I turned the light back on and started crawling.
Slow.
Measured.
The ductwork creaked under my weight, but not enough to carry. I followed the direction of airflow toward the outer wall. After a few feet, I found it. A vertical maintenance ladder bolted to the wall leading up.
Good.
I climbed the short ladder to the hatch above me. Of course, the damn thing was sealed.
I grabbed my knife from my waist, wedged it into the seam of the hatch, and applied pressure. The metal gave way with a soft pop.
I froze.
Counting to ten in my head, I was relieved when nothing happened.
I pushed gently on the hatch, and it lifted just enough to let in a strip of daylight and sound.
I eased it open another inch and looked out.
The roof was clear, but the parking lot wasn’t. The infected surrounded us on all sides.
Dozens.
Maybe more.
I had to find a way to get them out of here. Scanning the lot, I saw a car near the side of the building angled toward the road.
The driver’s door was hanging open, and it appeared the keys were still in the ignition.
If a car alarm drew them to us, maybe the same thing would draw them away.
I glanced back toward the hatch and thought about the two men inside.
I could get out of this myself and find Taryn. I had prepared for every scenario out there… except this one.
I had months, if not years, worth of food and supplies. My place was as secure as I could make it against any human enemy. “Human” was the keyword. Unless you hit them in the head, they’d keep coming. Going on supply runs or hunting trips would be extremely risky.
I had to face the fact that I couldn’t protect her alone. She was the only thing I had left in this world, and I’d burn it down to keep her safe.
“Shit,” I whispered.
I was going to have to save them. Adrian was brilliant, and if he thought their sickness was different, then I’d trust him… for now.
I stayed low as I crossed toward the edge, boots rolling heel to toe to keep my weight quiet. Gravel shifted underfoot, but the wind carried the sound away.
Below, the parking lot churned with infected.
They pressed against the front of the pharmacy in a slow, restless mass. Some wandered aimlessly while others circled, eyes fixed on the glass as if waiting for something to give.
They weren’t leaving on their own. Which meant I had to move them.
My eyes tracked the side of the building.
There.
A drainage pipe bolted to the wall. Old and rusted in places, but anchored.
