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The wind picked up, whistling through the broken ceiling, but another sound caught her attention. Straining to pluck the sound out of the ambient noise, Emma drew her weapon. Juan glanced her way, his expression questioning. He pointed to his ear and she nodded. Among the creaking and groaning of the building, she detected feral moans.
Juan tiptoed over to a shattered window that overlooked the garden below. Craning his head, he looked downward.
Rune’s head snapped up. “It’s done.”
Emma whipped about, her heart leaping with fear. Before she could ask him what he meant, Macy opened the door and staggered out into the hall. She shut the door behind her, blocking out the view of her son lying stationary on the floor. The dagger in Macy’s hand was dripping with black blood and reeked, but she didn’t appear to notice. Sobbing, she struggled to control her grief.
“You did good. I felt them move on,” Rune said kindly.
Her dark eyes filling with relief, she gave him a faint smile. “I’m glad. Now I’m ready to leave.”
Juan motioned for Emma to draw closer as he joined Rune and Macy. “I think there are zombies downstairs outside the rear entrance. I can hear them below us. The noise they’re making is locked to one spot, so I don’t think they’re inside yet.”
Rune lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe they’re trapped outside the back door. Without stairs, they ain’t gonna be able to climb up. They’re dumbshits.”
Emma agreed with Rune, but was worried. “Maybe the noise they’re making is what is pulling the runners to the area.”
Macy somberly wiped off the bayonet on her pants. “They do flock together, don’t they?”
“So we move fast, head downstairs, go out the front door, and run for the truck. I’m driving. Rune, you got shotgun. Macy and Emma, you need to climb into the back on the passenger side. Make it quick, understand?”
Juan’s directions were acknowledged by nods all around. He took point, striding down the hallway with his shotgun at the ready. Emma followed with Macy at her shoulder. Rune followed in the rear.
With the afternoon sun descending, the murky atmosphere inside the building was deepening. Emma followed close behind Juan down the rickety stairs. They reached the second floor and cautiously traversed the rotted area. The floor groaned beneath their feet and the moans that Emma had detected earlier grew louder. She slid the safety off on her pistol.
Their descent down the next staircase seemed so much noisier, every step eliciting a loud creak, but maybe it was because she was worried about the runners hearing them. The growls and moans of the dead increased in volume and reverberated through the building. The zombies gathered at the rear entrance definitely knew they were close by.
When Emma neared the bottom floor, she glanced over the railing at the open doorway down the hall. Three of the slower, dumber zombies were clawing at the floor and doorframe, clueless as to how to climb inside the building. Their swollen, blackened faces beneath their gnarled hair were cracked and oozing. They were fresher than most of the zombies Emma had seen recently, which was worrying.
At the sight of the humans, the zombies grew even louder, banging on the floor as they desperately tried to clamber inside. The doorway was too far off the ground for them to easily crawl into the building and the slow zombies were terrible climbers. Juan reached the ground floor and motioned for the others to hurry, pointing toward the front door down the entry hall. Emma’s foot had barely touched down on the cracked linoleum when pounding footsteps pulled her focus back to the open doorway.
A runner vaulted over the slower zombies, landed on their shoulders, and launched himself into the building. Emma raised her pistol to fire at him, but a shot behind her beat her to the punch. The bullet tore through the zombie’s forehead, a plume of brains and blood splattering the walls and floor.
“Clive taught me to shoot,” Macy said, hurrying past Emma.
Knowing that more runners were on the way, the women ran toward the front door, their footsteps reverberating through the old structure.
The shotgun fired and Juan shouted, “Hurry!”
Rune barreled down the hallway with Juan at his heels. “Got more coming!”
Breathing heavily, Macy pushed a heavy magazine rack away from the door that she must have placed there earlier as a barricade. Once it was out of the way, she started to twirl the locks on four deadbolts.
“Cover the porch, Emma,” Juan barked.
She stepped to one side so that when Macy opened the door she’d have a clear view of the front steps. Juan and Rune faced the back of the building, waiting. Loud thumps announced the arrival of more runners in the rear hallway. Just as the first one rounded the corner, Macy pulled the front door open.
The shotgun fired behind them, followed by the sound of a body crashing to the floor. The front stoop was clear and Emma slid out, finger sliding onto the trigger. She checked both sides of the porch and the street.
“Clear.”
“Get to the truck!” Juan ordered.
More gunshots followed, the shotgun and Glock roaring over the growls of the runners and the clatter of the shell casings striking the floor. Emma trusted the men to cover their retreat to the big red truck, but Macy hesitated to view the battle.
“Should we help them?”
Trying to keep an eye on the road, Emma took a quick look. The runners were closing in on Juan and Rune, leaping over their dead comrades to try to get to the men. They were so determined in reaching their prey, the runners crashed while attempting to push each other out of the way. Rune covered Juan as he reloaded while both men backtracked to the doorway.
