Rotting to the Core (Keep Your Crowbar Handy Book 2) (4 page)

“Kat,” Jake began slowly, taking a seat on
the hardwood coffee table in front of her ugly couch. He lit
himself a cigarette with the Zippo from his tac-vest's breast
pocket. “Just to put my mind at ease? How, pray tell, are we going
to get out of here, past the hundreds of zombies currently dragging
their dead, smelly asses all around our little hideaway? Please
note the profusely sweating brow and shaky hands I'm
displaying.”

She laughed. “Come on. Don't you have any
faith in me?”

“You? Sure. Whether or not what you've got in
mind is something that will either give me palpitations, an intense
feeling of panic, or just send me into a mild state of fear-induced
regression back to my unpleasant childhood? That's something else
altogether.” Jake blew some wonderful, nicotine-infused smoke
towards the ceiling. “Spill it.”

“What was so bad about your childhood?” Kat
frowned and leaded up to one elbow on her couch. Certain
female-exclusive assets pressed firmly against the fabric of her
shirt as she half-rose, which would've caused Jake's pulse rate to
accelerate up towards Prestissimo speed if he hadn't been watching
the way smoke from his cigarette wafted toward the ceiling.

“Let's just say I had a problem with
authority,” Jake told her as he took a deep drag from his American
Spirit.

She stifled a laugh behind her hands. “Wow! I
never would've guessed.”

“Smart ass. And don't change the
subject.”

Kat flopped to her back on the couch again
and cradled her head with both hands. As she gazed at Jake
thoughtfully, it wasn't difficult for her to gauge his mood. Worry
with a healthy side of apprehension. That was a volatile mix,
especially when it came to making good an escape sans attracting
unwanted attention from hostile opponents nearby. There was no way
they'd be able to pull off what she had in mind unless a boat-load
of nervous energy on Jake's part went the way of the
Raphus
Cucullatus
. Kat briefly wondered if the poor Dodo-bird had died
out, much like the human race was in serious danger of doing, due
to their current situation.

Zombie Dodos?
She thought, as Jake
finished his smoke.
Nah. That idea's about as possible as
Bigfoot.

Remembering she actually believed Bigfoot was
not only possible but
likely
, Kat sighed.

The Discovery Channel and Eric S. Brown had a
lot to answer for.

“Alright, alright. Don't get your boxers in a
bunch. Oh, since we're on the subject, boxers or briefs?” She
grinned.

Jake lowered his face into his palm and
counted to ten. Out loud.

Kat rolled to lie on her left side and
watched him, one eyebrow raised archly. “I'll give you a hint.”

“Go ahead.” Jake's face remained obscured in
his hand.

“Well, one of the first things mom taught me,
along with how to throw a good crescent kick, was that people only
really
see
what's pretty much at eye level. With me so
far?”

He nodded and Kat went on.

“The reason for that is because humans are
omnivores, you know? We eat meat and don't just chew up the
shrubbery. That's been the case ever since prehistoric times. Our
eyes are set in the front of our heads, not the sides. That's an
attribute of a predator. Something that kills and eats other
animals to survive.”

“What does this have to do with your plan?”
Jake wearily took another drag from his cigarette.

Kat wagged a finger at him. “Don't interrupt.
It's rude. Where was I? Oh, yeah. Humans are predators, and a
predator tends to hunt prey animals that it can easily acquire.
That's what becomes its 'preferred food source', I think it’s
called.”

Jake frowned. “Okay, that makes sense. How do
you know that?”

“I thought I wanted to be an animal
behaviorist when I was younger. Or a zoo keeper.” Kat shrugged and
laid her arm across her hip, “But that was before I realized they
both mostly spent their whole day cleaning up different kinds of
poop.”

“Poop?” Jake struggled to keep a straight
face.

“They have to clean
all
the zoo cages
every day.” Kat shuddered. “That's a whole lot of poop-scoopin'.
Imagine having to do the rhino habitat? Yuck-tastic, for sure.”

“You're unbelievable.” Jake shook his
head.

Kat beamed. “
Now
you notice. But pay
attention. And don't make me lose my train of thought— we're
getting to the important part of the story. Anyway. Predators hunt
prey they can actually reach or catch, so they become accustomed to
running certain things down, right? Or jumping on them from
above?”

“So?”

“So, how many animals do you know of that
look
up
while searching for prey?”

Jake considered that for a minute.
“Sharks?”

“They hunt mainly by scent.” Kat crossed her
legs and settled deeper into the couch. “Let me ask another
question. Do human beings look towards the sky or the ground to
find food? When's the last time you remember looking up, thinking
you'd find a chimichanga conveniently floating in the air above
your head to have for dinner?”

“Alright. While that's a somewhat ridiculous
image, I get your point.”

“Good. I'd hate to begin questioning your
intelligence.” Kat went on. “Now, zombies were once human beings,
right? So it would stand to reason that they wouldn't look up to
search for a meal to fly by?”

Jake grasped the concept, but he didn't
understand where she was going with the subject. “There's no reason
to believe the world's suddenly been glutted with superheroes, so
I'd have to agree. Come to think of it, I've never seen one of
those things so much as glance at a bird flying overhead.”

Kat waved one hand at him vaguely. “There you
go.”

“But how does that help us?” Jake ground his
cigarette out on the hardwood floor under his heel. “I'm fresh out
of jet-packs, and unless you're secretly from Krypton or
something…”

She laughed and patted his hand with her own.
“I left my cape at home. My hair's the wrong color for it anyway.
But I appreciate the complement. My point is, we don't go
through
the horde outside. You'll have to leave your rifle
though. It'll be too ungainly for what I have in mind.”

Jake began to get a pronounced sinking
feeling in his guts. While not really attached to his M-4, the
weapon (and the five, full, twenty-nine round magazines he had for
it) would be missed if they ran into a tight spot.

“What
do
you have in mind?”

Kat grinned like her Cheshire namesake.

“This is a bad idea,” Jake mumbled.

“We've been through this,” Kat whispered from
where she knelt and glanced down at the dim figures of the zombies
still milling about their hiding place.

“Have I ever mentioned the fact that I'm
really
uncomfortable with heights?”

“Didn't you jump out of airplanes as a combat
journalist?”

“Yes. And it sucked. Scratch that. It sucked
a yard of dick.” Jake looked decidedly freaked. “Notice that while
Al did it for fun back in Columbus, I sure as hell never did.”

Kat looked at him quizzically. “This isn't
anywhere
near
as high as that was. Heck, we're technically
not even off the ground.”

“It makes me nervous, alright?” Jake scowled
at her. “Are you sure this will work?”

“Abso-tively, posi-lutely. I did it all the
time in Columbus.” Kat began quietly rooting through her EDC Bag.
“Never caught. Not once. Nobody even came close. I should've been
an international jewel thief or something. Remember that old
Hitchcock film
To Catch A Thief
with Cary Grant and Grace
Kelly? Oh my god, the white dress she wore in that movie was
so—”

“Will you focus for a minute?” Jake was
sweating.

“Fine! Jeez. Like I can't multitask...” Kat
pulled the hundred-foot coil of climbing rope from her small bag.
“You have those lengths of duct tape ready?”

“Right there.” Jake motioned at the four
black strips beside her knees. Little known fact, prior to the
zombie apocalypse? Duct tape actually did come in black, not just
silver. “What are you going to use them for?”

Kat smiled and reached into the top of her
left boot. She produced two, six-inch, slightly C-shaped metal
rods, then pulled another straight, eight-inch bar with a one-inch
diameter eye loop from her right boot. As Jake watched, she removed
a bolt from one end of the longer bar, slid the two curved rods
over its top perpendicular to one another, screwed the bolt back in
securely, and threaded one end of her climbing rope through its
eye. O'Connor knelt open mouthed, stunned past the capacity for
speech at the sight of what was now a small grappling hook in her
hand, as she began carefully wrapping the non-reflective duct tape
around the tool's arms.

After securing the last strip, Kat weighed
the hook in her hand for a moment. “Why are you looking at me like
I just grew a second head?” she asked quietly.

“What in-?!” Jake hissed. “How long have you
been carrying
that
thing??”

“Oh, since we met the Barbie Duo.” Kat loved
calling Gwen and Donna by the moniker Elle had saddled them with in
jest during their party's return trip to Rae's junkyard cache prior
to its destruction. “The pieces fit inside the tops of my boots
perfectly and don't shift around at all. Besides, it was either
there, or try to squeeze them into my pants somewhere. And then I'd
get to hear a bunch of 'Is that a grappling hook in your pocket?'
jokes. Especially from George.”

“You're just full of surprises, aren't
you?”

A broad smile, bright enough for Jake to see
even in the darkness, blossomed on Kat's face. “Oh my, yes. Really.
You have no idea. Especially on Tuesdays.”

“Never mind, I don't want to know.” Jake
shook his head and quickly changed the subject. “Are you sure you
can get the hook over?”

The pretty ninja-girl looked offended.
“Please. I've been doing this since I was ten.”

Kat stood, spun the hook above her head a few
times to bring it up to speed, and let fly with a smooth cast. Her
grapple arced out, trailing the slim climbing rope she'd attached
as it disappeared into the gloom, and Jake's eyes lost sight of it
in the darkness.

“It's good.” Looking satisfied, Cho began
taking up the slack and gave the line several forceful tugs before
tying it off to one of the Old Hall's chimneys. Using a tape knot
to secure the line, Kat undid a pair of nylon straps she wore
around her left thigh and with a small carabineer, combined them
into a brief climbing rig. She donned the harness and knelt to
murmur quietly as she insured her weapons were secure.

“Okay. We're going to do this a little bit
differently than most recommend, seeing as how we only have the one
harness.” Kat produced another carabineer from somewhere. “Attach
your tac-vest to my back. That way, you can use your arms to hold
on for extra support as we zip-line over.”

Jake looked uncomfortable. “Are you sure this
will work? What if our weight gets us stuck in the middle
somewhere?”

“That's why I went for the two story building
across the street and not the one next to us. From the roof here
we're basically five floors up. With our line taunt, the downward
angle should provide us with enough momentum to cross the gap.” Kat
pressed a metal loop into his palm. “Now,
landing
might be a
bit dicey. The hook is secure in the middle of that roof somewhere,
but I can't see what it's hooked to. We don't have a brake-block or
a way to slow down as we approach the other end, either. I'll have
to just cut our harness once we get over that roof, so, um... you
might want to be ready for that. Try to relax once we get close,
you know? Just in case.”

He glared at her. “Strangely enough? That
does not instill me with a lot of faith.”

“Do you have a better idea?” Kat demanded
quietly. “No? Me neither. So...”

Glancing over the roof's edge, Jake
considered their predicament for a moment. There were hundreds of
zombies all over the grounds around Old Hall, mindlessly stumbling
about in dormant roaming mode. While surely unpleasant for the
writer, Kat's plan was far more feasible than trying to somehow
evade the creatures at ground level. That didn't mean he had to
like
it, however.

“Fine, fine!” he grumbled quietly. “Just so
you know, if this gets us killed? I blame you.”

“What?”

“Your plan, your fault.”

She frowned. “I don't think that's how it
works.”

“It is this time.” Jake pulled on her harness
and then yanked at his tac-vest. They seemed secure, but he was
damn sure holding on to whatever part of Kat might be handy once
they actually took the plunge. “Why don't we send the bag over
first?”

“That's a good idea. Hand it up.”

While rooting through Old Hall for anything
worthwhile, the pair had come across a small, Ozark Trail backpack
in one of the top-most offices. Since neither had been able to
carry one of Foster's packs, and Jake's Bug-Out Bag was back in the
Mimi, they'd taken it to carry their meager supplies. Removing the
pack, Jake passed it forward and Kat clipped yet another carabineer
to one shoulder strap. Without another word, she released his pack.
It slid down the line, unnoticed by the creatures. Though the
huddled pair listened intently as it disappeared into the night,
whatever noise the pack made upon reaching the opposite roof was
covered entirely by the low moans and shuffling of corpses below.
Ultimately, they were left with no idea what awaited them on the
other end.

“Well. It didn't fall.” Kat continued staring
into the gloom after his pack.

O'Connor's jaw clenched. “Okay. Let's get
this over with, before I have a rush of uncommon sense.”