Zombie Ascension (Book 1): Necropolis Now by Vincenzo Bilof Page A
Authors: Vincenzo Bilof
Tags: Zombies
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lips without a second thought. "My God, I am heartily sorry for having offended…"
A hairline fracture snaked along the glass as it shattered above them, raining shards down upon their heads. A gust of warm wind swirled around the soldiers.
Vega slid across the elevator as it tilted slightly. She grabbed the edge just as she was about to tumble into the street below. She wasn't afraid of heights, but looking down would be an acknowledgement of her own mortality.
The elevator lurched and her stomach curled while steel and glass cried out in pain. The quaking resumed, and she could feel herself once again filling into her body, as if her soul had abandoned her. Smoke stung her nostrils and burned her lungs, forcing her to cough violently as a cloud of ash and dust devoured their elevator, which seemed to grind against the side of the building, resisting a sudden disconnect.
When the elevator finally stopped its descent, she closed her eyes. She didn't see Miles or Bob fall, but there was so much smoke… she had to hang on. Her shoulders burned, and her fingers couldn't find the grip she needed.
She thought of the little girl whose face appeared on the television back at the hotel. The bright-eyed Shanna, smiling widely, a phone number defining her fate among the missing.
A strong hand suddenly grasped her fingers. She glimpsed Miles's stubble-laden face through the thick smoke. He pulled her over the edge, and she lay on her back to collect her ragged breath. Miraculously, the sniper rifle remained on the platform as the entire elevator dangled precariously, as it had been stopped somehow, someway.
Whenever it was a close call, Vega knew that God intervened on her behalf. She just never understood why.
"On your feet!" Bob shouted.
A hand grabbed hers and lifted her, coughing, through the rolling fog. Her arms were lifted over two sets of shoulders. She tried to open her eyes and make sense of what she saw, but the smoke burned her eyes. It was all she could do to breathe. She slipped her arms from around her teammates' shoulders and stood on her own feet, grateful the M25 was in her hands again. She still had her submachine gun strapped around her shoulder. Everything was right with the world.
Bob and Miles were both dull shadows in the smoke. They turned on the flashlights on their weapons in the darkness, which illuminated nothing more than the cloud of ash and dust that had been shaken from the chopper that crashed into the large hotel. Vega felt numb, her entire body possessed by instinct rather than rational thought. She followed her teammates for a few feet in the dark until they stopped to rest against a stairwell.
She could see their sweat-drenched faces. There was still the mission, and they were soldiers, no matter what happened on the elevator.
"We're still alive," Miles noted. "Holy shit."
They were stranded in the darkness, and whatever hostile threat had decimated Willis's unit must have remained behind, waiting for them. They were in enemy territory, and they had no idea what they were up against. The abyssal dark was made thicker by all the unknown dangers that lurked within it. Not even the emergency lights were operational.
Vega closed her eyes and struggled to slow her beating heart. She should have died, yet, God allowed her to continue. He had to have a reason for keeping her upright.
She couldn't remember the first time she felt afraid. Her first combat encounter had been thrilling and exciting, and ever since, she remained an action junkie. She couldn't understand why she was painfully aware of her own mortality now, when her teammates needed her. Where did these feelings come from? Why was she so relieved to find that Miles had survived?
"We're on the fifth floor," Bob announced. "Check your weapons. I'm good to go. Are we wounded?"
"Affirmative on the weapons, boss," Miles said. "Not wounded."
Vega flashed him the thumbs-up. "Just my pride," she said and immediately coughed. "Never
A hairline fracture snaked along the glass as it shattered above them, raining shards down upon their heads. A gust of warm wind swirled around the soldiers.
Vega slid across the elevator as it tilted slightly. She grabbed the edge just as she was about to tumble into the street below. She wasn't afraid of heights, but looking down would be an acknowledgement of her own mortality.
The elevator lurched and her stomach curled while steel and glass cried out in pain. The quaking resumed, and she could feel herself once again filling into her body, as if her soul had abandoned her. Smoke stung her nostrils and burned her lungs, forcing her to cough violently as a cloud of ash and dust devoured their elevator, which seemed to grind against the side of the building, resisting a sudden disconnect.
When the elevator finally stopped its descent, she closed her eyes. She didn't see Miles or Bob fall, but there was so much smoke… she had to hang on. Her shoulders burned, and her fingers couldn't find the grip she needed.
She thought of the little girl whose face appeared on the television back at the hotel. The bright-eyed Shanna, smiling widely, a phone number defining her fate among the missing.
A strong hand suddenly grasped her fingers. She glimpsed Miles's stubble-laden face through the thick smoke. He pulled her over the edge, and she lay on her back to collect her ragged breath. Miraculously, the sniper rifle remained on the platform as the entire elevator dangled precariously, as it had been stopped somehow, someway.
Whenever it was a close call, Vega knew that God intervened on her behalf. She just never understood why.
"On your feet!" Bob shouted.
A hand grabbed hers and lifted her, coughing, through the rolling fog. Her arms were lifted over two sets of shoulders. She tried to open her eyes and make sense of what she saw, but the smoke burned her eyes. It was all she could do to breathe. She slipped her arms from around her teammates' shoulders and stood on her own feet, grateful the M25 was in her hands again. She still had her submachine gun strapped around her shoulder. Everything was right with the world.
Bob and Miles were both dull shadows in the smoke. They turned on the flashlights on their weapons in the darkness, which illuminated nothing more than the cloud of ash and dust that had been shaken from the chopper that crashed into the large hotel. Vega felt numb, her entire body possessed by instinct rather than rational thought. She followed her teammates for a few feet in the dark until they stopped to rest against a stairwell.
She could see their sweat-drenched faces. There was still the mission, and they were soldiers, no matter what happened on the elevator.
"We're still alive," Miles noted. "Holy shit."
They were stranded in the darkness, and whatever hostile threat had decimated Willis's unit must have remained behind, waiting for them. They were in enemy territory, and they had no idea what they were up against. The abyssal dark was made thicker by all the unknown dangers that lurked within it. Not even the emergency lights were operational.
Vega closed her eyes and struggled to slow her beating heart. She should have died, yet, God allowed her to continue. He had to have a reason for keeping her upright.
She couldn't remember the first time she felt afraid. Her first combat encounter had been thrilling and exciting, and ever since, she remained an action junkie. She couldn't understand why she was painfully aware of her own mortality now, when her teammates needed her. Where did these feelings come from? Why was she so relieved to find that Miles had survived?
"We're on the fifth floor," Bob announced. "Check your weapons. I'm good to go. Are we wounded?"
"Affirmative on the weapons, boss," Miles said. "Not wounded."
Vega flashed him the thumbs-up. "Just my pride," she said and immediately coughed. "Never
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