“I was hoping it’d be long enough to wedge between the door and the first step.” Cannon scratched behind his ear. “But it’s not…”
Cahz took a calming breath, and although his heart was still pounding he’d calmed himself down. “It’s not a bad idea even if that thing’s a little short.”
“There’s plenty more office furniture up there,” Ryan offered. “We’re bound to find a desk or something the right size to fill the gap.”
“Okay, get to it,” Cahz said. “But this time holler down before you start chucking stuff at us.”
“Will do, boss.” Cannon gave a sloppy salute before nodding to Ryan to follow him.
Cahz closed his eyes and slumped against the door. With his eyes shut the vibrations from the door against his back were magnified. A dull ache made its presence felt in the back of his head.
He unscrewed the lid from his canteen and took a swig. The slug of water didn’t shift the bitter taste on his tongue.
“Could I have some?” The woman’s voice was shaky and uncertain.
Cahz held out the canteen. “Sure.”
Elspeth was gazing down at the baby. The child had reduced her crying to a more tolerable whimper.
“She okay?” Cahz asked, peering over as far as he could. It was the most tactful way to ask if the baby had succumbed to the infection.
Elspeth rocked the baby gently. “I think she’s calming down.”
Cahz held in his relief. Both the woman and child were infected and it was only a matter of time before they joined the ranks of the living dead. In just a few short hours the contagion would infest every cell in the woman’s body. And maybe less time than that for the child.
Elspeth took a long drink and passed the bottle back. “You’ll have to screw the cap back on. My other hand’s full,” she said, rocking the baby.
On cue there was a slight gurgle as the child made a sucking reflex.
“She’s such an angel,” Elspeth said.
Even with the nasty looking scrape down her face, Cahz couldn’t disagree.
“The others keep telling me how she looks like Samantha, but she doesn’t… Well, not that much. She’s Ryan’s-you can see that in her face.” Elspeth was crying now. “She’s got Samantha’s eyes but that smile’s Ryan’s.”
Cahz nodded and smiled as he lifted the canteen to take another drink.
He panicked and tossed the plastic bottle across the hall. The clatter startled the baby and she resumed her piercing wail.
Elspeth jerked backed. “What is it?”
The canteen rocked to a sloshing halt, the water glugging from its open neck.
“You took a drink, lady,” Cahz yelped, “and I was just about to drink from it too.”
Elspeth was puzzled. “So?”
“You’ve been bit…” Cahz’s voice trailed off as he realised how insensitive he had just been. The last drips of water trickled over the lip of the discarded canteen, sending ripples across the newly formed puddle.
“Look, I’m sorry,” he offered, but it wasn’t enough. Elspeth was in floods of tears.
Cahz leant hard up against the door, his head tipped back and his eyes closed. All he could hear were the sounds of crying in front and the moans behind.
There was a loud crack from somewhere outside like the whip of a circus performer.
“What was that?” Elspeth asked.
Cahz looked at his watch. “That’ll be Bates’ homemade time bomb.” The door behind him groaned further at the pressure of the undead pressing against it. “I thought the explosion would waste a few and draw more towards the noise. Guess there’s just too many of them to make a difference.” Cahz pulled his gloved hand across his face, wiping his chin. He looked down to examine his hand to see if he had removed any of the imagined contagion he felt creeping across his flesh.
“Gardyloo,” came a call from above, followed by several loud thumps.
Something heavy came crashing down the stairs. With a sharp crack of plastic shattering, a photocopier tumbled into view. Shards of the beige plastic casing pinged off and flew down the stairs.
Ryan and Cannon quickly followed and kicked the office stalwart the last few feet. It cartwheeled over the last steps to land with an almighty crunch half on top of the filing cabinet.
Cahz lent back against the door, looking up at the ceiling.
“Get that wedged in place,” he ordered without looking back at his subordinates.
“Sure thang, boss,” Cannon complied.
With a few moments hauling and kicking, the two pieces of office equipment were solidly wedged against the door.
“Okay, let’s get away from this noise,” Cahz said, rubbing a thumb and finger across his eyebrows, trying to dispel a burgeoning headache.
“Just a minute,” Cannon said.
The big soldier stood with his support weapon slung over his midriff and his hands casually folded on top like he was about lead a battlefield prayer.
“Cannon?” Cahz asked.
“There’s…” Cannon paused. “Well, you’ll see. It’s just bit fucked up.”
“What is?” Cahz asked.
“Masada,” Ryan said.
“Masada?” Cahz echoed, puzzled.
Chapter Six
Balcony
“Three,” Ali said. “Two,” a little louder.
“One!”
Ali pushed off from the door and ran down the hallway. He half vaulted, half clambered over the chair blocking the way to the living room. As he landed a rip of pain spread out from his leg, but he ignored it.
The groaning of the zombies now mixed with the groaning of the front door as the weight of numbers forced their way through.
Ali cast a glance back to see the first of the undead pushed through the widening gap by the horde behind.
He picked up a small coffee table and hurled it at the full-length windows. The cheaply constructed table bounced off the glass and split in two as it crashed to the floor. The window remained intact except for the kaleidoscope crack that radiated from the impact point.
Ali stomped his foot into the weak point and the crack widened. He suddenly had an image of his foot knocking a neat hole through the glass-a hole that would lacerate his calf and leave him snared, unable to escape.
He picked up the larger half of the broken table and started hammering at the crack. Shards of wood splintered away with every swipe. As he hammered at the glass, the cracks zigzagged out longer and thinner, but with each blow the joint in the ruptured table gave a little more. Finally Ali battered the window and the table disintegrated in his hands.
He screamed as slivers of wood slashed into his skin. He looked down at his wounds to see toothpick-sized splinters of jagged wood in his palms and fingers. Blood wept from some of the larger punctures as he plucked out the slivers.
There was a thud in the hallway. As he watched he saw a pair of hands come into view. The pallid skin and the accompanying moan told him that the zombies had reached the chair obstructing the hall. It wouldn’t be long before they managed to clamber over it.
