Orpheus by Dan DeWitt Read Free Book Online Page A

Holt, the last one through, didn't bother taking another look before slamming the door and bracing it with his shoulder. He must have been spotted, because a vicious pounding commenced on the other side. A stocky black man added his bulk to Holt's, and Holt was grateful.
    “We have anything to block this?!?” Holt bellowed.
    One of the men who had made it was the security guard who Holt had drawn on earlier. If he held a grudge, he smartly didn't let it affect his current decision making. “The 3rd floor has a shitload of office furniture!”
    “Go! Go! Everyone else help him! I don't give a fuck if you throw it down the stairs!”
    Anders, Mutt, and the two others (Holt didn't notice that one was a woman until they came back) took the stairs two and three at a time and disappeared around a corner. A few seconds later they heard the 3rd floor door slamming shut.
    The man next to him asked, “You think they're coming back?” He sounded out of breath. He looked in pretty good shape for his age (Holt guessed mid-50's), so Holt chalked it up to anxiety. He also knew there was a real chance that he sounded the same.
    “Yeah. That cop is the real thing.”
    “Will it make a difference if they don't?”
    Holt considered the circumstances, the magnitude of what they were facing. He didn't know how to honestly answer that question, so he said. “If they don't, the good news is I have enough bullets to kill us both several times.”
    “Oh, sorry, I didn't get you anything.”
    Holt chuckled. “Man with a sense of humor. I-”
    The 3rd floor stairwell door slammed open again. “Coming down! Get ready to move your asses!” Mutt's duo back came into view. He and Anders were carrying a very heavy-looking wooden desk. When they got near the bottom they flipped it up the long way and got a good grip.
    Holt's companion knew what they had in mind.“You good for three seconds?”
    Holt dug in as hard as he could. “Go!”
    He scrambled to his feet as the other men butted an edge of the desk up against the door. Holt was wedged, but he wriggled out and around it. Though the door was only unattended for two seconds, the lock almost buckled from the pounding. It held, barely, and the desk slammed into place. Holt and his partner resumed their positions, this time with a slab of wood between them and the door. The extra weight was a welcome addition, but Holt was a long way from comfortable. “Keep it coming!”
    He didn't have to wait long. Right behind them was a similar desk. The woman who carried one end was slightly built, and she was obviously struggling, but she held her own. Dozens of pieces came down, and Holt and his workmate Sam (Holt learned his name after the third desk) continued their dance until the furniture was packed tightly halfway up the stairwell. Then they relaxed, but not much.
    “Come on,” Mutt said. “Third floor's abandoned.”
    They all went upstairs. Abandoned was exactly the way to describe it. It was clear that the occupants of the offices had evacuated. It had the feel of a ghost town, which was a welcome respite from the pandemonium of the last few hours. They all collapsed in the chairs nearest to them. No one spoke for several moments. Holt thought that they might be in shock, but he just had nothing to say.
    Anders broke the silence. “Damn, I dropped my smokes. Some zombie's probably lighting up on my dime right now.”
    The woman reached into her jacket pocket and produced a pack of clove cigarettes.”I've been trying to quit, so this is the best I can do.”
    “Works for me.” He took two and walked over to the window. Holt wanted to think he was being polite, but the smart money said he was just antisocial.
    She held the pack out to the group. “Anyone else?”
    Sam took one. “What he said, except cigars.”
    Holt leaned over to Mutt. “This floor secured?”
    “Yeah. We buried the other stairwell entrance, too. I don't think the elevator's going anywhere anymore.”
    “Nice.”