Life After The Undead (Book 2): Death to the Undead (23 page)

“Quinn!”
I
screamed and
headed
to
my
cell. I
grabbed
my
gun
and
went
back
into the
main
room.

I
took out the
man
first.
He
wasn’t
the
closest,
but he
was
the
bigger
threat.
He
could
move
faster
than
the
woman
on the
floor.
The
bang
of
the
gun
made
my
ears
ring
instantly
after
I
fired
the shot, but
I
couldn’t
worry
about
it.
It
was
better to
be
deaf
than
consumed
alive.

The
bullet
hit the
guy
above
the
right
temple.
His
head
jerked
back
and
he
fell
down the
ladder.
I
turned
my
attention
to the
woman.
She
was
a
few
steps
in front of
me, still hissing
and
grabbing
for
my
legs.
The
bullet hit
her
in the
top of the
head.
Brain,
bone,
and
ichor
sprayed
into
my
face.

“Krista!”
Quinn’s
voice
called
behind
me.

I
didn’t have
time to turn
around.
I
ran to the
trap
door
and
looked
down
the
hole.
Several
zombies
were
clambering
over
their
fallen
brother,
trying
to
negotiate
the
ladder.
I
slammed
the
door
shut. I
grabbed
the
edge
of
the
desk
and
tried
to pull it
over
the
door,
but it
was
bolted
to the
floor.
I
felt
hands
on
my
arms
and
swung
around.

“Krista,
it’s me.”
His voice
sounded
far off, like
he
was
talking
under
water. “You
okay?”

I
took a
deep
breath
and
nodded,
relaxing
just a
little.

I
turned to Quinn. His
cheeks
were
puffed
out as
he
let
out a
breath,
his
hands
ran
through
his
hair.
Not the
best
way
to be
woken
up.

“You
scared
the
crap
out
of
me,”
he
said.

“You? Imagine
how
I
felt
seeing
a
zombie
crawling
through
the trap
door.
How did they
get
up the
ladder?”

He
shook his
head.
“I
don’t know, but they
did. We’d
better
get
our stuff
and
get
out of
here.”

I
nodded
in
agreement
and
went
to
gather
my
things.
As
I
turned,
a
pounding
resounded
on the
stairwell
door.
Quinn and
I
stopped
and
looked. Was
I
hearing
things?
I
had
to
be.
My
ears
were
still
ringing
from
the
gun
shots. There
was
no
way
both of our
exits
were
blocked
by
undead. We
checked
everything before
going
to
sleep.
The
stairway
was
clear,
and
the door to
the outside
from
the emergency
exit
was
closed.
They
couldn’t
have
gotten
through
both.
They
just couldn’t.
The
pounding
sounded
louder.
My
heart
fluttered,
my
breath
came in
gasps.
I
glanced
at
Quinn.
His face
was
white.

“What
are
we
gonna
do?”
I
asked.

“We
still
have
to
get
out
of
here. Get
your
stuff.”

If
it
wasn’t
for
the
incredible pain
in
my
shoulder,
I
would
have
thought
I
was in a
dream.
I
shoved my
stuff
into
my
bag.
It
didn’t take
long,
and
within a
few
minutes,
I
was
back
in the
main
room
with Quinn. He stood
over
the
emergency
exit, his
hands
on his hips,
staring
at
the
trap
door.

“What?
Is
it
clear?”

He
shook his
head.
“No.”

I
bit
my
lip
and
stared
from him to the
stairwell
door.
The
creatures
still pounded mercilessly
on the other
side.

“How
are
we
going
to
get
out? We’re trapped.”

“We’ll
have
to
go
up.”

“Up?
Like
to the
roof?”

He
stared
at
me.
He
was
annoyed.
“What
other
choice
do we
have?”

I
clenched
my
jaw, angry
he
would
snap
at
me
like
that. I
wanted to
yell
back
at
him,
tell
him this
wasn’t
my
fault
and
remind
him we
were
in a jail, but
I
bit back the
words.
There
was
probably
some
other
secret
door
hidden in the
ceiling.
There
had
to
be
another
way
in.

Quinn
knew
what
he
was
doing.
I
followed
him down the
hall
with the
cells.
He
placed
his
bags
on the
floor
and
glanced
up. I
followed
his
gaze.
The ceiling
was
concrete
blocks, like
the
rest
of
the
walls
in the
area.
My
hope
faltered.
He
jumped,
trying
to hit a
block
with his
hands,
but
fell
short.

“Grab
me one
of the chairs out
there,
would
ya?”

I
did as he
asked,
dragging
the heavy
metal
chair
across
the floor.
It
made
a
god-awful
scraping,
which
caused
the pounding
on the
door
to
become
more
urgent,
and
I
was
sure
I
heard the
trapdoor rattling.
I
hurried to
the
end
of
the
hall. After
giving
Quinn the
chair,
I
rushed back
to the
front
of
the
hallway
and
closed
the
door. I
felt
a
little
safer
with
one
more
barrier
between
me
and the
undead.

Quinn
climbed
onto the
seat
and
stretched
up. He
was
still a little
short, but
he
could
reach
the
ceiling
with
his
fingertips.
He
scraped the
surface,
and
white chunks
fluttered
to the
ground. Steadying
himself
on the
wall
with his
left
hand, he
hopped
from
the
chair
and
rammed
his fist into the
block. I
was
shocked
when it went
through.
His fist
was
caught,
and when he
came
back
down, it
tore
a
large
chunk out of the
block. I
ran
over
to
him
and
glanced
up.