Murphy's Law (Roads Less Traveled Book 2) (26 page)

“Thanks, Mr. Wizard. Let’s do this,” I teased.

He turned so suddenly neither of us could stop him. The door was open and he was through it even before Mia or I could raise our weapons. The first thing I noticed while we were running to catch up with Jake was the screaming. We weren’t even close to the garage yet and already we could hear it.

“Hey, just how many people were in that garage anyways?” Mia asked as we jogged down the corridor.

We were spread out, Jake in the lead, Mia and myself on his left and right, just behind him, snapping our heads back and forth, our eyes focused and our attention razor-sharp.

“I don’t know,” Jake panted. “Grandma said there were a lot, but she never said exactly how many.”

We made the first turn, leading us away from the infirmary and closer to the garage. None of us really knew where we were going, but all we had to do was follow the screaming.

“I’d say the majority of the townsfolk. Think about it. The Blueville residents all came here after the shit hit the fan, right? They’ve lost people, but those were mostly younger folks who went out with the salvaging parties. Michael said that only the young and fit were assigned to that, and to watch duty. And you both know how many snipers they have. So I’m guessing, three-quarters of Blueville actually survived. Say, a third of them are on the roofs now. That leaves a shitload of people in the garage,” I surmised as we closed in on the last turn. So far, we hadn’t been jumped on by any more insane zombies, so unless our voices called them away from the garage, we probably wouldn’t run into trouble until then.

“Yeah, I’d say you’re right,” Mia said.

Jake remained silent. He was now totally focused on finding Nancy; he couldn’t keep his mind off of the possibilities any longer.

Another thing I noticed was the distinct lack of gunfire. Not from outside. No, those boys and girls were lighting it up out there like the Fourth of July. But from the inside there was nothing. Those people in the garage had packed plenty of weapons. Hell, they had all the weapons, save one rifle each sniper had kept for him or herself. What the hell had happened in there? Then another realization hit me.

“Wait!”

They both stopped just short of running into each other.

“What? We’re almost there!” Jake motioned towards the door with both his arms.

“There’s too many,” I answered. Mia opened her mouth to argue with me, but I didn’t give her a chance. “That’s where they’re coming out! We can’t just bull our way headfirst down their only exit just because we’re in a hurry. What do you think happened in there? People freaked and didn’t use their heads! We open that door, and we’re fucked!”

His face twisted and his jaw clenched, then he blew out a breath and kicked the floor. “What the hell are we supposed to do then, Kasey? We have to get to Grandma!”

Mia grabbed Jake’s shoulder and held out her other hand to me, the one curled around her pistol. “Wait a sec. Isn’t there another exit in this building? There has to be, to the stables and shit, right?”

It made sense, but I hadn’t spent enough time exploring the complex to know for sure.

“I don’t know, maybe. I think I remember seeing a small door on the side, back before we took off to Ohio.” I strained my memory trying to remember the layout. We’d walked past that side of the building more than once, going to the stables. For the life of me I couldn’t remember if there was a door. Jake suddenly snapped his fingers, and hope filled his face again.

“There is! I remember seein’ it when we rode off that day!”

He spun on his heels, running past me and back the way we came. Mia and I again raced to catch up with Jake, each footfall sending a bolt of pain through my kidney. If we could get outside, skirt around the perimeter of the hell that was breaking loose out there, and get around to the back, where the garage door was, we might have a chance. Nancy might have a chance. I just hoped that the snipers on the rooftops would recognize us, see that we weren’t one of the infected, and mow our asses down the second we hit the grass.

* * *

“What the hell are they doing?” Jonah watched Kasey and her friends bolt out the side door of the south building.

He and his snipers had already had to kill a few runners who had found their staircase, but they seemed to be the fortunate ones. Michael had to finally barricade his rooftop access door to keep the runners at bay, after several overwhelmed them and killed Mike’s buddies. Everyone on Abby’s roof was also dead. Abby, now there was a girl with balls. She was currently scaling her way down the side of her building, and it looked to Jonah as if she was trying to make it to John’s roof. John was still alive, though he had taken some hits. Just moments ago, Jonah had watched the big man fight off his own shooters after they’d been turned by a runner who’d come barreling through the door.

He knew the prison was lost. He’d realized that lovely fact just after the sun had risen. Somehow the slower bastards had gotten inside as well, and thanks to the runners, who had broken the main south door off its hinges, the slow ones now had free access to the courtyard. Jonah figured they had come in through the garage door. What he wouldn’t give to know just what the hell had happened in there. All the time these good people had put into organizing, planning, and making their lists, sure didn’t count for shit when things got bad. Once again Jonah was reminded why he had always preferred being on his own.

“John,” Jonah said into his radio.

Everyone still alive on the roofs had stopped firing once the sun came up, seeing it was useless and a waste of ammo. Now everyone was waiting and watching their access doors. Waiting for what, Jonah didn’t know.

“Go ahead, Jonah,” John panted.

He had just finished shoving everything that wasn’t bolted to the rooftop over in front of the access door. He walked to the ledge, wiping his forehead with his large forearm, and looked out over the dead-infested courtyard to where Jonah stood on his own ledge.

“Kasey and her pals just left the building on the west side. They tucked tail and ran around the corner, so keep your eyes open behind you. They’re probably thinking about getting inside from the back,” Jonah explained.

“At least they’re still alive then,” Michael said.

Jonah looked over to the man, who was now sitting on his ledge and wiping his face. No doubt mourning the loss of not only Smith and Martin, but after realizing the fate of those in the garage, his sister as well.

Jonah pointed in the direction of the stables. “I think it might be a good idea to keep the runners away from the stables. Those horses might be our only chance of getting out of this mess.”

“Yeah. Doesn’t look like we’ll be able to reach the garage,” Michael said, then lowered his radio and covered his face with his other hand.

From the looks of his slumped and shaking shoulders, Jonah guessed he was crying. It was obvious now that all those people Michael had sent there, to prepare and wait for the evacuation order, had been killed. Even his sister, though Jonah doubted Michael had actually seen her after she’d changed and before he’d killed her. But it didn’t matter. The fact was she was dead. They were all dead, and Michael would have to live with it. They all would.

“Hey, Jonah,” John said. “Why don’t you and your guys climb over to Mike’s roof. That’d put us all closer to the stables. If Abby makes it over here, that is.”

Jonah saw Abby flip John the finger.
She’s still got her radio,
he thought.
Atta girl.

“Will do.”

Jonah motioned for his men to move to the far side of the wall. The west building’s roof was conveniently butted up right against the wall, the only problem would be the seven or eight foot difference between the roof ledge and the wall itself. Well, not so much a problem as a pain in the ass. Jonah slung his rifle across his body so that the strap cut across his chest at a diagonal, and jogged over to the brick wall.

“Let’s go,” he said, bending his knees, planting his feet, and cupping his hands in front of him, making a sort of stirrup for the next man to use for a leg-up.

Each man went up without a catch; Jonah was tall and strong, so he was able to push each guy up until they could reach the roof ledge. Michael was waiting up top, giving each man a hand and helping them climb.

“Hurry, Jonah,” Michael urged.

Jonah looked up at the man, but Mike’s eyes were staring at something behind the cowboy.

“Hell,” Jonah uttered and drew his revolver.

He spun around and saw four runners scrambling over one another, stuck in the stairwell exit, all trying to get onto the wall at the same time. Jonah holstered his gun and jogged to the closest shooter’s bench. He dragged it over until he was directly under Michael, who was hanging over the ledge as far as he could with his hands outstretched, his eyes still glued on the runners. Jonah didn’t pay any attention to them, however. He didn’t rush, didn’t panic. He just climbed onto the shaky bench, wiped his hands on his jeans, bent his legs, and jumped. He latched onto Michael’s hands and scared him; he’d been too focused on the runners, and hadn’t noticed Jonah jumping up towards him.

“Oh shit!” Michael said and gripped Jonah’s wrists.

He looked over his shoulder and yelled for help. A couple of Jonah’s men ran over, grabbed the cowboy’s arms, and together they dragged him up and over the ledge. By this time the runners had dislodged themselves and were making a mad, screaming dash towards them. One of the shooters pulled his pistol and was about to open fire on them when Michael grabbed his wrist.

“Don’t waste your ammo. They can’t get up here.” Then he bent over and helped Jonah to his feet. The cowboy dusted himself off and tipped his head.

“Thanks.”

“No problem,” Michael said, then picked his radio up off the ground and called John. “Alright man, they’re all up. You alright over there?”

John had moved to the far side of his roof and was watching Abby, who had scaled her way across the face and was trying to find footholds on John’s building.

“I’m good. Gotta find a way to help her up, hang on,” he answered, then clipped his radio to his belt and started looking around for something to throw down to her.

Michael glanced around at the four men standing with him, then motioned towards the other end of the roof, the side closest to the stables.

“Let’s get over there and cover the horses. Figure out a way off this goddamned roof.”

John was tossing one end of a length of power cable down to Abby. He’d ripped it free of the air conditioning unit that was mounted to his roof. She was only ten feet or so below him and off to his right. The distance between her and the ground, not counting the deadheads who had gathered underneath her, had his palms sweating so badly he was terrified he’d lose his hold.

“Pay attention, John!” Abby shouted up to him. She was standing on a small window ledge and had the cable gripped in both her hands. “You drop me and I’m gonna kick your ass!”

John smiled and refocused his attention. He braced his feet against the ledge, wrapped the cable around his wrists, and nodded once to her. “Okay, girl, climb on up.”

Abby let her feet slide from the window ledge as she began climbing, one hand over the other, easing her way up the cable. She used her feet to help, walking her way up the side of the building as her arms pulled. John grunted above her, but she had no doubt the big man could hold her weight. When she neared the ledge, John let go of the cable with one hand and reached down, grabbing her elbow and pulling her the rest of the way over. She fell to the gravel and rolled over onto her back, staring up at his wide eyes with a grin.

“Hope we don’t have to do that again.”

“C’mon.” John helped her to her feet and led her to the opposite end of the roof.

They stared down at the stable, which was directly below them, listening to the horses inside. As far as John could tell, no runners had broken through the barn doors yet. Michael and his team were doing a good job of keeping the area in front of the stable clear of zombies, so John and Abby set up to do the same for the area behind it. So far, most of the runners were still focused on getting into the buildings through the front doors. There were a few slower zombies still outside the walls, most of what was left after the mass deadhead engagement earlier had all found their way inside the prison and were simply milling about the courtyard. John hoped the runners would stay focused on the doors, and not turn their attention towards the animals in the barn. If they did, well, they would cross that bridge if they came to it.

* * *

The three of us hugged the wall just next to the wide open garage door. “Man, I wish we had a radio,” Mia whispered.

We could barely hear the commotion above us on John’s roof. To me it had seemed like the ones still alive were getting together and planning a way out. I was in the lead, with Mia behind me, and Jake in the rear. Our backs were plastered to the brick wall behind us, giving each of us a lovely view of the deadheads stumbling around the field in front of us. I was surprised they hadn’t noticed us yet. Granted, we had gotten this close to the garage door as stealthily as possible, but still, the damn things could smell us, couldn’t they?