Noah grabbed Caddy’s hand and led her up the stairs, hoping to gain distance from the men. Each footstep bought them a second of time, but he knew it wasn’t nearly enough. They were outnumbered and surrounded. The best he could hope for was a place to hole up, a minute to think.
Each passing second reeked of the end.
Their feet pounded up the stairs. It was too late to disguise their location; there were only so many places they could hide. When the men got inside, they’d search every inch of the house. It was only a matter of time before the others found them.
When they reached the landing, Caddy grabbed his hand and pointed above them. A hatchway was embedded in the ceiling, leading to an attic. Noah hadn’t noticed it before, but the sight of it gave him hope.
He dove for the ceiling, pushing aside the plasterboard. There were no stairs that he could see.
“How do we get in?”
“A stepladder,” Caddy hissed. “Follow me!”
She darted to a nearby closet, ripped open the door, and pulled out a ladder. The two of them fumbled with the metal rungs, doing their best to unfold it. Outside, the cries of the men had died down, but Noah could hear banging on the doors and windows.
Time was running out.
Once the ladder was in place, Caddy started to climb. Noah watched her disappear through the opening, then followed suit. When he’d reached the top rung he handed her the rifle, grabbed the lip of the entrance, and pulled himself into the darkness.
One of the doors caved downstairs. Shouts echoed from below, beams of light flashed through the living room. With the sun rapidly waning, the house had grown progressively darker.
Frantic, Noah reached back for the ladder. He closed his hands around it while Caddy held his legs. Although the ladder wasn’t heavy, it was bulky and open and there was no time to close it. It scraped the side of the entrance as he pulled it up.
One of the flashlights swung up the stairs.
Noah pitched backward just in time. The ladder landed next to him, cushioned by the soft insulation of the attic. In the darkness, he saw Caddy’s silhouette as she scrambled to replace the cover. The room quieted.
Though the attic contained no windows, Noah could see the outline of several air vents on either side of the room. The ceiling was low and tapered on each end.
He remained in a crouch, gun aimed at the hatchway.
The two of them held their breath, listening to the muffled sounds of the men beneath them. Noah heard footsteps on the stairs, the creak of furniture. The men had gone silent. They were in stealth mode, focused on finding their targets. It was only a matter of time before they noticed the attic entrance.
Noah glanced around them. From what he could tell, both the ceiling and the floor were made of unfinished plywood, the floor stuffed with insulation. Would the men fire through the ceiling at them? How far would the bullets go? He had little knowledge of weaponry and could only guess at the results. In any case, he didn’t think their predicament was a good one. He surveyed the room, looking for something they could use, but saw only a few small cardboard boxes.
He couldn’t imagine what their next move could be. With only one exit in sight, escape was impossible. He glanced at his companion. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but he could only make out her silhouette. Was she praying? Waiting for the end?
Had he come this far to die in an attic? He’d traveled hundreds of miles, escaped swarms of the infected, and outmaneuvered the agents, and now his life would be snuffed out. He’d never make it to his family; they’d never know what had happened to him.
His hands quivered on the rifle. There were only two bullets left in the gun. Two bullets left to take down God knew how many men. Were there two down there? Three? There was no way to know.
He glanced at Caddy, then at himself. Two bullets…
The thought struck him out of nowhere, and his heart stammered. In all the time he’d spent running, the thought had never crossed his mind, and now here it was all the same. Could he turn the gun on himself? On Caddy? Would that be preferable to what these men would put them through?
He could only assume the men would make him suffer. Noah had killed their companions, after all, and that would carry a steep price. Caddy’s fate would be an unfortunate by-product of the company she kept.
He clenched his teeth, considering the option. But there was no time to discuss it with his companion. A single whisper could lead the men to them.
The thud of footfalls broke his train of thought.
Noah tensed up, ready to shoot. He kept his aim on the entrance, waiting for the entrance to open and a head to emerge. But Noah had the ladder. The ceiling was about seven feet above the hallway floor; it would take two of the men to get inside, one to boost the other.
That didn’t mean they couldn’t open fire.
The footsteps slowed. Someone was on the landing. Noah heard the rustle of clothing, the hiss of breath. What was the man doing? Had he discovered their hiding place? Noah envisioned the assailant’s eyes as he gazed from room to room. It was only a matter of time before he looked up…
The floorboards creaked.
Noah winced, waiting for the gunfire. He felt his body tense; his legs cramped from maintaining the same pose.
Two bullets…
Once Noah made his decision, there’d be no going back. The men would know their position. He kept his aim at the attic entrance, waiting for a sign of movement. He hoped he didn’t fire by accident. One slip of the finger could lead to the end. He had to wait for the precise moment. If he fired too early…
The footsteps resumed.
The man below them continued down the hallway, heading in the direction of Caddy’s room. Noah expelled the breath he’d been holding.
Whether it was fate or luck, he wasn’t sure, but one of those had bought him time.
Minutes passed. Every so often, Noah and Caddy heard the scuff of a boot, the wrinkle of fabric. The men moved through the house like shadows, eliminating each potential hiding place, one at a time.
Every footfall was a step closer to discovery; every second brought them closer to death. Noah had to think of something. Without talking to his companion, concocting a plan would be impossible. He needed to get closer to her. He needed to speak. At the same time, he needed to avoid being heard.
It was a risk he had to take.
Noah inched over to his companion, his legs grazing the insulation. The fiberglass irritated his skin. He kept one hand on the rifle, the other on the nearest beam, hoping he wouldn’t fall. To his relief, he reached Caddy without a sound. He gripped her shoulder and pulled her close.
“Open the hatch. Slowly.”
He pointed to the attic entrance, hoping she’d heard him. Caddy nodded that she understood. Noah backed away to give her room.
He bit his lip, watching her slide the entrance open an inch. Somewhere below them, a closet door slid on its tracks.
When Caddy was finished, Noah waved her away, beckoning for her to get clear. He shimmied over to the entrance and looked through the small opening.
He saw two shadows in the living room, two figures that resembled specters in the dark. There was no one on the stairwell. He switched his focus to Caddy’s room, where he’d last heard noise. A third shadow was coming toward them.
Noah pointed his rifle through the crack, taking aim at the hallway below. He prayed the man hadn’t seen him. If the man had noticed the gap, they were done.
He waited.
Caddy had retreated to the shadows. He could only hope she was far enough away to avoid the fallout from what he was about to do. Once he fired, their hiding place would be exposed.
He swallowed and willed time to pass, willed the whole thing to be over.
Regardless of what Noah did next, confrontation was inevitable. If the men didn’t find them now, they’d find them eventually. They knew Caddy and Noah were in the house. Was it better to wait for discovery or to use the small advantage they had?
Noah felt like he was standing on a cliff, looking over the edge into a dark abyss. He could either jump or wait to be pushed.
If he was going jump, he might as well do it now.
The shadow walked underneath him.
Noah fired.
The blast was ear-piercing. Noah clung to the rifle, deafened by the sound. Below him, he watched the shadow fall to the ground with a thud. The figures in the living room ducked from view. Instead of retreating, Noah cast aside the attic entrance and plummeted into the hallway below. He landed on top of the fallen man, his feet stumbling on clothes and flesh.
The next few seconds were a blur.
He took aim down the stairwell, firing off the remaining round. Then he fell to his knees and scoured the carpet for the other man’s weapon.
His ears were screaming from the gunshot, like twin fighter jets soaring behind his eardrums. His hands came across the other rifle and he switched it out for his own. Before he could aim, a burst of light flashed from the landing below, and something hit the wall above him.
Noah scampered across the hall and into Caddy’s bedroom, flinging the door shut behind him. He dove over the bed and hit the floor with a thump. His lungs were heaving; his hands shook on the rifle. The men were going to pursue him.
There was no question in his mind.
He’d killed another one of them, and there would be payback.
The shot had been from close range; there was no way the man had survived.
A part of him hoped—prayed—that the men would retreat, but he knew that wouldn’t be the case. If anything, he’d only intensified their rage.
He peered over the top of the bed, expecting to see the door fly open, to see shadows in the hallway, but the door remained closed.
He pictured Caddy in the attic. He hoped to God she’d stay there. He hadn’t shared the details of his plan with her, because there hadn’t been time. In the heat of the moment, he’d made the decision to leave the attic, to engage their attackers, and it was one he’d live or die with.
Noah was using himself as bait.
This was his mess, and he was going to get them out of it.