Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught (13 page)

Juliette hesitated, tightening her grip of Budd’s hand.

He squeezed back.

Andy continued on and reached the first in a series of doors. A thud reverberated into the corridor; there was something on the inside, pounding against the wood.

Juliette shone her torch at the porthole. Several faces were pushed up to the glass, with open mouths and bared teeth.

Seemingly unperturbed, Andy moved along the corridor, passing more doors, setting off the things in room after room. The knocks echoed down the white-painted walls, accompanied by the want-filled groans.

Some of the things scratched their fingernails against the wood and glass.

Turning sideways to keep as far away from the doors as possible, Juliette and Budd continued on.

Between you and me, I was scared. And not just a little bit. I was terrified…

Juliette swung her flashlight around quickly, illuminating the rooms through the portholes as they progressed, the light showing the ghastly human-things within. For an instant the monsters turned away, blinded by the light, but soon they ignored their discomfort and continued their assault on the doors.

After a while, her hand shaking inside Budd’s, Juliette took to pointing the flashlight up and down the corridor. Budd was relieved; he no longer wanted to see what was trapped within the offices. They were people, dressed in suits and ties, but they were different; they had died, and yet they were walking.

For lack of a better word: zombies…

Andy reached the end of the section, arriving at a door marked FIRE ESCAPE. The big green letters glowed in the dark. Behind the door was a small landing, which accessed two flights of stairs. The one on the left went up. The right one went down. As it was an emergency exit, the lights in the staircase shone from the floor and the instant contrast from the darkness of the corridors forced Budd to squint.

“Could you give me a hand to get this down,” Andy said, tapping his hand on the cart’s handle.

“Down?” Budd asked. All of the exit signs pointed up.

“T’entire lower level is a storeroom for t’restaurant. There’re cargo lifts that run straight up to t’kitchen.”

Budd and Juliette exchanged nervous looks.

“We’ve already, like, cleared it,” Sam said, finally coming into the stairway and switching off his flashlight. He pulled the door shut, muffling the knocks, bangs, and groans that chased them.

“Let’s do it then,” Budd said, handing his axe to Juliette. She accepted the weapon with reluctance, resting the head of the tool on the ground because of its weight.

Budd reached beneath the cart and grabbed hold of the axle. Carefully, he and Andy descended the stairs with Sam leading the way. The small group rounded the half-landing and continued on.

“Thanks,” Andy said when they reached the bottom.

Budd lowered the wheels back to the ground. “No problem,” he said, adjusting his rucksack. He retrieved his axe from Juliette. Once again, she took hold of his free hand.

“Let’s go, dudes,” Sam said. He opened the door out of the stairway.

Cold air tumbled in.

The room beyond was refrigerated. It was also in complete darkness. Sam switched on his flashlight; the light burst outwards but faded away long before it reached the far side of the giant storeroom. All it exposed were towering racks filled with food and consumables.

The group moved off through the network of racks and crates, the soles of their footwear quieted by the linoleum floor. The wheels of the trolley squeaked.

Budd saw a sign that read FROZEN GOODS off to his right, at the edge of Juliette’s light, but they instead headed down a long aisle that was stacked with bottles of expensive wine and champagne.

In the center of the aisle was a pool of lumpy, dark liquid. More was splattered up onto the shelves.

“This place was always occupied by loading staff,” the hotel worker said, explaining the marks on the floor. “We locked their bodies in t’freezer.”

Budd and Juliette looked at each other in the flashlight’s soft glow, but chose not to speak. The aisle came to an end. Ahead of them was the quadruple-width concertina door of a freight elevator.

“Now then,” Andy said, wheeling the cart to a halt. “You two stay here an’ look after this. We’ll head back an’ bring over a few more of t’group. I don’t think it’s worth t’risk of taking too many people through that office corridor at once. Someone could panic.”

“It is very unpleasant,” Juliette agreed. “We will wait here.”

Budd examined the elevator, thinking back to the ones he’d travelled in earlier. “Have you tried this? I mean, what if something’s blocking the door?”

“When t’doors are open,” Andy said, “a red bulb lights up on t’control panel. It flashes if the car is stuck. There’re no lights, so I know it’ll work. I used to maintain them.”

Budd nodded his understanding.

Andy pointed into the darkness. “There are two more lifts that way, one for staff an’ one as a spare, but they’re not on t’back-up circuit.”

“Only one way up from here, then?”

“I’m afraid so.”

I crossed my fingers that he’d been good at his job…

The maintenance man scooped down next to the cart. He unzipped one of the bags and took out a couple of flashlights, both of which he handed to Sam. He then found a pair of two-way radios. After switching them on, he gave one to Budd. There was a hum of static. “We’ll keep you informed of our progress. There’re some candles an’ a lighter in t’holdall. Try an’ brighten this place up a little.”

“Sure thing, chief.”

“Thank you,” Juliette said.

With a nod, Andy headed back to the stairway door.

Budd and Juliette waited with nothing but her flashlight for comfort.

Having made the journey through those damned dark corridors, all I wanted to do was sit down and let my heart return to normal. But, somehow, standing in the pitch black of a huge, refrigerated storeroom, without a clue as to who, or what, was around, wasn’t helping any.

Can’t think why…

It took Budd a couple of minutes to find the candles in the duffel bag, but once they were lit he positioned them in a loose semicircle, one candle on either side of the elevator door and four others placed on the racks situated around it.

After he was done, he looked at the flickering lights. Beyond them, he could see very little aside from the odd patch of darker shadow. He switched off the two-way radio, ceasing the otherwise endless crackle of white noise, and then he and Juliette listened for any sound that was out of place in the giant storeroom.

Silence.

Budd switched on the radio again. He held down the button to transmit. “Andy, how you doing?”

There were several seconds of static before Andy’s voice, made tinny by the small speakers, rang out. “We’ve reached t’lift. Sam’s gone up to get t’others.”

“See you soon,” Budd said. He looked at Juliette, who was using her flashlight to illuminate the elevator’s control panel.

“Maybe there is a light inside,” she said, her finger hovering next to the lift’s call button.

“There probably is, but what if there’s also one of those things?”

Juliette gestured to the axe in Budd’s hand. “Please,
Monsieur
Ashby, I do not like being in the dark.”

Neither did I…

Budd sighed and then swung the axe down from his shoulder and took up a two-handed grip on the shaft. “Push it.”

Juliette did.

A long way above them, reverberating down the towering elevator shaft, they heard a series of clanks and bumps as the motor kicked into life. The droning continued as the lift came down. The journey only took a couple of minutes, but to Budd it felt much longer.

His hands sweated around the axe’s shaft.

The motor stopped as the elevator reached their level. A green light above the door showed it was ready. The door was not automatic, but had a handle and latch on the right-hand side. Before Budd tried it, he knocked the butt of the axe against the concertina door. The noise was loud in the quiet storeroom. He stepped back, expecting something to return the blow or start clawing at the door.

The thick canvas remained still.

“Be careful,” Juliette whispered as Budd reached for the handle. He flipped up the latch with his thumb and then slid the door along its rails. He was greeted by more darkness. Twelve inches inside was another door, which was the same design as the first and concealed the actual elevator car. The outer door was only to stop people from stumbling into the shaft. With a deep breath, he took hold of the second handle, disengaged the latch and thrust it open.

The light inside exploded outwards, which hurt his eyes and obscured his vision. Instantly, he stepped away from the open space and raised the axe high above his head.

The blade hung there, ready, waiting, getting heavier. Budd lowered the weapon and glanced over his shoulder. “Nothing to worry ’bout, sweetheart,” he said.

Juliette smiled back at him. “Good.”

Budd pushed the two doors fully open, allowing the light from the neon strips on the freight-elevator’s ceiling to fill the space around them. He stepped into the car and took off his rucksack, and then sat down with his back against the rear wall. He rested the axe across his legs and looked out into the black storeroom.

Juliette sat down beside him and took hold of his right hand. “I feel much better now, thank you,
Monsieur
Ashby.”

“I still feel like I’m having a nightmare,” Budd said, smiling crookedly. “It’s just well-lit now.”

The sound of hinges squeaking came from the darkness. There was a long pause before a door clattered closed against its frame. Budd exchanged a worried look with Juliette and then depressed the button to speak into the two-way radio. “Is that you, boss?”

The static ceased. “Yeah, I see you’ve got t’lift down.”

Budd climbed to his feet and peeked out into the room, but was unable to see much beyond the semicircle of candles. After a while, the sound of feet on the linoleum floor could be heard above the hum of the radio, and then a shadow appeared, moving forward and entering the light. Sam smiled as he emerged. The doctor, his wife, Father McGee and the male honeymooner followed him into the candlelight.

“We’re heading straight back,” Sam said. “Those zombies in the corridor are getting totally upset. We’ve decided to do just one last big group.”

“Good luck,” Juliette said.

“We’ll be fine, babe,” Sam assured her with a smile.

Budd even thought he saw a wink, although it was hard to tell in the uncertain candlelight. The young Californian walked away, heading back to the staircase door with his axe resting on his shoulder. Only when Sam disappeared into to the impenetrable gloom did Budd finally relax the scowl he’d cast the younger man.

The sight made Juliette smile.

“
Babe?” I was definitely the only one around here gonna be saying stuff like that to my little French pop star. Sam could find his own one…

Budd and Juliette settled back to sitting on the floor of the elevator car, while the new arrivals milled around in silence, their eyes looking out into the murky shadows of the surrounding room. Eventually, Father McGee gestured towards the cart and its bags. “I don’t suppose there’re any tea bags?” he said. As he spoke, he unscrewed the lid of his silver flask and made a show of pouring it over the floor. Nothing remained to spill out. “I’m empty.”

“I do not think so, Father,” Juliette answered, “but there will be some upstairs, I am sure.”

“Bless you, my child, and may the Lord always be with you.”

“He’s not today,” Budd said. His comment earned frowns from both Juliette and the priest.

“He is especially with us in our hour of need, son.”

“I don’t mean to take a leak on your igloo, but we can’t get much needier than we are right now. And I don’t see any sword-swinging angels or lightning bolts coming from the sky to save us.”

“This is all His work,” Father McGee said kindly.

Juliette dug her elbow into Budd’s ribs. “Stop being a jerk.”

Budd looked her in the eye and then adjusted the rim of his Stetson. There was a faint smile on his lips. Slowly, his left eyebrow hooked upwards. He had no intention of letting the matter lie.

Okay, I’ll admit it.

Priests make me antsy.

All that moral fiber, reveling in the fact that the Lord works in mysterious ways—which, let’s face it, simply means the guy enjoys screwing us over—makes me irritable. And right then, I was in the mood to bicker. He was just an easy target…