Inside
Ramirez rubbed her side. The ache of her cracked ribs wasn’t getting any worse, but it wasn’t getting any better. She’d had worse injuries, but then, she’d also had time to recuperate. Not now. She’d just have to grit her teeth and bear it. She looked around at the tunnel. It was lit by strings of battery-powered lights, and the ceiling tiles sagged or else had been removed entirely, exposing the now useless cabling and junction boxes above.
A thump from behind made her flinch. She turned and regarded the sewer hatch with a frown. “Are we sure that’ll hold?” she asked, glancing at Calavera. He nodded.
“There’s a lock on it. That’s why we couldn’t get it open in the first place. Lucky thing they came along when they did, else we’d have had to shoot the lock off. Be no way to keep them out then.”
Ramirez shook her head. “We need to finish this quickly. Even with a lock, that door will give way eventually. Especially now that they know about it.” The walkers had followed them down into the sewers, and Ramirez and the others had spotted the first of them lurching out of the dark even as they closed the hatch. There was no telling how many of them were on the other side by now. Frankly, one was too many in a situation like this.
The walkers would just keep banging on the door until it gave way, or they did. They didn’t get bored or impatient. At best, you could hope for a distraction. She sighed. Nothing for it now. They had to keep moving. Time was at a premium.
Imogene and the other survivors were scattered about the tunnel, waiting for Coop to finish talking to their prisoners. She glanced at the latter, where they sat unhappily under the watchful eyes of Ariadne’s people. She watched Coop, crouched before two guards and speaking in smooth, quiet tones. He was a professional; she knew the type. Ex-military operator, probably. A lot of private security personnel were.
She wondered how things were going on Ptolemy’s end. Ariadne had taken on the more dangerous task, which was to her credit. It didn’t mean Ramirez completely trusted her, however. That was why she’d been glad Ptolemy had volunteered to keep an eye on her. He was a steady hand; unflappable. There was no one she’d rather have at her back. She hoped he’d be able to keep things at the pier under control.
Kahwihta, sitting nearby, said, “You’ve got that look on your face, Boss.”
“What look?”
“Like you’re worried about something but don’t want to say what.”
Ramirez looked at the younger woman. “I’m always worried. That’s my super-power.” Coop motioned for her attention. “What did they have to say for themselves?” she asked. He frowned and scratched at his unshaven chin.
“From what our friends here have said, the dormitories are upstairs,” Coop said. “So are the gardens and the water collection points. The only things on the level just above us are the casino floor, the parking garage and the loading dock. And it sounds like everyone in the building is on the casino floor. They’ve converted it to an arena of sorts, and apparently, there’s something special going on tonight – some sort of zombie fight.”
“A what now?” Ramirez asked in disbelief.
“Yeah, they’re real annoyed about missing it. Apparently, they’re the only ones assigned to tunnel duty, so we don’t need to worry about anyone else stumbling over us.” Coop glanced at the prisoners. “They’re going to be even more annoyed when we zip tie their hands and leave them down here.” He looked back at Ramirez. “I’ll leave one of our people to watch them – and the sewer hatch. Just in case.”
“They said everyone is in the arena?”
“Other than the ones stationed outside and the ones who went with St Cloud.” Coop frowned. “Attendance is mandatory at these things, or so they claim. Reminds me of those stupid team building exercises we had to go through, back before the dead rose.”
“They told you all this pretty quickly,” Ramirez said, doubtfully. Could it be a trap? That felt like overthinking it, but you couldn’t be too sure. Even before the apocalypse, bad intel had led her into more than one unplanned gunfight.
“They’re scared,” Coop said, bluntly. “Not of us so much. Scared of St Cloud, scared of the zombies. Scared of the people they’re supposed to be protecting.” He paused. “Reads to me like this whole situation is about one bad day from getting real unpleasant for everyone inside this building.”
“Yeah, well. Let’s take it slow anyway. Just in case.” Ramirez gestured for Imogene’s attention. The woman joined them. She was carrying one of the guards’ rifles slung over her shoulder. “Tunnels are clear. You know what to do?” she asked. Imogene nodded and patted her new weapon. She gave a grim smile.
“We split into two teams. I’ll head down the corridor with one, until we get to the entrance to the loading dock. We take the dock, make sure the doors are shut and no one gets in or out that way.”
“Good. We’ll take the front, shut down the lobby and the downstairs. Follow the plan, and we’ll all get out of this in one piece.”
“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Imogene said. She signaled for her people to move, and they started down the corridor. The remaining member of Ariadne’s team went with them, to make sure they found the loading dock. Coop left the last member of his team with the prisoners, with orders to shoot to kill or to fall back, if necessary. Seven to the loading dock, seven for the lobby and one to watch their backs. Not great, but not bad.
Getting upstairs took longer than she thought. The utility tunnels ran on forever. Finally, Coop stopped and indicated a door. “Here we are.” He took point without being asked and scanned the space beyond. “Clear.”
Past the doors was a narrow vestibule, crowded with a stairwell. The stairwell went up in a zigzag. She could hear something echoing down from the top – a sort of low murmur, muffled by the thick walls. “Whatever is going on up there, it sounds like it’s exciting,” Kahwihta said.
“All the better to keep them occupied,” Ramirez said. She gestured, and Sayers took the lead, moving up the stairs two at a time. Coop followed her, and then everyone else. At the top was another door – not locked, thankfully. Sayers signaled that the way was clear, and they stepped into the sterile, white concrete corridors of the back area that connected the loading dock to the kitchen and the counting rooms.
Ramirez paused. She could hear a faint, brief hymn of gunfire from the direction of the loading dock. It ended as quickly as it had begun. Hopefully no one in the lobby had heard. Hopefully no one had managed to radio for help. If they had, things were going to get very bloody, very quickly.
They hurried towards the lobby, moving as quietly as they could without sacrificing speed. They located the double doors that led to their destination easily enough. Through the round, porthole windows at the top of the doors, Ramirez could see immense plywood walls rising up through the lobby to the main floor above.
The lobby had been spacious once. Now, thanks to the plywood, it was mostly just a stretch of floor leading from the main entrance to a set of floating stairs and a bank of elevators. Generators, boxes and pallets crowded the walls. Serpentine lumps of repurposed cable and copper wiring ran up the walls like jungle vines. Sandbags had been stacked near the doors, creating an effective kill zone in the event of a zombie incursion.
Coop opened the doors a crack, peered through, turned and held up two fingers. Ramirez nodded and waved him back. Before he could ask what she was planning, she stepped out into the lobby, her pistol thrust into the back of her trousers, hidden from sight. The two guards were stationed near the doors, but their eyes were on the stairs. They started at the sight of her. “Hey, where’d you come from?” one called out.
Ramirez started towards them, speaking quickly in rapid-fire Spanish, praying neither of them understood what she was saying. She gesticulated to the plywood walls that rose up and kept talking, doing her best to look put out, afraid, frustrated. She hoped they wouldn’t notice the whiff of the sewer about her or the fact that they didn’t recognize her. She gestured, turned, gestured again, keeping their eyes on her. The guards looked at one another, and one started forward, hand outstretched. “Hey, hey! Who are you? Where did you come from?” he barked, reaching for her.
Ramirez hit him. A low blow, and one meant to drop him. The guy fell with a shrill yelp, clutching at himself and she bounced his head off the floor for good measure. The other guard was already raising his weapon as Ramirez spun, her side blazing like fire, slowing her down as she reached for her own weapon. She knew she’d never get it out in time and cursed herself. Then Calavera’s hands gently settled on either side of the guard’s head and the big man rumbled, “No. I think not.”
Ramirez grinned and pressed the barrel of her Glock against the guard’s chin. “Put it down,” she said. “Slowly.”
The guard did as he asked. “What- what- what are you…?”
“What does it look like?” She whistled softly, and Coop and the others exited the back, spreading out through the lobby. “You the only two on duty?”
“No. We got a whole army,” the guy began, trying to put on a tough face.
Ramirez smiled. “Half of which is heading for the pier, right? So, by my math, that only leaves half an army.” She nodded to the plywood. “Are they in there?” A muffled roar sounded from above and she paused. That didn’t sound like any crowd she’d ever heard of.
“Everyone is in there,” the guard said, after a moment.
There was a sudden crash from above, and the sound of plywood rattling on its nails. Another crash and a section of the upper wall fell away and slammed into the stairs on the way down. An explosion of sound followed: screams, cries, gunfire. Everyone in the lobby looked up in shock. Whatever was going on up there, it sounded like it had gone wrong.
Sayers cursed and pointed. “Look!”
Ramirez looked up and saw a walker teetering in the gap left by the fallen section. It tumbled down with a moan, plummeting to the floor. There was a solid crack as its head connected with the ground, and then it was pushing itself up. She stared at it in shock. It was fresh. She looked up as more walkers followed the first, falling down in ones and twos. She looked down at the guard. “If I give you your gun back, you gonna shoot me?”
“Lady, if you’re breathing, you’re my best friend,” the guard said quickly. The other nodded. She gestured, and the others let them up. Attila was barking to beat the band as Calavera pounced on a denim-clad walker, bearing it to the floor where he cracked its skull like an eggshell. Kahwihta shot another, dressed in a spangly skirt, so that it spun like a berserk disco ball before collapsing. Sayers put down a third and a fourth, her arrows humming like wasps. A fifth charged clumsily towards Coop, who dropped it with a single, precise shot. The guards and the other survivors did the same, putting down the remaining walkers as quickly as possible. “What the hell is going on in there?” Coop demanded. Ramirez shook her head.
“No time to worry about it now. You and the others need to get the lobby doors blocked off and keep any more walkers from getting out of that gap.”
“What are you planning to do?”
Ramirez hefted her pistol. “I’m planning to see what the hell is going on in this arena of theirs.”