He gave a grunt of displeasure as he eased his leg off the stool and stood up. Picking up the marker pen, he confronted the wall.
He drew a thick line off from WAIT FOR CHOPPER.
“Get clothing from flat,” Ali said as he wrote the words down.
“Signalling.” Ali tapped the end of the pen against his bottom lip. He saw himself, pen to his mouth, reflected in the smoky screen of the TV set.
“Ah-ha!” he exclaimed.
He walked over to the defunct media centre and picked up the first DVD from a pile of obsolete disks. The front cover was pink and white like the icing of a fancy cake and in stark contrast to everything else in Frank’s bachelor pad. Ali thought he recognised the attractive woman on the cover from some medical drama but even after reading her name he couldn’t place her.
“Never underestimate the power of a chick flick,” Ali laughed as he looked over at the fishing photo. “You been entertaining, Frank?”
Ali popped open the case with a crisp snap and a glossy leaflet proclaiming “other great titles” slipped free and fluttered to the floor. In spite of the aches, he bent down and picked up the insert and carefully slid it back into the case.
Ali laughed at himself. Some modicum of civilised life still controlled him. He had just spent the best part of the morning looting Frank Topalow’s home, defacing the walls and stealing his coffee, yet he felt compelled to retrieve the advertising material from inside a DVD case. He shook his head in disbelief at his own actions and clicked the central lug, freeing the DVD. He held up the shiny disc and peeked through the hole in the centre.
“Perfect.”
He put the case back down where he’d found it and walked back over to the mind map on the wall.
SIGNAL MIRROR = DVD he wrote in the next branch.
Then he went on, mouthing the words as he wrote them, “Set signal fire-find kindling (easy) & rubber (or something easy that makes black smoke).”
Ali marched back over to the media centre. He plucked the lighter he’d found earlier from his pocket and picked back up the now empty DVD case. He flicked the flame on and held the corner of the case to it. The plastic bubbled and melted like wax, giving off dark wisps of smoke. He took his thumb off the lighter and blew out the burgeoning flame. The room was filled with the acrid smell of burnt plastic.
Ali looked at the now warped and singed cover.
“Sorry, Katherine,” he apologised, reading off the cover. “I doubt you’d have gotten a sequel anyway.”
He turned back to the wall and circled the heading “Food”.
Other than the granola bar he had just consumed, the only other food (if you could call it that) was the body building powder.
Using his pen like a baton, Ali double-checked the case of water. There were ten bottles left, one he’d drank, the other he’d used to make the coffee. The remaining ten would be more than sufficient to last out a couple of days, but the demolished granola bar would never be enough.
“I need to find a safe place, like a roof, for the chopper to pick me up.” Ali chewed at the end of the pen. “But I can’t sit up on a roof for two days without food.”
He paced over to the window and looked out at the zombie-infested street.
“The apartments below will have been picked clean and it’s not like I can go to the corner store.”
Ali spotted the picture of Frank and his buddy wearing green waders with wide grins on their vacation- rejuvenated faces.
“A fishing trip wouldn’t go amiss.” Ali paused. He picked up the picture and smiled.
“Fishing.”
Ali looked out of the gaping hole where earlier this morning a window had been. He scanned the throng of undead below, looking for the zombie he’d spotted earlier today. There was still the smell of smoke on the wind, a remnant of the Molotov cocktails.
From the fourth floor it was difficult to pick out one cadaver from the homogenous group of undead, all dressed in their decay induced uniforms of brown and grey. Then he spotted the familiar soldier, the one in the tattered chemical suit. Ali scanned around the area hoping, the two hadn’t been separated too much by the ebb and flow of the swarm.
Ali smiled. “There you are.”
With one hand on the electrical cable and the other on the makeshift hook, he started swinging his arm. Ali tested the weight of the metal bar he’d bent to form a massive fishing hook. When he felt confident about his throw he let the hook slip.
The hook sailed out the window and down to the throng, snaking a trail of electrical cable behind it as it fell.
Suddenly the cable stopped uncoiling as the hook hit the ground. A wave of moans lifted up from the zombies who had spotted the objects descent, and when Ail peered from the window a further surge of moans rippled out.
Ali gently tugged on the cable and started pulling. Hand over hand he drew the cable back, testing it for the snag that would indicate he’d caught his prize.
The cable came up unimpeded.
Ali pulled up the hook and cast it out for his second try.
Chapter Thirteen
Fire
“Ryan,” Cahz called as he and Cannon returned to the office.
“What is it?”
“We need to make plans to leave,” Cahz said.
“Building next door’s on fire,” Cannon added before Ryan had time to ask why.
“Christ.” Ryan ran a hand through his hair. “Now we’re surrounded?”
“I know, but we’re going to have to come up with something.” Cahz marched over to the stack of crates. “First thing, we need to get organised.”
“What you looking for, boss?” Cannon asked, watching Cahz ransack the supplies.
Cahz paused and looked back. He shrugged. “Honestly, I have no fucking idea. We need to gather what we can while we can.”
“There’s not much of use among this stuff-I mean if we’re moving out,” Ryan offered. “There’s medical supplies and camping equipment, but if we’re getting picked up in a few hours we’re not going to need any of it.”
“
Cahz stopped his rummaging, but kept his attention on the contents of the crate. After a long pause he spoke. “Our time in country is dependent on two things: Luck and ammunition. Since we can’t depend on the first, then we’ll need to rely on the second.” He looked up at Cannon. “How much ammo have you got?”
“About eight hundred,” Cannon answered. “And that includes rounds for the pistol.”
“We’ll concentrate on living long enough to get picked up,” Cahz said. “If it doesn’t happen, we worry about it then.”
Ryan and Cannon looked dumbstruck.
“We okay with that?” Cahz asked.
“I guess that’s all we can do,” Cannon said.
Ryan was less convinced. “What if we need some of this stuff? Shouldn’t we take it with us just in case?”
“It’s going to be tooth and nail out there,” Cahz answered. We can’t afford to carry any dead weight.”
