Zombie Ascension (Book 1): Necropolis Now by Vincenzo Bilof
Authors: Vincenzo Bilof
Tags: Zombies
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civilians inside, and a brief melee ensued between the remaining survivors as the chopper lifted off into the sky.
Even with weapons pointed at them, they pushed and pulled at the mercenaries; no matter how many times Bob tried to tell them the chopper would be coming back one more time.
Vega joined the fracas and was forced to slam the butt of her gun into someone's jaw. Two people leapt off the edge of the roof without a further word, while Miles and Bob freed themselves from the fight.
For a moment, Vega could feel herself surrounded by the flames which poured out of nearby skyscrapers. She could feel the warmth of the dying city on her face, and she knew, deep down, that this city would never be the same.
"Off the roof!" Bob shouted at them.
They found the elevator and discovered, thankfully, that it was still operational. The glass elevator shaft provided a view to the surreal inferno which engulfed even the darkest corners of Detroit. Although there was barely a million people living in Detroit, the outbreak of violence might spread to the rest of the metropolitan area.
"We should wait for the chopper to come back!" she suggested. "We ride to the hospital and drop in. It's a waste of our time to roll through the whole damn city to find one man."
Bob shook his head and stopped his conversation over the headset. He said, "Chopper's coming for the last civilians and heading back home. Some political garbage got in the way. We're going to move in, grab Traverse, and bring him to Selfridge base."
"Did you see those people jump off the roof?" Miles asked. "I can't imagine a riot would do that. A well-trained battalion wouldn't just fall apart. I feel like we're a little late to the party. I got a bad feeling about this."
"What did you find out?" Bob asked Vega.
"Nobody could give me a clear answer. That was in total shock. He didn't have a bullet wound. It was… I don't know. A chunk of his arm was missing."
"We need to look at social media," Bob said. "Try to get an idea what the hell is going on around here."
While Bob removed his smartphone from his pocket, Vega couldn't help but look at him with her eyebrows raised. "This is a suicide mission," she said. "We better figure out what the hell we're going to die for because it's not for some brain-fried crazy in a nut house. What the fuck is going on?"
"Look!" Miles shouted.
A bright, fiery star burned through the smoke-filled atmosphere, twisting and turning as it came closer.
Vega swallowed. She could feel her entire body tense up; she could feel the fatigues sticking to her sweaty body and the weight of the useless sniper rifle in her hands, a weapon that couldn't save her now. She was aware of the headset on her head and the thick application of war paint beneath her eyes and around her nose.
Without knowing why, she wanted to see the expression on Miles's face, but her gaze was locked on the oncoming fireball, and she could see it clearly for what it was. It spiraled through the sky, heading on a collision course with the Renaissance Center.
"Hold on to something!" Bob didn’t have to say.
The helicopter burned through the air and crashed into the upper floors as their elevator continued its descent. The building quaked and the elevator's drop accelerated.
Vega felt unhinged; her control and comprehension of gravity failed. Wind and breath collided as glass shattered and rained over her helmet, which was violently ripped from her head. The steel supports groaned above and around them, a monstrous protest against the violation of the building's structure.
She tried to open her eyes—she was like a little girl swimming in the pool and opening her eyes for the first time underwater, everything blurring together, the uncertain vision was making it easier just to close everything up tight. She clutched her sniper rifle tightly to her chest, while her entire life seemed suspended in a state of free-fall.
The Act of Contrition quickly tumbled from her
Even with weapons pointed at them, they pushed and pulled at the mercenaries; no matter how many times Bob tried to tell them the chopper would be coming back one more time.
Vega joined the fracas and was forced to slam the butt of her gun into someone's jaw. Two people leapt off the edge of the roof without a further word, while Miles and Bob freed themselves from the fight.
For a moment, Vega could feel herself surrounded by the flames which poured out of nearby skyscrapers. She could feel the warmth of the dying city on her face, and she knew, deep down, that this city would never be the same.
"Off the roof!" Bob shouted at them.
They found the elevator and discovered, thankfully, that it was still operational. The glass elevator shaft provided a view to the surreal inferno which engulfed even the darkest corners of Detroit. Although there was barely a million people living in Detroit, the outbreak of violence might spread to the rest of the metropolitan area.
"We should wait for the chopper to come back!" she suggested. "We ride to the hospital and drop in. It's a waste of our time to roll through the whole damn city to find one man."
Bob shook his head and stopped his conversation over the headset. He said, "Chopper's coming for the last civilians and heading back home. Some political garbage got in the way. We're going to move in, grab Traverse, and bring him to Selfridge base."
"Did you see those people jump off the roof?" Miles asked. "I can't imagine a riot would do that. A well-trained battalion wouldn't just fall apart. I feel like we're a little late to the party. I got a bad feeling about this."
"What did you find out?" Bob asked Vega.
"Nobody could give me a clear answer. That was in total shock. He didn't have a bullet wound. It was… I don't know. A chunk of his arm was missing."
"We need to look at social media," Bob said. "Try to get an idea what the hell is going on around here."
While Bob removed his smartphone from his pocket, Vega couldn't help but look at him with her eyebrows raised. "This is a suicide mission," she said. "We better figure out what the hell we're going to die for because it's not for some brain-fried crazy in a nut house. What the fuck is going on?"
"Look!" Miles shouted.
A bright, fiery star burned through the smoke-filled atmosphere, twisting and turning as it came closer.
Vega swallowed. She could feel her entire body tense up; she could feel the fatigues sticking to her sweaty body and the weight of the useless sniper rifle in her hands, a weapon that couldn't save her now. She was aware of the headset on her head and the thick application of war paint beneath her eyes and around her nose.
Without knowing why, she wanted to see the expression on Miles's face, but her gaze was locked on the oncoming fireball, and she could see it clearly for what it was. It spiraled through the sky, heading on a collision course with the Renaissance Center.
"Hold on to something!" Bob didn’t have to say.
The helicopter burned through the air and crashed into the upper floors as their elevator continued its descent. The building quaked and the elevator's drop accelerated.
Vega felt unhinged; her control and comprehension of gravity failed. Wind and breath collided as glass shattered and rained over her helmet, which was violently ripped from her head. The steel supports groaned above and around them, a monstrous protest against the violation of the building's structure.
She tried to open her eyes—she was like a little girl swimming in the pool and opening her eyes for the first time underwater, everything blurring together, the uncertain vision was making it easier just to close everything up tight. She clutched her sniper rifle tightly to her chest, while her entire life seemed suspended in a state of free-fall.
The Act of Contrition quickly tumbled from her
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