After three days of struggling and trying only to survive, it seemed as if Frank West wasn't going to make it out of Willamette alive. Frank just knelt there, staring at the black columns of smoke rising into the sky from Ed DeLuca's helicopter. Ed DeLuca was the pilot that was supposed to pick him up and fly him away from the mall after Frank got his story. However, Ed was bitten by a stowaway zombie and crashed into Leisure Park, the outside center of the mall. Frank's head dropped, hands gripping at his short black hair while he screamed out in desperate agony.
"Why does this happen to me? I was so close... My career was supposed to make it big, and now, I don't even think I'll make it out of here," he whispered to himself. This was supposed to be the story that made him famous, the story that made his career that much better. He was going to be paid more, he'd be able to live comfortably. Now, he was unsure whether he'd live at all. "Well, at least he probably took more than a few of those bastards with him." This form of optimistic thinking lifted Frank's spirits a little bit, even if he was being sarcastic. Frank heard the shuffling of footsteps coming towards him. Without looking at who it was, Frank's once dismayed face suddenly turned into a smile. "Otis? Otis is that you? By now I thought you would have-" Frank stops suddenly as he looked behind him, not seeing the helpful janitor that he'd be working with for the past three days. Instead, Frank found himself looking at half of a score of walking dead. How did they get to the roof? Did they get through the others to get here? Was it the stairs? The elevator? All of these questions raced through Frank West's mind as he saw himself getting closer and closer to the meandering horrors that slowly made their way to him. He didn't have much time, he was backed up against the edge of the roof with nowhere to run. Frank looked to his left, and then his right, seeing only the mall generators.
"You haven't gotten me yet, and you're not getting me now!" barked the photojournalist. He felt around his pockets and found the handgun he had been holding onto just in case. It had become useful when he fought Carlito Keyes many times, the cause of all of these problems. West pulled out the jet-black handgun that Brad had given him. BANG! BANG! BANG! Three hits into the heads of three of the walking dead. All three dropped immediately. Frank aimed the gun again and attempted to fire off another round. CLICK... CLICK... CLICK. He stared at the gun in disbelief as he thought quickly about what to do. The photojournalist put the gun back in his pocket as he searched himself for other weapons to use against them. He found nothing. Frank took as many steps back as possible without going off of the side of the building. While stepping back, his foot hit something that clanged as it rolled around. He glanced down and saw an iron pipe tumbling near the edge. Frank quickly grabbed for the pipe before it fell to the horde of undead below him. As he sprang back up, a zombie charged him. Frank ducked quickly, tripping the zombie, sending him flying over the side. The next two came at him, although this time he was prepared. The iron pipe whipped through the air with a vicious fury, breaking off half of the zombie's face. It dropped to the floor, unmoving. The second of the two (third of the seven), looked to be a middle aged, overweight man. It grabbed for Frank, but he was able to stop its hands with the pipe. Both now fighting for control struggled to gain the upper hand. The zombie was the stronger of the two, imbued with the strength of undeath. The zombie was becoming too much for Frank, and one of the others decided to seize the opportunity. It approached the battle between the large zombie and Frank, who was well aware of his surrounding by now. Frank fell to his back and flipped the heavy zombie off of its feet and sent it to the concrete below. Still on his back, Frank took the pipe and hacked out the oncoming zombie's knees, making it land flat on its face. The zombie wasn't dead yet, as it continued to crawl for Frank. West kicked the zombie away so he may deal with it later.
"Come and get me you sons-a-bitches!" With that Frank bolted to his left and climbed on top of the set of generators that he saw earlier. The photojournalist stoop atop the power sources with the pipe held high above his head. The four remaining horrors trudged toward the man. The first of them attempted to climb up, but was met with an iron rod to the skull. The zombie's head seemingly exploded when it was hit, diseased blood spraying all over Frank and the other three living dead. Frank seemingly kicked another's face off as it too grabbed for him. With a mighty swing Frank West took out another zombie, using the higher ground to his advantage. The heavy blow sent a spray of gore red everywhere, nearly covering Frank in it. With one left Frank took his pipe and shoved the end of it through the top of last one's head, impaling it all of the way through. Frank jumped off of the generator and just stared at the zombie he left without legs crawling and grabbing for him. West shot the zombie a smile and laughed to himself. "Ready for your close up?" Frank took his foot and drove it through the zombies face, smashing it like a pumpkin. Having just curb stomped the last zombie, Frank breathed out, letting out a heavy sigh of relief. Frank stared at the eight bodies left there.
"You still going at it?" the voice nonchalantly said.
"Who the hell-" Frank said, spinning around to see who was speaking. "Otis, I'm glad it's you and not some psychopath. Do you know how these things got up here?"
"From the looks of it, either they learned how to use the elevator, or somebody left the stairwell unlocked," replied the old, witty janitor.
"But I thought we locked all those doors..." Frank thought about this situation.
"Well, if we did, than someone unlocked it."
"But who... Ah, that's not important right now. How'd you get up here anyway?" Frank asked.
"The air ducts. Come on, the security room is still good," The old janitor answered.
"Good idea, Otis," With that, Frank West and Otis Washington made their way back through the ducts to the shelter of the Security Room.
To be continued.