The wood groaned under the assault from outside. Splinters flew from the stressed frame. The pounding was relentless, driven by that single-minded, alien hunger Quinn had already tasted.
"We need to block it!" Sarah yelled over the din, already scanning the immediate area.
They were in what looked like a reception area or lobby for a small business. A faux-leather couch lay overturned. A reception desk stood near one wall, its surface cleared except for dust. Empty doorways led deeper into the ground floor. Stairs went up along the far wall.
"The desk!" Quinn pointed.
Together, they strained against the heavy particleboard desk, shoving it across the tiled floor with agonizing slowness. The screech of its legs on the floor was almost as loud as the pounding on the door. They wedged it tight against the wood, adding their weight until it settled. Then they grabbed the overturned couch, heavy and awkward, and jammed it behind the desk, creating a crude but hopefully effective barricade.
The pounding continued, but the door held. For now.
They backed away slowly, breathing hard, listening to the muffled thuds and scrapes from the other side.
"Okay," Sarah panted, wiping sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand. "Okay. What now?"
Quinn surveyed the room more closely. It felt like a place abandoned in a hurry. Papers were scattered across the floor near one of the empty doorways. On a side table, several computer monitors glowed faintly, displaying static-filled blue screens or flickering error messages. Wires snaked across the floor. In a corner, near the stairs, sat a stack of cardboard boxes.
Curiosity, or maybe just the ingrained habit of scavenging, pulled Quinn towards the boxes. He knelt and ripped the tape off the top one. Inside, nestled in styrofoam, was a brand-new laptop computer, still wrapped in plastic. He pulled it out. It felt sleek and cool in his hands. He dug into the next box – more laptops. Probably an office shipment that never got distributed.
He hesitated for only a second. Then, acting on an instinct he didn't fully understand, he tore the plastic off the first laptop, found the power button, and pressed it. The screen flickered to life, displaying a corporate logo, then booting up to a clean desktop screen. It worked. Battery charged, at least partially.
He quickly shut it down, slid it into his already full backpack, rearranging cans and water bottles to make it fit. It was awkward, heavy, probably useless. But it was new. Functional. Something untainted by the decay outside.
Sarah watched him, an incredulous look on her face. "What in God's name are you doing?"
"It works," Quinn said simply, zipping the backpack closed.
"Works how?" she demanded, gesturing vaguely. "Who are you gonna email, Quinn? Think there's wifi in the apocalypse? What's the point?"
"These things are rare now," Quinn countered, standing up. "Working electronics. Might come in handy. Information, maybe. Data storage." He knew it sounded weak, but the urge to take it had been undeniable. "You never know."
Sarah just shook her head, looking at him like he'd lost his mind. "Right. Let's haul a useless brick around while those things," she jerked her head towards the still-pounding door, "are trying to eat us. Great plan."
Before Quinn could reply, a sound drifted down from upstairs. A faint, rhythmic creak. Eeee...onk. Eeee...onk. Like a rusty hinge swinging in a breeze.
They both froze, heads snapping towards the staircase. The pounding on the front door seemed to fade slightly as they strained to listen. The creaking was definitely coming from above. Were they alone in the building after all?
Sarah hefted her tire iron. Quinn drew his K-Bar. They exchanged a look. No words needed. Slowly, cautiously, they started up the stairs, placing their feet carefully on the worn carpet runner, testing each step before putting their full weight down. The creaking continued, steady, unnerving.
The stairs opened onto a landing and a hallway lined with closed doors. Standard office layout. The creaking sound was louder here, coming from behind a door partway down the hall on the left. It was slightly ajar, swinging gently back and forth in a draft coming from somewhere.
Eeee...onk. Eeee...onk.
They approached the door warily. Quinn put his hand flat against it and pushed it open wider, peering inside. Sarah stood ready beside him.
The room beyond was a conference room or maybe an executive lounge. Plush chairs, a long polished table. And people.
Six of them. Sitting around the table, or slumped in chairs nearby. Dressed in expensive clothes – suits, dresses – now rumpled and still. One man sat upright at the head of the table, eyes closed, a half-empty champagne flute standing perfectly upright before him. A woman lay slumped sideways in her chair, another flute lying on the carpet beside her outstretched hand, its contents spilled in a dark stain. Others were in similar poses of final repose. Empty bottles – champagne, liquor – littered the table and the floor. The air was heavy with the smell of stale alcohol and something else... the faint, cloying sweetness of death beginning its work.
The source of the creaking was immediately obvious. A large window at the far end of the room had been broken, jagged shards clinging to the frame. A breeze blew through, stirring papers on the table and nudging the heavy wooden door against its frame. Eeee...onk.
"Looks like they decided to check out early," Sarah murmured, her voice hushed, all previous annoyance gone, replaced by a somber understanding. "Saw what was coming and had one last party."
Quinn nodded grimly. He scanned the faces. Peaceful, mostly. Resigned. A different kind of horror than the snarling creatures downstairs, but chilling nonetheless. He noticed suitcases near the wall, expensive leather ones, lying open or overturned. Wads of cash – dollars, euros – were scattered carelessly amongst spilled clothes and documents. Worthless paper now. On a stand in the corner, a large flat-screen TV displayed only flickering static, its power likely supplied by the same source as the monitors downstairs.
"Might as well see if they left anything useful," Sarah said quietly, stepping further into the room, her gaze sweeping over the morbid scene with professional detachment. She nudged a suitcase with her foot. More cash spilled out.
They split up, moving carefully around the bodies, checking pockets, looking through the abandoned luggage. Nothing practical. Watches, jewelry, more useless money. Quinn felt like a grave robber, his skin crawling.
"Hey," Sarah's voice cut through the silence. She was standing near the back wall, beside a built-in bookshelf filled with leather-bound volumes that looked untouched. She tapped a section of dark wood paneling beside the shelf. "This looks loose."
She worked her fingers into a slight gap and pulled. The panel came away smoothly, revealing a hidden compartment behind it. Quinn moved closer. Inside, stacked neatly, were bricks of shrink-wrapped cash, several clear plastic bags filled with white powder, bottles of pills, and, more importantly, weapons. Two shotguns – pump-action, looked like Mossbergs – several boxes of shells, three pistols with extra magazines, and a handful of combat knives still in their sheaths.
"Well, hello there," Sarah breathed, a grim smile touching her lips. "Looks like the party planners had some dangerous hobbies."
This was useful. Very useful.
"We take it all," Quinn said immediately.
"My thoughts exactly." Sarah spotted a sturdy-looking duffle bag lying near one of the suitcases. "Right. I'll load this up. You check the rest of the building? See if there's another way out besides the front door?"
"Good idea." Quinn glanced towards the pounding downstairs – it seemed slightly less intense now, maybe they were losing interest or seeking easier prey – then towards the hallway. "There might be roof access."
He left Sarah efficiently gathering the weapons and ammunition, stuffing them into the duffle bag alongside packets of drugs and cash – might be useful for trade later, who knew? He moved quickly down the rest of the second-floor hallway, checking doors. Empty offices, a kitchen area, restrooms. Nothing helpful.
At the end of the hall, another flight of stairs led up. These were narrower, uncarpeted metal. He climbed them two at a time. They ended at a heavy metal door with a wheel handle. He turned it – unlocked – and pushed.
Cool night air hit his face. He stepped out onto a flat, gravel-covered roof. Low parapets ran around the edges. Pipes and ventilation units dotted the surface. The city spread out around him, a vast landscape of dark buildings pricked by the occasional flicker of fire or unexplained light. The pop music from the electronics store below had finally stopped.
He walked cautiously to the edge overlooking the street. Directly below, maybe thirty feet down, the creatures milled aimlessly near the front door of the building. Fewer than before, but still a significant cluster. They hadn't dispersed entirely. Some sniffed at the broken door, others scraped claws against the brickwork. Getting down that way was impossible.
He scanned the surrounding rooftops. The adjacent building, the one housing the electronics store, was slightly lower than this one. The gap between them was maybe ten feet wide. A dark, forbidding drop to the alleyway below. Too far to jump, especially carrying gear.
But then he saw it. Lying near a large air conditioning unit, partially hidden by shadows, were several long wooden planks. Leftover construction materials, maybe. They looked weathered but solid. Long enough? He eyed the distance to the other roof again. One of the planks looked like it might just span the gap. Maybe.
Footsteps sounded on the metal stairs behind him. He turned, K-Bar ready, then relaxed as Sarah emerged onto the roof, the loaded duffle bag slung heavily over one shoulder. She carried one of the shotguns in her hands.
"Place is clear up here," Quinn reported. "Found a way out. Maybe." He pointed towards the adjacent roof and the planks.
Sarah followed his gaze, assessing the distance, the planks, the drop. Her expression was dubious. "You thinking what I think you're thinking?"
"It's that or wait for them to break down the door or figure out another way in," Quinn said. "That other roof is lower. Might be stairs down inside that building, or a fire escape we can reach."
Sarah considered it, chewing on her lower lip. "Ten feet is a long way on a shaky plank in the dark."
"Got a better idea?"
She sighed, shifting the weight of the duffle bag. "No. Alright, Marine. Let's see if this works."
They dragged the longest plank – heavy, rough-sawn timber – towards the edge. Carefully, testing the stability of the roof edge, they pushed it out across the black void. It reached the parapet of the other building with maybe six inches to spare on each side. It looked terrifyingly precarious, suspended over the dark alley.
"Okay," Quinn said, his voice low. "I'll go first. Cover me. Then I'll cover you." He checked the shotgun Sarah had handed him from the bag – loaded, safety on.
"Don't fall," Sarah said dryly, racking the slide on her own shotgun with a practiced, reassuring click. She positioned herself near the edge, weapon ready to fire down if any creatures below noticed them.
Quinn took a breath. He slung the shotgun over his back, making sure his backpack was secure. He stepped onto the end of the plank. It shifted slightly under his weight, groaning softly. Don't look down. He focused on the parapet on the other side, finding a spot to aim for.
He took one slow, careful step. Then another. The plank flexed beneath him. He kept his arms out slightly for balance, eyes locked on his destination. The alley seemed to yawn below him, promising a messy end if he slipped. Halfway across. A loose piece of gravel scraped under his boot. He froze, heart hammering. Listened. No change in the sounds from the street below.
He forced himself to keep moving. Step. Step. Step. Almost there. He reached the far parapet, grabbed hold of the rough brick, and hauled himself onto the solid surface of the lower roof, rolling as he landed to absorb the impact.
He scrambled into cover behind a low ventilation duct and immediately unslung the shotgun, aiming it back towards Sarah, covering her crossing. "Clear!" he stage-whispered across the gap.
Sarah didn't hesitate. She slung the heavy duffle bag onto her back, gripped her shotgun, and stepped onto the plank. She moved faster than Quinn had, lighter on her feet despite the bag, her balance sure and steady. Within seconds, she was across, dropping lightly onto the roof beside him.
They stayed low for a moment, listening. The creatures below seemed oblivious, still focused on the building they'd just escaped. They hadn't been seen.
"Okay," Sarah breathed, pulling the plank back across the gap and letting it fall silently onto the roof beside them. No going back now. "Now what?"
Quinn scanned their new vantage point. This roof was smaller, cluttered with old satellite dishes and ventilation pipes. And there, on the far side, leading down the brick wall into the darkness of the alley, was a rusty metal fire escape ladder. Their way down.