As far as I could tell, I only had one viable alternative. Yep, you guessed it. I had to jump into the fucking river.
The tower stood right beside the muddy water, between the wall and the other boat ramp—which, naturally, sat in the “up” position as well. Thank the universe for that because, otherwise, I would’ve felt like a jackass for not driving through the second warehouse in the first place.
Since the grated deck surrounding the control room overlooked the water, it wouldn’t take much to dive safely into the Mississippi. I’d simply have to sit on the railing and go for it. The only hitch? Countless frenzied flesh-seekers stood between me and the railing, and as long as they were focused on the human meal trapped inside the control room, they wouldn’t vacate the premises any time soon.
While I visualized my death-defying leap, glass continued to shatter around me. I needed to thin the herd, but until the zombies figured out how to bend the metal bars of the windows, I didn’t want to waste any more bullets.
Just then, a particularly enterprising young zombie managed to punch out the panes that composed the upper half of the door. As his hand reached inside, grappling with the knob, I began to wonder if the not-so-brainless creatures had figured out how to deal with pesky impediments like deadbolts.
Wouldn’t that be awesome?
Standing before the solitary entrance, I slipped the AR-15 off my shoulder and opened fire. Though it felt good to take action, it really was a pointless defense. For every zombie I shot in the head, another two would take its place.
Still, I strived to make every shot count. Bodies piled up outside the door and the closest windows, but it didn’t matter. As soon as the creatures fell, another wave of zombies would simply mount the corpses and attempt to finish what their compatriots had started.
Disturbed by the loudening moans, thuds, and crashes behind me, I whirled around and scanned the perimeter. Almost every pane of glass appeared to be broken, and still, the zombies hadn’t made it inside. So far, they’d failed to bust through the metal lattices of the windows, but they had certainly bent the shit out of them. Wouldn’t take long for the persistent creatures to clear a path into the control room.
The screeching sound of grinding metal compelled me to turn back toward the door. The wood had warped inward, and the hinges had taken a major beating from all the pressure.
Quickly, I reloaded both weapons, stepped toward the shelving unit, and shot as many pus-sacks as possible. While I managed to kill numerous zombies on the landing and partway down the stairs, the effort was ultimately futile. The creatures on the ground level might’ve found it difficult but certainly not impossible to clamber over the bodies strewn across the steps, and too many of their buddies still filled the upper deck.
I needed time to get outside, climb the railing, and carefully position myself—at least if I had any hope of diving out far enough to avoid the shallow edge of the Mississippi and keep from breaking my stupid neck. But I couldn’t think of a way to bypass all the zombies converging upon my only exit.
Bang. Bang.
Two bullets nailed a pair of pus-sacks pressing their undead weight against the creaking door. I whipped my head toward the river and spotted George and Casey on the upper deck of the ferryboat, aiming rifles toward the tower.
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Clare had joined them, so I had at least three guns supporting my effort to stay alive.
I couldn’t see it, but I could certainly feel the shit-eating grin plastered across my scruffy face.
This crap ain’t over yet.
Between the four of us, we managed to take out most of the undead creatures encircling the control room. Unfortunately, though, there seemed to be an endless supply of the fuckers. Even as the corpses piled up on the upper decking, more of them were crawling over their cohorts on the stairs. I had no choice but to make a move. A brash and foolhardy one.
Before I could second-guess myself, I dragged the shelving unit away from the door, which caved inward as soon as I removed the added support. Gore oozed into the room as I darted through the opening, almost slipping on a puddle of zombie guts.
I hadn’t made it halfway to the railing when I spotted it on the staircase. Another one of those motherfucking wildlings, clambering over countless zombies and corpses to reach me.
How do these goddamn things keep finding me?
I could hear whistles and shouts coming from the Stargazer. No doubt Clare and my pals, possibly several strangers as well, were hollering at me to jump for it.
But I couldn’t move. I knew if I didn’t execute—or at least incapacitate—the creature, it would likely close the gap before I could leap off the railing. After all, it was far stronger, far more agile, and infinitely more intelligent than the average zombie. And it was headed straight for me.
Summoning what little energy I had left, I targeted the wildling’s head with my 9mm and pulled the trigger. As if demonstrating its prowess, the creature ducked behind a support post. Two wasted bullets ricocheted off the beam. I tried again, but the wildling thwarted my second attempt by yanking a hapless zombie into the path of my shots.
“Shit!”
I was officially out of bullets, and the wildling seemed to know it. How did I guess that? Because it unleashed a self-satisfied yowl and charged up the stairs. Even if I managed to climb over the rickety railing behind me, I’d witnessed enough of these fuckers running and jumping to know I couldn’t possibly escape its claws.
So, I did
