Seven Days To Brooklyn: A Sara Robinson Adventure (16 page)

“We’re okay, Sara; I’ll be right over. They’re gone.”
 

Looking back where Sara was standing, Mac scans the maze and cannot figure out where she went. Unbeknownst to him, the commando on the rope had rappelled down Aussie style, face first, and grabbed her while the team above immediately pulled them back up into the rafters. Mac does not realize where she has gone, nor does the rest of the crowd. The commandos were quick and the room dark, and the crowd’s attention was so focused on Mac that they were unaware of Sara’s escape. The crowd begins cheering loudly as Mac starts searching the maze, looking for Sara. Behind him in the center of the room, the booth starts to turn around, and the floor beneath it opens back up. The flesh-eaters are turning the booth from below, letting themselves back into the maze by climbing on top of each other. Reaching up, a bloody hand grabs the underside of the booth and climbs inside. Hearing the commotion behind him, Mac turns around to see a flesh-eater standing face to face with him, just on the other side of the plexiglass of the booth. Above the maze in the auditorium, the announcer stirs the crowd up.
 

“There you go, ladies and gentlemen, a first in Roundhouse history, one survivor left standing. The other nowhere to be found.”
 

He is confused by what has happened and turns to one of the gang members next to him.
 

 
“Where is she?” he says with the microphone turned away from him. The thug shrugs his shoulders in a gesture of, heck if I know, to which the announcer replies, “Find her.” Then, pulling the microphone back to him, he addresses the crowd again. “Chance looks like it has favored our little friend, and now it is time to see if our last survivor has the guts, the gumption, and the wit to make it out alive.”
 

Mac, still standing outside the device, walks around it, flesh-eater following him, pushing the inside of the booth around in a circle revealing an opening just in front of him. As the booth spins around, Mac sees his opportunity to separate the flesh-eaters from him permanently. Wedging his foot into the door and the wall of the booth, it jams the device holding the flesh-eaters inside. He quickly unties his boot and slips his foot out, leaving the boot inside to stop the rotation. Holding the microphone in his right hand, the announcer runs his left hand through his greasy, black hair before pressing the mic button.
 

“Our hero again has defied the odds. Can he make it out alive? What peril awaits him as he exits the maze?”
 

The announcer shuts the microphone back off then turns to the rest of the gang that is standing next to him. “We can’t let him escape. Go down there and finish the job.”
 

Running down from the announcers booth, the gang searches for Mac, who is already making his way back to the doorway where they came into the room. Pushing on the door, Mac swings it open and steps back into the narrow hallway. Running on one boot and a bare foot, he makes it around a corner of the hall before the thugs see him. The thugs push open the auditorium door and step into the arena. The door slams shut behind them, and Mac sees his opportunity to lock it. Running up to the door, Mac slides the rusty metal bar across the handles, trapping the thugs inside. Above, the announcer decides there is only one way to please the crowd. A wide grin comes across his lips as he turns to one of his thugs who is standing next to him. With a raised eyebrow, he motions for him to release a set of locks on two doors on the opposite side of the maze. The doors swing open, and more flesh-eaters make their way into the maze. Smelling the pungent odor of human flesh, it spurs their animalistic senses into a frenzy. They immediately run through the maze, making their way toward the thugs who are frantically trying to go back out the door they just came through. The locked door does not budge, and the roars of applause fill the auditorium as the flesh-eaters tackle the thugs, immediately killing them. In the rafters above, Sara is stunned by what has happened but is happy to be rescued. Waving to his other team members, the leader signals silently with his hand to move out, when Sara stops him.
 

“We can’t leave yet.”
 

“Our orders are to get you out.”
 

“No, I’m not going, not without my friend and not without my gear.”
 

One of the commandos grabs Sara and is about to pull her along with him, when she grabs his right hand and applies an ancient technique of defense taught to her by her sensei. Pushing her thumbs into his wrist, she brings him to his knees and kicks his legs out from under him, leaving him sprawling on the catwalk beneath her. The commando is stunned that a kid could underhand him, and immediately tries to stand back up but is sent writhing on the deck when she reapplies her thumbs to the pressure points in his wrist. The lead commando looks at her in equal disbelief and decides that his objective can wait.
 

“Okay, we can find your friend and your gear.”
 

 
Sara releases her grip on his wrist and steps back away from him. “I need a gun.”
 

“We’re not giving a twelve-year-old a gun.”
 

“Fine, I will get my own,” she replies as she turns and walks away from them, across the catwalk toward a set of stairs. Looking over her shoulder at the commandos, she motions for them to follow. “Well, you coming or not.”

 
The commandos follow her and take up positions in front of the door before swinging it open. The leader peers out of the door and down the hallway. At the end of the hallway, a thug is standing with his back turned away from them. One by one, the commandos enter the hallway with Sara in the middle of them. Silently walking up to the thug, the second commando in line produces a length of piano wire strung between two wood handles, and slips it over the thug’s head, choking him with it. The thug drops to the floor dead.
 

Inside the auditorium, the band of flesh-eaters continues to feast on their prey as the crowd exits the venue above. Right outside the door he has just locked, Mac starts searching the hallways for a way out. Unaware that Sara has been rescued and is in good hands with the crack commando unit, Mac is concerned she is in real trouble. The announcer is infuriated by the loss of revenue and escape of the two contestants. Escorted by his remaining band of thugs, he quickly leaves the auditorium announcers booth and steps into the hallway just outside the room, where he is confronted by the presence of the commandos and Sara.
 

“So, that’s how you did it, young lady. Bravo, bravo, I tip my hat to you.”
 

The commandos are at the ready with their MP5s drawn and pointed directly at the group of thugs.
 

“We can’t let you leave here, I’m sorry to say, so with that . . .” the announcer says. The leader of the thugs produces Sara’s revolver and starts shooting as he dives into an open doorway. The rest of the thugs hit the floor dead as a hail of gunfire pierces their flesh, fired from the commandos simultaneously. Looking around, the commando leader notices Sara is gone.
 

“Damn it, where did she go? Find her. She can’t be far.” The team leader says.

During the onslaught of gunfire, Sara was able to slip one of the commando’s 9mm pistols out of his holster, ducking into a room just to her right side. The room is empty, with a door on the far wall. Sara walks over to the door and slowly opens it. To her surprise, the lead thug is standing right in front of her, still carrying her backpack and revolver. He stops dead in his tracks in disbelief that he could be so lucky. Raising the revolver up and pointing it directly at her, the thug squeezes the trigger. Click. The hammer comes down, pushing the firing pin into the primer of a bullet that has already been fired. Looking over at the thug, Sara raises the 9mm, switching the safety to the fire position, before letting him know his fate is sealed.
 

“Told ya I was going to kill you before I left; game over, asshole.”
 

Pulling the trigger, Sara shoots her enemy in the middle of his forehead, knocking him off his feet. As the thug falls, Sara notices she is not alone in the room. The commandos entered the room and were standing behind her during the whole event without her knowing it. Tossing the 9mm pistol to the commando she took it from, Sara turns and walks over to the thug to relieve him of her gear and pistol. She is equally shocked and surprised when Mac comes scrambling through the door and is just about shot by the commandos, who have redrawn their weapons and are pointing them at his chest.
 

“It’s okay. It’s my friend
 
Mac.”
 

The leader of the commandos orders the men to lower their weapons, then walks over to the pair. “We don’t have much time; this city is scheduled for destruction by tomorrow morning.”

 
The commando leader is aware that command is going to nuke the city and does not want to be present when that happens.
 

“Let’s go; we can make proper introductions later. Our priority is to get you to safety, Sara.”
 

Following the commandos, Mac and Sara leave the room and climb the ladder back up to the rooftop. On the roof, the communications specialist removes a remote satellite phone from his pack and calls back to base.
 

“Watchman, this is Timber Wolf.”
 

“Timber Wolf, this is Watchman. Do you have the package?” he asks as he waits for the reply from the rooftop.
 

According to protocol, the command and commandos established a codename for Sara before they left, just in case their communications were intercepted by an unknown entity. The codename they came up with, suggested by one of the airwomen at the planning meeting, was Lace. Back on the rooftop, the commando relays another message.
 

“We have acquired Lace, over.”
 

 
“Good copy, Timber Wolf. We understand Lace is in tow. We are sending an extraction unit to the landing zone. Watchman out.”
 

The communications specialist on the rooftop looks over at the rest of the team members and gives them a thumb’s up.

“We are go for extraction.”
 

Looking over the edge of the roof, Sara can see the horde of citizens below that was just watching her in the Roundhouse. Yards away from them, separated by the chain-link fence, the flesh-eaters numbers have grown from a few hundred to thousands. The growing numbers of flesh-eaters prove to be too much for the fence, and it starts to give way, breaking open at the gate. Flooding into the grounds of the Roundhouse, hungry flesh-eaters run after the fleeing citizens, many of them overtaken within just a few feet of the main entrance of the Roundhouse.
 

“Sir, we’ve got a problem.” The commo guy is now looking over the edge of the roof, next to Sara. The rest of the commandos move to the edge of the roof to watch the unfolding carnage of the flesh-eaters laying waste to most of the citizens. Knowing they are in dire straits, the team leader grabs the sat-phone from the commo soldier.
 

“Watchman, Watchman, this is Timber Wolf, over.” There is twenty seconds of silence before the sat-phone comes to life.
 

“Timber Wolf, go ahead.”
 

“Timber Wolf is being overrun by flesh-eaters; request alternate landing zone extraction, over.”
 

“We understand, Timber Wolf. Proceed to landing zone bravo, I repeat, landing zone bravo. Extraction in thirty minutes. Watchman out.”
 

Handing the sat-phone back to the commo soldier, the team leader gathers the rest of the team and lays out a plan of action. Sending two soldiers downstairs to draw fire, the rest of the team, with Mac and Sara tagging along, move to the rear of the building, hastily setting up a rappel rope to the ground. The first two soldiers down the rope kneel into a fighting position to secure their exit from the rooftop. Hooking up a harness for Sara, the team leader snaps her harness into the rope, sending her down to the ground with the other soldiers. Mac is next, followed by the rest of the team.
 

Back inside the building, the other two soldiers have made it down a few flights of stairs before they are confronted by the horde of flesh-eaters. In a hail of gunfire, they continuously cut down dozens of them before they realize it is of no use. The soldiers turn around and, working in unison, leapfrog back up the stairs, shooting, then running, each taking turns covering the other soldier as they make their way back to the ladder going up to the roof. Staring up the ladder, the first soldier starts climbing while the other keeps the horde at bay. Popping in his last magazine of ammo, the soldier at the base of the ladder empties it into the horde; then the weapon goes silent. Turning around, he starts his ascent up the ladder but is stopped by a flesh-eater and pulled down to the floor. It is over in seconds as viewed by the soldier who made it to the rooftop. Pulling a white, phosphorus grenade off of his belt, he arms it, pulling the safety pin, and throws it down the hole and into the flesh-eaters below. The grenade explodes sending hot molten metal around the room and lighting the horde on fire. Keying his microphone, the soldier radios the crew on the ground. “Timber Wolf Six, we’ve lost Anderson, he’s gone; I’m on my way.”

 
“Six here, we understand. We’re on the north side, ground level, rappel rope in place. We’re moving out.”
 

 
“Roger that, sir. Don’t wait. I’ll see you at the landing zone.”
 

Looking around at the team and their cargo, the team leader gives the signal to move out. As the group of seven makes its way out of the compound and down to the perimeter fence, a soldier produces bolt cutters, and cuts the chain-link fence open. Holding it open, he lets the group through, then squeezes through to join them on the other side.