Rico’s screams turned into choking, wet sounds.
Nash turned and ran. “Move!” he barked. “I bought us some time.”
Bull hesitated before following behind Nash, while Stain stood frozen halfway down the hallway.
For just a second, he saw Rico’s hand reaching out from beneath the swarm. Then the deadheads dragged him completely under.
Stain had bile rising in his throat as he turned to run.
They tore down the stockroom hallway toward the loading dock.
Boxes and crates littered the floor.
The rear door hung open, a cleansing breeze blowing through the opening.
A body lay just outside the doorway.
A store employee.
Blue vest.
Nash stepped over him without slowing.
The man’s name tag caught the light.
Derek.
The employee’s head twitched, and gray eyes rolled toward them.
Stain saw it as it pushed itself off the floor.
“Shit! Look out!” he yelled.
Bull fired once.
The body dropped instantly, almost in relief.
They ran through the door, across the loading dock, and into the parking lot.
Deadheads spilled out after them.
Nash sprinted for the bikes.
Stain jumped onto his and kicked the engine alive with Bull close behind.
They roared out of the lot.
As Nash turned the corner of the building, he sped like a bat out of hell, only slowing down a few miles later when a pharmacy appeared.
Deadheads packed around the entrance.
Several dozen of them.
Something inside had their attention.
Nash split his attention between the pharmacy and the van parked in front. He rode past it slowly, pulled the gun from his waist, and shot out the driver’s window.
The alarm exploded to life.
