William gave it a minute before he shuffled away from the warehouse, jumped back to his feet, and took off towards the arena for a second time.
Consistent with many of the small buildings in this section of the city, the one closest to the arena had a fire escape. Thankfully, it ran down the side farthest away from the diseased mob. He didn’t need them watching him make his way towards them.
A handrail ran to the ground with the zigzagged stairs. At the bottom, he kicked a section. One side of it snapped free with a clang! Once he’d worked the other side free and liberated the three-foot steel bar, he headed towards the arena and the diseased crowd.
The soldier’s baton tucked down the back of his trousers and the handrail in a two-handed grip, William’s palms sweated and his heart thumped. He swallowed against the dry itch in his throat. The plan had been easier to make when he’d been twenty feet higher than the creatures. Now he stood eyeball to eyeball … But what other choice did he have?
The drones remained near the corner of the arena. Matilda and Artan would starve to death rather than give up. If Matilda and Artan were even inside the building.
If he thought about it for much longer, he’d change his mind. William stepped from the alleyway and coughed to clear his throat.
About twenty diseased turned his way. Forty bleeding eyes. Lips pulled back, rattling snarls, angry hissing. William ran. The diseased gave chase.
A lead of about thirty feet. Hopefully, it would be enough. William led them away from the arena, the metal pole in his grip. Their clumsy steps beat a tattoo against the asphalt, some of them yelling and yipping as their balance failed and they went down.
Not far to run, but fear robbed the strength from William’s legs. He focused on his destination. Whether they fell over or not, looking back wouldn’t help his cause.
The large doors at the front of the scavengers’ warehouse clattered when William slammed into them. The bar in his grip, he shook as he threaded it into the loop of the lock. He froze when he glanced to his right at the wall of diseased closing in.
William tugged against the lock, yelling as he pulled. “Yeargh!” It broke into several small pieces. The chains sloughed from their loops and fell to the ground with a splash. William pulled the doors wide and charged into the warehouse. A scavenger waited for him. Teeth bared, he hissed like a diseased.
William smashed the metal bar over the dirty man’s head. One blow proved enough.
Before the scavengers could use their pulley system to close the doors, the diseased streamed into the building.
The bar in his grip, William ran towards the bottom of the stairs. Many of the scavengers retreated to the first floor, shouting to those above them. But several guarded the pulley, tugging the ropes in a futile attempt to defend their home.
Small windows in the walls on William’s left and right. He charged at the scavengers on the pulley and dived through one like he’d done the last time he’d escaped the building. Except, this time, when he landed on the ground in the alley outside, the only thing following him were the screams of falling scavengers.
William ran from the alley on wobbly legs. Panic burst from the warehouse’s windows. Throat-tearing cries. Diseased snarls. Footsteps against metal as some of the scavengers climbed out to the fire escape on the first floor.
Armed with his steel pole, William headed back towards the arena. He used the main road that ran parallel to the one he’d led the diseased down. He tracked his progress with the fire escapes along his side of the buildings until he came to the one with the missing railing. He cut into the alley he’d already run down and halted at the end. A quick check. The diseased had gone. Some were gathered by the scavengers’ warehouse, but many of them were already inside. And good riddance. The scavengers’ behaviour made them subhuman. Worse than the diseased. Fuck them.
There wouldn’t be a better chance. William ran from the alley for a second time. But now he headed towards the arena.
The drones remained focused on the arena’s roof as if nothing had changed. As if the diseased were invisible to them. William ran towards them with light steps. They were yet to turn his way. The arena, like the hotel he’d led the drones into, had an underground carpark. The best place to handicap the vicious killing machines.
“Best make this count,” William muttered to himself. Fifteen feet from the drones, he pulled the soldier’s baton from the back of his trousers and yelled, “Tilly! Artan!”
Five spotlights turned his way. Even in the daytime, their combined glare dazzled him. He launched the baton, drawing the machine’s fire.
“William?”
The whir of the drones’ guns. Their spinning ends had turned into glowing red circles.
“Tilly?” William threw the steel pole. The drones shot at it.
“What are you doing?”
William ran. The drones’ bullets ate into the asphalt where he’d stood moments before. “Get to the tower. Gracie will meet us there after dark.”
William zigzagged to make himself harder to shoot. He turned a sharp left down the ramp to the car park beneath the arena.
The acoustics of being underground made it sound like the number of drones’ had doubled.
A steel door over to William’s right. There might be better options, but if the drones turned their lights off, he’d be running blind. He ran through the door and slammed it shut behind him. The ting of bullet fire sprayed the other side.
“Fuck!” He’d expected a staircase. He’d found a small room. Filled with old plastic bottles and several ratty brooms, he’d run into the cleaner’s cupboard. He grabbed a chair and wedged it beneath the
