CHAPTER SEVENJohn found himself hanging over the horde of infected and had to think of something. His first instinct was to try and pull himself up but the rope was too worn and could snap at any moment. Another set of flares lit up the sky as a jet flew over, illuminating the horde of undead. It also illuminated some windows beside him, and he knew that was his best chance.
He reached for his fire axe but it was stuck on his bag. As he got it free, the rope dropped him another few inches. He chopped at the window trying to get it to break, but it didn't make more than a scratch. He exhausted himself quickly, unsure of what to do. He hooked the fire axe back on his bag and pulled the rifle from off of his shoulder, gripping it tightly.
He held it with one hand and fired a shot at the glass, shattering it. He used the butt of the rifle to poke out the remaining shards and slung it over his shoulder. He tried to inch himself inside as the rope began to run against the walls, fraying further. It finally snapped as he dove inside, tumbling over the window frame and onto the floor inside.
An explosion went off in the distance as another jet flew overhead the building. John covered his head as the building shook, and pushed himself to his feet. He still had everything he needed but had no idea how he would navigate to the building over.
It looked as though he was in an office, and tried to get his bearings. He looked out of the window and the building he needed to get to was about fifty feet away. The only way to get to it now was from the street. He took a moment to think about his next move, but it was inevitable and he wouldn't like it.
He clicked on his flashlight and made his way to a stairwell, heading down. Once he found himself on the ground floor, he made his way into the lobby where all the doors and windows seemed intact. He peered outside at the horde and masked up, hooking up his oxygen.
Fifty feet, easy, he thought to himself.
John took in a deep breath as he equipped his fire axe and pushed open the door. It was nearly pitch black now as he slowly stepped forward towards the building. The infected hadn't noticed him yet, and he was beginning to think he could make a run for it.
Suddenly the ground began to shake as another fighter jet flew overhead, shooting off flares. The entire block became illuminated as the infected turned toward him and began to screech. John took off like a road runner, sprinting for the door.
An infected came right at him as he slammed his axe down, slashing its head. It fell back as he tried to outrun the rest of the horde.
One of the infected came at him full sprint, nearly tackling him to the floor. It bit into his arm but his protective jacket deflected the teeth as he kicked it off. Now he faced dozens as he pushed through, slicing them with his axe as much as he could. He never realized how fast they were until now, sprinting at him like marathon runners.
He reached the glass plated front door and tried to push it in, realizing it was locked. He shattered it with his axe, quickly stepping through.
He limped as the infected began to pour into the lobby behind him. He pushed open a door revealing a stairwell, quickly getting inside and slamming the door shut behind him.
The infected banged loudly as they tried to get in. He looked around for anything he could use as a wedge in the handle, ultimately placing his axe to keep it locked. He stepped back, flinching as each bang got louder. He had made it, the person from the roof was here somewhere.
"Hello?!" John called out.
He equipped his rifle and made his way up the stairs, keeping his flashlight out. He continued to call out for them all the way up until he emerged onto the rooftop.
He overlooked the city as the jet noise faded in the distance. He smelled smoke and approached some trash bins filled with ash and burned paperwork. There were little bits of trash scattered around, like snacks and drinks from a vending machine.
"Anyone here?" He called out again.
He looked back at the fire station across the block for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh.
John headed back inside, using his flashlight to look around. He headed down to the floor below and creaked open a door to a hallway. He stepped inside, taking cautious steps as he didn't know what could be here.
Maybe they turned. Am I trapped in here with one of them?
He grew more and more nervous as he looked around for any other sign of life. Suddenly, he heard banging coming from the end of the hallway. He put his flashlight between his teeth and raised his rifle, keeping it ready.
"Hello?" He slurred through the flashlight.
The banging was faint, but sounded like any other infected he had come across. He steadily inched down the hall, his heart beating out of his chest. His hands trembled as he kept his twitching finger on the trigger. He felt as if each footstep was a loud bang alerting any infected to him.
He finally made it to a door as the banging grew louder, and he could see it shake with every thump. He readied his rifle and kicked open the door, revealing a woman on the floor. She struggled to look up at him with tired eyes as he became shocked, lowering his rifle.
"Help me..." She muttered.
YOU ARE READING
Fire Away
HorrorIn the weeks following a tragic past and the breakout of a nationwide infection, Firefighter John Palmer isolated himself at his place of work. All alone and the streets riddled with the undead, he had a decision to make; to face what was out there...