Across the store, more corpses began to move.
Slowly.
Unnaturally.
Like puppets being yanked upright.
Stain backed toward the center aisle. “Aw hell…” He aimed his pistol and fired at a corpse moving behind the counter in the automotive department.
The deadheads began rising everywhere. Some stumbled from behind shelves. Others clawed their way up from the floor. One dragged itself across the tile with a broken leg.
“Back door!” Nash shouted as they ran. “You'd better hold onto those meds like your life depends on it, Rico!”
“I got ‘em, boss!" Rico yelled.
Boots pounded through the aisles as they sprinted toward the rear hallway.
Deadheads poured after them.
Clawing at each other, snapping their teeth, and working their jaws in anticipation of a meal.
A woman in a store vest staggered into Bull’s path. He smashed her skull with the butt of his pistol and kept moving.
Stain skidded around a fallen shelf. “Nash, there are too many!”
Gunshots cracked through the store again. The noise echoed through the empty building, and more deadheads emerged from the darkness, drawn by the sound.
The hallway to the loading docks came into view ahead.
Freedom.
Almost.
Rico turned the corner too fast. His boot caught a metal rack lying across the floor, and he slammed down hard.
The impact echoed down the hall, and deadheads turned in his direction instantly.
“Nash!” Rico shouted as he scrambled backward, trying to stand.
Two deadheads were already lunging toward him.
He reached up. “Help me up!”
For a split second, Nash stopped.
His hand moved, taking the bag of meds from Rico.
Rico grinned in anticipation of his rescue.
The grin fell, and a look of confusion covered his face, when Nash drew his pistol.
The shot echoed through the hallway.
Rico screamed as the bullet tore through his thigh.
“What the hell?” Bull shouted.
The dead piled onto him in a frenzy of snapping teeth and clawing hands.
