brushed up against her side, purring loudly, and she shooed him away.
'Get this damn cat out of here,' she snapped at Pigpen. 'Leroy don't need his arm getting infected.'
Leroy pushed himself up. 'I'm fine. It's just burned. Quit your fussing, woman. You cluck more than a chicken.'
'Don't you talk to me like that, Leroy Piper,' Etta's head darted back and forth like a snake's, 'or that burn on your arm will be the last of your worries!'
'Etta,' Forrest snapped. 'Keep your voice down! For God's sake, why don't you just walk upstairs and let those things know we're down here?'
She opened her mouth to reply, but saw the storm brewing behind the big man's eyes, and shut it again.
Forrest glanced at his wristwatch, and chewed his lip. He looked around the basement again. There were four entrances: a service elevator, two regular stairways- both of which led to the destroyed parking garage, and the fire stairs. Don guarded one stairwell, and he kept watch on the other.
'Smokey,' he grunted, 'get over there and watch that fire door. Pigpen, shut that damn cat up. He's meowing as loud as Etta.'
'Hey,' the big woman protested.
'Sshh!'
Forrest's radio hissed static. He snapped it up.
'Forrest?' It was Quinn. 'You copy, big guy?'
'Here. Where you at?'
'We're ...' There was a moment of silence, and Forrest heard somebody else in the background. 'We're on our way to the location you and Bates agreed on.'
'He with you?' The relief in Forrest's voice was unmistakable.
'Yeah. So are Steve and the Thurmond party.'
Don looked up, the grin on his face infectious, spreading to the faces of Leroy, Smokey, and Etta.
'Where are you?' Quinn asked. He sounded out of breath. 'And who's with you?'
'We're waiting on you,' Forrest said. 'I got Smokey, Leroy and Etta, Pigpen, and Don De Santos.'
'And God,' Pigpen added. 'Don't forget God.'
The cat rolled over onto its back and Pigpen scratched its belly.
'Which way are you guys coming down?' Forrest asked. 'We'll clear a path.'
There was another pause, and then Quinn said, 'Bates says not to tell you over the radio. Just be ready for us. If we don't run into anything else, we should be there in about five minutes.'
'Copy that. We'll be ready.'
'And Forrest?'
'Yeah?'
'See if you can find some clean linens, alcohol, maybe even some duct tape.'
Forrest translated the list in his mind. Bandages, disinfectant, and sutures. Battlefield medicine. A poor man's triage. That meant someone was injured.
'Who's hurt?' he asked.
'Bates.'
'Is it bad?'
'Yeah. Yeah, man, it is.'
'Shit.'
Forrest started to ask what had happened, but a gunshot cut him off.
'Got to go, man,' Quinn shouted. 'They're on our ass again!'
More gunfire crackled from the speaker, and then Quinn was gone.
Forrest clipped the radio back onto his belt and looked at his companions. Their faces were grim.
'They better get a move on,' Leroy grumbled.
Etta got to her feet. 'If those things is chasing them, won't they lead them down here?'
Nobody replied. Smokey, Don, and Forrest turned back to their posts.
Pigpen began searching through boxes and storage bins, looking for anything that could be used to treat Bates. God trailed along behind him.
Suddenly, the door in front of Don burst open. He brightened, expecting to see Jim, Frankie, and Danny walk through. Instead, it was a lone zombie, dressed in a dirty, tattered delivery uniform. Before it could even step through the doorway, Don dropped it with a single shot to the head. Terrified, he checked the stairwell for more.
'Clear?' Forrest asked.
