Ben flexed his hand experimentally. “Good job. Not as good as I could have done, but not bad.”
A radio crackled from somewhere behind the counter, startling all three of us.
“…Attention residents of Ashford and surrounding counties…”
We came to attention.
The voice sounded military.
“…Proceed to the designated safe zone at Fort Sam Houston…”
Lucas blinked. “Safe zone?”
Ben shook his head. “No such thing.”
The broadcast continued through static.
“…Avoid contact with infected individuals…”
“No shit,” Lucas mumbled.
Then it restarted.
Outside, something hit the front window.
Hard.
Lucas started slowly toward the front.
Another impact struck the glass.
The door rattled.
I joined Lucas, who was peering out of the window. “That’s not good.”
“Definitely not,” I agreed.
Shapes were gathering in the parking lot.
Dozens of them.
Shit.
“How many?” Ben asked, joining us at the door.
“I count at least twenty.” Lucas glanced at him. “Maybe there’s a back entrance?”
He grabbed a flashlight from a nearby shelf and left to check it out.
“Let’s get this door barricaded,” Ben turned, searching for something to use. “Here. This shelf should work.”
I agreed and started clearing what was left on it. “We need to do this as quietly as possible.”
The shelf screeched across the floor as we dragged it into place, the heavy steel frame wedging hard against the door. I winced, hoping the sound wouldn’t draw too much attention from the infected.
Just as we stepped back to check our work, Lucas walked back into the room.
“I think I found a back entrance.”
