Heroic Measures (continued)

He angled the flashlight upward, so that its beam illuminated the side of the building. Passing it slowly over the concrete and masonry he finally spied the thin metal bars of the access ladder. It was located at the opposite corner of the building, but on this same wall. It was difficult to tell with the shadows whether or not the rungs descended all of the way to the ground. That concern did not particularly worry him, as he had been in that situation before, and he had rope with him this time, coiled securely in one of the pouches of equipment belt.

Moving the flashlight beam once more across the vertical surface of the building, he checked one more time for any signs of movement or activity. As he swung the flashlight back toward him, its handle slipped through the rain-slicked fingers of his glove. He clutched at it frantically, but the delay between his mental command and when his fingers finally consented to obey him was too long. The flashlight tumbled down into the darkness toward the street below, casting swirling patterns of light along the building walls as it fell.

Well, that’s just great . . .

His head started to throb again. The slight respite that he had managed to achieve through the help of Sen’s training was beginning to dissolve. He stared down into the alleyway, seeing a bright patch of light.

At least it didn’t break . . .

He looked toward the far corner of the roof, wondering he could safely make the descent in his current condition. A mild wave of vertigo passed over him.

You don’t have a lot of choice, Walter, my boy. It’s not like you can call for help.

His headset suddenly crackled.

“. . . regroup . . . all . . . grid Alpha seventeen . . .”

Walter remained still, trying to focus his thoughts to piece the words together into something meaningful.

“. . . perimeter . . . grid . . . seventeen . . . respond . . .”

Automatically, he reached up to the headset to report in. As his fingers tapped the control, it shrieked in the final death wail of tortured electronics. The world around him went silent for a moment, and then he could hear the sounds of the rain and wind once more.

Without thinking, Walter ripped the headset from his hood and slammed it to the ground. Pieces of it shattered away as it struck the rooftop.

Damn it.

He guessed that there must have some residual charge left in his body. It was not enough to mount any kind of attack, but more than sufficient to burn out the sensitive components of the headset.

Not that it mattered much, I guess.

Walter stared down at the ruined headset.

I’m definitely on my own now . . .

He clung to that thought for strength.

They might eventually find him if he remained here—when the battle was over and they began their search for bodies and survivors.

Like hell am I going to let them die out there alone!

A mental image formed in his mind of Vivian chased through the streets, going aloft, and then shot down by those bat-like aircraft. Every muscle in his body clenched with fury at the thought.

Red being pummeled like a rag doll, outnumbered by squad of monstrous, mutated beings . . .

Walter stumbled toward the ladder access. He no longer felt the rain. Lightning flashed from somewhere behind him, briefly silhouetting him against the rooftop. The thunder was a distant noise, sounding in his mind like far-off artillery. He reached the edge of the roof, leaning heavily against it as a new wave of vertigo passed through him. His legs threatened to transform into rubber, but he remained standing through sheer force of his will.