“We won't, will we?” Harold shone his torch at the twin doors. “If those are the doors, which we know are level with the lift car floor, then there's a five-foot gap between the door and the floor we're standing on, presumably for maintenance purposes. Now, having hung from the guide wheel I know tht whe only parts of the car that protrude below the base line ar at the sides, so as long as we stay in the middle of the shaft and crouch, we should be fine.”
“Actually...” Gillian pointed up. “Since the false floor still looks like a bomb bay we can climb up and through when the doors open.
“Hurrah! We can escape.” Harold forced himself to look toward Dill, though without benefit of the torch beam only the zombie's eyes were visible, shining in the reflected ambient light. “Can you walk yet, Dill?”
“I'm pretty much healed, thanks to your little assistant.” There was a slurping noise as he finished off whatever he was holding and then he stood. “Good as new.”
“I'm pleased to hear it.” The light grew as the elevator car drew closer, until Harold could clearly see the faces of his chosen family and Dill. He pointed to his own chin. “I think you've got a bit of... food... on your chin, mate.”
“Have I?” Dill felt around his face and popped the lump of gristle into his mouth and chewed. “Thanks. Nothing puts people off you as much as a lump of brain matter on your chin, eh?”
“I suppose not.” The lift was only twenty feet above them now, so Harold was able to look him up and down. “Although I have to say, being covered in blood and smelling of offal might make them think twice, too.”