Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 5 of 54

The pounding on the front doors grew louder. Marisol held up her radio again. Static crackled through the small speaker. Marcus lowered his gun and stepped closer. He was a mechanic, Jake could tell from the grease worked into his hands. His eyes went straight to the device, not to Jake's face. "That thing actually sends?" Marcus asked. "A weak signal," Marisol said. "No one's answered." Sofia stayed by the vent, crowbar ready. She still watched Jake and Marisol like they might turn. But she spoke up. "If it's weak, we make it stronger. Marcus wired the freezers back on twice." Marcus took the radio and turned it over. "The antenna's too short. That's your problem. It can't throw far enough to hit anyone." He looked at Marisol. "You built this from scraps?" "From an electronics shop," she said. "I know what I'm doing." He almost smiled. "Then let's fix it." He led them to a stockroom shelf and pulled out a coil of copper wire and a metal broom handle. Jake held the light while Marcus and Marisol worked. Sofia guarded the aisle. The doors kept shuddering. Marcus stripped the wire with his teeth and wrapped it up the handle. Marisol soldered the base to her radio with a hot butane lighter. "Higher is better," Marcus said. "We put it on the roof access ladder." He climbed the rungs by the back wall and lashed the antenna above the ceiling line. Marisol thumbed the dial. The static changed. It cleared, then broke into a rough hum. She pressed the button. "This is anyone. We're four survivors in the strip mall. Market Row. Please respond." Nothing. She said it again. Jake watched the doors bend inward at the top hinge. Then a voice broke through. A man. Tired, but real. "Copy. We hear you. Hold your position. We have a truck running the coast road. Give us your building." Sofia dropped her crowbar. Marisol laughed, sharp and shaking. Marcus gripped the ladder and let out a long breath. Jake grabbed the radio. "Market Row. Center strip mall. There's a horde on our front doors. How long?" "Two hours," the voice said. "Maybe three. Roads are bad. Stay quiet. Stay low." The line cut. Two hours. Jake looked at the front doors. The top hinge tore loose with a screech. A gray arm shoved through the gap. Claws raked the air. The barricade groaned. "They won't hold that long," Sofia said. Jake's mind raced. The signal was fixed. Help was coming. But the doors were failing now, and they had hours to wait. He turned to the others. "We can't sit here. We need a room they can't reach." He remembered the store next door. "Marcus. The sporting goods place has iron bars on the doors. It's the strongest spot in this mall." Marcus nodded slowly. "Then we grab food and we move. Before that door comes down."