Read Online Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught by Drew Brown - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Drew Brown
Tags: England, supernatural, London, Zombies, undead, fast zombies, United Kingdom, reanimated, slow zombies
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static. “See, there’s nothing now, so the reports you heard could just be rumors. We all know how fast people panic. We should make our way out of London as soon as possible.”
“Well, before we make a decision, we should clear t’hotel, make sure that all of t’survivors are found,” Andy replied.
“No way,” the black-haired man said. “If they’ve made their choice to stay in their suites, I can make mine to leave. Who’s with me?”
“Some people will still be sleeping. What about them?”
“Screw them, we need to escape. For the last time, who’s with me?”
Before anyone had a chance to answer, the whole group heard fast footsteps falling on the corridor outside the bar. They all turned to look at the open doors.
The feet pounded towards them.
Frank burst in.
His face was flushed from running and his voice was distressed as his lungs gasped for air. “Everyone,” he called, “you’ve got to come and see this.”
18
Frank waited as the group got out of their seats and gathered up some candles, and then he turned around and went back the way he’d come. Some of the group, particularly the three elderly priests, struggled to keep up with the eager pace he set, and the line gradually strung out along the corridor and down the staircase as it progressed.
Juliette fell into step with another young couple and walked a few paces behind them. As the male of the pair was carrying a large flashlight, Budd was contented enough, pleased to be both in the middle of the group and close to a source of light.
He held Juliette’s hand as they moved along and they rounded the bottom of the staircase, meandering through the dark and narrow corridors of the employee-only area until they reached the reception. The front-runners of the group were already across it, passing the open doorway into the Tropical Walkway.
“Where do you think we are going?” Juliette asked.
“Haven’t a clue, baby cakes.”
They left the black and white tiled floor of the reception area and entered the Tropical Walkway. At its far end, Frank and a couple of the others were already out on the pavement. They had their heads tilted backwards as they looked up to the sky.
Budd glanced up, staring through the glass roof, but his own movement disguised whatever was happening above him and so he lowered his eyes to the handful of corpses on the red-carpeted pathway that cut between the plants and trees. Most of the fallen were guests, but several were wearing matching green pants and sweatshirts, and they appeared to have been tending to the flora when the tragedy had struck. One of the gardeners had collapsed on a narrow pathway between the foliage, thirty feet beyond the intersection to the basement elevator. At the bottom of the path was the door to a wooden shed, which was emblazoned with the signs EMPLOYEES ONLY and DO NOT LEAVE UNLOCKED.
Budd noted the discovery and carried on. He and Juliette were nearly at the main entrance to the New Millennium Hotel, where the glass doors had been propped open and the four mauve-suited attendants were slumped on the ground at their posts. Those of the group who had already reached the outside were looking up to the sky.
Their faces were shocked, gasping.
Budd and Juliette ventured outside together and immediately looked up. It took a few seconds before Budd fully comprehended what was happening. Beside him, Juliette said something in quick, quiet French.
The sky was falling.
The cloud, which Budd thought looked a further shade darker than it had from the Skyview Restaurant, was descending the building at a rate of a few feet per second. It was already three-quarters of the way down. Everything above it was obscured in a thick, pea-soup greyness. He let his eyes wander from the hotel to the area around it; as far as he could see, the grey cloud was tumbling down.
I felt like one of so many bugs I’d stepped on over the years. I immediately had a great empathy for what
“Well, before we make a decision, we should clear t’hotel, make sure that all of t’survivors are found,” Andy replied.
“No way,” the black-haired man said. “If they’ve made their choice to stay in their suites, I can make mine to leave. Who’s with me?”
“Some people will still be sleeping. What about them?”
“Screw them, we need to escape. For the last time, who’s with me?”
Before anyone had a chance to answer, the whole group heard fast footsteps falling on the corridor outside the bar. They all turned to look at the open doors.
The feet pounded towards them.
Frank burst in.
His face was flushed from running and his voice was distressed as his lungs gasped for air. “Everyone,” he called, “you’ve got to come and see this.”
18
Frank waited as the group got out of their seats and gathered up some candles, and then he turned around and went back the way he’d come. Some of the group, particularly the three elderly priests, struggled to keep up with the eager pace he set, and the line gradually strung out along the corridor and down the staircase as it progressed.
Juliette fell into step with another young couple and walked a few paces behind them. As the male of the pair was carrying a large flashlight, Budd was contented enough, pleased to be both in the middle of the group and close to a source of light.
He held Juliette’s hand as they moved along and they rounded the bottom of the staircase, meandering through the dark and narrow corridors of the employee-only area until they reached the reception. The front-runners of the group were already across it, passing the open doorway into the Tropical Walkway.
“Where do you think we are going?” Juliette asked.
“Haven’t a clue, baby cakes.”
They left the black and white tiled floor of the reception area and entered the Tropical Walkway. At its far end, Frank and a couple of the others were already out on the pavement. They had their heads tilted backwards as they looked up to the sky.
Budd glanced up, staring through the glass roof, but his own movement disguised whatever was happening above him and so he lowered his eyes to the handful of corpses on the red-carpeted pathway that cut between the plants and trees. Most of the fallen were guests, but several were wearing matching green pants and sweatshirts, and they appeared to have been tending to the flora when the tragedy had struck. One of the gardeners had collapsed on a narrow pathway between the foliage, thirty feet beyond the intersection to the basement elevator. At the bottom of the path was the door to a wooden shed, which was emblazoned with the signs EMPLOYEES ONLY and DO NOT LEAVE UNLOCKED.
Budd noted the discovery and carried on. He and Juliette were nearly at the main entrance to the New Millennium Hotel, where the glass doors had been propped open and the four mauve-suited attendants were slumped on the ground at their posts. Those of the group who had already reached the outside were looking up to the sky.
Their faces were shocked, gasping.
Budd and Juliette ventured outside together and immediately looked up. It took a few seconds before Budd fully comprehended what was happening. Beside him, Juliette said something in quick, quiet French.
The sky was falling.
The cloud, which Budd thought looked a further shade darker than it had from the Skyview Restaurant, was descending the building at a rate of a few feet per second. It was already three-quarters of the way down. Everything above it was obscured in a thick, pea-soup greyness. He let his eyes wander from the hotel to the area around it; as far as he could see, the grey cloud was tumbling down.
I felt like one of so many bugs I’d stepped on over the years. I immediately had a great empathy for what
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