Earthfall: Retribution by Mark Walden Read Free Book Online Page B

trying to move would be a massive mistake.
    S o you’re just going to lie here and freeze to death, then? Sam thought to himself. Great plan.
    He took a deep breath and tried to push himself up off the floor. The sudden searing pain in his side made him feel slightly light-headed and he fought the overwhelming urge just to lie back down again, but he knew that would only end one way . . . not well. He gingerly touched his side and his fingers came away wet with blood. He took a breath and forced himself to feel the wound area again, his fingertips brushing against something cold, hard and sharp that was protruding from under the edge of the body armour beneath his armpit.
    ‘Whatever it is, don’t pull it out,’ Sam said to himself, trying to remember his field-medic training. Pain was better than bleeding to death – that much he knew. He sat there for a moment or two, building up his strength for the next challenge: standing up. He made it to one knee before the pain in his side and back made him stop to catch his breath. As his eyes began to adjust to the gloom, he slowly realised where he was. The long, narrow chamber was lined with snow-covered windows that were only letting in the barest splash of light, but he could just make out the shape of the seats that surrounded him. As he began to see more detail, he realised that those seats were separated by a central aisle that led down to another single seat with a steering wheel in front of it.
    ‘How the hell did I end up on a bus?’ Sam said, slowly standing up. He turned round and saw the source of the brighter overhead illumination: the soft dawn light outside poured through the shattered remains of the large skylight in the bus roof. On the roof outside he could see snow piled nearly a metre deep. His last memory was of losing his grip on Jay and then falling into blackness. He must have hit the snow, and that and his pack absorbed the brunt of the impact. Their combined weight had presumably proven too much for the skylight, which had given way beneath him, dumping him inside. He supposed that made him incredibly lucky, but he certainly didn’t feel it at that precise moment.
    He carefully unslung his pack from his back, ignoring the pain in his side, and assessed the damaged contents. He had enough rations for a couple of days and a rudimentary first-aid kit, but, besides a simple bivouac kit, that was pretty much all that had survived the fall. His radio was smashed to pieces and his rifle was nowhere to be seen. He felt for the holster at his waist and was relieved to touch the reassuringly cold metal of the handgun that was still clipped inside it. It was quiet outside, but that didn’t mean he was alone. The hideous creatures that had chased them up on to the roof could still be anywhere, and so he was very relieved to find himself not completely unarmed. He gathered up the remnants of his pack before moving quietly towards the front of the bus. The dawn light was growing brighter, but the snow that covered the windows made it impossible to see anything. He thumped the windscreen a couple of times, trying to dislodge some of the snow, but it was firmly frozen in place.
    ‘Well, I can’t stay here,’ Sam said to himself. He looked around for a second before spotting the emergency manual-release lever above the bus’s folding doors. He pulled it, and there was a clunk from inside the wall. Sam slid his fingers between the black rubber seals in the centre of the door and pulled. The pain that shot up his side was excruciating, making him feel faint for a second, but he had to get the doors open. He took a deep breath and pulled again, but it was no good. The doors wouldn’t budge. It was either the weight of snow piled up against them or else the long-neglected locking mechanism had simply jammed. He needed something to lever the doors open, but a quick inspection of the abandoned bags around the bus revealed no suitable tools. He looked up at the