Free The Dead Walk The Earth (Book 3) by Luke Duffy Page B

herself if she could have missed the stairs, but she was sure that she had not. Either the building had no internal staircase, which was highly unlikely, or they had been destroyed when the helicopter had crashed through the roof.
    There was a sudden thump to her left, and the main entrance juddered violently as a blurred face pressed itself against the glass. Hands appeared and began to pound away at the panes, joined by the cries of the infected that became louder and more ferocious as they battered away at the window and heavy steel frame. Somehow, they knew she was there. They had seen her light or sensed her moving around. However they had detected her, it did not matter. They now knew that a living person was in the building, and that was enough for Melanie to want to retreat back towards the wreckage of the helicopter.
    “We’re up shit creek, Mike,” she whispered fearfully as she pushed her head and shoulders back in through the door of the rear compartment. “They know we’re here, and I don’t think there’s any stairs.”
    “What do you mean, there’s no stairs?” He gasped, his voice filled with doubt. “What kind of building has no stairs?”
    “I think we landed on them when we crashed,” she replied, shining the light up at the hole in the ceiling.
    She looked down at the floor around her and saw golden coloured framework and what she believed to be the remains of bannisters and rails.
    “Yep, I think we destroyed the stairs when we came through the roof.”
    They both looked at one another for a moment. They knew that it would be virtually impossible for them both to climb up through the destroyed floors. With his broken leg, Mike knew that he had no hope of making it to the roof. Their only option was for Melanie to try for it alone and leave him in the crashed helicopter. Their radio was out of action, and their only hope of attracting attention was by using the flares that they had in their escape gear.
    “I’m cold, Mel,” Mike said weakly.
    “Me too,” she replied, feeling a shiver run the length of her spine. In the light of her torch, she could see her breath misting as she exhaled.
    “What are we going to do?”
    Melanie shook her head and looked around at the smashed cockpit. She had attempted to send their coordinates before the crash, but she had not completed the message and she doubted that the command centre were able to make much sense of the information she had managed to relay before they lost communications. She reached under the seat beneath Mike and pulled out a small canvas holdall. Inside were a number of flares, a first aid kit, enough food and water to last a day or two, and a blanket.
    “Not exactly Bear Grills style survival gear, is it?” Mike remarked with disappointment as he looked down in to the bag that Melanie was busy rummaging through. “You looking for anything in particular?”
    “An emergency beacon,” she replied impatiently.
    Eventually, she slammed the bag down on to the floor and let out a frustrated snort. At that moment, she wanted to scream and burst into tears, but she needed to keep control of her composure. Allowing herself to fall to pieces now would do neither of them any good.
    “Bad news, then?” Mike quipped.
    Melanie nodded, her shoulders slumping as she felt that the odds were being deliberately stacked against them.
    “They know we’re here, Mike,” she whispered, still staring down into the dark opening of the canvas bag.
    “I know,” Mike replied sadly. “And I know you’re not talking about HQ.”
    She sniffed back the tears that threatened to blur her vision and took a deep breath in an attempt to control her fear and feelings of helplessness. Mike watched her, sympathising with her and feeling the same sense of vulnerability and hopelessness, but he was determined not to allow it to beat them.
    “We should try to get some sleep,” he suggested, not knowing what else to suggest. “We’ll wait till morning and