"Yeah, well, we had a shitload of numbers at theColiseum, and that certainly didn't seem to help. Maybe it would be better ifwe all split up and went our own way," Katie said.
It was a sobering thought, and there was some truth towhat Katie had said. At the Coliseum, the numbers had actually worked againstthem, drawing the dead like flies to shit.
"No," Rudy said. "I've been on my own. Idon't want to experience that again."
Chloe tossed a sharp look in Rudy's direction.
"I'm not keen on being out there on my owneither," Blake said. "Especially since I can't hear anymore."Much of the conversation was lost to Blake, but he was learning to pick up onmore than just the lips of the speakers. He was beginning to be able to factortheir body language into the equation as well. He was still lost for the mostpart, but not completely.
"Listen. If I decide I'm better off on my own, noone is keeping me here. Got that?" Katie said, aiming a stern glancearound the circle.
Lou just shook his head. It was clear that things weren'tgoing as he planned.
"Together, separately. I don't give a fuck. I justwant to get out of this building," Chloe said.
Mort added, "Yeah, let's focus on getting out ofthis place. I can't stand all that banging and groaning."
Half of the group looked subconsciously at the stairwell,their minds filling in the horrors that they couldn't see through the door.They listened as the dead played the walls like a brigade of tireless bucketbuskers. Then they began to talk again, their minds all too happy to argueabout things that mattered and things that didn't, even if it was just to drownout the noise of the dead beating on the walls.
When they were done and a plan had been formulated, theyall went their own separate ways, or as separate as they could be in the thirdfloor of an office building.
Joan, Katie and Mort passed around the bottle of whiskeythat they had found in one of the offices. Katie drank from it with greed.Amanda and Rudy tried a sip, and then made faces that made the others laugh.Lou took a sip and then sat alone in an office chair, his hands behind hishead, staring up at the acoustic tiles above.
Blake sat in the corner, cleaning and loading the guns,of which they had plenty. Ammunition not so much. Clara, deciding that shecould stand it no longer, had asked Mort if he had a lighter. He did. Now theystood next to the window smoking. Chloe ate what she could, knowing that shewould need to keep up her energy.
Then they all laid down to sleep. The tumult from thestairwell continued. The only other noise was the snoring of Blake as hedrifted off to sleep. For everyone else, the noises kept them up until the sunrose, more orange than usual as the sunlight fought its way through the haze ofsmoke that clogged the city streets.
With some reluctance, Mort shook Blake awake, and mouthedthe words, "It's time," to him. He nodded his head, rubbed the sleepout of his eyes, and sat up.
"We still got any of those cigarettes?" Blakeasked.
Clara clenched the package tight in her hands, and thenwith some hesitation, she handed one over. What the hell? she thought. Hewas the one risking his life.
****
Mort could barely watch. He felt useless. He should havebeen out there with him, but he was stuck inside because of his knee. There wasno way he would have survived the jump. He eyed the distance between the outcroppingfrom the second floor, ten feet below them. He would never be able to make thatleap with his knee in the shape that it was in.
But Blake had done it easily, even with his rifle slungover his shoulder. Mort's stomach had dropped just watching Blake make thejump. He landed on a section of roof that jutted out from the back of thebuilding. The impact looked brutal, and Mort winced just watching it. Ten feetover and ten feet down. Mort didn't have the math knowledge in his head tofigure out how far that was, but it was a pretty good drop.
From there, Blake did another drop onto the pavement of aloading dock behind the building. This drop was even longer, but Blake was ableto hang down from the roof to lessen the impact. It still looked painful ashell. The other survivors crowded around the window, their guns in their hands,though few of them had anything that was reliable enough at the range thatBlake was now at.
As he hit the pavement, the dead bodies turnedimmediately, their arms stretching into the air, their growls picking up inintensity. Blake's boots skipped across the pavement, and he moved quickly, butefficiently, checking al around him.
Then Lou followed, jumping the gap from the third floorto the second, and then dropping down onto the loading dock, his machine gunhanging from a strap around his neck and shoulders. Mort wanted to yell, tocheer them on, but this was not the world that one yelled in. That world wasgone. So he watched silently as they sprinted across the parking lot, Blaketwenty feet ahead of Lou, and Lou keeping a watch on Blake's back from adistance. He could only imagine the fear and tension they were experiencing.Mort thought he was going to have a heart attack just watching them.
As Blake neared the three parked cars, he reached intohis pocket and pulled out the keys that Clara had found. The survivors watchedas he pressed the button on the fob, but nothing happened. He neared theclosest car, and held it out again. Still there was nothing. They watched as hedodged around the clumsy grasp of one of the dead and headed towards the secondcar. Even from the window, they could see him pressing the button over and overagain, holding it out like a gun, hoping for any sort of response from thecars.
There was no flash of headlights for Blake to see, so hechanged direction and headed for the third
