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    Zombie City: Episode 2: Zombie City, #2
    Zombie City: Episode 2: Zombie City, #2
    Zombie City: Episode 2: Zombie City, #2
    Ebook99 pages1 hour

    Zombie City: Episode 2: Zombie City, #2

    By M.F. Soriano

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    About this ebook

    The Zombie City series continues with Shane's escape from the murderous halls of the ZapPow! company offices. Unfortunately, the infection has spread to San Francisco's streets, and South Beach is now swarming with sick, blood-hungry hipsters. Shane finds temporary shelter, and other survivors, on the rooftops. But survival comes at a cost, and Shane's new companions aren't patient with slow learners.

    This is part 2 in the 5-part serial.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherM.F. Soriano
    Release dateMar 2, 2018
    ISBN9781386814375
    Zombie City: Episode 2: Zombie City, #2

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      Book preview

      Zombie City - M.F. Soriano

      Chapter 1

      D ammit! Shane yelled , shaking the locked door handle with all of his strength.

      The first man was only a few feet away, his shaggy beard matted with blood, his dead eyes showing through thick-framed glasses.  The second man—a beefy guy in a pink crop-top shirt stained red from chest to belly—was right behind the first.  Four more infected people had lurched into the alley behind the first two, and all of them were coming for Shane.

      There were five bullets left in Shane's gun—not enough, especially considering his shooting performance so far.  And besides, the noise of the firing gun seemed to be what had brought this group down on him in the first place.

      There wasn't time to fish through his pockets looking for the keycard to unlock the door.  He didn't think he could dodge around all of the infected people and escape to the street.

      Shane let go of the door handle and took a few steps back, darting a glance over his shoulder.

      The alley went back for another twenty feet, dead-ending where the neighboring building abruptly jutted out to meet the ZapPow! building.  The two buildings had probably been built around the same time—they were both made from the same red brick, and the bricks for both looked equally old and crumbly—but the neighboring building was only three stories tall, whereas the ZapPow! building was five.

      More importantly, the neighboring building had a staircase fire escape running down the wall near the alley's end.

      Shane turned and ran for the back of the alley, trying to put as much distance between himself and the group of infected people as he could.  From what he'd seen, they were relentless, but they weren't especially fast.  He looked at the fire escape as he ran, trying to think of how to get up onto it.

      The lowest level of the fire escape was a railed-in platform outside a window for the first floor.  He guessed the window to be at least eighteen feet above the floor of the alley, and the bottom of the platform was maybe a yard below that.  The last rung of the retracted ladder hung another yard closer to the ground, about twelve feet up.

      There wasn't anything to stand on in the alley—no dumpsters or trashcans or old empty boxes—and there wasn't anything he could use to hook the bottom rung and pull the ladder down.  The ladder hung from the side of the platform that was nearest the street, so he had no chance of springing off the back wall toward the hanging ladder—it was too far, and he wasn't Jackie Chan.

      There was, however, a vertical drainpipe affixed to the alley's back wall.  He might be able to climb high enough on the pipe to jump for the platform from above.

      Shane ran for the pipe.  When he got to it, he shoved the gun through the pocket slit of his coveralls and tucked it muzzle first into the waistband at the back of his pants.  His left hand was still covered with a rubber cleaning glove.  He took the glove off, stuffed it into his pocket, and glanced over his shoulder.  The bearded man was only about a dozen feet away, lurching forward steadily, with the others right behind.

      Shane wiped his palms against his thighs, drying off the sweat, and then he reached up as high as he could on the pipe and took hold.

      The metal was cold against his palms.  The paint flaked beneath the fingers of his left hand.  He scrubbed his hand over the metal, knocking the loose paint off, and then wiped his hand on his coveralls quickly.  He raised his hand and took hold again.

      The pipe was fastened to the wall with metal collars bolted into the brick.  The first collar was about thirty inches above the ground.  He lifted his right foot and pressed his instep atop the collar, tight against the pipe.  Then, gripping with his hands, he lifted his weight onto that foot, and brought his left foot up onto the collar on the opposite side of the pipe.

      Shane raised his hands, one at a time, and grabbed the pipe higher up.  The next metal collar was too high for his feet, so he looked at the bricks for a protruding edge for his foot.  There was a crumbled brick just above his left knee.  He raised that foot, fitted the toe of his boot into the gap in the wall, and lifted himself up onto it, straightening the leg.

      Not far behind him, the lead lurcher breathed out a long moan.  The others joined in, an eerie chorus that reverberated off the close alley walls.

      Shane raised his hands, one at a time, and gripped the pipe higher up.  He lifted his right foot, scraping the toe across the bricks, feeling for a foothold.  He found one about two feet out, a foot and a half higher than his left foot.  He placed his foot, stepped up onto it, which brought his feet within reach of the next metal strap.  He stepped up onto it quickly, chanced a look backwards.

      The lurcher with the bloody beard was only a step away.  His head was almost even with Shane's feet.

      Damn, Shane said.

      Shane bent his knees, dropping his weight down, and then sprang upward, trying to jump as high as he could.  At the apex of his jump he clamped his hands tight around the pole, and then he scrambled with his feet for a foothold.

      Blood Beard reached up.  His fingertips were just below Shane's flailing feet.

      Shane couldn't find a foothold, and the vertical pipe wasn't easy to grip.  He raised his feet, bracing them flat against the wall and pushing, to increase the pressure of his fingers against the pipe and to get his feet farther away from the man below.

      The second lurcher, Crop Top, had come up beside the first, and he reached up eagerly too, straining toward Shane.  The third came near, and the fourth, squeezing tight together around the pipe, reaching up, moaning.  They pressed against each other, jockeying for position.

      Dammit, Shane said, looking at the wall below him desperately, trying to find a foothold.  He needed to get his weight back onto this feet.  His forearms had already started to tremble and cramp.  His arms weren't strong enough to hold all of his weight for long.

      The fifth and sixth lurchers reached the bottom of the pipe, packed in with the others.  They all began to claw at the pipe and the wall.  Their moaning grew louder, their

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