Page 97 of Burning Point

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He smiled without humor. “I brought a few things that will help with that.”

I didn’t doubt that.

We moved.

The door gave with a careful shove. Hinges complained softly, but in this quiet, everything carried.

The inside smelled of blood and disinfectants, one common to a school and the other not. Bent lockers and scattered papers covered the floor.

Movement flickered down the hall.

I counted six.

“Infected to the left,” I whispered.

We went right.

Both of us moved fast but not frantically, taking controlled steps and keeping our breathing even. When one of the infected rounded the corner into us, Ben didn’t hesitate. Two suppressed shots. Center mass. It slowed but didn’t stop.

“Head,” I growled low.

He adjusted. A single shot to the forehead, and it dropped.

We began moving again.

“Faculty lounge,” Ben muttered.

“Yes,” I confirmed. “Two turns.”

The hallway opened into a wider corridor.

Fuck.

Open sightlines and basically an echo chamber.

We crossed it anyway because we had no other choice.

I noticed a body lying near the lockers, wearing a torn top that marked her as a cheerleader. A single strike had caved in her skull, and her head was turned at an unnatural angle.

A dented fire extinguisher lay a few feet away.

Ben slowed just enough to take it in. “Somebody in here hasn’t given up.”

“Lucas,” I said.

We kept going.

A shape detached from a classroom doorway and lunged. I raised my pistol and fired it once. It collapsed at our feet, hands still twitching.

More sound came from down the hall.

Shit.

“Time for loud,” Ben smirked, enjoying this more than he should be.

“Make it count.” I nodded.

Ben moved with the calm efficiency of someone who’d done worse things in tighter spaces. He set the Tannerite charge halfway down the opposite hallway beside an overturned locker, packing loose debris around it to focus the blast, then ran a line back to our position. “Eyes and ears,” he muttered, checking angles. He didn’t hesitate and fired one shot into the charge. The detonation cracked like thunder in a coffin, a concussive boom that sent dust and ceiling tiles flying.