I n f i n i t u m

Chapter Twenty Three

I didn't know how long we had been walking. 

I'd lost track of time. The only thing I knew was that the sun had already set not too long ago. This time Wren was showing his exhaustion, to which I was oddly satisfied with— but I wasn't exactly fairing well either. I had bled through the last of my bandages and the pain killers Wren had managed to salvage were beginning to wear off.

We were in a town of some sort, abandoned, as usual, with most if not all of the storefronts bashed in, indicating that they'd already been looted. A few zeds had intercepted us every now and then, but Wren did all the dirty work by ended every single one. I was shocked at first when the two we'd stumbled upon had sprinted toward us, and that was when it occurred to me that the zeds that I'd encountered in the past few months had been slower than the ones in Bethel city.

That revelation puzzled me to no end, but I had the time to conjure up a possible reason that seemed to make more sense. It was warmer in Bethel city at the time and colder the more we traveled from the walls...perhaps the weather effected them? The cold made them slower and the warmth made them faster.

It made sense to me.

We were creeping alongside the brick walls of one of the buildings when the radio at Wren's chest crackled to life, "Falcon-6, Falcon-6, this is Base two clicks away, come in, over."

Wren was quick to answer, "Base, this is Falcon-6, we'll be there, over and out."

I shot him a look but he didn't see my gaze from his position in front of me. I whispered just loud enough for him to hear, "Are we even close?"

The unmistakable sound of chopper blades pierced the silent night and grimacing, I gritted my teeth. I forgot that Wren arranged for an airlift!

"Anything within ear-shot can hear them!"

He shot back a closed-eyed grin, "That's why we hurry to them before anything else does!"

And hurried to them we did. I followed Wren's lead as he body-slammed into the building's door and cleared the interior, blood rushing in my ears in anxiety as we both rushed up the dark flight of stairs with only Wren's flashlight lighting up the pathway.

The thunderous sound of our footsteps slapping against the metal stairs were soon accompanied by a dozen others that grew by the second.

Fortunately for Wren, he couldn't see the trail of zeds running after us. Unfortunately for me, my eyes could easily make out their demented, blood-splattered, snarling faces hot on my heel. We went up higher and higher until finally, Wren slammed through the door to the entrance of the rooftop where the chopper was already perched by the farthest ledge. Men with machine guns pointed towards us motioned us over urgently.

I yelped when I felt a hand grab a hold of the hood of my sweater, and ripped myself forward and out of the zed's grasp the same instant gunfire sounded. It all happened in a blur. Wren was pulled onto the chopper and then I was yanked in right after him the very next moment, my hands and knees landing on the padded flooring. I tried to stand up, but the chopper was gaining altitude quickly. I risked a glance at the carnage that was below.

Holy hell.

Waves of zeds piled on top of each other, reaching for the chopper as they fell to their deaths. I watched, stunned. We barely made it out of there— any second later, and both Wren and I would have been goners.

The relief that filled me was overwhelming.

Somebody called Wren's name, the voice gruff and breathless. I did a double take when I figured out that it had come from Lefevere, who I just now realized had Wren in his arms in a tight embrace.