him standing at the open doorway that now seems impossibly distant. It takes me a moment to realize it was Warren yelling my name that distracted me at the crucial moment.

I have no idea how we both made it across, and I don't dare take a breath as Warren takes just a few short steps back, sprints forward and athletically leaps across the gap. He lands a solid two feet into the garage, as if the gap was nothing but an easy step.

"Where's Bishop?" I ask, struggling to catch my breath. Warren frowns and looks down at me.

"Fuck, I thought he was with you. How did you lose track of him?"

I feel the anger rise. "I didn't fucking lose track of him. I thought the two of you had left me!"

"OK, OK, no point in us bouncing each other off the walls," Warren replies, trying to calm us both. "What are we gonna do? We can't just leave him in there. He's not even armed."

I look back at the door we jumped from. There's no way any of us could ever make it back. It's a good two feet higher than us, and it'd take a superhuman effort to reach it without falling. Besides that, even if we could leap over and grab the frame before falling the wall is covered in jagged steel from the destroyed fire escape. We'd be stabbed for sure.

It's a few seconds before I register the sound of the footsteps. Loud, heavy clomps bouncing off the walls of the alleyway like a slow drumbeat, followed soon enough by deep, panting breaths.

Bishop appears at the door on the other side of the alley, and he scans around for a moment before he notices us on the other side. Before he speaks a word his eyes catch the long drop to the ground below, and his face turns white. "Oh, fuck," he sighs, looking like he's on the edge of tears. "I can't jump that far, you guys."

I pull myself to my feet and call out to him across the void. "You can, Bishop. I thought the same thing but I made it." I don't mention that I almost didn't. "It looks further than it is. Just take a good run up and then throw yourself across. Come on, buddy, you have to try."

Bishop's eyes well with tears, but he seems to trust me. He wipes his eyes and nods. "OK, I'll try. Just gimme a second to get ready for it, OK?"

The shot comes out of nowhere. We all hear it, but we all look in different directions. Vee and Warren look down into the alleyway and I look behind me back into the garage, but it's not until we see Bishop that we learn the truth.

The big guy looks down at his chest, at the dirty fatigues he's been wearing for days. It's hard to see against the dark camo, but a growing patch of blood spreads across his jacket like a blooming flower.

"Oh," he says simply, his voice little more than a whisper. He touches his jacket and his hand comes away red before he plants it against the door frame to support himself. His legs tremble for a moment, and without another sound he falls slowly forward and tumbles face first into the alleyway.

In the alley beneath the snarls grow louder as Bishop lands hard on a dumpster, rolls off and tumbles into the middle of the pack. Before we can tell if he's alive or dead they close in over him, grabbing at his clothes and tugging at his arms and legs. I pray the fall killed him, but as the infected loom over him I hear a weak, desperate whimper. A gap forms between his attackers, and for a moment I see Bishop's eyes, wide open and terrified. I may be imagining it but he seems to meet my gaze. 

I don't take the time to think. I already know what needs to be done. I take a tight grip on my Beretta, point it down at the alley and squeeze the trigger, putting a lucky shot through Bishop's cheek. I won't let him return as one of those things.

For a moment there's a stunned silence. None of us wants to be the first to speak. We wouldn't know what to say. We're just numb. So numb that it occurs to none of us that whoever shot Bishop may still be here.

Almost in slow motion Warren drops to the ground as I watch. His mouth opens wide with shock, and it takes a moment for me to realize he's taken a hit in the leg. Vee thinks more quickly than me, and before he hits the deck she grabs him and drags him away from the entrance, behind the cover of a parked car.

I look up, and I suddenly feel like I'm in a nightmare I've had a dozen times over. The shooter stands above me and across the alleyway, grinning, a pistol in his hand. I watch as he calmly reloads as if he's completely unconcerned that we pose a threat.

Without any conscious thought at all I lift my hand, point my Beretta at the door and squeeze off shots until the magazine is empty. The man ducks quickly back inside at the first shot, and every one of my bullets buries itself harmlessly in the drywall of the hallway.

My arm drops to my side, and I stare at the empty door. My mind is barely working at half speed, and I don't even try to resist when Vee grabs me by the collar and drags me behind the car. It doesn't matter. None of this could possibly be real.

"Fucking
wake up
, Tom!" she yells, slapping me in the face. "You have to help me with Warren!"

I move as if I'm in a trance. Vee hooks an arm beneath one of Warren's shoulders and I do the same, pulling him away deeper into the garage as he grits his teeth through the pain. It's not until we all collapse, exhausted, at the far end of the structure that I begin to wake up.