Amanda looked down at the dozens of the dead that had gathered around her position. That way was no good. Then she scanned the wall all around her. She spotted one area that had potential, a small hillock within jumping distance of the wall. If she could make the jump from the wall to the top of the hill, she would have a chance.
She leaned over and braced her hands against the cold metal coping of the wall. She pushed upwards, pulling her legs up behind her. The top of the wall measured about half-a-foot in width. If it was a piece of wood on the ground, she would have no trouble running along it. But as she looked down at the cold metal below her, she couldn't filter out the ground on either side. If she fell to her left, she would be devoured by the dead. If she fell to her right, Diana would devour her just as surely.
They were closer now, Diana and her goons. She might have waited too long. She took a breath and ran forward, rushing along the slick, metal coping. Blood pounded in her head, but the noise wasn't loud enough to drown out the gunshots of Diana's goons. She heard the bullets whizz by her, or maybe she imagined it. Either way, she was moving; she was doing it. A hundred feet, that's all it was, a hundred feet along a span that was an inch or two wider than her feet.
She didn't notice anything now, just her feet running along the metal. She didn't hear Diana's shouted command to "Kill that bitch!" She didn't see the dead as they turned and stalked behind her, pushing and bumping into each other as their prey escaped like a squirrel running on top of a fence to escape a barking dog.
Then, without warning, she looked up and realized it was time. She had made it halfway at least. She launched herself at the hillock, her heart leaping into her chest. She landed with an "oomph" as the last rifle shots echoed on the other side of the wall.
She pushed herself to her feet, too scared to do an inventory on her own health. She ran down the other side of the hill, never pausing to look back. She had to see where she was going. If the dead were going to get her, they were going to get her, and looking back would only slow her down and make that prospect more likely.
She ran then, weaving in and out of the dead, her boots sinking into the snow. Thank God I dressed for the weather. Of course, her clothing would be part of the issue if she didn't find the others soon. Her jacket was heavy and bulky, and she felt like she was roasting inside of it. Her boots were waterproof, heavy, and she felt like she was running with ten-pound weights on her feet. Her breath already came in ragged gasps. With twenty clear feet of level grass ahead of her, she risked a look over her shoulder, and she fought the urge to throw up.
The dead were coming. Even if she found the others, they were going to have a hell of a time losing that tail.
When she turned back around, she skidded to a stop. The rifle was the first thing she saw. Then she scanned upwards to find Epps' beautiful face. She bent over and laughed, snot spraying from her nostrils.
"We ain't got time for that, girl," Epps called. "Get your butt over here."
****
Tejada cursed under his breath. He knew it was coming; he wasn't really surprised, but their timetable had been forced up considerably, and they weren't as prepared as they ought to be. They walked quickly, checking their shots, saving precious ammunition for the dead that actually posed a threat. Ammo was going to be a problem now.
There was a part of him that wanted to burn the Nike campus down. It wouldn't be too difficult to get themselves a vehicle, line it up, and knock down that wall. It was the least that they deserved for trapping them out here. Their chances of survival had been diminished significantly since that morning. Underprepared, undersupplied, and with no place to go, his first reaction was to kill them all.
He listened to Amanda's gasping report about how Diana had pulled the men away from the wall, about how she and Nathan had dragged the ramp all the way to the other side of the campus, and about how Diana had appeared, armed with a goon squad. It was a shame about Nathan. He was almost certainly dead, a good guy, albeit he would have been next to worthless outside the wall. He didn't have it, didn't have what it took to make it.
Tejada's brain turned like a waterwheel driven by a current of outrage and indignation. After all we did for them… the ungrateful bastards.
"What are we gonna do?" Masterson asked.
Tejada eyeballed him from the corner of his eye. Masterson had eyes like a scared horse, wide and scattering back and forth as if the dead could appear out of thin air. They had no place to go. His men were scared. Revenge, taking down the Nike campus could cost him more men than he was willing to lose, and he wasn't willing to lose any.
He swallowed it. He swallowed the hate and the rage he felt for Diana and her people. She was nothing. Their lives were everything. They could all conceivably live if they ignored the Nike campus. But some of them would assuredly die if they went after them. "We turn the other cheek," Tejada said in response to Masterson's query.
From behind him, he
