Novels by Narash NZ

"A cleaver and a kid who talks too much," Arthur muttered, his finger tightening slightly on the double triggers before he slowly lowered the rusty shotgun barrel. "That's your survival strategy? Sharp metal and bad stand-up comedy?""It’s kept us alive through fifty stories of corporate nightmares and a bridge made entirely of tetanus, so yes, it’s a winning formula," Maine snapped, stepping past Zavier without lowering her guard. She sheathed her cleaver with a sharp metallic click. "Now, are you going to let us freeze out here on this gravel pad, or are you going to show us where you're hiding the coffee?""Follow me, and keep your voices down," Arthur grunted, turning on his heel and gesturing toward a low-slung, heavily reinforced communications shed in the center of the roof. "We’ve got scouts three miles out monitoring the river corridor. We don't need any uninvited company crashing our quiet little evening."Zavier scrambled up from the gravel, dusting o

"Keep your hands where I can see them, or the next sound you hear won't be polite," Arthur said, the rusted barrel of his shotgun leveled squarely at Zavier’s chest with terrifying stability."I have two hands, both are currently occupied by existential dread, and neither of them is reaching for a weapon!" Zavier squeaked, his hands shooting up into the air as he scrambled backward across the gravel. "Look at my tactical vest! It’s missing eighty percent of its compartments! Do I look like a tactical threat to you? I look like a cautionary tale!"Maine didn't drop backward. Instead, her right hand casually rested against the blood-spattered steel of her cleaver, her dark eyes narrowing as she measured the distance between herself and the middle-aged paramedic. "Lower the barrel, old man. If we wanted to cause trouble, we wouldn't have just climbed twelve flights of stairs filled with enough teeth to open a dental clinic."Arthur’s gaze flicked from Zavier’s pani

"Push harder! It’s catching on something!" Zavier yelled, his teeth gritted so hard his jaw ached."I am pushing as hard as a human being who hasn't eaten a solid meal since Tuesday possibly can!" Maine snarled back, her shoulder grinding against the freezing steel.With a deafening, metallic shriek that echoed down the stairwell like a gunshot, the rusted latch finally snapped. The heavy door flew inward, spilling them both onto the gravel-strewn expanse of the roof in an ungraceful, tangled heap of limbs and tactical gear. The biting night wind caught them instantly, howling across the open expanse and carrying the sharp, chemical tang of ozone and distant smoke."I’m alive. I am empirically, measurably alive," Zavier gasped, rolling onto his back and staring up at the churning purple-black clouds above. "My lungs didn't collapse. My shins didn't shatter. Maine, we actually made it to the roof.""Get up, idiot," Maine kicked his boot with her combat-scarr

"If this door doesn't open on the first try, I am sitting down on this cold metal landing and writing a scathing Yelp review about St. Jude's architectural design choices," Zavier wheezed, his hands braced against his knees as he fought for oxygen on the twelfth-floor landing."Save your breath for shoving, Zavier, unless you want to spend the rest of your remarkably short life acting as a doorstop for the floor below," Maine snapped, her boots planted firmly against the scuffed industrial concrete. She gripped the heavy iron handle of the fire door, her knuckles turning bone-white under the harsh emergency strobe. "The access sign says roof is right through here. Put your weight into it.""My weight is currently 90 percent cortisol and 10 percent regret, but fine, let's test structural integrity," Zavier groaned, stepping up beside her and pressing his shoulder flat against the cold steel. "On three. One... two..."The heavy metal door groaned in protest as the

"If I don’t find a functioning vending machine or an IV drip filled with pure caffeine on this floor, I am legally allowed to lie down and let the fungus take me," Zavier wheezed, his boots clicking frantically against the sterile white tiles of the fifth-floor hallway."Lie down and the only thing taking you will be a horde of pharmaceutical-grade zombies," Maine snapped back, not slowing her pace for a fraction of a second. Her cleaver swept in a low, practiced arc, clearing a cluster of fallen medical charts and plastic syringe wrappers from their path. "Keep moving. The stairwell back-draft is carrying too much noise; we need a door that locks from the inside.""I am moving at the maximum velocity permitted by my current carbon footprint!" Zavier retorted, panting as he slapped his hand against the wall to steady himself. He glanced down at his arm-mounted device. "And the app says—oh, look at that. The app is currently blinking a lovely, soothing shade of 'Inter

"If one more person tells me to remain calm, I am going to lose my remaining grip on reality," Zavier hissed, his boots skidding across the slick linoleum of the hospital corridor as he ducked behind a heavy mahogany reception desk."You haven't had a grip on reality since the bridge, Zavier, so stop acting like it's a new development," Maine retorted, dropping into a low crouch beside him. Her stainless-steel cleaver caught the amber glare of the emergency lights overhead, slicing the dim shadows into sharp, dangerous angles. "Where is the service stairwell? The map on your glowing arm ornament said it was past the double doors.""The map also said the hospital was abandoned, and yet I can clearly hear what sounds like a flash mob of very angry, very hungry accountants tap-dancing on the ceiling!" Zavier pointed a trembling finger toward the end of the hall, where a set of heavy fire doors bore a peeling, faded sign: STAIRWELL B – EMERGENCY EXIT ONLY."Then let