Chapter 10: The Needle

Val collapsed against the closed roof hatch, her chest heaving with exhaustion.

In front of her, Ellie held Sam close, the boy still sobbing quietly into his mother’s coat. Their bodies were locked in a trembling embrace—fragile, but alive.

Val turned, inspecting the hatch she’d just sealed behind them. It was solid steel—likely part of the original construction for rooftop maintenance. No latch on the outside, but the weight alone should buy them time.

They were safe. For now.

Val shrugged the red backpack off her aching shoulders and let it drop onto the rooftop gravel with a soft thud. She unzipped the bag and pulled out two granola bars and a sealed water bottle. With a quick glance at Ellie and Sam, she tossed the supplies toward them.

“Eat,” she said gently.

Then she grabbed her own half-empty water bottle—and began to drink.

She didn’t pace herself.

The cool water poured down her throat, washing away the dry ache in her chest. She kept going, gulp after gulp, until the last drop was gone.

When she lowered the bottle, she blinked, catching her breath… and found Ellie and Sam both staring at her.

Concerned. Quiet.

Val wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and gave a faint, sheepish smile.

Embarrassed, Val grabbed her last granola bar and began nibbling it politely.

The silence on the rooftop was punctuated only by their chewing and the distant groans of the horde below.

When they finished their meal, Val took a moment to take stock.

Her gear was still with her—Glock, taser, the redwood-handled dagger at her hip. A flashlight, handcuffs, lighter. No more food or water. That was it.

Ellie and Sam had nothing but the clothes on their backs.

Val exhaled slowly, rubbing her eyes.

We’ll need to find new shelter. Soon.

She looked out over the fog-choked city, its skyline distorted and broken, like the carcass of something that used to breathe.

How long could they survive out in the open like this?

With no supplies.

No plan.

No hope of rescue.

Val clenched her jaw, pushing the thought aside before it could take root. She couldn’t afford to think like that. Not now.

Not with a child depending on her.

After allowing everyone a few minutes to catch their breath, Val finally rose from where she’d been resting beside the hatch. She paused, listening.

Nothing.

No pounding. No scratching. No growling.

Maybe they can’t climb ladders, she thought, cautiously hopeful.

She stepped away from the hatch and began walking the perimeter of the rooftop, moving slow, keeping low. She peered carefully over each side.

Just as she feared—the entire building was surrounded. The dead pressed in from all sides, a writhing mass of limbs and moans, their numbers only growing.

Val scanned the surrounding buildings, eyes narrowing at the structure directly north—just across a narrow alleyway. The rooftops were close. Maybe close enough.

Her eyes returned to the long wooden beam she’d hauled up earlier.

She picked it up and dragged it across the gravel to the northern edge. The board was light but long, old but still sturdy.

She turned it in her hands, balancing it carefully. One slip and it would fall—and then they’d be trapped.

She took a deep breath, stepped to the edge, and slowly lowered the beam across the gap.

It clanked against the rooftop opposite, echoing like a bell through the fog.

Val moved back to Ellie and Sam and knelt beside them on the gravel.

“We have to keep moving,” she said gently. “We need to find shelter and supplies. Are you ready?”

Ellie nodded, her tears finally dry, her face set with quiet resolve.

Val turned to Sam, softening her voice. “Sam, I want you to hold my hand, okay?”

The boy nodded.

“Mum, hold his other hand,” Val continued. “We’re going to walk across a cool bridge I made. Just follow me.”

She gave them both a small, reassuring smile.

“Stick close. One step at a time.”

Val placed one foot on the beam—just slightly wider than her boot. The moment her weight settled, she made the mistake of glancing down.

The horde swarmed below like a pit of writhing shadows, moving and moaning as one. Her stomach flipped. A wave of vertigo hit hard.

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She closed her eyes and drew a slow, steady breath.

Get it together, Val.

Reopening them, she shifted her weight back and steadied herself.

“Ellie. Sam,” she said firmly, not turning around. “I want you to look straight ahead—do you hear me? Don’t look down. Just follow my lead and keep shuffling forward. No sudden moves.”

Both nodded behind her—silent, afraid, but listening.

As Val inched closer to the center of the beam—hovering between the two rooftops—she felt it begin to bow beneath her weight. A sharp creaking echoed down into the alleyway below, the wood was groaning in protest.

It won’t hold all three of us, she realized, heart pounding.

“Everyone stop,” she said, her voice low but urgent. “Sam—I’m going to let go for just a second, alright?”

She kept her eyes forward, the balance too delicate to risk turning.

“You and your mum need to wait here. We’re going to go across one at a time, okay?”

Sam didn’t answer right away. Then, softly—“Okay.”

“Good,” she said, forcing calm into her tone. “Hold your mum’s hand until I’m on the other side. Then I want you to cross next. Nice and slow.”

She took another breath, pushed forward, and continued her crossing.

Reaching the opposite side, Val kept one foot on the beam and the other planted firmly on the rooftop, as she stretched out her hand.

“Alright, Sam—your turn. You can do this.”

She locked eyes with him across the divide.

“Mum, let him go,” she said gently.

Sam stood frozen, his small hand clenched tightly around Ellie’s. For a long moment, he didn’t move.

“Please, Sam,” Ellie urged, her voice shaking. She gave him a gentle nudge forward. “You have to cross.”

She looked up at Val, then back to her son.

“Just listen to Val. You can do it, sweetheart. Keep moving. I’ll be right behind you.”

Sam inched forward, shuffling one step at a time, tears forming again at the corners of his eyes.

“You’re doing great, Sam,” Val called softly. “Just keep walking to my hand.”

The old wood groaned as he passed the center of the beam, but not as much as it had under Val’s weight. It would hold.

With a few more shaky steps, Sam reached her. Val grasped his hand and pulled him across the last distance onto the rooftop. She gave him a quick, tight hug and guided him to sit a few feet back from the edge.

“Alright, Ellie,” she said, turning back. “He’s safe. Your turn.”

Ellie began across—slower than Sam. Her head dipped low, watching each footstep. Whether she was staring at her feet or the roiling sea of undead below, Val couldn’t tell.

Halfway across, the cracking started.

A sharp snap echoed in the air. Ellie froze.

“Ellie, don’t stop,” Val urged. “Keep moving!”

“I— I can’t!” Ellie trembled, her knees locked in place.

More cracks, louder now, rising above the sound of the moans below.

“Ellie, move. Please move!”

Behind Val, Sam started sobbing. “Mum…”

It’s not going to hold, Val thought.

“Ellie—run! It’s cracking!”

The beam groaned again, splintering beneath Ellie’s boots.

“Jump!” Val shouted.

With a final crack, Ellie launched herself forward just as the beam gave out. The wooden plank snapped mid-span, one jagged end flipping upward as it buckled. The force of the collapse knocked Val’s foot backward a step.

Ellie slammed into the rooftop edge, her arms barely catching the lip. Her fingers clawed into the gravel, nails scraping as she struggled for grip.

Val dropped instantly, seizing the collar of Ellie’s coat. “I’ve got you!”

Sam scrambled forward, tears streaming down his face, and grabbed his mother’s arm.

Together, they pulled.

With one last heave, Ellie tumbled up and over the ledge. All three collapsed into a heap, breathless, trembling, and alive.

After catching her breath, Val pushed herself onto hands and knees and crawled toward the roof access door a few yards away. Her limbs ached. Her lungs burned. But she had to keep moving.

She reached the handle—a thick steel latch bolted into the doorframe—and closed her eyes as she pulled.

Clunk.

Locked.

Of course it was.

Val exhaled sharply, resting her forehead against the cold metal. That’s when she heard it—again.

A sound. Off in the distance, somewhere below on the street, drifting up through the fog.

Ring ring.

She turned.

Ellie and Sam had both sat up, eyes wide.

“Did you hear that?” Val asked.

They nodded in unison.

Val rose to her feet and moved toward the western edge of the rooftop—where the building’s front entrance would have been, in a world that still made sense. The fog thickened around the street below, but the faintest shape flickered in the haze.

A silhouette. Tall. Thin. Cloaked in black. And then—gone, swallowed by the mist.

Ring ring.

It echoed again, low and surreal, like a ringtone from a nightmare.

Val narrowed her eyes, straining to see farther—but what stunned her most wasn’t the sound or the figure.

It was the horde.

The undead that had surrounded the building—moaning, clawing, thrashing—were peeling away. Slowly. Almost obediently. One by one, they turned toward the sound and began shambling into the fog.

Val didn’t hesitate further.

Crawling backward from the edge, she rose and moved into a crouch, her breath tight in her chest as she crept to the north side of the rooftop.

She peered over the edge, into the alleyway between the building they stood on and the next.

Through the mist, things looked relatively clear. The last of the undead were drifting away, pulled toward that unsettling, unrelenting sound echoing in the distance.

Ring ring.

No ladder.

But there—mounted to the side of the building—was a rusted rain drainage pipe stretching from the rooftop all the way to the ground below. It wasn’t ideal, but it was something.

Val exhaled slowly, heart still pounding, and turned back toward the others.

She waved Ellie and Sam over.

“Come on,” she whispered. “We’ve got a way down.”

Val led the way, grasping the rusted pipe and planting her boots firmly against the brick façade as she began her descent. The metal groaned faintly under her weight—but it held.

“Wait till I hit the ground, then follow me,” she whispered upward. “We don’t want the pipe breaking with all our weight.”

Brick by brick, Val made her way down.

As she neared the ground, the thick fog closed in around her. The alleyway was drowned in darkness, visibility reduced to just a few meters.

Her boots hit the damp concrete with a soft thud. She steadied herself, eyes scanning the swirling mist.

Looking up, she called out, “Sam, start dow—”

And then the world went black.

As the rough sack yanked down over her head and as the needle pierced her neck. The last thing Val heard was her own sharp gasp—then silence.

End of Chapter Stats

Name Val (Unconscious) Occupation Combat Medical Technician (CMT) Health 30% Hunger 30% Thirst 20% Gear Light Clothing, Flashlight, Handcuffs, Lighter Backpack Empty Weapons Glock 17, Taser, Engraved Dagger Ammo 9mm – 42 rounds Skills Battlefield Medicine, Standard Weapons Trained Kills 11