Vincent and the group were still moving with extreme caution, and for good reason: their numbers were a liability. When Brook had made his escape, he’d only had four people with him. Four people could move quickly and quietly, slipping out of a window, lifting the manhole cover, and disappearing into the sewer before the zombies even noticed. Even if the undead had spotted them, the barricade of cars would’ve slowed the horde down long enough for the small group to escape.

  But Vincent’s group had nine people. If they were discovered too soon, there was no way they’d all make it into the sewer before the zombies closed in. Every second counted. The longer they could avoid detection, the better their chances of survival.

  Robby, catching his breath, watched Vincent’s movements closely. Without a word, he pulled out his pistol, hesitated, then holstered it again. Instead, he grabbed the ankle of a nearby zombie corpse and began dragging it slowly toward him. The body was heavy—too heavy for most of the group to move—but Robby was strong. Not as monstrously built as Strong John, but far stronger than Jason or Vincent.

  He moved the corpse inch by inch, careful not to make any sudden noises that might attract the zombies at the intersection. It took him a full minute to clear the manhole cover, which had been hidden beneath the body. By the time he was done, his clothes were smeared with blood, but he had no open wounds to worry about.

  Robby crouched low, peering through the shattered windshield of a car toward the intersection. The street beyond was packed with zombies, their red eyes glazed and unfocused as they swayed in place. Most were facing west, drawn by the gunshots Vincent and Robby had fired from the rooftop earlier. The horde was so dense that the zombies could barely move.

  Satisfied that the coast was clear, Robby took a deep breath and stepped out into the open. He moved quickly but carefully, crouching as he approached the manhole cover. If even one zombie turned its head, he’d be spotted.

  He grabbed the handle of the cover, twisted it, and lifted it free, setting it down gently on another corpse to muffle the sound. Without hesitation, Robby stepped over the hole, stretched his arms above his head, and dropped straight down into the sewer.

  At the intersection, one zombie turned its head, its dull eyes scanning the area. It seemed to sense something, but by the time it looked, Robby was gone. The manhole was just an empty hole now, and the zombie, with its limited memory, quickly lost interest.

  If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it's taken without the author's consent. Report it.

  Back inside the building, Vincent turned to Jason, Christine, and Manny. “You three next,” he whispered. “Go one at a time. No hesitation. When you reach the manhole, jump straight down. Robby will catch you.”

  He’d already explained this on the rooftop, but he couldn’t help repeating it. The stakes were too high. He glanced at Kelly, who was clinging to Strong John, but said nothing. She wasn’t ready for this.

  Robby’s disappearance into the sewer had gone unnoticed by the zombies, so Vincent gave the signal. Jason went first, slipping out the window with a quick roll and jumping into the manhole without a second thought. His bandaged arm would need changing soon—it was already smeared with zombie blood.

  Christine followed, moving more cautiously. She climbed out the window and crept to the manhole, hesitating for a moment before jumping in. Her slow movements didn’t go unnoticed. A zombie at the intersection let out a guttural roar, and the horde began to stir.

  They’d been spotted. But three people were already in the sewer. Six to go.

  “Move, Manny!” Vincent urged, giving her a push toward the window. Stealth no longer mattered.

  Manny jumped out, followed by Laura, Old Mike, Strong John, and Kelly. Vincent brought up the rear.

  Manny didn’t head straight for the manhole. Instead, she helped Laura climb out the window before sprinting to the hole and jumping in. The apocalypse had changed her—before all this, she’d never have dared to make such a leap. But as the saying goes, necessity breeds courage.

  The zombies were closing in. The lead zombie had already climbed over the barricade of cars and was stumbling toward them. It would reach the manhole in seconds. More zombies were following.

  Laura reached the manhole and began climbing down the ladder. Old Mike was right behind her. The tension was palpable—the later you went, the greater the risk. And Vincent, as the last one, would have to secure the manhole cover behind them.

  Strong John climbed out the window and helped Kelly down. “Go, Kelly,” he urged, guiding her to the manhole.

  Kelly wasn’t too scared to climb down the ladder, but she moved slowly, constantly looking back at her father. John didn’t follow her immediately. Instead, he turned to Vincent, who was just climbing out of the window. “You go first,” John said.

  “Me first?” Vincent’s heart raced. The zombies were less than ten meters away. This wasn’t the time for heroics.

  But John had a plan. With one hand, he lifted the heavy iron manhole cover, weighing over twenty kilograms, and swung it like a weapon. The lead zombie’s head exploded like a rotten melon. John didn’t even flinch, still holding the cover with one hand.

  Vincent understood. He jumped into the manhole, and Robby caught him mid-air, easing his fall. “Move!” Vincent hissed, pushing Robby aside.

  Above, John hoisted the cover over his head, adjusted his grip, and leaped into the manhole. The cover slammed into place with a deafening *clang*, sealing the entrance just as the zombies reached it.

  The undead swarmed the spot, confused and frustrated. They had no idea how to open the manhole. Below, Vincent and the group were safe—for now.