'I can't see shit. That's the problem!'
Another explosion rang out and more muzzle flashes erupted in the darkness.
'I'm hit,' Steve cried out. 'Oh shit, that fucking hurts!'
Frankie returned fire, aiming for the muzzle flashes.
Steve writhed on the tunnel floor, blood streaming from his leg. Quinn and Forrest knelt over him, and fired into the wave of dead rats.
'Get out of here,' Forrest told Frankie and Don. 'That's an order!'
'We don't work for you,' Frankie shouted. 'You can't hold them yourselves.'
'Go, god damn it!'
A bullet pinged off the concrete next to Frankie, and fragments of stone pelted her skin.
Don tugged her arm. 'Come on. We need to move, now!'
Crouching and firing at the same time, they reached the ladder. Frankie tossed Jim her weapon and climbed up while Don and Jim laid down cover fire. Then Don hoisted himself up, while Jim and Frankie held the zombies at bay.
Pigpen, Danny, and God watched from inside the service tunnel. Jim, Frankie, and Don remained on the ledge, turning back to the others. The zombies had the men pinned down, and the rats were less than twenty yards away, and closing fast.
'Get out of there!' Don yelled.
Forrest reloaded and unleashed another barrage into the moving wall of vermin, then spun and fired into the midst of the other zombies.
'You guys go,' Steve groaned. 'I'll hold them off.'
'Bullshit,' Quinn snapped. 'We ain't leaving you behind the way we did Bates. He was mortally wounded. You're just shot in the fucking leg.'
'And I'll slow you down,' Steve insisted, clenching his teeth. 'No way I can run from those rats.'
Forrest kept firing. 'Help him to his feet, Quinn.'
'Damn straight. We'll carry him if we have to.'
'No,' Forrest said, wincing as hot shells bounced off his forearms.
'Steve is right. He'll just slow us down. Help him to his feet and give him a gun.'
Quinn gaped in disbelief. 'You cold hearted-'
'You heard the man,' Steve grunted.
'Oh fuck,' Quinn moaned. 'Fuck, fuck, fuck! This isn't right, man! What about the airplane? Who's gonna fly it?'
'Use your head, Quinn. There's no way you guys will make it to the airport now!'
'This isn't right.'
Steve grabbed his hand and squeezed it tight as another bullet ricocheted off the rail.
'Listen to me. We don't have time to argue. I'll never see my son alive again. But maybe, if there is an afterlife-and God, I fucking hope there is-just maybe, I'll see him there. I want to find out. The only thing that matters right now is that little boy up on that ledge, and his daddy. You want to do something for me? Get them out of here. Now!'
Slowly, Quinn nodded. 'Okay, man.'
The rats drew closer, their stench thick and cloying.
'Kick some ass, Canuck,' Forrest said.
'You know it.' Steve wobbled, shifting his weight onto his uninjured leg.
Quinn hesitated, eyeing the rats. 'I still-'
'Don't. Just go...'
Forrest handed Steve an extra magazine and then shoved Quinn forward.
They were halfway to the ladder when Smokey's corpse sat up and grinned at them.
'Hey guys,' it slurred. 'Who's up for a game of cards?'
The zombies opened fire again. Bullets slammed into the ledge where Jim, Don, and Frankie were standing. The three of them ducked inside the tunnel.
Quinn frantically reloaded. 'We're cut off.'
'This way!' Forrest lunged for the other ladder. He climbed to the top, and then helped Quinn clamber up behind him.
The others stared across the tunnel in dismay.
'Where you going, Forrest?' Smokey's corpse called.
'You guys go ahead,' Forrest shouted to the others. 'We'll catch up, if we can!'
Jim flashed him a thumbs up and shut the door.
