What other choice is there? We have to slaughter them, as they attack—and slaughter them, we do. Dixon and Downey are firing constantly to keep them at bay. The deafening noise from the incoming Lynx now that it is almost in position is like a drug to the Rabids and revs them up even more.
“Alders is in position!” Josh shouts at me.
“Okay, Josh, give me your last grenades and then move now, you two!” I shout back at Josh and Watts.
Josh gives me two grenades and then immediately makes a break for it, running across the roof, his rifle swinging from side to side in his hands across the front of his body, and water splashes up as his feet hit the sodden roof.
Watts waits a few seconds; his rifle’s aim not wavering from the doorway. As Josh reaches halfway to the Lynx, Watts shoots out a burst from his rifle into the stairwell before dropping his aim, pulling his rifle in and turning to run after Josh.
I see Josh climb onboard the Lynx, Alice taking his hand to help pull him in and a wave of relief washes over me. The feeling is short-lived, however, as I turn my full concentration back to the onslaught in front of me and place my finger fully onto the trigger of the Browning.
Dixon and Downey move across the front of the Browning’s muzzle as they get into position for their retreat, shooting as they go.
“Move it!” Dixon shouts to Downey, who releases his last few shots and then makes his break for the Lynx.
Suddenly, there is nothing to shoot at, nothing moving in the dark stairwell. There are no dead eyes or gaping mouths to aim at. Dixon shoots a look in my direction, confusion etched on his face. Is that all of them? Have we won the battle and managed to kill the hoard of Rabids that were so determined to taste our flesh?
“Go!” I shout at Dixon, who drops his rifle down and turns, ready to run.
The moment ‘go’ leaves my mouth, the sound of a stampede echoes out at me from the hellhole across from me. Dixon hears it too and is caught in stasis mid-turn, trying to decide whether to carry on and go for the Lynx or reverse his turn, to fight whatever is coming.
“Go, I’ll cover!” I shout again at him, making his decision for him. Fear rushes through my body as I immediately regret telling him to go.
Dixon sprints across the roof, making it halfway across to the Lynx in no time. That’s it, I say to myself, Dixon is nearly there, time for me to make a run for it. I glance over again to the Lynx and see Josh at the door, shouting desperately and waving me to come, to run to him.
Chapter 18
My hand relaxes slightly around the grip of the Browning and my index finger goes to move from its trigger as I go to make my run to the waiting Lynx. Josh is waving at me to run, frantically.
Time slows and all the noise around me is extinguished as my brain computes what my eyes are seeing. Heads are bobbing, with wide evil eyes piercing the murky darkness of the stairwell as a new attack is rushing towards me. There are more Rabids than I have seen before coming up the stairwell, trampling over the bodies as if it is one last push for them to finally break out, out of their dungeon. Some Rabids aren’t quick or strong enough and they fall down to be trampled into the mush of flesh below.
Every fibre of my body wants to run to the Lynx, to Josh and the others. My brain calculates that it will be a fatal mistake, that there is only a second until they do break out into the open air. I would be engulfed with Rabids as soon I attempted to run, there is no one in a position to cover me.
Adrenaline washes into my bloodstream, and my hand instantly tightens around the grip of the Browning and my index finger pulls sharply on the trigger.
I barely register the roar from the Browning as it lights up and sprays bullets out of its chamber, into its barrel and out of its muzzle, which instantaneously becomes red hot. The Rabids at the front of the attacking horde don’t stand a chance and are cut to pieces, as are the ones coming up behind them. As they fall and go down, ripped apart, others replace them, undeterred by the fate of their kin. These too are despatched by the Browning with ease; they are all coming from the same place and it can’t miss, its power is too great.
That power is finite, however, and it cannot last. I try to ease my rate of fire, try using shorter bursts to conserve the ammo contained in the chain being fed into the gun. A chain that is nearly half used already. I desperately hope that the attack will slow or even better, it stops again for them to regroup. The Rabids keep coming though; perhaps this really is their final hoorah, and they are not going to stop until they are all either dead, or I am.
My mind manages to imagine Josh, even in the middle of my desperation. It sees him trying to jump down from the Lynx so that he can run back across the roof and help me. It sees Dixon and Watts holding him back, even when he tries to fight. They won’t let him go and in some imaginary way, I thank them for it.
There is no sign of the attack easing. The Rabids are still hurtling into the Browning’s hail
