Free Web NovelChapter 195: Chapter 195 - Inside
By the time they reached Bond Street, their pace had dropped without anyone saying it.
Iyisha felt it first.
Marybeth tugged at her arm. Iyisha turned.
Lance had gone pale. Not just tired. His face had drained, his breathing uneven, his shoulders lifting higher with each breath like it was starting to cost him more.
Ahead of them, Malcolm threw another stone down a side street, pulling a few of the undead away.
"Iyisha," Marybeth whispered.
Iyisha stepped closer, her eyes staying on Lance. Then she reached out and touched Malcolm’s arm.
He looked at her.
She did not say it right away. She just glanced back.
That was enough.
Malcolm’s eyes shifted to Lance, taking him in quickly, measuring.
"We are not reaching the bridge like this," Iyisha said. "We need somewhere to rest."
Malcolm held the look for a second, then gave a short nod.
"We need somewhere high," he said.
Iyisha frowned. "Why?"
He tilted his head toward Manhattan. "So we can see them too."
She followed the line instinctively, then looked ahead again, thinking.
"Gowanus."
Industrial blocks. Mixed heights. One of them used to overlook the rest.
But that was before.
She was not sure what was still standing.
Aljun spoke from behind them. "It is still there. Some of it."
Iyisha looked at him.
He gave a small nod.
She drew in a breath, then nodded.
She shifted their direction without another word.
They cut toward Gowanus, keeping off the wider roads and slipping through tighter streets where the buildings closed in enough to block long sightlines. The deeper they went, the quieter it got. Not empty. Just contained.
Iyisha pointed ahead with her chin. "That one."
A mid-rise building sat just off the street. The concrete frame still held, though the lower windows were blown out and the entrance hung open. From a distance it looked intact, but up close the cracks ran along the wall and the door bent just enough to leave a gap.
She glanced at Malcolm.
"It is dangerous inside," Marybeth said.
Lance let out a short breath of a laugh. "It is dangerous everywhere."
Marybeth smirked at him, but it did not last.
Malcolm looked at them. Serious.
Inside, the space would be tight and the exits limited. If there were walkers in there, they would not be spread out. They would be waiting in rooms, in corners, coming all at once.
Iyisha swallowed, the memory of the store flashing back. Bodies packed in with no space to move.
What if it was the same behind that door?
"Let’s go," Malcolm said.
Iyisha nodded.
He stopped just before the entrance and listened.
He pushed the door with two fingers.
The air inside was stale and thick enough to taste.
The hallway ran straight ahead, narrow, lined with doors on both sides. Some were open. Some half closed. One hung loose on its hinge, tapping softly against the frame.
Light barely reached inside. What little did cut sharp lines across the floor, leaving most of the hall in shadow.
Malcolm lifted a hand.
Slow.
They moved in.
Iyisha kept her eyes on the doors. Not the hall. The doors. Each one felt wrong. Too still. Too quiet.
Something shifted in one of the rooms.
A shoulder brushed the frame.
Then it went still again.
They kept going.
Halfway down, Lance’s foot caught on a chunk of broken tile.
It scraped across the floor.
The sound cut through the hallway.
Everyone froze.
Too late.
From the left, a face turned in the dark.
Then another.
A body leaned into the doorway.
More followed behind it, crowding forward.
A low sound came from one of them.
Another answered.
"Move," Malcolm said.
The hallway broke.
Walkers pushed out from both sides, spilling from the rooms, arms reaching, bodies pressing into the narrow space. The far end filled at the same time, shapes shifting into view and closing it off.
"Fuck," Marybeth muttered as more bodies blocked the way they came from.
They were getting boxed in.
Malcolm grabbed a broken cabinet leaning against the wall and shoved it hard into the middle of the hallway. It crashed sideways into the front of the group, forcing a few of them back and tangling their legs.
Iyisha let out a breath.
Then she jerked back as a set of teeth snapped inches from her hand.
A walker lunged over the cabinet, fingers clawing, mouth open.
Malcolm pushed again, driving the cabinet forward with his weight and forcing the front line back just enough to hold them.
"Doors," Iyisha said.
They moved.
Marybeth grabbed the first handle.
Locked.
Aljun tried the next.
Stuck.
Iyisha pulled another.
It did not move.
"Nothing’s opening," Aljun said, his voice tight.
Behind them, the cabinet shifted as the walkers pushed harder, bodies piling, hands reaching over the top.
"Move," Malcolm said.
They broke toward the end of the hall.
A stairwell.
"Go."
They did not hesitate.
They ran up the stairs.
Fast.
Behind them, the bottom of the stairway erupted with bodies slamming and feet dragging.
Then something faster cut through the noise.
Iyisha felt it before she looked.
A twitcher.
It hit the stairs low and fast, forcing itself through the walkers, hands and feet slamming against the steps as it climbed over bodies that slowed the others.
"Malcolm."
He turned.
He timed it.
As the twitcher reached the turn, it lunged up the stairs, cutting the corner.
Malcolm stepped down two steps to meet it.
He did not wait.
He drove his feet straight into its chest as it jumped.
The impact stopped it mid-movement.
Its body twisted sideways. One hand missed the step. The other scraped the railing.
Then it slipped.
Lost its balance.
And fell.
Its body crashed down the stairs, slamming into the walkers below and taking several of them with it.
Malcolm turned back. "Move."
He took the next steps two at a time.
They followed.
Another flight. Then another.
Their breathing grew louder in the enclosed space, echoing off the concrete walls.
Lance lagged behind, one hand dragging along the railing to keep himself steady.
"You okay?" Iyisha asked between breaths.
He nodded once. Short. Forced.
They reached the next landing and Iyisha saw the hallway ahead already filling with walkers, bodies stepping out from the rooms and turning toward them.
"Fuck." Lance muttered.
Malcolm went straight to the first door.
He grabbed the handle and shoved.
It did not move.
Behind them, the noise climbed again. Dragging. Hitting. Closer.
Iyisha turned.
Walkers were already forcing themselves around the turn below, hands reaching, bodies pulling up step by step.
"Faster," she said.
Malcolm stepped back and drove his shoulder into the door.
The wood cracked.
It held.
The impact carried into the hallway.
More movement answered.
Bodies pushed further out from the rooms, crowding the space, closing whatever gap was left.
"Iyisha," Marybeth said.
Iyisha raised her gun and fired.
The shot cracked through the stairwell.
The first walker dropped at the edge of the landing.
The second kept coming.
Lance stepped in beside her and fired once at close range.
Marybeth fired next, her shot hitting deeper into the hallway.
Aljun followed, firing once, then again, forcing the front line to stagger.
More pressed forward behind them, filling the hall.
Malcolm hit the door again.
Harder.
The frame shifted.
A gap opened along the edge.
The walkers reached the landing.
Hands clawed over the edge. Fingers scraped against the concrete.
Too close.
Malcolm drove forward one more time.
The latch snapped.
The door gave.
"Inside."
Iyisha moved first. Then Lance. Then Marybeth. Aljun slipped in after them.
Malcolm stepped in last and shoved the door closed.
"Push."
They dragged the broken cabinet in and wedged it under the handle, forcing it tight.
The impact came immediately.
A heavy slam shook the door.
Then another.
Hands pounded against the wood. Weight pressed from the other side.
The frame rattled.
Iyisha stared at it, her chest tight, waiting for it to give.
Another hit.
The wood groaned.
Then again.
Then the force slowed.
The pounding slowed, fading into dragging and scratching. Then nothing.
They stayed where they were, breathing hard, listening.
Iyisha wiped her face with the back of her hand and looked around.
The room was dim.
Light from a broken window cut across the floor, orange and low as the sun dropped.
Not much time left.
"Clear it," Malcolm said.
Iyisha moved left, stepping around a fallen cabinet, checking corners, under tables, behind anything that could hide movement.
Marybeth moved right.
Aljun stayed at the door, one hand still braced against the cabinet.
Lance leaned against the wall, his head tilted back, pulling in air.
Iyisha reached the inner doorway and pushed it open.
A shape moved.
The zombie lunged from the corner.
Too close.
Malcolm stepped in beside her, already moving.
His blade came up.
One strike.
Clean.
The body dropped at their feet.
Iyisha froze for a second, her breath caught in her throat.
Then she stepped back.
Malcolm checked the room once more, quick and precise.
He gave a short nod.
"Clear."
The room settled.
Outside, something dragged past the door.
Inside, the light dimmed further.
Night was coming.
