hmmm....youre not making this one easy, skater
Strongbow jerks awake, eyes blinking as they adjust to the darkened surroundings. Her crowbar falls by her feet, clanging on the old wooden floor. The walkie talkie purrs static nearby.
Cursing the noise and her own fatigue, she checks her watch. "Dammit," she swears to herself, "they should have been back by now."
Dusting off her jeans, she begins to reach for her pack for a drink when she hears the sounds of pounding downstairs.
Thud..thud..thud..
Her heart pounding, Strongbow clenches her crowbar, unsnaps the holsterguard of her .22 and opens the apartment door.
"Oh God..please let it be the group," she breathes, as she peers down the stairs.
THUD..THUD..THUD.
She hears the moans now, growing louder and more anxious as the pounding of many fists now pummel the door, shaking the boards nailed to it. Definately NOT the group.
Stifling a groan, Strongbow slams the door to the apartment, locking it with shaking hands. Fear slowly wells up in her chest as she presses her back against the door.
"God, Strongbow, do NOT panic!" She forces herself to relax, trying to block out the collective moans and the creaks of the overstrained barricade downstairs.
THUD.THUD.THUD.THUD...CRACK! The warped boards of the barricade begin to relent to the assault from outside.
Quickly, Strongbow looks around the room. Cans of oil lay stacked in the corner. Not sure of exactly what to do with it, the group kept them in case the generator at the radiostation in Smithtown needed it. On the counter, a wrinkled pack of cigarettes lies on its side, a pack of matches sitting on top.
She rushes over, frantically kicking the oilcans at the door. Silently willing her hands to stop shaking, she unlocks the apartment door and heads halfway down the stairs, oilcans tucked under her arms.
Pulling out her crowbar, she works the aluminum tops open, the golden liquid spilling down the sides of the cans and splashing on her shoes. Glancing at the door, she nearly screams.
Cracks of sunlight glow through the failing front door, the shadows of undead making the cracks flicker as the pounding continues. Not much time left, she thinks.
Working quickly, she backs up the stairs, pouring the liquid as fast as she can down the stairway, back up to the apartment door. Throwing the empty canisters downstairs, she barely has the door closed, when she hears the final CRAAACK SNAP of the barricade give way and the moans and shuffling that follow..
THEY are in the building.
Rushing across the room, Strongbow grabs her pack, shoves her hands over the straps and cinches them tight. Shoving the cigarettes and matches into her jeans pocket, she runs to the door, pauses as she takes a deep breath and unlocks the door.
The smell of decay slams into her as she throws open the door, pistol drawn and aims down the stairs. 'Oh my bloody saints,' she thinks, 'this is worse than I thought.'
Crowding through the door into the stairwell are a swarm of advancing undead. They are in various states of decay, flesh hanging from outstretched arms, eyeless sockets scanning the hall, swiveling on rubberlike necks. A woman, dried blood coating her dingy nightgown pitches forward, starting a gruesome pileup.
They reach the stairs. Many of them fall facefirst onto the steps, while those behind scrabble slowly over them. Dirty fingers claw at the steps, dragging them forward and onto the oilspill.
Strongbow levels her pistol and fires at the lead zombie. A small hole appears below its right eye, causing it little damage but snapping its head back and creating another pileup on the stairs.
"Bloody things..that should keep you busy a bit." Holstering her pistol,she smiles to herself, knowing that her plan has bought her some precious minutes to escape. Zombies, she knows, are not very agile and have a hard time climbing stairs and ladders.
Closing and locking the apartment door, she runs to the window and peers across the yard. The sun is setting, casting a reddish stain across the sky.
Reaching behind her, she unclips her walkie talkie and depresses the button.
"Guys, where ARE you?", she yells. Static, then a response.
"We are at meetspot Alpha, near the edge of town," the radio squelches. "We were on our way back, but some fool opened the church barricade and let the dammed deadheads out!"
'Bugger the luck' she thinks sourly. "This place is compromised. The barricade is down, I repeat, down. I'm beginning my exit. Wait for me."
"Roger," crackles the radio,"You've got 10 minutes. I'll send a team to cover your back."
"Out." She moves toward the window and shimmies out, balancing on her butt as her feet dangle over the edge. She knows how the landing will be, having practiced it a few times. This would NOT be fun.
She hears moans outside the locked door of the apartment behind her. They'd finally worked their way up the stairs and were now scratching, banging, moaning.
Turning her body so it hangs below the window, she closes her eyes and lets go.
She hits the ground rolling. Jumping up, she breaks into a trot, pack bouncing on her back. She does'nt look back at the swarm surging in the building, some turning slowly to move in her direction.
Within minutes, she meets her escort and they move toward the meetpoint...and survival.
Sorry everyone about the length of this one...It wasnt easy to explain.