Chapter 156 No Way But Down
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The sixth–floor zombies were still throwing themselves out the windows like a never–ending waterfall of death.
Theresa braced herself, just as one of them came hurtling down–straight for her.
There was no way left, right, up, or down. Nowhere to run.
At that moment, with her hands bound and her body suspended in midair, Theresa suddenly found herself wrapped tight, pressed against the concrete wall.
The zombie lunged–and missed her by inches.
Instead, its gnarled ws shed open Quentin’s forearm. A ribbon of blood arced through the air and sttered across Theresa’s face.
Quentin bent his head, resting his chin lightly on the crown–of hers. He towered over her, shielding her entirely in the cocoon of his arms, using his own body as armor.
Pinned against the cold concrete, Theresa felt the frantic pounding of a heart behind her. Not her own.
“Raaah!<b>” </b>
“Raaah!”
“Raaah!”
Below them, the horde wed and snapped, desperate to reach her.
Just twelve inches separated her boots from the sea of writhing, snarling corpses. Some of them were already swiping at her soles.
Then, she rose.
Kyle had climbed out halfway from the sixth–floor window above, veins bulging across his forehead. He gripped the steel cable with both hands, straining with everything he had to haul Theresa upward–four inches.
“Theresa!”
He was trying to pull her up!
But then–<i>crash</i><i>! </i>
The undead below surged.
The ones still dangling from the bottom of the steel cable got pulled upward too, weighing the line down
even more<b>. </b>
The swarm beneath them only grew wilder, more frenzied.
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They began using their dead brethren asdders, scrambling up the pile. Just sixteen inches more and they’d reach her.
“Kyle! Stop pulling!” Theresa jerked her head out of Quentin’s arms and yelled. Her voice was <b>sharp</b>, urgent. She had already sized up the situation. “Go get the truck!”
First, there <b>was </b>no way Kyle could pull both her and Quentin up six stories. Second, they simply didn’t have that kind of time.
They needed wheels. Now.
Kyle hesitated, jaw clenched, then with a final grunt hoisted Theresa another two inches. Heshed the cable to a chunk of concrete with a makeshift anchor, and without another word, disappeared to fetch the vehicle.
“Theresa! Wait for me!”
Now she hung there, stered against the wall, no more upward pull. Below her, the groaning mouths of the undead kept snapping. Every few seconds, another one fell from above like a grotesque meteor.
Then, right by her ear, came a voice.
“Having fun?”
Theresa gritted her teeth. “Fun your *<b>ss</b><b>.</b><b>” </b>
“I’m having a st,” Quentin saidzily, his voice like azy bubble drifting up from the dead zone. “Don’t you think this is all kind of exciting?<b>” </b>
She stared ahead, stunned.
“Before the world ended, I couldn’t find anything interesting. Now, finally, things are starting to get fun.”
Theresa inhaled slowly, trying not to scream. She reached for the only weapon she had–sarcastic wisdom.
“Young man,” she muttered, “when the world kisses you with pain, you should respond with a smile. Let go of hate. Embrace the beauty. There’s still so much joy left.”
A pause.
“Were you a kindergarten teacher or something?” Quentin asked.
“If the world hadn’t ended, and my mom hadn’t died, I probably would’ve gone to college to be a teacher. That was her dream–me bing a teacher, marrying a civil servant, and settling down in Ansford.”
Quentin chuckled, a soft sound. “Before my dad died, he told me to try and be a civil servant too.”
“D*mn,” Theresa whispered.
Then, it came. The rumble. The one sound that drowned out even the undead.
The roar of an armored engine.
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Chapter 156 No Way But Down
Kyle was back.
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The growl of the vehicle rolled in from the distance like thunder over a dry in. Theresa’s heart<b>, </b>suspended so long in dread, finally cased.
The zombies below didn’t matter anymore. Ten seconds–maybe fifteen–and she’d be safe.
Then came another voice, soft and smug. “Beautiful… I never slept with rissa.”
<b>“</b>What?!”
“Wanna get a hotel room with me?”
“Elbow to hell, jack*<b>ss</b><b>!</b><b>” </b>
She drove her elbow back hard–right into his gut, but instead of hitting something solid, her strike met… nothing.
The rope ckened. The embrace on her back–gone.
She twisted her head around–Quentin was falling down into the ocean of wing, snapping monsters.
“Quentin!”
He hit the horde like a hammer, crashing into the climbing dead. Instead of tearing him apart, they broke his fall–crushed beneath his weight like rotten fruit.
He stood up among them, dusted off his knees, then gave his ankle a sharp twist. It popped back into ce with a sickening crunch.
Then, he waved at her. “Beautiful,” he shouted, “next time you catch me, I’ll go home with you!”
Theresa could only stare.
Then…
Boom.
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