Jake Morrison's Arc

Chapter 8 of 54

The store windows were boarded shut. Jake pressed his face to a gap between planks and saw nothing but plywood and dark. The rescue truck could pull up any minute, and he'd never know. He turned to the others. "I can't see the lot. If I miss the pickup, we're done." Sofia looked up from the duffel bags she was packing. Marcus stopped loading a shelf of weapons. "Roof," Jake said. "There's a ladder in the stockroom. I need eyes up top." Marcus nodded. "Sofia and I keep hunting for gear. Take Marisol." Marisol was already at Jake's side, radio clipped to her belt. Since he'd pulled her from that first creature, she'd stopped flinching at his plans. She just moved. "Let's go," she said, and grabbed a flashlight. They climbed the stockroom ladder. Jake shoved the roof hatch. It gave with a screech, and cold air hit his face. He pulled himself up, then reached down for Marisol. She scrambled out beside him. The city was burning. Orange light glowed for miles across the rooftops. Black smoke rolled into the sky. Below, the streets crawled with creatures. They shuffled between wrecked cars, hunched and twitching, hunting anything that moved. Jake found the lot fast. The rescue truck sat near the storefronts, both back doors flung wide. His chest lifted for one second. Then he saw the ground around it. Bodies in rescue uniforms lay torn apart across the pavement. Dark stains spread under them. Gear was scattered where they'd fallen. Nothing moved by the truck. The people who'd come to save them were dead. Jake gripped the ledge. His one pickup was a graveyard. He looked at Marisol, and his face said what he couldn't. No rescue. No way out. Marisol stared at the truck a long moment. Then she turned to him. "Don't give up," she said. "We can do this." She pointed. "The doors are open. The keys might still be in it. Jake, that truck runs." He followed her hand. The vehicle sat undamaged. Big, armored, built to push through crowds. If they could reach it, they could drive out. He didn't need the rescue team. He needed their truck. "How many between us and it?" he asked. Marisol counted under her breath. "Twenty. Maybe more." The lot was thick with them, drawn by the smell of the dead. Jake climbed back to the hatch and dropped down. Marcus and Sofia looked up. "Rescue's not coming," Jake said. "They're all dead in the lot." Sofia's crowbar sagged in her hand. Then Jake held up a finger. "But their truck's still there, doors open. We take it ourselves." Marcus set down the duffel bag. "Through all those things?" "Through all those things," Jake said. The plan had changed. Now they weren't waiting anymore. They had to fight across a lot full of creatures to reach one truck.