'Shit!'
The undead rat launched itself from its perch on the ladder. Its claws raked across Bates's cheek, drawing thin ribbons of blood. Its teeth sank into the material of his shirt, ripping the fabric.
Shouting, Bates rolled backward and yanked the
squirming creature from his face. He tossed it across the room as more squeaking rats poured themselves from the sewer entrance.
Forrest freed his pistol from its holster, but before he could draw a bead, two of the rats swarmed him, climbing up his legs. He screamed, beating at them with his hands. Sharp, needle-like teeth bit into his palms and the soft flesh between his thumbs and index fingers.
Another rat raced toward Pigpen. The old man tripped and fell, sprawling on his back. Just as the rat darted for his groin, God leaped between them, seized the creature in his jaws, and shook it apart. Rotting limbs and clotted fur showered both man and feline.
Bates grabbed the cable and dragged the manhole cover back over the hole. Then he ran to help Forrest. The big man shook his leg, dislodging one of the rats. God pounced on it. Forrest clutched the other in his bare hand and smashed it against a steel support beam.
The rat that had attacked Bates skittered across the cement floor, making a beeline for the cat. Bates grabbed the zombie by its tail and swung it over his head. Then he let go. The rat sailed across the basement and splattered against the wall.
The three men stood gasping for breath. The cat licked its fur.
'How are your hands?' Bates asked Forrest.
'Fuckers bit the shit out of me, but I'll be okay.'
'Go find Doc Stern and have him take care of those wounds. No telling what kind of diseases those things were carrying.'
Forrest suddenly looked sick. 'At least it ain't like in the movies, where if they bite you, your ass turns into one of them.'
'I'm going to find Mr. Ramsey and take care of that
situation. When I'm finished, we're calling an emergency meeting.'
'You're not still thinking about going down there?'
'Why not?'
'Bates, what the fuck just happened? Zombie rats, man! They were down there waiting for us.'
'Consider this, Forrest. How many birds are waiting on that roof and outside our windows? For that matter, how many zombies are down in the street? All they need is an opening and then they'll break through.'
'No shit. What's your point?'
'Only four rats came through that opening. There wasn't a large force waiting to rush us. Just those four.'
'Yeah?'
'Yes. I think they were up to something else. I think they were sent to spy on us. To look for a way in.'
'Spies? Bates, you're beginning to sound crazy too, man.'
'We can send out a reconnaissance team. Why can't they?'
Forrest opened his mouth to reply, but just shook his head. He pulled off his shirt and wrapped it around one of his bleeding hands.
'Okay.' He sighed. 'But once we're down there, what's to stop us from being sitting ducks? What if this tunnel doesn't exist or if it don't go all the way to the airport?'
'Worst case scenario, we make for the bomb shelter. That much I know exists. There was an article about it in Time magazine. The city is riddled with them.'
God rubbed against Bates's shoes. Bates scratched the purring feline behind its ears.
'I guess your cat came in handy after all, Pigpen.'
The bum crossed his arms. 'I told you, Mr. Bates. God will protect us.'
Bates stared back down at the sewer entrance.
'He can take point if and when we go through there. And I'll be right behind him with a flamethrower.'
'A flamethrower?'
'Yes. While I still think these zombies were an advance team, I have no doubt that there are plenty more down there. Between God and a flamethrower, I think we can even the odds.'
Don stumbled back to his room just after two in the morning. He hadn't planned on staying awake so late, but he'd been reluctant to leave. It had felt so good to laugh again, to just hang out with people, talking and playing cards and just having fun. No walking corpses to shoot or flee from, no jumping from one peril to another. He hadn't realized how bad his cabin fever had been while he was sequestered inside the panic room- and finally, he felt alive again.
He hadn't thought of Myrna during the entire card game. He realized it as he slid his key into the door lock. At first, he felt guilty about it, but as he fumbled for the light switch, he decided that it was okay.
In fact, it was probably healthy.
He slipped out of his shoes, leaned back on the bed, and looked around his new home. Forrest still wasn't
