Dominik sized up Quaid Sears. He was a middle-aged man in a sweat-stained white dress shirt, with graying hair at his temples and a slightly soft build that immediately gave off the impression of an academic.
At this point, Quaid Sears spoke again, adjusting his slipping glasses. "Excuse me, are you the reinforcements sent by the military?"
"Reinforcements?" Simon and Dominik said in unison.
Quaid, looking a little agitated, said, "Agent Bolt sent out a priority distress signal over the satellite phone just as the epidemic hit the city limits. You are the extraction team, right?"
Agent?
Dominik frowned slightly at Quaid's words. He glanced back toward the conference room. Among the corpses, besides the two in local police uniforms, there were indeed three men in tailored suits with shoulder holsters.
He had initially assumed they were high-end private security—armed bodyguards weren't uncommon for wealthy expats in Myanmar—but if they were intelligence agents, the nature of this situation was vastly more complicated.
However, Dominik didn't waste breath answering Quaid's question. Instead, he quickly ran to the stairwell, shoved a heavy wooden credenza against the buckling fire door to buy them a few more seconds, and declared loudly:
"Professor Sears, this is not the time for a debrief. The only thing that matters right now is getting off this floor."
"Ah, yes, yes." Quaid, recognizing the urgency in Dominik's tone, quickly shielded the two terrified female survivors behind him. "We will follow your lead, son."
Dominik merely nodded. Just as he was about to rush into the AV room to get his sister, Laura emerged into the ruined hall.
"Dom, are we leaving now?"
"Mm!" Dominik gently squeezed her shoulder, his voice softening. "I'm getting you out of here."
"Okay." Laura nodded obediently, her eyes fixed on him with absolute trust.
Dominik didn't immediately move to the window. First, he knelt beside one of the dead agents. He unclipped a Glock 19 from the man's holster, grabbed two spare 9mm magazines, and then ushered Laura toward the shattered window at the end of the hall.
Dominik slung his Type-56 across his back, handed the Glock to Quaid, and said:
"Professor Sears, I don't know if you've ever fired a weapon, but we need to get you to the ground first. Simon and I have to hold the line and cover the evacuation."
"Not a problem." Quaid took the pistol, his grip surprisingly firm. He checked the safety with his thumb. "I did my mandatory service when I was younger. A sidearm is no problem."
While they were talking, Dominik quickly secured the heavy static line around Quaid's waist with a reinforced carabiner. After confirming the knot was solid, he looked out the window at the dark alley below. "Professor, you're dropping onto the loading dock awning. I don't see any infected directly below. Secure the landing zone."
"Understood!" Quaid swung his legs over the windowsill.
"Brace!" Dominik took a deep breath, wrapped the slack around his forearms to create friction, and slowly lowered the professor. He shouted over his shoulder, "Simon! Watch the door! Don't let them through!"
"Copy!" Simon responded, his SCAR-L raised, the red dot sight painting the center of the wooden credenza blocking the fire door.
"Ah... this guy is heavy..." Dominik gritted his teeth as the rope burned against his tactical gloves. If he hadn't looted them off the Syndicate militiaman, his palms would have been flayed to the bone.
Thump! CRACK! Violent banging echoed through the hall. Fate was out of time. The horde had reached the landing, and the sheer mass of hundreds of bodies was crushing the heavy fire door inward. The wood of the credenza splintered violently.
The barricade held for only a fraction of a second before it gave way entirely, allowing a torrent of rotting bodies to spill into the tenth-floor corridor.
Simon didn't flinch. The moment the door broke, he opened fire.
Pfft-pfft-pfft! "Fuck!" Simon cursed as the suppressed 5.56mm rounds dropped the front row, only for the bodies to be instantly trampled by the ones behind them. The horde wasn't slowing down. He backed up a step. "How much longer?! I'm Winchester on ammo in ten seconds!"
"Almost there!" Dominik yelled. He didn't have time to look. He was currently securing the harness around the last female student.
Laura and the other girl had already been lowered to the awning, and Quaid was sweeping the alley below with the Glock. This last girl didn't freeze; the moment Dominik clipped her in, she scrambled over the ledge, and he lowered her as fast as gravity and friction would safely allow.
In just four agonizing minutes, everyone except Dominik and Simon had safely reached the lower roof. Upstairs, the rhythmic bursts of the SCAR-L had transitioned into desperate, rapid fire.
"Simon! Fall back!" Dominik roared, grabbing the rope and vaulting over the sill.
He didn't use a harness. Relying on the adrenaline surging through his veins, he clamped his boots around the rope and slid down, his gloved hands burning from the friction.
BOOM!
Just as Dominik's boots hit the metal awning, the deafening roar of a fragmentation grenade shook the building above them.
A split second later, Simon launched himself out of the tenth-floor window. He grabbed the static line with both hands, bypassing a harness entirely. It was a textbook fast-rope descent. In just three seconds, Simon controlled his plummet, braking sharply before hitting the metal roof.
Thud. The heavy sound of his combat boots hitting the corrugated steel confirmed he was safe.
Dominik rushed over to him. "Status?"
"Heh." Simon pulled the empty magazine from his SCAR-L and slapped his final full one into the magwell. "Dropped a frag to stagger the front line. Walked right out the window."
Dominik nodded, catching his breath. He pointed toward the edge of the awning that overlooked the main intersection. "The Hilux is parked on the street to the left of the main entrance. But I need to see the swarm density. How many 40mm rounds do you have for the launcher?"
"Three incendiary, two high-explosive," Simon said, tapping the FN EGLM underbarrel launcher attached to his rifle.
"Let's assess," Dominik said in a low voice.
He led Laura, Quaid, and the two students to the edge of the awning. Dominik peered over the lip, looking down at the street level.
It was a nightmare. Countless zombies were swarming the hotel's main entrance, drawn by the earlier explosions. The Hilux was parked in the shadows about fifty meters away. While it wasn't buried under the horde, the street was far too congested to just make a run for it.
But Dominik's eyes locked onto a rusted, abandoned cargo truck parked at the far end of the intersection. He turned to Simon. "Can you hit that cargo truck from here?"
Simon didn't rush to answer. He raised his rifle, checked the angle, and gauged the wind against the surrounding buildings. He gave a thumbs-up. "Two hundred and twenty meters. Piece of cake."
"Do it. Put an incendiary round right into its cab. Let's see if the fire draws them off the hotel."
"Copy."
Simon stepped up to the ledge. He flipped the leaf sight up for the 40mm launcher, adjusting for the drop. He didn't bother crouching; he needed the clearance over the streetlights.
Thump. The hollow, metallic pomp of the grenade launcher firing echoed softly. A faint chemical trail arced beautifully through the dark sky, straight toward the distant truck.
BOOM! The 40mm White Phosphorus round detonated directly inside the cabin of the cargo truck.
The night before dawn is always the darkest, but at this moment, the truck erupted into a blinding, roaring bonfire of chemical white light. The intense heat and sudden, violent noise acted like a massive magnet. The zombies, driven by base instinct, stopped clawing at the hotel doors. Like moths to a horrific flame, the horde turned as one and began shuffling rapidly toward the burning wreck at the end of the block.
"Go!"
Seeing the street clearing, Dominik didn't hesitate. He ushered the group toward the fire escape ladder attached to the loading dock. "Move to the Hilux! Now!"