Free Die Dead Enough by William Kenney Page B

grip with his left hand. His body flew like a pendulum, swaying far out, rips scraping painfully against the surface of the shaft. He struggled to get his left hand to the door, the straps of the canvas bag now hanging across his throat, the supplies inside weighing him down.
    His shoulder joints crackled as he swung back, his other hand finally joining his right, fingers locking on the door with a death grip. With his feet against the shaft he climbed up, his arms screaming in agony from the effort. Skeletal remains fell free as he knocked them aside, sliding into the hallway on his belly.
    He managed a look both ways down the corridor. At that moment it was perfectly empty. He turned back to his brother who hung suspended on the cable, his eyes wide with surprise.
    "You fucking made it," Aiden whispered with a grin. "Hate to admit it, but I thought you were dead."
    "Yeah, thanks. Your turn," Conor said, motioning for Aiden to climb up the cable. "Do the same thing I did. Climb up about ten feet and jump out as far as you can. I'll grab you and pull you up."
    "Didn't look that easy when you did it, brother," Aiden said as he began to pull himself higher. "Don't let me drop. Not looking forward to having my bones gnawed upon."
    "Not gonna happen," Conor said, once again noticing the bag over his shoulder. He pulled it off and tested its strength with his hands, pulling hard on the straps. It was made well. He dumped out the contents. "We're gonna use this bag. You jump and grab it, I'll pull you up."
    "Dude, that bag's not gonna hold," Aiden said.
    "Just make it to the ledge, then grab the straps to pull yourself up."
    Loud thuds boomed from the floor below as Conor held the canvas bag so that one of the straps hung along the ledge.
    "Go, Aiden. There's no more time," he said as he braced himself against the elevator door, back pressed hard against it. "You got this."
    "Shit. Here I come," Aiden said and jumped away from the cable. In seconds he collided with the side of the shaft, his chest smashing against the lip of the ledge, knocking the air from his lungs. His fingernails dug into the carpeting as he began to lose his hold.
    "Grab the strap!" Conor said, reaching out to grab his brother's forearm. Aiden wrapped one arm in the strap and pulled as Conor jerked it hard toward himself, muscles in his back tightening with the exertion.
    "I got ya," Conor grunted as he heaved against Aiden's weight. In not time, Aiden had pulled himself up over the edge and collapsed onto the floor, breathing in hoarse gasps as Conor kept watch on both ends of the corridor, clutching his hammer.
    "Daddy!" they could hear from below, the voice that of Trish. Then the thunderous sound of scores of feet in pursuit.
    "Can't believe they're still alive," Aiden said, moving to a sitting position.
    "I don't hear Mina, though..." Conor responded.
    They both looked away at the horrible thought.
    "We have to get the hell out of here," said Aiden as he stood and pulled the screwdriver from his back pocket.
    "And we have to go through whatever's down there," Conor said, pointing at the floor.
    "Yep. Which way's it gonna be?" asked Aiden.
    "Your guess is as good as mine. Only a few floors between us and the garage. North stairwell or south?"
    "Uh... south," Aiden said, with a shrug.
    "Okay. South, it is."
    They moved down the hall, following turns, passing the decimated office spaces and bright white bones. Conor had gathered the food again and filled the bag, wincing as the cans inside knocked against one another.
    The hall opened into large office area with a few dozen cubicles, some of which were now smashed into pieces. Computer monitors lay shattered on the ground, chairs upended, file cabinets dented and standing askew. The brothers picked their way through the wreckage, placing their feet carefully between the piles of rubble and human remains. Just ahead they could see the doorway that led to the stairwell.
    They increased their pace, longing to be