Chapter 37: Desperate Gamble
Hanks leaned back against the cold iron door. Heavy breathing echoed in the narrow corridor.
Sweat ran down from his temples, dripping onto the brand-new SWAT tactical vest.
Stay calm. Must stay calm.
His gaze swept around like a hawk's, brain working frantically under adrenaline's influence.
Wait.
His gaze locked onto the ceiling above.
On the corridor's ceiling—an old-style ventilation duct entrance with a metal cover plate.
The cover was held by four screws. Looked old. But maybe worth trying.
No time to hesitate.
Hanks gave a sharp tug. The gun sling yanked the M590 shotgun onto his back. He leaned the other one against the wall.
He took a deep breath. Legs bent slightly. He exploded upward with astonishing jumping power, leaping hard.
Not high enough.
His fingertips barely grazed the cold metal cover plate.
Four times normal agility far exceeded average humans, but jumping from a standing position while loaded with heavy gear to touch a ceiling nearly three meters high—
Still too much of a stretch.
CRASH!
The door burst open.
Rotted arms and heads poured out like a tide, howling as they squeezed into the narrow corridor.
"Shit!" Hanks cursed, landing and immediately grabbing the M590 shotgun leaning against the wall without hesitation.
BOOM!
A deafening roar exploded in the enclosed space. The 12-gauge shot spread in a fan pattern.
The three or four walkers at the front were like being struck by a sledgehammer. Their upper bodies shredded instantly.
Rotten flesh and shattered bone sprayed backward. Falling corpses temporarily blocked their companions' path.
But more walkers were frantically shoving aside the wreckage, continuing forward.
Crack-BOOM!
Hanks's movements were flawlessly smooth. He pumped the forend, ejecting the shell and chambering a fresh round. The second shot roared again.
Several more walkers blasted to pieces.
The narrow corridor became the perfect place for the shotgun's power. Every shot caused horrific area damage.
But there were too many walkers.
They knew no fear, advancing over their companions' corpses one after another.
Hanks fired while rapidly retreating until his back pressed against the chained door.
Nowhere left to go.
Crack-BOOM! Crack-BOOM!
The shotgun roared again and again. Each thunderous blast sent walker limbs flying.
The thick smell of gunpowder mixed with blood and stench, inducing nausea.
Shell casings clinked to the ground at his feet, quickly carpeting a small area.
One shotgun ran dry.
Hanks swung it like a club, smashing it hard into an approaching walker's skull.
Then he pulled out the other fully loaded M590 with his off-hand and continued firing.
BOOM! BOOM!
Gunfire continuous, like the Grim Reaper's roar.
After countless shotgun rounds, the corridor nearly choked with walker remains—
The incoming walker numbers seemed to decrease. The assault's momentum faltered slightly.
Now!
Hanks used those precious two or three seconds he'd bought to make an extremely risky decision.
He backed up two steps, charged forward with momentum, then kicked hard off the corridor wall.
His body launched upward using the force. His other foot kicked off the opposite wall.
His level-one parkour skill's balance and body control came into play at this moment.
Hanks briefly wall-ran, then jumped again.
This time he jumped high enough. His left hand reached up, gripping the ventilation duct cover's edge tightly.
His entire weight hung suspended in midair.
"ROAR!"
The walkers below had already surged to right beneath him. Arms clawed upward frantically, nearly touching his boot soles.
Hanks's right hand released the shotgun, yanking the cold hand axe from his back.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Crack!
He drove the axe's sharp blade hard into the gap between the ventilation cover and its frame, prying frantically.
The four old screws holding the cover groaned sickeningly under the tremendous force.
CREAK—SNAP!
The first screw flew off.
Then the second.
The third.
BOOM! Another shotgun blast.
But from downstairs—the flames were still detonating remaining ammunition.
The entire building shook again.
The fourth screw finally gave way.
Hanks felt his hand lighten. The entire ventilation cover plate tore off under his prying.
His left hand pulled hard, body lifting upward. His right arm smoothly returned the hand axe to his back, then both hands grabbed the vent opening's edge.
Using his last strength, he dragged himself and the heavy equipment together into the narrow, dark ventilation duct.
Hanks lay in the dust-covered duct, gasping violently, heart hammering like it would burst from his chest.
Below in the duct, walkers howled in frustration. The sound of claws scraping metal made his scalp crawl. But clearly they couldn't enter this narrow space.
Temporarily safe.
But he discovered a new problem. This duct was even narrower than imagined.
Wearing the tactical vest and carrying equipment, he could only crawl forward with difficulty.
And the duct interior was pitch black. Couldn't see his hand in front of his face. Could only feel his way.
Behind him, walker howls continuously came from the entrance. He couldn't retreat. Could only move forward.
Hanks gritted his teeth and began the arduous crawl through the oppressive metal duct.
Metal scraping sounds and his gasping echoed in the duct, along with his pounding heartbeat.
Hanks crawled with difficulty through the dark, dust-filled ventilation duct.
Every movement made the tactical vest scrape against the duct walls with harsh sounds. The heavy equipment drained his strength enormously.
Sweat mixed with dust caked his face. Breathing became increasingly difficult. The passage's air was stale and stuffy.
He could only rely on his hands feeling ahead, determining the duct's direction.
Don't know how long he crawled...
When Hanks felt his lungs burning like fire, arms so sore he could barely lift them—
Ahead came a trace of extremely faint light and a hint of fresh air flow.
An exit ahead!
Hanks's spirits lifted. He gritted his teeth, using every ounce of strength to move toward the light.
The light grew increasingly obvious, coming through gaps in a similar ventilation cover.
He crawled close, carefully looking down through the gaps. Below appeared to be a vehicle maintenance bay.
Spacious. Concrete floor. A vehicle parked there. Various repair tools hung on the walls.
Most importantly—no signs of walker activity.
The exit was right in front of him.
The ventilation cover was similarly fixed from the inside with screws. And it looked sturdier than the one in the corridor.
Hanks tried prying with the hand axe, but the angle was extremely awkward. No way to generate force.
"What the hell!" He cursed quietly, forcing himself to stay calm and observe details carefully.
He discovered it was located high on one side wall of the maintenance bay, directly above a tall tool rack.
If he just destroyed the cover and jumped down, probably over three meters high, onto hard concrete below. Jumping down with heavy equipment could easily cause injury.
And too much noise.
If there were walkers outside the maintenance bay...
Hanks's gaze swept the tool rack. Some canvas seemed piled on top.
A risky plan formed instantly in his mind.