Dark Days: The Long Road Home, a post apocalyptic novel (5 page)

He grabbed her face, crushing his lips to hers.

She didn’t have a chance to react before he let go, her traitorous lips burning for more as he eased his head and shoulders into the opening.

Christopher grabbed the ladder, the muscles in his arms straining. The veins rose to the surface as he pulled the rest of his body through.

Gemma could still feel the echo of his mouth on hers, and brought a finger to her lips as she stared after him, his dark eyes locked on her as his head bobbed down past the hole in the wall.

“He might be needing that light now,” Robert said softly.

Gemma flushed as she thrust the torch through.

The uneven flicker of the flames cast strange, distorted shadows on the rungs, and she worried he'd misjudge his step and fall.

As Christopher's confidence grew he moved faster, the dull clunk of his shoes causing a cheer to come from below.

Christopher's face broke into a grin as he looked up, and Gemma nearly melted then and there as the years suddenly fell away, her heart stuttering like a lovesick schoolgirl.

*
 
*
 
*

Christopher gripped the rungs firmly. He'd never been so scared in his life, but the worry on Gemma's face made him hold it in check.

The memory of the softness of her lips against his, and the faint smell of her that seemed to linger, drove him on. He knew he wouldn't be satisfied until he held her in his arms again.

Torn between his own safety, and the need to get Gemma out of the city before all hell broke loose, Christopher moved as quickly as he could.

His body was tensely coiled, and he had to make a conscious effort to relax his neck and shoulders.

In the gloomy light below he could see the cables holding the elevator in place, and the dark void beside it.

He'd always thought himself reasonably fit, but already there was a slow, dull burn in his muscles.

It didn't help matters when Becky started to cry. The sound of her scared, pitiful wails had him tensing up all over again.

Gritting his teeth, Christopher tried to block it out.

As his foot came down on the next rung, he heard a soft, almost broken hum coming from below.

The humming grew louder, and in it he could hear Megan's battle over her own fear as she tried to settle her daughter.

Hush little baby, don't say a word

Mama's gonna buy you a mocking bird.

From above came the low, deep rumble of a man's voice as Robert picked up the lullaby, his head appearing beside Gemma's.

If that mocking bird don't sing

Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring.

The child's sobs tapered off, and Megan's voice grew stronger, her sweet tones mixing with Robert's deep baritone.

Accompanied by the sounds of their voices, Christopher felt his muscles relax as he continued, and he was surprised when he swung his foot back and his heel hit the edge of the elevator.

His breath exploded out him.

The singing stopped.

“Hello?”

“Hello," Christopher said as he switched on the key-light, all too aware that one wrong move could have him tumbling to certain death.

Still gripping the ladder firmly, he stepped onto the elevator roof.

“Please don't stop,” Megan shouted at Robert when Becky started to whimper again. “It makes her feel safe. It – it makes me feel safe.”

Christopher lowered himself to his hands and knees, not sure if the movement he felt was the elevator shifting, or the strange, dim flicker of the torch that made it feel that way.

Locating the latch, he slid it across, and pulled the hatch open as the soothing rumble of Robert's voice swelled around him.

Megan squinted against the dim light with a smile so wide it threatened to split her tearstained face apart.

“You've got no idea how glad I am to see you,” Megan breathed.

5

“Come on, let's get you two out of there,” Christopher said.

Megan was young, most likely still in her teens. She had the same strawberry-blonde hair and pale face as the little girl clutching her neck. Becky popped her thumb in her mouth, her tiny tear-streaked face staring up at him with wonder.

Fear made Christopher's mouth go dry. He had no idea how the hell he was going to pull this off.

“Please, take my daughter,” Megan begged as she tried to pry Becky's arms away, but the little girl only clung harder.

“Did you find the ladder?” Robert shouted.

Christopher brightened. “Ladder?”

“There should be a rope ladder in a box near the hatch.”

“Robert, I could just kiss you,” Gemma said.

“Don't let me stop you,” Robert joked with a self-conscious laugh.

When Gemma planted a noisy kiss on Robert's cheek, Christopher couldn't help but wish he'd been on the receiving end.

Locating the box, Christopher tugged at the ladder. His mind jumped ahead – he could use it to secure Becky.

“Damn it,” Christopher growled.

“Christopher?” Gemma's voice was filled with concern.

“It's nothing,” Christopher said, the disappointment sharp. The ladder was securely attached to the inside of the box.

“It didn't sound like nothing.”

“I Just – just hurt my hand.”

He didn't want to worry Megan. The girl obviously hadn't thought past getting out of the elevator. She had no idea of the climb ahead of them.

Megan stepped back as the ladder rolled down. She pulled her daughter's arms from around her neck, and ignoring the screams, lifted her high into the air.

Christopher grabbed the thrashing child, quickly yanking her up through the hatch.

Still screaming, Becky immediately circled her arms tightly around his neck. Her breath was hot on the side of his face as her legs gripped his waist.

Instinctively, Christopher cradled her against his chest. One hand automatically stroked her soft, wispy hair to calm her as Megan tried to tame the wobbly rope ladder.

A thin, pale arm came through the hatch, dumping a large navy-blue diaper bag on the roof. A moment later Megan's head appeared, startled blue eyes widening as the reality of the situation hit her.

Biting her bottom lip, Megan reached for the cables to pull herself out.

“No," Christopher snapped, "they're covered in grease.”

“Oh.” Megan's gaze fell on the metal ladder.

Christopher could see her thoughts churning as she realized what came next.

Megan closed her eyes and took a deep, shaky breath. Then bracing herself with her arms, she pulled herself up until she was sitting on the edge of the hatch, her skinny jean clad legs dangling down.

Thankfully Becky had quieted, but she was still holding onto his neck for dear life, her little face mesmerized by the fire above.

“Is now a good time to mention I'm afraid of heights?” Megan asked.

Shit. Now what?
He was close to panic himself, and this little announcement didn't do anything for his racing heart.

“Actually terrified would be more accurate,” Megan amended.

Christopher just stared at her, but when Becky nuzzled into his neck, his years of working with clients kicked in.

“The way I see it, you have two choices,” Christopher grunted.

“I do?”

“You can stay here and let your fear kill you. Or you can deal with it.”

“You're right.” Megan nodded, the struggle to stay calm shining determinedly in her eyes even as her hands shook as she pulled the bag toward her.

She took a striped purse out of the side compartment, and tried to jam it into her jeans pocket. It was hopeless. The denim was so tight it looked as though it had been painted on.

“Pain in the ass to replace all that plastic,” Megan shrugged.

She had no idea what had happened! That her plastic was just plastic.

Christopher pointed at the bag, his tone gentle. “Do you have anything in there I can secure your daughter with?”

“Um – no – I don't think so.”

Megan's eyes suddenly brightened. She detached the plastic clips holding the strap to the bag.

“That's a good start,” Christopher approved as she held up a sturdy length of canvas.

Megan unzipped the bag, and started pulling things out. Diapers, an empty bottle, a fruit box, a package of wipes. “We could put her in the bag.”

Christopher shook his head. It was a good idea, but there was no way he'd be able to heave the bag up the ladder with a struggling child in it.

“My jeans,” Megan said.

“Your jeans?”

“We could use them to tie her to me.”

“I think it would be better if I took her,” Christopher said carefully.

Christopher saw the struggle in Megan's eyes. The need to keep her daughter close. But then Megan looked dubiously at the ladder again, and with the fear of a mother who knows the danger that lies ahead, she nodded her head solemnly.

“I would be wearing my
granny panties,” Megan scowled.

Christopher gaped at her, quickly averting his eyes as she unzipped her jeans.

“Granny panties, huh?” Despite the awkwardness of the moment, Christopher couldn't help the chuckle that rose in his throat. “Never heard that one before.”

Christopher balked at the idea of the frightened young woman having to climb the ladder, her rear end exposed, in her
granny panties.
“Wait. It would be better if we use mine.”

“It would?” Megan asked.

“My legs are longer than yours,” Christopher said. “But you're going to have to help – your daughter doesn't seem to want to let go of me.”

To prove his point, Becky whimpered as he tried to relax her fierce grip on his neck.

“She feels safe with you.” Megan finally pulled her dangling legs from the safety of the hatch. “She can sense that I'm a nervous wreck.”

“Are you okay to hold her?”

Nodding her head, Megan slowly stood, glancing down into the darkness beside them. “Just how high are we?”

“Keep your eyes on me,” Christopher said, seeing the beginnings of panic in her face.

Megan nodded her head quickly, almost desperately, her words tumbling from her mouth. “That shouldn't be too hard. You're pretty easy on the eyes.”

Her mouth dropped open, forming a perfect O. “Sorry – I didn't mean to say that. It's just – it's my nerves. Makes me ramble. And hot guys like you always make me nervous. Geez – see – there I go again.”

His mind on what they needed to do, Christopher ignored Megan's outburst. “You'll have to undo my belt,” he said. She was still far too shaky to hold her daughter.

Megan's face flushed bright red, and Christopher deliberately lightened his tone. “And no perving, young lady.”

“I won't – really. I promise,” Megan said. Then realizing he was joking, she smiled uncertainly, a bit of fire returning to her eyes. “Not that you aren't totally perv worthy.”

A few minutes later – the two of them a little redder in the face – Christopher held the squirming infant at an awkward angle as Megan pulled the pants over her daughter's legs and chest.

As soon as she was done, Becky wrapped her legs tightly around Christopher's waist again.

“Okay – now tie the legs behind me as tight as you can,” Christopher instructed.

Megan shuffled behind him, yanking at the pants.

"Maybe not quite that tight," Christopher gasped.

"Sorry." Megan tugged at the pants. "Do you think it will hold?”

“How many knots are there?”

“I don't know, about ten? I just kept going until there was nothing left.”

“It'll hold,” Christopher said.

He tried not to let the worry show in his voice. Because once they were up there – if Becky wasn't secured properly – the consequences would be fatal.

“Now what?” Megan asked.

“The strap. Pass it to me.”

Craning his chin over Becky's shoulder, Christopher threaded it through the belt loops at the back of the pants.

Amazingly the child didn't wriggle or squirm. Maybe she sensed how important this was.

“Here, let me.” Megan took over. "Give me your arm."

The strap was a long length of canvas that had been joined at the ends. Megan threaded one of the ends over his arm, up to his shoulder, then did the same on the other side.

Christopher shrugged his shoulders. The strap slid down his arm. “It's too loose.”

And even if it were tight enough it would restrict his movements.

“I'm not done yet.” Megan grabbed his belt, all traces of the terrified teen gone as she focused on her task.

She stood behind him and threaded it between the straps behind his shoulders, pulling it into the centre of his back.

“Clever girl,” Christopher said, rotating his shoulders once she'd secured it.

“I'm still not done.”

She grabbed a green sweater from the bag, and standing in front of him, poked it under the straps. She drew them in until they were about three inches apart on his chest, taking the pressure of his shoulders and securing Becky close to his chest.

The light suddenly flickered and dimmed.

Megan let out a tiny shriek that she attempted to stifle, but when the light went out completely, she clung to Christopher as fiercely as Becky.

As ink-black dark pushed in on them, Christopher felt his heart stutter. Disorientated – and with no idea how close to the edge they were – all he could do was bend his knees against the sudden weight of Megan.