Capital Falling | Book 4 | Sever Winkless, Lance (most popular ebook readers TXT) 📖

steel stairs that is corpse free, and I step onto it. It seems that practice makes perfect, I climb the escalator without issue. I seem to have to climb escalators more than they carry me of late and I can’t see that changing any time soon.

The area at the top of the escalator reminds me of a tube station, it is basic with a row of low-slung walk-through barriers.  All the barriers glass doors are wide open, so I simply walk through them rather than having to climb over.

I follow the unfamiliar layout that I presume leads to the stairwells and the lifts, the smell of death concentrates the farther I go from the opening at the top of the escalators, but it is manageable.

Banks of lifts are at the back of the building, on the vertical side of the tower. I walk past the touchpad screens sitting on poles outside each stainless steel sliding door to look for the stairs leading up. Even if I was so inclined to use the lifts, I see from the black touchpad screens that they are not operational.

Past all the stainless steel doors is another door that I see leads to the stairs as I peer through the door’s glass panel. The area on the other side of the door is clear and I push my shoulder against it, a whooshing sound accompanies the door opening as the air equalises and the air that flows out to greet me is stagnant and rancid with the smell of death. Once more I must concentrate to hold my stomach down, but I do it while I move, confused why my stomach has become so weak.

Luckily, the stairs have windows bringing in light from the outside, and I hope that the tower's design keeps those windows, at least until the tenth floor. Reluctantly, I remove my foot that is holding the door open, and allowing some fresh air in, and let the door close. Another whooshing sound accompanies the door swinging back into its frame leaving me with only stagnant air to fill my lungs. I try not to dwell on the fact that I am breathing in death and instead try to concentrate on the route ahead.

With my M4 pointed up the first flight of steps I begin my climb. Sticking to the outer perimeter of the enclosed space gives me the best angle to bring the M4 around onto the next flight and check for threats. The first corner rounded; I see the door to the next floor at the top of the second flight.

I reach the first door, which has a number 2 sign mounted on the wall next to it, which will save any confusion about what floor I am on. I don’t feel foolish about needing the signs, with the way the entrance is designed, I’ve already come up one escalator and there was another one next to it going to a different floor. Either of the floors the escalators met with could have been considered the first floor, or the ground floor for that matter? Even with my suspect mathematics, I am confident in my calculations that tell me I’ve got a total of eighteen flights of stairs to climb to reach the tenth floor, with two of those already behind me.

The glass panel in the door to floor two shows me nothing of interest. I can just about see the edge of one of the touchscreen panels for the lifts but not much else. Under different circumstances and if I had a team of operatives with me, I would have the area outside the door cleared before we continued, but it’s just me and I’m running late, so I leave the door alone, and shut.

Floors three and four are passed without incident, but as I approach floor five a sound begins to burrow its way into my ears. The low rasping sound is becoming well known to me by now. At least one Rabid is in the stairwell with me and I would be incredibly surprised if it is just one. Nothing appears as I reach floor five, but there is blood on the floor next to the lifts as I look out of floor five’s door panel. The blood is smeared in a hectic pattern across the floor, and I’m pretty sure that there was a struggle in that area to create such a pattern. No matter how much I strain to see through the glass panel I can’t see anything else, no body and no Rabid.

Having no other option other than to continue without disturbing the door, I turn and begin to climb up to floor six. My approach to door six is clear but as soon as I arrive, I see a pool of dark red blood at the bottom of the steps up, opposite the door.

Cautiously, I inch around to get a view of the stairs above, my M4 leading the way. As the steps come into view, I see blood staining each of them, the blood has flowed down the flight from its source like a ghastly waterfall. As I inch around, the source presents itself to me, the torrid horror sickening.

On the top step of the next flight, a head hangs down, almost resting onto the step below it. A man’s face stares upside down at me from above, his eyes wide and filled with terror, a terror that has stayed with him even in death. The doomed soul’s mouth is gaping open in a silent scream, frozen in time. Hair hangs down from the top of the corpse’s head, the strands matted and clumped together like straw, the remaining blood in his hair, congealed and dried before it had the chance to flow down the stairs with the rest of it.

The poor bugger must have cracked his head open, I think as I approach the stairs. But I quickly think again, as I come to a sudden stop and duck down out