This Rotten World (Book 2): We All Fall Down Read Online Free Page A

that's all he could
tell. When would this end?
    Zeke crouched low, and inched
forward down the stairs, resisting the temptation to go down head first so he
could see what was waiting in the next room. It wasn't long before he no longer
needed to worry. He was halfway down the stairs when the first moan alerted him
to their presence. The landing was populated by four of the creatures, fresh
and bloody, and there was nothing he could do but squeeze the trigger.
    His ears rang after the first
shot. By the time he had pulled the trigger a fifth time, he could barely hear
it. Lou was firing his pistol as well. Their accuracy was shit. Lou was no
marksman, and a submachine gun wasn't necessarily the type of weapon Zeke would
have picked for precision. Nevertheless, the dead died again, and as their feet
hit the second landing, they picked up their pace, knowing that whatever was
lurking in the building was now most likely after them, honing in like sharks
on a bleeding fish. They would not be an easy meal.
    "Let's move our
asses," Zeke said, the bullets freeing him from all restrictions on
speaking. He sprinted to the next stairwell, past corpses that would now stay
dead forever, their brains splattered all over the abused couches, walls, and
floor.
    "I can't wait to get out of
this place," Lou whispered, though by now it was unnecessary as the moans
of the dead filled the hallways. At the top of the stairs, Zeke looked down and
put his finger on the trigger, squeezing off rounds as the tide of the dead
surged up from the bottom floor. The dead fell but were replaced by more faster
than he could shoot. When his gun clicked empty, he stepped back to reload. Lou
stepped into his place and fired more rounds. By the time, Lou's gun was out of
bullets, the battle was already lost.
    The dead were an unstoppable force.
Zeke slammed the new clip home, and pulled the cocking mechanism back, while
Lou fumbled with his handgun. Zeke was thankful that it wasn't a revolver. The
stairs were hopeless. Zeke could see that now. He turned and was about to tell
Lou the same thing, when he spied movement out of the corner of his eye. With
Lou focused on reloading, he hadn't noticed the gnarled fingers of a skinny
woman with pale skin reaching out for him from behind, her mouth already open
and ready to ruin Lou's day.
    "Down!" he yelled. Had
Lou hesitated for even a second, he would have been dead or well on his way
towards it. But he didn't. He dropped to the ground immediately, and Zeke
leveled his gun at the woman's head, firing several rounds to make sure he got
the job done right. The pink mist that erupted from her destroyed eye was proof
that he still had it, the ability to kill, the ability to react to a shitty
situation without thinking about it. Lou jammed the clip home in the handgun as
he popped up off the ground, and they moved down the hallway as the first of
the dead reached the landing. There was no time to formulate a plan. There was
no plan to be formed. This was pure survival. He could taste its metallic
flavor in the back of his throat, his heart beating as if it wanted out of his
chest. More dead lined the hallways of the second floor, slowly advancing on
them.
    Lou cocked his gun and fired as
Zeke took out another one of the dead. They moved through the hallway, putting
down six of them, their aim improving with every shot, but they were still
burning through ammo, and there was no time to refill the clips. They moved to
the end of the hallway on the second floor, leaving bodies in their wake. Zeke
looked over his shoulder, and shuddered at the mob that was approaching. They
had put some distance between themselves and the mass, but they would be here
in another moment.
    Zeke tried the handle of the
door. When it didn't budge, he took a step back and kicked the door with every
ounce of strength he could muster. It flew inward. On the bed, a skinny man in
a wifebeater sat up, a needle hanging out of his arm. Now was not the time