Peter dropped the three feet to the roof of the next building, trying to build a lead on the flames that chased them. He turned to help Amy, but she was already beside him.
“Don’t stop,” She said as she took the lead. He followed her, looking for a fire escape that would allow them access to the ground three stories below. Finally, two rooftops later, he saw the telltale metal handles that marked the top of a ladder.
“There,” he said and pointed, Amy looked around and caught sight of it as well. They angled toward the ladder and Peter put his head down, powering on despite the pain from his broken ribs. They got to the edge of the building and looked below, thankful that no one seemed to be waiting on them. Amy began her descent and was closely followed by Peter, who pulled her across the alleyway once they were on the ground. They could here the clamor of the nearby fighting, but, except for the machete that Peter had managed to pick up and the one bullet that Amy had left in her pistol, they had no weapons.
“This way,” Peter said, heading out of the alley in an effort to escape the large body of Others that was on the other side of the building they were on. They doubled back the way they had come, hoping that the fighting had moved on and the noise died down as they went. They followed the alley until it intersected with a street and Peter slowly approached it, waving for Amy to stay back. Her gun ready, she did so.
The way was clear and they scurried across the street, looking for more cover to hide behind. They found it in the form of a heavily manicured bush that the both managed to fit behind, crouching.
“Peter, I think I saw some guns back there,” She said, parting the bush enough for them to look at the devastation before them. The street was littered with corpses, luckily more of the Others than his fellow defenders, but she did see a few faces she recognized. “Why are they doing this?” She asked, but Peter just shook his head. He did not know either.
“Ok,” he said, “Wait here, I’m going to go get some more weapons.” He scrambled out into the street, kicking through the corpses. Crouching down, Peter picked up a bone handled revolver and checked it for ammo. It was empty and he tossed it aside, reaching for a silver object that caught his attention as he did so. It was another steel blade and he carefully slid it into his belt. He found a shotgun next but this too was empty. He was crouched over another man, checking to see if the pistol in his death grip held any bullets when Amy called out.
“Peter, behind you!” Peter spun and overbalanced himself, falling to his side and avoiding the clubbing blow that had been aimed at his head. He managed to break his fall with his left hand, and pulled the new blade with his right, rising to meet the threat before him. A man wielding what might have been a table leg at one point, was advancing upon him again, the bludgeon raised to strike again. Peter swung the blade and connected with his foe’s filthy shirt, but failing to draw blood. Peter danced backward to avoid the next downward swing of the piece of wood and darted in behind it, sticking his opponent with the tip of the blade. The man staggered backward and Peter swung again, this time low, and managed to catch the side of the man’s left leg, cleaving it all the way to the bone.
The man fell, his leg no longer willing to support his weight, but kept coming, pulling his way along the corpses toward Peter. Stepping backward, Peter avoided a clumsy swipe and followed it with a downward thrust of his own, catching the fallen man in his neck. He left his opponent bleeding and went back to where Amy was.
“Peter, we need to help them,” Amy said, and he nodded.
“I know, I just wish we had better weapons.” He replied, wiping the new blade on the shirt of a nearby corpse and handing it to her.
“Thanks,” she said, weighing the weapon in her hand. “This’ll have to do, just keep an eye out for guns as we go.”
They set off, toward the noise of the fighting. They fought their way over corpse after corpse as they walked and soon the corpses of the defenders were equal in numbers to those of Graham’s army, although they still did not manage to find any weapons of worth for the current struggle. They turned a corner as a cheer went up ahead of them, and they both broke into a run, coming up behind the main body of the Others.
They managed to kill two before they were noticed, and two more after that, but soon they were each faced with multiple opponents. And then the cheer went up again, distracting their foes. They both took advantage of the opportunity, maiming or killing some of their opponents before breaking into a run, trying to push their way through the mass of humanity before them. They both hacked and slashed, and soon their way was opening before them, as Others parted so the two could keep going further, closing ranks behind them, but not pursuing.
Peter felt the flames first as he stumbled into a sudden opening in the crowd, Amy still right beside him. “You ok?” He asked her.
Gasping, she said “Yeah. You?”
“Yeah.” Peter said, spinning, blade out before him. He made a full revolution without anyone, friend or foe, advancing upon him. He stood up warily, trying to stretch out his neck as he did so, and then he heard the voice.
“I knew I would get to see you again if I just waited long enough.” The man said. He was no longer wearing Peter’s jersey, but Peter recognized the man from his nightmares.