The tinkling of another shattered window sent a spurt of adrenalin rushing through her veins, and she shot to her feet. With her hands wrapped around the butt of her gun, she waited until Tom reached her side.
He touched her arm with his fingertips, his teeth flashing in a beam of moonlight from the windows set high up in the walls. “Here’s your bag.”
“Thanks.” Wanda took the proffered backpack and shrugged it on. “Are we running or checking things out first?”
“Let’s have a quick look out front,” Tom said. “Maybe it’s nothing.”
Wanda nodded, but deep down, she knew that wasn’t the case. Something was happening. Something bad. She felt it in her gut, a feeling she’d learned to trust the hard way. Nevertheless, it didn’t help to storm out into the night if they didn’t know what was going on. “Okay. Are you ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Tom replied, shrugging his pack on as well.
“Let’s go,” Wanda said, inching toward the door that separated them from the shop front. She twisted the handle and pushed it open, holding her breath.
The contents of the furniture shop jumped into sharp relief, the edges cast in silver from the light that streamed through the wall to wall glass. A large counter stood between them and the entrance ahead. It was a natural barrier to the storeroom they’d taken shelter in for the night.
Dark figures moved past the windows, their bodies melding together into one great blob with many heads. Their jerky movements identified them as infected. Zombies were the only ones that moved with such a curious mixture of clumsiness and determination.
The sound they made was eerily familiar too. It was formed out of a symphony of noises that melded together into one deep, multi-layered thrum. Flesh bumping against flesh, limbs scraping across brick, material chafing on skin, the slap of feet on the tar, and the involuntary moans and groans emitting from hundreds of throats. Maybe even thousands.
Wanda couldn’t make out any details, but she guessed the street was full to the brim with the shuffling horde. Their sheer weight in numbers caused the clear glass of the shop front to bulge inward. An explosion followed as another one of the windows gave in, unable to take the pressure. Now I know what woke me up earlier.
Several infected were shoved into the shop where they milled about aimlessly, pushing over chairs and bumping into delicate lamps and vases. They acted like sheep without a herder. Dangerous flesh-eating sheep.
Wanda and Tom ducked down behind the counter, their hearts banging in their chests.
“Where did they all come from?” Wanda asked in a low whisper, peering over the edge with a mixture of fear and fascination.
Tom shook his head. “I don’t know.”
“We’d better get out of here. They could spot us at any moment.” Wanda said, jerking her head at the zombies that were wrecking the shop. “Let’s slip out through the back door.”
“What if they’ve surrounded the building?” Tom asked.
Wanda hesitated. “The roof. Let’s get up on the roof. We’ll be able to see much better.”
“Okay.”
As one, they turned toward the stairwell that led to the upper stories of the building. Wanda had barely taken two steps when her toe hit an empty can, and the clang of metal on tile rang throughout the interior. She froze to the spot as terror seized hold of her brain. “Oh, no.”
The infected reacted instantly, the sound like a dinner bell to their empty bellies. They rushed toward the couple with vicious snarls, a school of sharks after two sardines. Wanda stared at them, and for a moment, all else faded away. She knew she should move but couldn’t. Even Tom’s frantic screams didn’t help. Death was coming for her.
“Shit, Wanda. Run!” Tom cried, shoving her from behind.
His push was enough to get her moving, and she vaulted up the stairs two at a time. Tom followed, his breath hot on the nape of her neck. At the top, she paused to look back, and her knees grew weak at the sight.
Scores of infected thronged the shop, a tidal wave of bodies that broke upon the stairwell’s foot. As clumsy as they were, the steps wouldn’t deter them for long, especially when they began crawling over each other like ants.
“Keep going,” Tom said, tugging on her arm. “We have to get to the top. It’s our only chance.”
He was right, and Wanda followed him up several floors until they hit the emergency access to the roof. It was a heavy metal door set in a solid frame. Its hinges were oiled, and it swung open with ease. That was no accident, but part of the precautions they’d taken earlier.
Tom slammed it shut once they were through and jammed the lock in place. After a couple of hard tugs, he grunted with approval. “That should hold.”
“Are you sure?” Wanda asked, worry gnawing at her insides.
“I’m sure,” Tom said. “The corridor is pretty narrow, so only a few of them can come at the door at once.”
“Good,” she said, folding her arms across her chest with a visible shiver. “That was pretty close.”
“Yeah, we were lucky,” Tom agreed, walking toward the edge of the building.
Wanda followed him, her arms clamped around her waist. At the rim of the roof, she paused with one boot braced against the concrete edge. The sky was clear, and the moon hung far above her head, illuminating the streets below. They were five stories up. That allowed for a clear view of the city stretched out around them, and she let her gaze to pan across the area.
The town was filled to the brim with zombies. They were crammed into every inch, the
