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the building."
"I say we make for that," Etta said. "Get up to the roof and the
helicopter."
"Who the hell is gonna fly it?" Leroy scoffed. "Ain't none of us know
how to pilot that thing."
More bullets chewed up the barricade.
"Well, we can't stay here," Don yelled. "Let's go."
Still crouched down, he turned to run and then froze. Four more zombies
were creeping up behind them. None of the creatures were armed with
ranged weapons, but each carried a knife or club.
"They flanked us!"
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With a triumphant cry, the zombies to their front charged. A second
later, an explosion went off in their midst. Shrapnel and bits of pulped
flesh showered down upon the group. Leroy cried out, hands flailing as a
hot fragment of metal scorched his forearm. The stench of his burned
flesh filled the air. The zombies to their rear pulled back, hesitating.
"Make a hole, motherfuckers," Forrest shouted. He clutched another
grenade in one beefy hand. The other held an M-16.
Pigpen stepped out from behind him and drove an axe through the forehead
of a zombie crawling across the floor. God poked his furry head out of a
backpack slung over the vagrant's shoulders.
Smokey and Don took advantage of the four remaining creatures'
hesitation and gunned them down. Then they stood up.
"God damn, it's good to see you, Forrest!" Leroy grasped his hand, and
then winced, favoring his forearm.
"Good to see you guys alive too. Now let's move."
Etta grabbed Leroy's arm, her face concerned. "You gonna be okay?"
"It hurts like a bitch, but I'm fine."
"No time to talk," Forrest insisted. "They're all over the place. We
need to go, now."
"Where?" Don asked.
"The back fire stairs, and then the sub-basement."
"And then," Pigpen grinned, "God will lead us out of here."
Val finally left her post in the communications center. The radio
traffic was becoming ominous-more attack orders from zombies than
humans-and she figured it
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was time to bolt. Naval radio operators went down with the ship, but not
her.
She crept down the corridor, wondering where Branson had gone, when a
zombie bird slammed into her face. Screaming, she grabbed the creature
and flung it away. It smashed against the wall and crumpled to the
floor. Val stomped it, feeling the bones snap beneath her feet.
The elevator doors at the end of the hallway stood open, revealing an
empty shaft. The darkness inside the gaping hole wasn't just black, it
was solid. From somewhere far below her, she heard muffled gunshots and
explosions. A drought of warm air drifted from the empty shaft, brushing
against her face. With it came smoke.
"Shit. Guess I can't go that way."
Val retraced her steps down the darkened hallway. Something fluttered
behind her. She turned around and stared at the shaft. The noise
repeated itself, a dry, rustling sound.
"What the-"
Without warning, a dozen undead pigeons flew out of the dark hole,
soaring down the hallway toward her. Val ran, fleeing their terrible,
squawking cries. She felt claws rake at the back of her neck, and beat
them away. Another bird snagged her hair, pulling out a clump by the
roots. She pumped her legs faster, lengthening the distance between
herself and her attackers. Her hand instinctively covered her abdomen,
protecting her unborn baby.
She rounded a corner and slid to a halt. At the far end of the hall
dozens of zombies were searching room to room. They hadn't noticed her.
Quickly, she tried the first door to her left. It was unlocked.
Val heaved herself into the room. Two birds made it through before she
could slam the door shut. One launched itself at her face, and its
razored beak clamped
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onto her eyelid and flew away. Val shrieked as it tore loose. The second
bird darted for her lidless eyeball, plucking it from its socket.
Half-blind, Val grabbed a lamp from the table and swung it, clubbing the
first bird to the floor. Still screaming, she smashed the other one
against the wall. Both the lamp and the pigeon exploded. The first bird
rose from the carpet and speared her other eye. The last thing she saw
was the pointed beak. Then, everything vanished in a red cloud of pain.
She clutched at the bird, feeling the gore-matted feathers, her fingers
tracing over her own eyeball before she squeezed both it and the bird
into a pulp.
Doubled over with agony, Val crashed around the room, blindly searching
for the door handle. She found it, and stumbled out into the hall. Blood
streamed from her empty eye sockets. Part of her brain warned her that
there were still zombies in the corridor, but she didn't care. Something [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]