Free Web NovelChapter 242: Chapter 242 - Run
The cold air hit Iyisha’s face the second they pushed out to the fire exit.
The straight metal ladder dropped down the side of the building into the alley where some of the men and Malcolm were killing the undead waiting for all of them.
"Watch the missing step!" someone shouted from below.
The warning came while Jerry was already moving. The man going down has his eyes toward the road instead of the ladder under his hands.
"Jerry, look down!" Archie shouted.
Jerry’s boot reached for a rung that was not there.
His body dropped.
For half a second, his hands held the side rails. His shoulders jerked hard. His boot scraped against the wall, searching for metal.
Then his grip slipped.
He fell backward off the ladder.
Iyisha’s breath stopped. freёwebnoѵel.com
Jerry hit the street hard.
The sound was flat and ugly. His shoulder struck first, then the back of his head cracked against the concrete. Blood showed almost at once, dark against the ground, spreading from his hairline.
"Jerry!" someone shouted.
The line froze.
Jerry lay on his side, eyes open but unfocused. His mouth moved without sound. Blood ran down past his ear and into the dust.
Archie moved first. He grabbed Jerry under the arms and dragged him away from the base of the ladder.
"Keep coming down!" Archie shouted. "Don’t stop!"
Nobody moved.
Malcolm’s voice hit harder from above.
"Move!"
That broke them.
Iyisha gripped the side rails and forced herself onto the ladder. Her hands slipped once, but she caught herself and looked down before every step.
Missing rung.
Step over.
Jerry tried to lift his head. It dropped back to the concrete. His eyes rolled once before fixing on nothing.
"Can he walk?" Aljun asked from below.
Archie dragged Jerry clear of the ladder. Jerry’s eyes stayed open, but they did not focus. Blood ran into his hair and down the side of his face.
His face tightened.
"Not without help."
Another crash rolled from the road. The walkers at the alley mouth turned toward them.
"Then help him or leave him. Move now." Malcolm snapped.
Another man swore, grabbed Jerry’s arm, and hauled him upright enough to drag. Jerry’s feet scraped uselessly over the street.
The way down blurred into hands, metal, and shouting.
One by one, they dropped from the straight ladder into the alley.
Iyisha hit the ground. She ran to the mouth of the alley and fired.
The first walker dropped with half its face gone.
She pumped and fired again.
The second went down before it crossed the gutter.
Harry, who still haven’t turned, moved in her peripheral vision, shooting as he ran, cutting down anything that came too close to the path. Archie and Arnulf cleared the other side. They were not trying to save bullets anymore. They were buying seconds.
Lance came down with Marybeth and Aljun holding him between them. Jerry had to be dragged by two men. The woman with the wound that would not close was worse now, pale and sweating, one arm pressed tight against her side while someone pulled her forward.
Three people needed support.
They were too slow.
Iyisha looked toward the road and felt her hair rise.
The horde had found them.
A wall of bodies was pushing into the street, shoulder to shoulder, with twitchers jerking through the gaps. Wherever that monster was, it looked like he had pulled them all behind it and led them straight here.
Iyisha’s hand tightened on the shotgun.
If she broke their signal again, even for a few seconds, they might get through.
She looked at Malcolm.
He was already looking at her.
His jaw clenched.
"No."
She had not said anything.
A small smile touched her mouth and vanished.
The last person dropped from the ladder.
"Run!" Malcolm shouted.
They ran.
The injured were dragged between them. Lance stumbled hard, and Aljun and Marybeth hauled him upright before he hit the ground. Jerry’s feet scraped over the street while two men pulled him by the arms. The wounded woman made a thin sound every few steps, but nobody slowed.
Iyisha checked her shotgun.
Not enough.
She had a pistol on her thigh, but it only had five bullets. Five bullets meant nothing against what was coming.
Ahead, Malcolm had already put his gun away and drawn his machete. He cut down a walker in front of him without breaking stride.
Iyisha cursed under her breath and pulled out her own machete.
The shotgun stayed in her other hand.
They pushed through the street in a broken line. Guns cracked around her. Blades hit bone. Walkers fell in front of them and under their feet. Nobody stopped to finish anything unless it grabbed someone.
Then someone screamed behind her.
Iyisha turned.
A hunter came out of the side street fast, low to the ground, all limbs and gray skin. It hit the man dragging the wounded woman and swung one arm across his chest.
The claws opened him.
Blood sprayed across the street.
"Shit!"
Iyisha raised the shotgun and fired from almost no distance.
The blast hit the hunter center chest.
It flew backward and slammed into the side of a parked car. For one second, it twitched. Then it stopped moving.
"Iyisha!" Malcolm shouted. "Run!"
She looked at the man first.
He was on his back, hands pressed uselessly to the opening in his chest. Blood pushed between his fingers in thick pulses. His eyes were already losing focus.
Dead.
Or close enough.
Then the woman made a sound.
Iyisha looked down.
She was still alive.
Barely.
Her wound had opened again, worse than before. Blood soaked through the cloth pressed to her side and ran down her hip. Her mouth trembled as she tried to breathe.
Iyisha’s brain said no.
No time.
No strength.
No chance.
Her body moved anyway.
She shoved the shotgun strap higher on her shoulder, bent, and grabbed the woman under the arms.
The woman cried out.
"Sorry," Iyisha said through her teeth.
She pulled.
The woman’s boots scraped across the street. She was heavier than she looked, dead weight from pain and blood loss. Iyisha’s back screamed. Her stomach tightened hard enough to scare her, but she did not let go.
"Iyisha!" Malcolm shouted again, closer this time.
"I’m coming!"
She was not.
Not fast enough.
The horde pushed down the road behind her. The front walkers were close enough now that she could hear their feet dragging over broken glass.
The woman’s fingers clawed weakly at Iyisha’s wrist.
"Leave me," she breathed.
Iyisha tightened her grip.
"Shut up."
She dragged her another step.
Then another.
A walker broke from the side of the street and lurched toward them.
Iyisha let go with one hand, drew the pistol from her thigh, and fired once.
The bullet took the walker through the forehead.
It dropped.
Four bullets left.
She holstered the pistol badly and grabbed the woman again.
Malcolm reached her then.
His face was hard. His jaw was locked.
For one second, she thought he would tell her to leave the woman.
He did not.
He grabbed the woman’s other arm and lifted.
"Move," he said.
Together, they dragged her forward.
