Nick patted her shoulder gently and then headed back through the trees. The building came back into view quickly. He could still see Jan standing on top of the roof, waving his meaty arms above his head and hollering at the baying mob below. Jan probably didn’t even know that Nick and Margaret had gotten clear.
With the alarm still wailing, Nick could think of no subtle way to get the other man’s attention, so he just put two fingers in his mouth and wolf-whistled. Luckily, Jan heard it and turned around.
Nick crouched in the bushes and waved. Jan gave him a thumbs-up, along with a questioning look. Nick gave a thumbs-up back to let him know that Margaret was safe.
Now we just have to find a way to get you down from there.
Jan shrugged and peered around the roof. The expression on his face was an obvious, now what? Nick had to admit to himself that he had no clue. Getting the man off the roof safely was not going to be easy.
He crept forward out of the bushes and headed back to the rear of the building. He thought about climbing onto the roof and joining Jan up there, but there was no way he could make it up on his own. The only way he could help Jan get down was if he distracted the mob of infected people the same way Jan had for him.
But how do I do that and not die?
He headed around the side of the building, back to the open staffroom window. He checked to see that no infected people had found their way inside and then climbed through.
The only weapon inside was an abandoned umbrella propped up beside a dusty television. It was not even worth taking. He would have to remain unarmed.
Great! Maybe I can box my way out of this.
The alarm was muffled from inside the staffroom and Nick could just about make out the shuffling of infected people in the corridor beyond. It was apparent that if he opened the door, he would be face-to-face with a whole bunch of them.
So what the hell do I do?
Suddenly, he had an idea.
He looked up at the suspended ceiling.
Maybe if I can get up there…
Nick hopped up on the sofa and balanced on the backrest. From there he was able to reach up and push against one of the ceiling tiles. It was made of fragile fibreboard and was light enough to push aside with just one hand. The tiles would not be strong enough to hold his weight, but the metal railings holding them in place might be.
Either that or I’ll fall to my death.
He leapt up and grabbed at one of the rails. It bent beneath his weight but held firm after a couple of inches. Kicking at the wall for leverage, he managed to clamber his way up into the ceiling space. Fortunately, the staffroom and offices were made from cheap partition walls and the space above allowed unrestricted access from one end of the building to the other.
It was a struggle to move along the railings, and the exertion quickly made him huff and puff, but he kept going. Inch by inch, he shuffled through the crawlspace.
After several feet, he pulled aside a tile and peeked through the gap. In the corridor below were half a dozen infected people. They milled about like birds searching for insects, all twitchy movements and sudden flinches. They barely even resembled human beings any more.
Maybe they really have become monsters.
Nick carefully replaced the ceiling tile and continued on along the railings. He had to keep his face pointed downwards, chin to his chest, as age-old insulation and dust swirled around him; disturbed, most likely, for the first time in years.
If the infected don’t get me, asbestos poisoning will.
He eventually stopped where he imagined the restaurant floor to be and carefully positioned himself astride two parallel rails. He pushed on them to test their strength. They groaned a little but kept their shape. Above him, Jan’s muffled shouting continued to keep the infected herded together in one place.