Ghost Run Read Free Page B

Obviously, I wanted to stay below the sound barrier as long as possible, but if things went sideways, I’d switch to supers.
    I moved along the buildings, careful to avoid the streets and alleyways infested with undead. Thankfully, I wasn’t near a major city, and was close to water. It was winter back when the first creatures walked, so this beach resort area didn’t seem too crowded.
    But still, just enough action to keep things interesting.
    After avoiding two different busy streets, I took a turn down an alley with only two creatures stumbling around a heap of trash. I hit them both from ten meters and took the time to recover the spent brass. As I did so, the corner where I just came from started to fill with undead.
    They gave chase.
    I ran down the alley, away from the approaching mob . . . and when I spilled out into the street, I was immediately surrounded.
    My only option was to enter the large brick building right in front of me. Reaching the glass-paned door, I turned the knob.
    Locked.
    I bought a few seconds, taking three shots at the closest rotting creatures. Enough time to smash a pane of glass and unlock the bolt. Barreling inside the dark building, I slammed the door and reengaged the lock. Frantically, I piled up as much shit as I could in front of the door but knew it wouldn’t hold forever. There were at least two dozen of them out there now interested in me, the appetizer in the yellow suit that had just made a lot of noise right in front of them.
    With no time to dig my NOD out of my pack, I flipped on my weapon-mounted light, spilling five hundred lumens of searing brightness into the dark room. Behind me, the undead broke glass and splintered wood, forcing me ahead into a gloomy passageway. To my right, through a series of boarded windows, I peered through the slits and saw something run past outside. Panicking, I sprinted for the boarded-over glass doors on the other side of the building. My heart sank when I saw the chain and padlock holding them securely together. It didn’t matter; one of those things was already tearing at the boards on the other side. I gave up on the chained doors, made for the stairs, and began to climb. Somewhere above me, a corpse that was already inside fell over, hitting the handrail behind me. It lay there, crippled from the drop, but still reached for my legs. I ignored it and kept climbing to the sounds of shattering glass and splintering wood on the ground level below.
    At the top of the stairs was a red ladder situated against a wall behind an old desk. I climbed for my life, thinking of that airfield tower from what seemed like decades ago. I didn’t have a parachute this time.
    I could hear the undead now coming up the stairs. Some steps were far more rapid than others.
    Irradiated.
    I was on the ladder, twelve feet in the air, the light from my carbine illuminating the brass padlock securing roof access. I swung the light around as the first creature appeared at the top of the stairs and began to charge. Its lips and eyelids were gone, unblinking eyes locking onto me like an alcoholic to a bottle of whiskey. Inan act of desperation, I put my carbine up to the lock, touching the standoff end cap on my suppressor to the lock clasp. I was risking death from ricochet or, worse, falling into the arms of the radioactive demon now climbing the ladder after me. I squeezed the trigger, missing the lock but punching a hole through the hatch. A single beam of .30-caliber light shone through the steel. Feeling the iron grasp of a dead hand on my steel-toed boot, I squeezed the trigger again. The lock flew off; a tiny piece of steel struck me in the forehead, right between my mask and hood, splattering a few droplets of blood onto my mask and down into the fray below.
    The undead went berserk.
    I jammed my boot down blindly, striking bone and teeth, loosening the creature’s bear-trap grip on my foot. Without looking, I threw myself upward,