The Sixth Level (16 page)

"That's OK. Just means you have to stick to me like glue. Wherever I move, you move. I want you right behind me, OK?"

I nodded my head. "Let’s get this over with."

We moved over to the wooden door. Daniel opened it, turning the door handle slowly, inch by inch. We waited and listened. There was no sound. No movement.

Daniel switched on the light on his rifle, shining it out into the corridor. The building appeared to be abandoned. Well, at least this floor appeared to be abandoned.

We moved through a labyrinth of corridors and office cubicles. We eventually found the stairwell. Daniel shined his torch up and down, making sure it was empty and then we made our way for one of the higher floors.

At first I was tripping over the stairs but after awhile I got used to the suit and we were able to power up maybe forty or fifty flights. I lost count after awhile. Daniel had lost count as well. So we decided to get off on the next floor.

We must’ve been close to the top. We exited the stairwell and found ourselves on a floor that had been converted into some sort of exclusive bar. The sign on the wall read, ‘SkyBar’. Normally the bar would’ve had panoramic views of the city and the harbor but thanks to the dust storm we couldn’t really see much at all.

We moved over to one of the glass walls and looked out at the city.

We could just barely make out the tops of the surrounding buildings. We could also see Sydney Tower. It was only half a block away. The swirling red dust seemed to make parts of the tower disappear and then reappear.

"Pretty amazing building," I said.

"Yeah it’s over three hundred meters or a thousand feet tall. The steel rope, the wires that support the tower are over a meter thick. There are fifty-six wires in total, each about two hundred meters long."

"How do you know all that?" I asked.

"I studied the city's buildings before we came in. Needed to know where we could land if needed."

The wire supports travelled the length of the actual tower in a criss-crossing pattern.

I looked over at Daniel. Another tear streaked down his face.

"Ethan was like a father to me," he said. "He came for me, recruited me when I was training to become a Navy Seal. It was at the end of ‘Hell Week’. During the week we’d only been allowed to sleep a total of three hours. It was torture. Ethan came for me in the middle of the night. He snuck into the barracks. I don’t know how he did it. And I don’t know why he chose me. Maybe it was because he knew my father. Maybe because he thought I was a talented soldier. He told me that if I came with him, that I could make a difference, that I would be part of a team that operated outside of the normal realms of government policies. He told me he could challenge me more than I’d ever been challenged. Make me a better soldier. A warrior. He told me that I would be rewarded for my efforts. Valued. I was sleep deprived. I thought I was dreaming. I don’t know why I agreed to go with him. Maybe because I was delusional at the time. Or maybe it was because I really believed his speech about making a difference."

He wiped the tear from his face. "But I guess none of that really matters now."

I was looking at Daniel’s reflection in the window. His head was lowered. He was looking down at the intersection where his team had met their end. "It does matter," I said. "Of course it matters. He believed in you. And he did challenge you. I mean, you’re only nineteen years of age and you’re already a highly trained solider, a pilot, a hero. It matters because now it’s up to you and me to finish this mission, to save Maria."

I don’t know if my speech had any great effect on him but he did seem to lift a little.

"Come on," he said after awhile. "We can’t see the roads from up here. Let’s go check the sub-basement levels for a getaway car."

We were just about to head back for the stairwell when one of the support wires on Sydney Tower, broke away and started whipping through the air.

More and more support wires began to snap free. There was an audible crack as each one broke away from the tower. Then the wires started smashing into the surrounding buildings, shattering windows, tearing and slicing through reinforced concrete.

About ten or so wires sliced into the building right next to the tower. It was a huge skyscraper that was nearly as tall as the tower itself. A split second after the wires had sliced through, it started to sway. Only a little at first but then more and more violently. And then like a deck of cards, it started to come down, almost in slow motion.

As it was collapsing, the building we were in started to shake. It's like we were in the middle of an earthquake. The demolition stirred up the dust and a few seconds later everything was completely obscured. It was a complete red out.

A few more seconds after that, we heard glass smashing.

"Oh no," Daniel said.

We backed away from the window. Daniel grabbed me and we dove for the floor as a giant steel wire smashed right through the window we had just been looking out. The steel wire seemed to have a mind of its own. After it smashed through the window it smashed through the far wall and simply kept going. Who knows how far it went? It could've gone right through to the other side of the building. Nothing was stopping it. Not reinforced glass or steel or concrete. Nothing.

Outside we could hear the crack of the steel whips and it sounded like another building was coming down. Our building started to shake again.

The wire that had smashed through the window seemed to be slithering through the building when all of a sudden it started coming back. Slowly at first but then it started moving faster and faster. And then it was gone, back through the glass wall it had smashed through.

"Jesus, we need to get out of here," Daniel said. "The building could come down any second now!"

We scrambled to our feet and headed back towards the stairwell. We needed to hurry. If the building came down, there would be no surviving it. We'd be crushed. Vaporized.

As we ran for the stairs, I couldn’t’ help but wonder what the hell was going on. It was strange and terrifying. There was no way we could’ve prepared for this. I mean, the wires, they just snapped free. Was it the tension? Had they been damaged? Or was it something else? I know it sounds crazy but it looked like they were alive.

There was no time to analyze it. We just had to run. We actually ran right through the hole the wire had created when it smashed through the building. Luckily it led straight to the emergency stairwell.

We started running down the stairs and then jumping down each flight, the suit absorbing the impact of each leap.

But after maybe five flights the light from above disappeared and the darkness swallowed us whole. We stopped. We were breathing hard, we were scared, confused, terrified. Daniel fumbled with his rifle for a second, trying to turn on the torch. He finally found the switch. The small light illuminated the stairwell.

Fortunately the shaking and the rumbling had stopped. We could only assume that the wire supports from the tower had stopped flailing around, stopped slicing through and destroying the surrounding buildings.

We held our breath for a few minutes as we listened and waited for the rumbling and the shaking to start back up. But it never did. The stairwell was silent.

"We need to find a car," Daniel whispered. "Preferably a big one. Something with a bull bar. I’ve got a feeling it’s going to be a bumpy ride."

Chapter 19

For a while there I thought the stairwell would never end, that we would keep descending, deeper and deeper until we eventually stumbled into hell.

I could just imagine it.

We'd be standing right in the middle of hell. Completely lost and confused, scratching our heads like Bugs Bunny when he tunnels underground and takes a wrong turn. ‘Should’ve taken that left turn at Albuquerque’. And then Satan would be there, sizing us up, tilting his head to the side as if to say, ‘What are you doing here? Are you nuts?’

At one point it was so dark it felt like we were inside a cave, or a mountain, or hundreds of miles below the Earth’s surface. I mean, our torch only lit up a small section of the stairwell. And all we could hear were our own footsteps and our ragged, almost whispered breathing. I don’t know about Daniel but I was trying my hardest to breathe as quietly as possible.

It felt like we were the only people left on the planet. And I was the only girl in the world. I wondered if I would procreate with Daniel for the survival of the human race.

"Shh."

"What? I didn't say anything."

"You're breathing too loudly," Daniel said.

"Oh. Sorry."

I needed to stop thinking about that kind of stuff. I needed focus on not falling down the stairs. I think it must’ve been a side effect of the adrenalin and the near death experiences.

I noticed that my mind had started to wander a bit lately, like I was having these intense day dreaming episodes about absolute nonsense. Especially when I really should've been concentrating on what was going on. Apparently it was a side effect of post traumatic stress disorder, or so I had been told by various Doctors.

I had to keep reminding myself that I couldn't afford to day dream. Not here. Not when I could be shot or killed or eaten at any second. It would only take one of the infected to sneak up on us and that would be the end.

We arrived at the basement levels. According to the map on the back of the door, there were six sub basement levels of parking. Surely we'd be able to find a car to use. I just hoped the basement levels were deserted. This was the last place we wanted to meet any of the infected. Trapped underground with only one way out. I was feeling claustrophobic enough already.

"Remember," Daniel said. "We want a bigger vehicle like an SUV, something that can take a pounding if necessary."

"Got it."

"But it can't be a new car. It's gotta be old enough so I can hot wire it. Can't hot wire new cars."

"Right."

After only a few minutes of searching, we settled on a black Range Rover. Apparently it was a late nineties model. It was built like a tank. Daniel seemed confident enough that he could hotwire it and get the engine to tick over.

He lifted the bonnet and started tinkering around near the engine.

"What are you doing?"

"Disarming the airbags and the emergency fuel cut off."

"Don't we need those?"

"No. The airbags will just get in the way. If we ram something or if something hits us, especially if it’s something big like..."

 
He was about to say ‘like whatever the hell is down there on the street.’ But he stopped himself.

"But yeah," he continued. "If we get hit or whatever, we need to keep driving. If the airbags go off they’ll just blind us. That’s no good."

"Damn. I hadn't even thought of that."

"And I'll need to disarm the emergency engine shut off as well. Again if we get hit, the engine will cut off the fuel supply. Which means the engine will stop. If the engine stops we’re screwed. This thing basically needs to be ready for a crash derby. I'm no psychic but I’m predicting this is going to be a rough ride."

Lucky for us, Daniel seemed to be regaining his composure. His rational thinking was coming back to him. And thank God for that. I would never have even thought to have disarmed the airbags. It seemed counter intuitive. But I guess he had a good point. Especially about the fuel cut off. I did not want to get hit and have the engine die on us.

When Daniel had finished tinkering with the engine and had it hotwired, we hopped in the car and buckled up. We were ready to go.

"Here, hold my rifle," Daniel said as he handed his weapon to me. "Do you know why they call the front seat riding shotgun?"

"Ah, no."

"Because back in the Wild West days, a person armed with a shotgun would sit up front of the wagon or stagecoach next to the driver just in case they were ambushed by bandits or Indians or whatever. Hence the term ‘riding shotgun’.

That useless bit of trivia actually distracted me momentarily from the demolition derby we were about to embark on.

"We only have the one rifle," Daniel added. "And only two magazines. That’s only sixty bullets. So if you do need to provide covering fire, short controlled, bursts, OK? And if you don't have a clear shot on something or if it’s out of range, save the ammo."

"Right," I said.

I held the rifle getting used to the weight of it, trying to convince myself that I had spent extra hours at the shooting range preparing myself for a moment like this.

"Are you ready?" Daniel asked.

"Ready as I'll ever be," I answered.

He revved the engine and put the Range Rover into gear. The tires screeched for a split second before the four-wheel drive kicked in and gripped the smooth concrete. We took off, accelerating towards the exit gate.

Chapter 20