"James, get over here now. The zombies are almost on top of you," I screamed. I fired at the closest monsters on his right.
"I tripped and dropped my pistol," he yelled back while still searching.
I fired again, and then I heard more shots from beside me. Kira had come out to help. "James, forget the damn gun and come now." I kept firing until I had to switch magazines.
James turned toward us and rose to his feet. He had a big grin on his face; I suppose he was proud of himself for getting his gun back. He fired his handgun at a zombie reaching for him with outstretched arms and then at another.
I guesstimated there were fifteen to twenty undead on our left, and at least that many on the right with more straggling in through the entrance. James screamed as a rotting female zombie bit his shoulder and wrenched out a bloody chunk of flesh as big as my palm. James was still firing when two more zombies dragged him to the floor. They were in front of the counter out of sight, but we could hear James' pitiful screams mingled with the monster's moans as the zombies callously tore flesh and bones from his body.
Kira was reloading when I pushed her ahead of me into the office, slammed the door and set the lock. The room was dark, and I prayed we alone. Kira turned her flashlight on as I grabbed mine. The office shuddered as the undead chasing us pounded on the door and the walls to reach us. I motioned to Kira and we pushed the single desk over in front of the vibrating door. The door held, but it wouldn't last long under the concerted beating it was taking. Constant noises of the undead and their attempts to reach us kept me on edge and fearful as I looked around the flimsy wood stud walls that made up our sanctuary. The walls shook and shuddered as the zombie's high and low-pitched songs grew louder.
I flipped my flashlight to a door on the other side of the small room. A sign read, Regional Headquarters Personnel Only. It was locked. I moved my light beam around the walls; no keys hung prominently in sight. Kira watched my actions and without waiting to exchange words, we pulled drawers from the desk and searched for a life saving key.
Without warning, a bony fist with hunks of putrefied flesh hanging from its finger bones punched through the drywall only inches from Kira's face. Her head jerked back as its fingers flexed spasmodically while it searched blindly for the human flesh it sensed. She jumped backward and fired two shots through the thin wallboard where the head should have been. I kept searching as another arm poked through the hard drywall sheet. The blasting of Kira's Glock stopped as she reached for a fresh magazine.
Two keys lay in a small tray at the front of the middle drawer. I fired four shots as Kira reloaded, and then I leapt to the exit door.
Valuable seconds were lost as I tried to fit the first key into the lock. I tossed it away and heard the brass thud onto the tile floor. Several more holes exploded through the drywall and the zombies ripped and tore the wallboard to shreds. I tried the second key.
Kira fired and yelled, "Hurry for God's sake, or we're dead." It fit. I glanced behind me; the wood door gave way and the desk slid toward us in jerky inches at a time.
I wrenched the door open and then grabbed Kira's belt and pulled her backward through the doorway as she continued to blast zombies. She slammed the door shut as two zombies reached toward her within spitting distance. I threw my shoulder against the door with all my strength before she turned the deadbolt. The door was steel and the wall it was set in was cinderblock. Those solid materials would buy us some time. We ran down a hallway with offices on each side as the undead monsters screeched their anger and pounded furiously on the door.
Halfway down the hall, two stainless steel elevator doors sat tight against each other on the right. Ten feet further, a sign beside a door read, “Stairs to Second Floor.”
At the end of the hall, I saw a dull red plastic EXIT light above an exit door. Offices on either side of the door had a window in the end wall. Steel security bars on the outside protected both windows. I crawled across the carpeted floor of the office on the left and stayed low to reconnoiter through the window. In the office on the right Kira scampered across the carpet like a young rug-rat. After a short time, we met back in the hallway. I whispered, "Three rotten smellies are out there." Kira nodded to my count. We gently checked the exit door; it was locked. Quietly but quickly, we made our way back to the second floor stairway.
We entered the stairwell, and I pulled the door closed. Kira set the lock on the panic bar while I listened, smelled the air for stench, and shined my light up the dark space above us. We crept up the metal stairs making minimal noise and exited into a wide hallway. It, too, was devoid of zombie stink. A musty odor hung heavily in the air from the building being locked tightly for several previous years. Down the dark, stagnant, hall we found a small lunch room with tables and chairs, a microwave, sink, and refrigerator. I opened the refrigerator door and my face scrunched as I gagged. A zombie-like odor trapped in the sealed appliance for years assailed our noses. Spoiled foods wore coats of mold in various sickening shades. In the door, three bottles of warm
