Fighting to Survive
Page 18

Maybe the boy and he would get along one day.
The stench in the janitor's room was pretty intense and his eyes began to water. He kicked the dead zombie bodies out of the way so the equipment could get through and grimaced as bits of gore clung to his boots.
Stepping up to the door, Juan felt his palms sweating and he took a deep breath. They were just going to have to trust that the teams had done their job and that no more zombies were roaming around downstairs.
“Let's do this,” he said.
Swinging the door open, he stepped into the darkened hallway.
Flicking on a flashlight, he shone the beam down the hallway. Nothing stirred.
“Scary, huh?” Ken said from behind him.
“When is it ever not scary?”
They moved swiftly down the hall and into the corridor that would lead them into the lobby. As they drew nearer, they heard the loud banging on the doors and windows.
Juan broke into a swift run. The sound of their pounding feet against the tile, the tools jangling on their belts and the humming of the wheelbarrow wheels echoed through the lobby to mix with the moans and screeches of the zombies. The heavy oak doors were shuddering under the impact of many fists being banged against it and the dim outlines of the zombie bodies could be seen through the heavy, frosted lead windows in the door and on either side of the entry.
“Let's make this fast,” Juan ordered.
Immediately, the wheelbarrow full of fresh cement was wheeled into position and the pallets loaded with bricks were rolled into the room. Men and women began to quickly brick up the leaded glass windows and the doorway. An assembly line was created and people passed on the bricks to those wielding trowels. Layers of wet cement and brick were swiftly coming into being as they worked in the humid heat of the hotel lobby.
Juan turned and saw the nearly decapitated zombie body on the steps. Walking over, he looked down at it, and grimaced. “Damn.”
Taking out the walkie-talkie, he pressed the button. “How is your progress up there, Nerit?”
“Moving along. We're on the seventh floor,” she answered.
“Curtis? How about you?”
“Also on the seventh floor. Making some progress. Jenni's hurt so we're moving slower,” Curtis answered, then added quickly, “Nothing major, just knocked up a bit.”
Juan felt his chest tighten. He said a little shortly, “I thought you said she was okay?”
“Yeah, but, she's limping,” Curtis said blandly.
“Tell him not to worry,” Jenni's voice said through the static.
“She says not-”
“I heard her,” Juan answered. He took off his hat, ran his fingers through his curls, and took a breath. “Let me know how you are doing up there. We're busy down here blocking these fuckers off.”
There was a loud crash against one of the windows and Juan whirled around to see the dim outline of a zombie with something quite large in its hand banging against the leaded window.
“Shit!”
The front doors were set down at street level. Stairs inlaid with marble rose up to the lobby floor from the entrance. The only windows Juan had any concerns about were the ones framing the doorway. The windows on the first floor were at least eight feet above the street.
More of the zombies were picking up items to bang against the windows and doors. It was as if they understood that living flesh was just within their reach if only they could break through.
The assembly line was working faster now. Four people were working fast with their trowels, spreading fresh layers of cement, laying the brick, and then spreading more cement. Other people kept refreshing the bins of cement while others handed down the bricks.
“Juan, we have cracks in this window,” one of the men said.
Juan motioned to those standing nearby with guns to take up positions. “Keep them covered.”
Lifting the walkie-talkie, he said, “We need something to brace up the new walls ASAP.”
There was a pause, and then Ken, one of his assistants said, “I'm on my way.”
“Faster, faster,” people were saying to each other as they worked.
Juan wiped the sweat off his brow and looked at the right window.
He could see long cracks in the glass. The shady figures behind the frosted window were banging on it with large, heavy objects.
“Concentrate on that window,” Juan ordered.
Overlapping each other in their haste, the four people struggled to wall in the window. It was almost five feet high when the first chunk of glass fell out of the window frame.
The workers hesitated, then resumed what they were doing.
The guards looked nervous. “We can't get good shots with people in the way,” one of them told Juan.
Juan thought over the scenario realizing it would take some sharp shooting to deal with the increasingly dangerous situation.
“Nerit, I think we need you down here,” Juan said into the walkietalkie. “We’re going to have trouble hitting them.”
“On my way,” she answered.
Another chunk of glass fell from the frame. He could hear it, but not see it.
“They're pushing on the wall,” said Linda, his cousin, one of the people laying the brick. “I can feel it.”
“Shit!” Juan ran down the stairs and put his hands on the wall.
“Shit, they are.”
Another chunk of glass fell out and a hand pushed through the gap between the broken window and the new wall.
“Watch out!”
Juan ducked away just in time, but the zombie grabbed his hat and yanked it back out of sight.
“That was my lucky hat!”
Linda slammed two more bricks into place, her heavy gloves giving her protection.
In their desperation to get into the hotel, the zombies were struggling with each other to reach in through the tiny opening in the window.
Ken, followed by more people, ran in with wood planks and large pieces of sheet metal. “To brace it,” he said to Juan.
More glass fell out of the window, making the zombies more crazed and desperate. Decaying hands were appeared over the heads of those working on the wall. No one dared lay more bricks now and Linda stabbed at one hand as it dislodged a brick and pulled it away.
“Let's do it,” Juan said.
“Do what?” Ken answered. “They're coming in!”
“Not yet,” Juan answered, and picked a trowel. “They're reaching upwards. None of them can bite us that high. They'll just try to grab our hands. We have gloves. Keep going.”
The workers hesitated and then acknowledged that he was right.
Again the wall came under construction. The bricks were laid out as quick as possible as the dead on the other side tried to grab the trowels or the gloved hands of the workers.
The other window began to crack.
“Hurry it up,” Juan ordered. He lifted the walkie-talkie. “Nerit, where are you?”
“Eliminating your problem one by one,” Nerit answered after a beat.
“What?” Juan answered confused.
Linda was laying another brick when a hand grabbed her wrist firmly. Yanking hard, it had her pinned against the freshly made wall.
Screaming, she struggled to get free.
“Taking care of your problem,” Nerit answered coolly.
Suddenly, Linda drew back, the zombie hand still attached to her arm, but now severed right below the wrist.
“Now leave me alone. I have a dozen to take out,” Nerit said.
Juan laughed and ran a hand over his curly hair. He had a vision of Nerit in a window high above systematically killing the zombies gathered at the windows.
And that was exactly what she was doing.
The moans dissipated and, finally, ceased. The hands disappeared from the windows and suddenly the room was eerily silent.
“All done now,” Nerit's voice cackled over the static.
Juan looked down at the walkie-talkie, then looked at Ken. “She's a tough old lady.”
Ken nodded. “She scares me.”
“Good thing she's on our side. Now, let's get this wall done,” Juan ordered.
4. Upwards
Nerit leaned over the balcony railing and made sure that there were no zombies moving below. Bodies littered the street and were bunched up around the front door. It had taken time to take all of them down, but she felt a sense of satisfaction at their demise. Only one zombie remained moving. It was a huge zombie stuck on a lamppost. She was leaving him alive for a reason.
Turning, she moved back into the hotel room. Much to her surprise, she saw an old woman gazing back at her with an intense expression on her face. Nerit realized she was looking into a mirror. Her hand flew up to her face as she stared at the image, startled to see her worn countenance. She had slipped so thoroughly into her role as sniper she had felt young and powerful again. It was a slap of reality to not see the young, blond woman she used to be when in the Israeli army, but instead, the older, stern woman she had become. The eyes still glinted with the same fierceness, but there were fine wrinkles around them now.
Well, enough of vanity. Ralph had found her quite lovely in her old age and that was all that had mattered.