Chapter 234: Chapter 234 - Trapped Again
Malcolm’s POV
Malcolm ran first, shotgun tight against his shoulder, and the others followed.Harry stayed closest, breathing hard but keeping his head. Arnulf pushed behind him, one hand gripping his rifle, the other shoving Archie forward every time the kid slowed down.
"Keep on him," Arnulf snapped.
"I am," Archie said, but his voice shook.
They weren’t.
Not cleanly.
They followed Malcolm’s path, but every noise pulled their eyes away. Every undead that stepped out made them slow. Every twitcher made Archie flinch like his body wanted to run in another direction.
A walker came from the left, dragging itself between two cars, and Malcolm shot it before it cleared the hood.
"Move."
They moved.
Another came from the right. Harry fired and hit the shoulder. The body spun but kept coming, and Archie stumbled back into Arnulf.
"Head," Malcolm barked without turning.
Harry cursed and fired again. This time it dropped.
"Sorry,"
"Don’t be sorry. Be faster." Malcolm muttered looking at the closing gaps.
They pushed down the street, but the sound had already done damage. Walkers turned from every corner. Twitchers jerked in place, then broke into sudden sprints, cutting through the slower dead like blades through grass.
Archie raised his gun too soon and fired three times at one coming from an alley. Two shots missed. One hit the chest. The twitcher didn’t slow.
Malcolm cut across him, slammed a hand into his shoulder, and forced him behind a car just as the twitcher launched. It hit the hood with a scream, claws scraping metal, and Malcolm fired into its skull at close range.
Archie stared at the body, mouth open.
Malcolm grabbed the front of his shirt and shoved him forward. "You stop, you die."
Archie nodded too fast. "Okay. Okay."
"Then move."
They ran again.
The route to the base was ahead, but the street was already filling. Undead poured in from the next intersection, more than Malcolm could count in a clean glance. Behind them, more dragged toward the gunfire. Left was closing. Right was worse.
Harry saw it too. "Malcolm."
"I see it."
Arnulf looked around, trying to hold his people together even with panic pulling at his face. "Can we cut through?"
"No."
"We follow you," Arnulf said. "Just tell us where."
Malcolm cursed under his breath as a fresh wave came out from a broken storefront. Every direction had movement now. Every route back to the base was turning into bodies.
"Building." He turned hard and ran for the nearest entrance.
The others followed, but Archie almost kept going straight. Harry caught him by the collar and yanked him back.
"Where the hell are you going?"
"I thought we were going back."
"We’re following him."
Malcolm hit the door with his shoulder. Locked. He fired into the latch and kicked it open, then went in first with the shotgun raised.
The lobby was dark and stale. A walker turned from behind the counter, and Malcolm put it down before the others even cleared the doorway.
"Inside. Close it."
Arnulf shoved the door back, but Archie tried to help and nearly trapped Harry outside.
"Move your hand," Harry snapped.
Archie pulled back. "Shit."
The undead hit the glass before they could lock anything. The whole frame shook.
"Stairs," Malcolm said.
Arnulf pointed. "Back left."
They ran.
The stairwell was narrow, and that made it worse. Archie kept looking over his shoulder. Harry kept pushing him. Arnulf kept calling for them to stay close, but his own breathing was getting rough.
Below them, the undead forced into the building.
Hands slapped the walls. Feet dragged over broken tiles. A twitcher shrieked somewhere inside, and Archie raised his gun toward the stairs.
Malcolm shoved the barrel down before he could fire.
"Don’t shoot blind."
"It’s coming."
"And you’ll bring everything faster."
Archie swallowed hard and lowered the gun.
They climbed.
Second floor.
Third.
Harry slipped on a step and caught the rail with a curse. Archie looked back again, lost half a second, and Arnulf shoved him so hard he almost fell forward.
"Keep moving," Arnulf said.
"I am."
"You’re looking, not moving."
Malcolm reached the top landing and found the roof door chained shut.
"Fuck."
Harry came up behind him. "Tell me it opens."
Malcolm grabbed the chain and pulled once. Solid.
It didn’t.
The stairwell shook below them as bodies pushed in.
Arnulf lifted his gun. "They’re close."
"Back."
They gave him space. Not enough. Malcolm looked once and they scrambled farther back.
He fired into the lock. The blast filled the stairwell and Archie flinched so hard he hit the wall. The chain held, bent but not broken.
Malcolm drove the butt of the shotgun into it. Once. Twice. Then he kicked the door hard.
The latch tore loose.
The door flew open, and they spilled onto the roof.
Cold air hit them.
Malcolm went straight to the edge.
The street below was gone.
Undead filled it from both sides, packed thick across the road and spilling around cars. More came from the next block. Then the next. Twitchers moved through the horde in violent bursts, slamming into vehicles and walls, searching for the source of the sound.
Harry stepped beside him and stopped. "Jesus."
Arnulf looked toward the direction of the base. His face tightened. "We can’t go back through that."
"No," Malcolm said.
Archie came up last, saw the street, and backed away from the edge. "So what now?"
The roof door slammed behind them.
Once.
Then again.
Something hit it from the stairwell side.
Archie spun and raised his gun with both hands shaking.
Malcolm caught his wrist and pushed the barrel down. "Not until I say."
Archie’s throat moved. "Okay."
Harry looked across the rooftops. "Can we jump?"
Malcolm scanned the gaps. Some were close. Some weren’t. Harry could make it. Maybe Arnulf. Archie would hesitate, and hesitation would kill him.
Behind them, the door shook harder.
Below them, the horde tightened within two blocks, every street feeding more bodies toward the building.
Arnulf looked at Malcolm. "We’re trapped."
Malcolm reloaded, eyes still moving.
"Not yet."
Malcolm moved first. He dropped the bag only carrying the machete in his leg and the shotgun on his chest. The others followed suit.
He backed up, judged the gap once, then ran and jumped to the next building. He landed hard, turned at once, and lifted a hand. "Harry."
Harry came fast, boots slamming against the roof. He jumped a little too late. His foot clipped the edge and his body pitched forward. Malcolm lunged, caught his forearm with one hand and the back of his vest with the other, then dropped to a knee from the weight.
"Hold," Malcolm grunted.
Harry cursed through his teeth as his boots scraped the wall. Arnulf grabbed Malcolm by the shoulder and helped pull while Archie stood frozen for half a second before he rushed in too. Together they dragged Harry over the ledge and onto the roof.
Harry rolled onto his back, breathing hard. "That was close."
"Too close," Malcolm cracked his knuckles. "Again and I let you fall."
Harry gave a short laugh that died fast.
Arnulf crossed next. Cleaner. Archie followed last and nearly hesitated at the edge, but Malcolm’s stare pushed him through. He made it, stumbled on the landing, and caught himself on both hands.
For a few seconds they just stood there, bent over, pulling air into their lungs.
The undead couldn’t reach them now. Not from the street. Not with the gap between the buildings. The ones below crowded under the edges and drifted in circles, pulled by the noise but with no path up.
It should have felt like relief.
It didn’t.
They were stranded on another roof with the city closing under them, and every street around the block was filling. They couldn’t go back to the base. They couldn’t go down. They could only breathe for a minute and pretend that counted as safety.
Then something landed on the roof they had just left.
All four of them snapped their heads toward it.
A hunter crouched near the ledge, white and lean and wrong, its limbs spread as it absorbed the impact. It moved at once, slashing through two undead still pulling themselves out of the roof door. One went down with its throat opened. The other got a claw through the face.
Then it stopped.
It lifted its head.
Click.
Click.
Click.
No one moved.
Archie was closest to the edge. Closest to the gap. Closest to it if it jumped.
Malcolm saw the kid lock up from where he stood. His rifle was in his hands, but too low, too slow, and his breathing was already too rough.
Something clattered somewhere below. Metal on concrete. The hunter’s head turned down toward the street, clicking harder now as it studied the hundreds of undead gathered beneath the buildings.
Malcolm’s eyes dropped to its chest.
Bullet holes.
His heart thudded once, hard enough to hurt.
Base.
Did it go to the base?
Iyisha.
Lance.
Are they okay?
He kept his face flat, but his stomach turned cold.
Slowly, without taking his eyes off the hunter, he lifted two fingers and crooked them toward Archie.
Come here.
Slow.
Archie saw it. His eyes flicked to Malcolm, then back to the hunter. He started inching sideways, one careful step at a time, shoulders tight, mouth parted as he tried to keep his breathing quiet.
Good.
A little more.
The hunter kept clicking at the street.
Archie took another step.
Then something sounded somewhere. Whatever it was, he jolted.
He threw himself toward them.
The hunter’s head snapped up.
It screeched.
"Down," Malcolm barked.
The hunter launched across the gap.
Malcolm fired.
The blast hit it in the chest midair and kicked it off line. Its claws scraped the ledge for a second, then missed. The body dropped between the buildings, hit something metal on the way down, then vanished into the street.
A beat later the sound reached them.
Then the screaming started below.
Undead surged toward the fall. More heads lifted. More bodies turned. The gunshot rolled across the blocks and pulled everything tighter.
"Shit," Harry said.
Arnulf went to the edge, took one look, and cursed. "That brought them all."
Malcolm reloaded and stepped beside him.
The streets were getting worse by the second. Bodies packed the intersections. More dragged out from side roads. Twitchers cut through the mass in jerking bursts, smashing into cars, walls, each other, then snapping toward the sound of the shot. It looked like the whole area was closing around them.
"We can’t stay here," Harry said.
"No," Malcolm said.
Archie still looked shaken, pale and breathing hard. "Then where do we go?"
Malcolm looked across the roofs, then down at the streets below, then farther out where every route looked just as bad.
He didn’t answer right away.
Because the truth sat there with all of them.
The undead couldn’t reach them here.
But they couldn’t escape either.
