open the door to the stairwell across the hall. Wait for me there. Once we’re in, grab Jaden’s shoulder and follow me down the stairs. Did you put cotton in his ears?”
“Yes.”
“Good. It’s going to be very smoky outside in the hall, but we won’t be in it for long. Let’s go.” He raised the AA-12 to his shoulder, barrel pointed at the floor and nodded toward the door. Jolie grabbed the door knob in her right hand and looked back at him. Gartrell nodded again, and she yanked the door open.
A mass of unpleasant-smelling gray-white smoke billowed in. Gartrell stepped into the hallway as Jaden moaned and struggled, uncomfortable with the sudden action and the stress it put on his wrists and ankles. A zombie moved against the wall nearby, feeling its way along with outstretched arms. It was vague and indistinct in the dense smoke, and it did not seem to notice Gartrell even though he stood no more than ten feet away. He saw why that was—both its eyes were gone, leaving only empty sockets in the flesh-covered skull. Gartrell kept it covered anyway as Jolie moved past him without hesitation. He caught the apartment door before it slammed shut and closed it gently, then faded into the smoke as the zombie crept slowly closer. It emitted a long, drawn out moan. It couldn’t see them, but sensed the presence of the living somewhere in the hallway. Gartrell moved to the right, edging toward the stairwell door which Jolie held open. He stepped onto the dark landing, and Jolie closed the door behind him. The darkness inside was complete, and Jaden made a small mewling sound in the back of his throat. Gartrell flipped down his night vision goggles and took them out of standby mode, and the stairwell was clearly revealed to him in shades of green and white. He turned and grabbed Jolie’s hand and put it on his shoulder. She clutched him, strong enough to hurt, and Jaden mewled again, his voice echoing in the concrete-walled stairwell. Gartrell started down, walking slowly enough that Jolie could find her footing. It took her a moment to synchronize her movements with his, but she learned quickly, and soon they were making good progress. As they descended, Gartrell heard voices over the radio: the light infantry platoon reporting their progress, and Summit Six ordering them to advance with all possible haste to link up with Gartrell and the civilians. Gartrell felt a blossom of hope spread open in his chest.
“Terminator Five, this is Summit Six. Are you still on this frequency, over?”
Gartrell keyed his transmit button twice. He didn’t want to talk in the stairwell; even a whisper would carry farther than he wanted it to.
“Terminator Five, Summit Six. Understand you cannot talk, over.”
Gartrell clicked the transmit button twice once again.
“Terminator Five, Summit Six. Pathfinder is aware of your circumstances, and they are proceeding to the Eighty-Sixth Street station. Double-click if you get that, over.”
Gartrell did as instructed.
“Terminator, Summit. You should be hearing helicopters soon. These are not the transports, I say again, these are not transports—they are Apaches from the Tenth Mountain aviation brigade, and they are to give you fire support. As soon as you’re ready to make your run for the subway, let me know and we’ll get them lined up for close-in gunnery, over.”
Gartrell’s spirits fairly soared. He double-clicked the transmit button again, and he started walking faster, pulling Jolie along. She stumbled on one step, and he forced himself to slow down as he reasserted control over his emotions.
Slow down troop, or you’ll get everyone killed.
Above, something pounded against one of the doors leading to the stairs. Jolie squeezed his shoulder, and Jaden wriggled about on his back. Gartrell stopped and leaned over the edge of the railing and peered down. Only two more flights to go.
“Let’s pick it up a bit,” he whispered to Jolie.
“I can’t see a thing,”
“Yes.”
“Good. It’s going to be very smoky outside in the hall, but we won’t be in it for long. Let’s go.” He raised the AA-12 to his shoulder, barrel pointed at the floor and nodded toward the door. Jolie grabbed the door knob in her right hand and looked back at him. Gartrell nodded again, and she yanked the door open.
A mass of unpleasant-smelling gray-white smoke billowed in. Gartrell stepped into the hallway as Jaden moaned and struggled, uncomfortable with the sudden action and the stress it put on his wrists and ankles. A zombie moved against the wall nearby, feeling its way along with outstretched arms. It was vague and indistinct in the dense smoke, and it did not seem to notice Gartrell even though he stood no more than ten feet away. He saw why that was—both its eyes were gone, leaving only empty sockets in the flesh-covered skull. Gartrell kept it covered anyway as Jolie moved past him without hesitation. He caught the apartment door before it slammed shut and closed it gently, then faded into the smoke as the zombie crept slowly closer. It emitted a long, drawn out moan. It couldn’t see them, but sensed the presence of the living somewhere in the hallway. Gartrell moved to the right, edging toward the stairwell door which Jolie held open. He stepped onto the dark landing, and Jolie closed the door behind him. The darkness inside was complete, and Jaden made a small mewling sound in the back of his throat. Gartrell flipped down his night vision goggles and took them out of standby mode, and the stairwell was clearly revealed to him in shades of green and white. He turned and grabbed Jolie’s hand and put it on his shoulder. She clutched him, strong enough to hurt, and Jaden mewled again, his voice echoing in the concrete-walled stairwell. Gartrell started down, walking slowly enough that Jolie could find her footing. It took her a moment to synchronize her movements with his, but she learned quickly, and soon they were making good progress. As they descended, Gartrell heard voices over the radio: the light infantry platoon reporting their progress, and Summit Six ordering them to advance with all possible haste to link up with Gartrell and the civilians. Gartrell felt a blossom of hope spread open in his chest.
“Terminator Five, this is Summit Six. Are you still on this frequency, over?”
Gartrell keyed his transmit button twice. He didn’t want to talk in the stairwell; even a whisper would carry farther than he wanted it to.
“Terminator Five, Summit Six. Understand you cannot talk, over.”
Gartrell clicked the transmit button twice once again.
“Terminator Five, Summit Six. Pathfinder is aware of your circumstances, and they are proceeding to the Eighty-Sixth Street station. Double-click if you get that, over.”
Gartrell did as instructed.
“Terminator, Summit. You should be hearing helicopters soon. These are not the transports, I say again, these are not transports—they are Apaches from the Tenth Mountain aviation brigade, and they are to give you fire support. As soon as you’re ready to make your run for the subway, let me know and we’ll get them lined up for close-in gunnery, over.”
Gartrell’s spirits fairly soared. He double-clicked the transmit button again, and he started walking faster, pulling Jolie along. She stumbled on one step, and he forced himself to slow down as he reasserted control over his emotions.
Slow down troop, or you’ll get everyone killed.
Above, something pounded against one of the doors leading to the stairs. Jolie squeezed his shoulder, and Jaden wriggled about on his back. Gartrell stopped and leaned over the edge of the railing and peered down. Only two more flights to go.
“Let’s pick it up a bit,” he whispered to Jolie.
“I can’t see a thing,”
Similar Books
