Read Parasite; The True Story of the Zombie Apocalypse Page 24
The morning dawned brightly and carried with it a breeze. My hair blew with each gust, causing stray ends to fly in front of my eyes. Amber still had her hair pulled back in a clip. Although her clothes had succumbed to some of the grit from the rooftop, her hair and face still looked nearly immaculate.
We were like kids on Christmas day; eagerly anticipating what was, hopefully, coming but trying to stay calm. Each of us knew that we needed to keep our heads about us, to keep our excitement checked. There was a real possibility that they would not make it back.
We sat on the edge of the roof’s low wall, all eyes fixed on the tree line where the road entered our view. While the sunlight reflected off of the swaying leaves, we drank the last of the water Dean had tossed up to us.
"Oh, my!" Amber gasped, drawing a hand to her mouth.
Ned and I followed her gaze to a man, obviously infected, who was shambling through the parking lot. He wasn't wearing business clothes, but most of the building's staff had dressed down for casual Friday.
"Is he one of ours?" Ned asked, shielding his eyes for a better view. After a moment's silence, he added, "From our building?"
Now understanding Amber, we shielded our own eyes and tried to make out who he was. The glare made identifying the distant man more difficult.
"I don't think so?" Amber admitted.
"I never saw him," I added, not recognizing him; but in the state he was in, I had no real idea. "Why?"
"I was just hoping that he hadn't figured a way out of the building," he answered. "If they do, it would complicate things."
We watched the sickened man shuffle his way onto the road. He followed the paved surface until he disappeared into the foliage. Acting on Ned's assumption, we walked the perimeter of the building. After circling the entire area, we checked the makeshift rope.
"I think he was alone. Probably just wandered past," he said, as much to sooth his own nerves as to calm us, women.
"We need to be sure," I challenged.
Leaning over the edge of the wall, we couldn't make out the entrance doors. They were inset into the building, providing a small overhang, which came in handy when it was raining.
"We need to hang out a little further so we can see if the doors are still closed," Ned announced.
Amber, being the lightest, volunteered. Ned and I each grabbed a hand and she leaned way out knees perched on the edge of the wall.
"Just a little more," she called out as we let a little more of her hang off of the roof. "A little more." she encouraged.
Ned and I held almost her entire weight as she hung nearly vertical in the open air.
"A tiny bit more," she asked.
A grinding sound gave way to sheer panic as Ned and I lost our footing on the rounded pea gravel. We both slid forward as we dug in, trying to halt our forward progress, both folding at the waist when our feet struck the wall. We pulled back, trying to reel Amber back in. Her scream turned into a cry of pain as one of her legs, having extended back in search of purchase, smacked off of the back edge of the wall.
Heaving with all of our might, we brought our friend back to safety. She immediately dropped to the wall and pulled her wounded limb towards her torso. Amber's hands covered a large, angry-looking split in her shin. Blood oozed beneath her palms as she bit back tears.
The door to the roof immediately erupted. Infected hands striking the surface made the door jump back and forth in its moorings.
I threw the rope over the side as Ned, who had stripped off his dress shirt, wrapped her wound to staunch the bleeding.
"What are you doing?" he called as I tested the rope's anchor point.
"They're going to break through! The smell of blood is driving them into a frenzy."
Looking back over his shoulder, my coworker had to agree.
"Amber goes first!" he stated, dragging the girl to her feet. "You’re next!"
I never believed in the women and children first thing, but I wasn't going to argue. We helped Amber over the edge. Wiping her red hands on her skirt, she looked terrified and disparate.
"Do you think it'll hold?" she asked, looking directly into my eyes.
I faked a confident grin and said, "Sure it will. You have nothing to worry about."