the outline of the open exit door was in view. People were falling and getting trampled as they fought to squeeze through it. Cheryl tried to lift up a woman near her feet, but when she grabbed the woman's ice cold hand and saw her dead eyes, she dropped her and stomped on her head instead.
It was a sad fact, but charity was going to get her killed.
Jostling past a morbidly obese man, her last obstacle to freedom, she squeezed through the doorway. With her knife at the ready, she paused, letting others go past her, screaming down the ledge—in a direction that she knew that ended in a dead end. There was a ten foot drop to the next level, and she knew there was a fire escape ladder a few yards to the east.
"This way!" She yelled, motioning with her hand to the few that looked in her direction.
Some of them followed her; the rest went like lemmings after the larger group.
One by one, she started helping the flock around her jump down to the widest outcropping below where they'd be least likely to lose their balance and fall over the edge. As she held the petite hand of a slender woman, she found herself feeling thankful that the party goers were generally a healthy lot; most of them had just been dancing their assess off a few minutes ago. Then, she made a mental adjustment. What was she doing? She hadn't volunteered to be leader. She didn't even know where she was going herself.
Banishing these doubts in the name of survival, she directed the women towards the ladder. Then, she followed and motioned for the men to keep the line moving. Two of them got in a scuffle as they fought to be the next one down. One punched the other, knocking him over the ledge. His body landed with a CRACK on the next level. Unable to move his legs, he moaned and flailed his arms as the group went past him, knowing that they weren't capable of helping him.
"One more level!" Cheryl yelled down to the woman in the lead as she remembered they were near the cafeteria. It had been designed as a safe room in case of a security breach.
If they could just make it that far…
The shrill burst of sound from the fort's emergency alarms startled her. Someone finally thought to hit the panic button? There were usually frequent reports from the baiting stations on the outskirts of the fort and guards on patrol duty on every side of the building. How was it possible that the building had been breached, and they'd all been caught unaware?
That mystery was complicated a few feet further down when she came to an outcropping used by guards as a watch post, a spot that she'd manned herself many times. There was a soldier sprawled out on his side next to a folding chair with his M16 still clutched in his hands. She recognized the flash of red hair immediately. Private Kelly.
A prickle of heat shot up the back of her already sweaty neck. If he'd been attacked here, then maybe it wasn't safe to keep going down. Maybe—
Three rungs lower, she was closer to the body. She craned her head towards it, expecting to see blood stains seeping through the camouflage fabric of his uniform or some mangled flesh.
There was no sign of trauma.
But, she did see a small hole in the fabric below his left breast pocket. He hadn't been attacked by an Eater— he had been shot .
Killed by friendly fire? Suicide?
Neither seemed likely.
What the hell had happened at the fort tonight as she had been hanging out with the club-goers partying with their blue glowing drinks and bouncing around like jumping beans to the pulsating music?
She wondered if someone had snapped and gone on a killing spree that compromised the fort's security. At the moment, that was the only thing that made sense. Nothing else could account for the sudden disintegration of everything they'd worked so hard to maintain.
Mumbling, "Sorry, buddy", she took the rifle from Kelly's limp fingers, grabbed his backpack that she knew contained extra ammunition, then let the men pass her as she looked out over
It was a sad fact, but charity was going to get her killed.
Jostling past a morbidly obese man, her last obstacle to freedom, she squeezed through the doorway. With her knife at the ready, she paused, letting others go past her, screaming down the ledge—in a direction that she knew that ended in a dead end. There was a ten foot drop to the next level, and she knew there was a fire escape ladder a few yards to the east.
"This way!" She yelled, motioning with her hand to the few that looked in her direction.
Some of them followed her; the rest went like lemmings after the larger group.
One by one, she started helping the flock around her jump down to the widest outcropping below where they'd be least likely to lose their balance and fall over the edge. As she held the petite hand of a slender woman, she found herself feeling thankful that the party goers were generally a healthy lot; most of them had just been dancing their assess off a few minutes ago. Then, she made a mental adjustment. What was she doing? She hadn't volunteered to be leader. She didn't even know where she was going herself.
Banishing these doubts in the name of survival, she directed the women towards the ladder. Then, she followed and motioned for the men to keep the line moving. Two of them got in a scuffle as they fought to be the next one down. One punched the other, knocking him over the ledge. His body landed with a CRACK on the next level. Unable to move his legs, he moaned and flailed his arms as the group went past him, knowing that they weren't capable of helping him.
"One more level!" Cheryl yelled down to the woman in the lead as she remembered they were near the cafeteria. It had been designed as a safe room in case of a security breach.
If they could just make it that far…
The shrill burst of sound from the fort's emergency alarms startled her. Someone finally thought to hit the panic button? There were usually frequent reports from the baiting stations on the outskirts of the fort and guards on patrol duty on every side of the building. How was it possible that the building had been breached, and they'd all been caught unaware?
That mystery was complicated a few feet further down when she came to an outcropping used by guards as a watch post, a spot that she'd manned herself many times. There was a soldier sprawled out on his side next to a folding chair with his M16 still clutched in his hands. She recognized the flash of red hair immediately. Private Kelly.
A prickle of heat shot up the back of her already sweaty neck. If he'd been attacked here, then maybe it wasn't safe to keep going down. Maybe—
Three rungs lower, she was closer to the body. She craned her head towards it, expecting to see blood stains seeping through the camouflage fabric of his uniform or some mangled flesh.
There was no sign of trauma.
But, she did see a small hole in the fabric below his left breast pocket. He hadn't been attacked by an Eater— he had been shot .
Killed by friendly fire? Suicide?
Neither seemed likely.
What the hell had happened at the fort tonight as she had been hanging out with the club-goers partying with their blue glowing drinks and bouncing around like jumping beans to the pulsating music?
She wondered if someone had snapped and gone on a killing spree that compromised the fort's security. At the moment, that was the only thing that made sense. Nothing else could account for the sudden disintegration of everything they'd worked so hard to maintain.
Mumbling, "Sorry, buddy", she took the rifle from Kelly's limp fingers, grabbed his backpack that she knew contained extra ammunition, then let the men pass her as she looked out over
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