Twenty Five

Angie walked down the hall as quietly as she could. Park was behind her doing the same. Kristen and Mr. Paulson were behind Park. Kristen looked up and down the hall, saying nothing. Mr. Paulson had his chair on the lowest setting, moving slowly and quietly.

Angie slowed to a halt as they approached a doorway to their right. The doorway to the hospital chapel. It was open and Angie could hear groaning. She held up a hand and the others stopped.

"Fuck," whispered Park. "More?"

Angie leaned forward and looked into the chapel. A group of corpses knelt near the altar. They were facing to one side, chewing on something on the floor. Angie saw bare legs and the bottom of a hospital robe. The rest was hidden behind a pew. Blood covered the bare legs.

"Yeah," whispered Angie. "More."

"Shit on this," whispered Mr. Paulson. "Just shoot them and let's go."

"We've been over this, dick-neck," whispered Park. "We don't have enough ammo for that."

"They're looking the other way and they haven't heard us," whispered Angie. "Let's just get past them and go. The cafeteria's just up ahead."

"Oh good," whispered Mr. Paulson. "I was hoping for some more of your fuck-awful food"

"Now, Dad," whispered Kristen. Her voice, even in a whisper, sounded hollow.

Angie said nothing, looking back into the chapel. The corpses still had not noticed them. She nodded to the others and they moved forward. They slowly and quietly crept past the doorway. The only sounds were the groaning of the feeding corpses and the soft whir of Mr. Paulson's chair.

A few steps later and they were clear of the room. Angie relaxed a little but stayed slow and quiet. They all made their way farther down the hall.

Eventually, the hallway opened into the cafeteria. Two rows of long tables ran along the center of the room, with several chairs at each one. At the far end of the room was another door, opening back into the hallway.

"Okay," said Angie, stepping over to the nearest table. "We can take a second to regroup." She set down the half-empty alcohol jug and undid the belt holding the remaining full ones to her waist.

She looked over at Park. He was taking his rifle off of his shoulder and looking around. She stepped over to him and spoke softly. "What did you mean earlier?"

He frowned at her. "What?"

"You said something about getting your wish if we ran out of ammo and died."

He looked around and rubbed his stubble. "You heard that?"

"Yeah," said Angie. "And we don't need that kind of..."

"Look, I didn't really mean you. Or them. I meant me."

Angie frowned.

"Listen," said Park, quietly. "Before we came here, before I brought Moe to the hospital I mean, I was planning on killing myself."

Angie blinked.

Park nodded. "Probably would have used this very same fucking rifle to do it, too." He shook the rifle in his hand and set it down on a nearby table.

"Why didn't you?"

Park shrugged. "Got distracted."

Angie looked down at the floor and chuckled. "You know, before tonight I would have asked you why anyone would want to do such a thing. Now I almost have a hard time understanding why someone wouldn't."

Park smirked at her and she smirked back.

"So why do you keep going?" she asked.

"I honestly don't know."

Park dug a box of ammo from his hunting jacket. He gave the box a little shake and cursed. "I'm damned near out."

"Same here," said Kristen, following Mr. Paulson as he wheeled his chair over to where Angie had set the jugs of alcohol.

"We'll just have to be smart," said Angie, stepping over to Mr. Paulson.

"Can't be something you're not, honey," muttered Mr. Paulson.

"Dad," said Kristen, quietly. "Hush."

Mr. Paulson whirled the chair around to face Kristen. "Stop telling me to hush! Have you stopped for a second to consider how roundly fucked we all are? We've got the hillbilly, the maid, the cripple and you. And what the fuck have you ever been good for? You couldn't even put your goddamned husband out of his goddamned misery!"

Kristen took a step back, her mouth open. Her eyes were wet.

Angie slammed the jug of alcohol down. "Keep it down. They will hear us."

"You shut the fuck up too!" Mr. Paulson roared. "You stomping around like you're somehow in fucking charge! You could barely manage my fucking bed pan as it was! You're so fucking stupid I'm surprised your kids haven't been taken away already!"

Angie circled the wheelchair to face him, not sure what she would do but sure it would be bad. She stopped when she heard groans coming from both doorways.

"Great," she said. "Good job."

Corpses staggered into the door at the far end of the room. The corpse at the front, a woman in a bloody dress, hissed and lurched at them.

"Shit!" said Park, leveling his rifle at the woman and firing. The woman's head snapped back and she crumpled. "We don't have enough ammo for this!"

Groans came from behind them. Angie spun to see more corpses stumble through the door at their backs. A man with no pants was chewing on one of the bloody legs Angie had seen in the chapel. He bit free a red chunk from the top of the leg and chewed.

Angie spun back to face Mr. Paulson. He was quiet, looking back and forth from one group of corpses to the other. "Any ideas?" she said.

Mr. Paulson said nothing, looking back and forth.

"I said any ideas!" she shrieked at him. The approaching corpses groaned from both sides. She felt her sanity slipping.

"He's just an old man!" yelled Kristen, wiping tears from her cheeks.

Angie turned to Kristen, her hand raised to smack her. She stopped, saying nothing.

"Remember that part when I said we were running out of ammo?" said Park, turning to face the other way and shooting the leg-carrying corpse. The corpse dropped the leg and fell.

Angie turned and grabbed the edge of the table nearest to her. "Here," she said. "Push the tables together."  She shoved the table up against the next table in the row. "It'll buy us some time."

Park nodded and slung the rifle over his shoulder. He grabbed chairs away from the tables and tossed them aside. He and Angie pushed two more of the tables together.

Kristen was just standing there, staring at the approaching corpses.

"Get your ass over here!" yelled Park.

Kristen glared at him but rushed over. After a few seconds of pushing and tugging, they had put four of the long tables together, creating a raised platform.

"Everyone up!" yelled Angie.

Park jumped up onto the platform and grabbed Kristen's arms.

"But Dad!" she said, pulling back.

"But your ass!" said Park, grabbing her arms tighter and wrenching her up onto the platform.

Mr. Paulson wheeled himself over to the side of the platform. Corpses were closing in on him from both sides. "What the fuck?"

Angie hopped up onto the platform. The corpses coming from behind reached the tables. They reached for Park and Kristen, but the platform was too wide. One corpse, a fresher-looking one, began climbing onto the platform. Park kicked him off. The others were too rotted or too wounded to quickly climb.

Angie stepped over to Mr. Paulson and looked down. The corpses were getting closer.

"What the fuck! You lousy bitch!" He screamed up at her.

"Dad!" Kristen said, rushing toward the edge of the table. Angie pushed her back, so hard Kristen almost fell off the other side and into the waiting arms of the corpses. Angie looked down at Mr. Paulson.

"I said any ideas!" she shrieked down at him.

"No!" said Mr. Paulson. The corpses were getting very close now. "No, goddammit, no!"

"Park," said Angie, "help me."

She knelt and grabbed Mr. Paulson's arm. Park came over and grabbed the other one. They wrenched Mr. Paulson up onto the platform. He landed in the center of the tables, unable to stand.

"You be more careful with him!" yelled Kristen, leveling her gun at Park.

Angie looked down at Mr. Paulson. "I am sorry. But never say anything like that to me again. Me or your daughter."

Mr. Paulson glared up at her but said nothing.

Park kicked at another corpse that was beginning to crawl up onto the platform. "We don't have enough bullets for all of these!"

A corpse grabbed Mr. Paulson's legs. He screamed as the corpse dragged him toward its open mouth.

"Dad!" yelled Kristen, moving her rifle toward the corpse. She fired just as the corpse leaned in to bite. The bullet caught the corpse in the temple. The corpse grunted, then slid off Mr. Paulson and onto the floor.

"Goddammit!" yelled Mr. Paulson. "This is it, assholes! We're dead!"

Another corpse grabbed Mr. Paulson from behind. He screamed. Park was busy kicking at another corpse. Kristen spun and pulled the trigger on her rifle. Nothing happened. "Oh god!" she said. "I'm out!"

The corpse that had hold of Mr. Paulson pulled itself further up onto the platform. It moaned ecstatically and pulled Mr. Paulson toward its mouth.

"Shit!" said Angie. She reached above her and pushed at the panel covering the florescent lights. She pulled the panel free and tossed it aside. Mr. Paulson was struggling with the corpse.

Angie pulled free her belt, letting the jugs of alcohol tumble to the platform. She wrapped the belt around her hand and grabbed hold of one of the florescent tubes above her. She wrenched it free and slammed it into the head of the corpse that had hold of Mr. Paulson. The glass tube shattered and the corpse faltered, letting go. Angie screamed and shoved the broken end of the tube into the corpse's face. It stuck and held. She kicked the tube and knocked the corpse to the floor.

"How many shots you got left?" she asked Park.

"Not nearly enough," he said, reloading the rifle.

She nodded and picked up one of the alcohol jugs. She turned to Kristen. "Give me your scalpel!"

Kristen said nothing, getting the scalpel from her pocket and giving it to Angie.

"What are you doing?" said Park, cocking the rifle.

"Watch," said Angie. She held up the plastic jug and stabbed it with the scalpel several times in several different spots. Alcohol began leaking out of the slits.

"What the hell..." said Mr. Paulson.

"Shoot!" Angie yelled, flinging the jug into the air toward the exit door. Alcohol spilled out of the jug as it flew. Park followed the jug with his rifle and fired just as it was suspended over the bulk of the corpses blocking their way. The jug exploded into a fireball and fell on the corpses below. The corpses groaned more loudly and started scattering across the room. Flaming corpses hit other corpses, setting them alight.

"I thought they don't feel pain," said Kristen.

"They don't," said Park. "But they're afraid of fire!"

In a few more seconds, the corpses had scattered enough to clear a path to the door.

"Get Mr. Paulson!" said Angie, kneeling to get the last two full jugs of alcohol. She ran to the edge of the platform and leapt off.

Park slung his rifle over his shoulder and stepped up to Mr. Paulson. He knelt and lifted him up off the platform.

"Put me down!" yelled Mr. Paulson. "I'm not a child!"

"Be careful with him!" yelled Kristen.

Angie ran to the wheelchair. The flaming corpses were stumbling around and groaning. Angie grabbed the chair's controller and wheeled it around to the front of the platform. One of the flaming corpses, more decayed than the others, fell over and was still.

"Huh," said Park. "Fire does kill them eventually." Then he hopped off the table, Mr. Paulson in his arms.

"Shit!" said Mr. Paulson as Park landed. "Be careful."

Park said nothing, putting Mr. Paulson back in his seat. Mr. Paulson glared at everyone, adjusting his robe and grabbing hold of the controller.

Angie looked around the room. The flaming corpses were spreading the fire fast. Soon the room itself would be ablaze.

Kristen jumped off the platform. "Are you okay, Dad?"

"All of you fuck off!" said Mr. Paulson.

"We gotta go," said Angie, leading them to the exit door and back to the hallway.

Twenty Four

Maylee slammed on the brakes. The car jerked forward, then rocked back. Dalton yelped and tugged at the seat belt dug into his shoulder.

"Damn it, your driving sucks, Maylee," he said.

"Be quiet," said Maylee. She was gripping the steering wheel and looking out at the junction they'd just come to. She hated that she had to move the seat so close to reach the pedals. "Which way to the good bridge?" she said.

"What?"

"You remember. The bridge. The new one."

Maylee looked both directions. There used to be one quick way to Mom's work from here. An old wooden bridge that tourists would come to look at in the summer. Then one year someone from the government pronounced it unsafe, put a landmark sign on it, and the state had to build a new one. The new bridge was built farther up the same road, crossing the river at a different point. Maylee had ridden to work with Mom dozens of times, first over one bridge, then the other. Now, in the dark and terror and the newness of driving herself, Maylee couldn't remember.

She turned to Dalton. "The one we won't fall off of and die."

Dalton looked up and down the road. "How should I know? Mom's the one who drives."

Maylee sighed and looked again. She looked in the rearview mirror and saw a corpse stumbling up to the car, far away still but visible in the red of her taillights. Time was up. She'd have to choose.

"Well damn it, I think it's this way," Maylee said, then turned right.

For several minutes they drove in quiet. Trees went by in the dark, and every so often Maylee was sure she saw a corpse wandering among them. Then the bridge came into view. It was the new one. Maylee sighed with relief.

Then they drew closer and she noticed the corpses wandering up and down the bridge. Easily a hundred of them. Maybe more. Where had they all come from?

Maylee noticed their highly decomposed state and their tattered clothes. The old graveyard nearby. This town's full of old graveyards.

Maylee stopped the car and cursed.

"What?" said Dalton, then he looked out the window. "Oh."

"Maybe we can just run over them," said Maylee. She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel, wondering. There were more of them than she had run over in the garage. Lots more.

"You sure?" asked Dalton.

"No of course I'm not sure," said Maylee. "But it's that, the old rickety bridge, or going all the way back and taking the long way around."

"That would take forever," said Dalton.

"That's why we're doing this," said Maylee. She gunned the engine and tore for the bridge.

The nearest corpse turned just as Maylee smacked into it. It flew backward a few feet into the mass of corpses behind it. The car slowed to a stop. The corpses groaned and clawed at the car.

"Crap!" said Dalton. "Try harder!"

Maylee did. She floored the gas and the wheels spun as they had in the garage. The corpses hissed, their sheer mass keeping the car from moving more than a few feet at a time. One corpse, an old man in a rotted priest's collar, climbed up onto the hood. He scraped yellow fingernails across the windshield, trying to get at Maylee.

"Screw this," said Maylee. "We'll back up and try again."

She put the car in reverse and looked behind her. Her chest went tight. The corpses had surrounded the car.

"Shit," she said, still looking.

"What?" asked Dalton, turning to look. He gasped and was silent.

The priest on the hood groaned and pawed at the windshield. Another corpse, a woman in a torn and dirty dress, climbed onto the trunk. She gurgled and tried to bite through the glass.

"Go! Go!" yelled Dalton.

Maylee kept the car in reverse and slammed down on the gas. The car lurched backward, moving a few feet. More corpses appeared in back of the car. Maylee cursed and slammed on the gas again. Something under the car went "crunch" and the car was free. It moved faster than Maylee had anticipated and she swerved backward into the guardrail. The corpse on the trunk flew off. The corpse on the hood slammed into the windshield, cracking it slightly.

"Damn it!" yelled Maylee, wrenching the car into drive. She gave the car gas but it stayed in place. The guardrail creaked and groaned. The corpses began surrounding the car again. The priest on the hood ran his withered hands over the cracked windshield.

"Maylee..." said Dalton, his voice shaking as he stared at the priest.

"I'm working on it," said Maylee, pushing the gearshift into reverse and slamming the gas pedal. The car rocked backward. The guardrail creaked. The priest on the hood bit at the glass, his thick drool running down onto the hood.

"Maylee.."

"I said I'm working on it!" Maylee shifted into drive and gave the car gas. The engine roared but the car wouldn't move. She could hear the guardrail straining and groaning.

"Oh crap, Maylee!" said Dalton, a new urgency in his voice.

Maylee looked up. A new wave of corpses were stumbling onto the bridge. Nearly a hundred of them. They all looked torn and dirty. Some of them barely looked human, more like dried husks. Their skin cracked and split as they moved.

"Where are they coming from?" said Dalton.

The priest on the hood pounded on the windshield.

Maylee nodded at a steeple among the trees on the far side of the bridge.

"See that old church?"

"The church?" said Dalton. "These things come from churches?"

"No, Dalton," said Maylee, pulling the car into reverse and gunning the gas. The car stayed put. "The graveyard behind the church." She put the car into drive and tried again. Nothing. "Who knows how many more there are. We've got to get out of here."

"No crap," said Dalton.

The priest on the hood moaned and drooled. The corpses ahead of the car, now growing in numbers, pressed forward. Maylee looked in the rearview mirror. Another corpse, a man with a large portion of his face burnt and blackened, was pawing at the trunk.

Maylee shifted into park and took her foot off the gas.

"What the crap are you doing?" said Dalton.

Maylee reached into the backseat and grabbed the bat. "Stay here."

She opened the door. The smell of the corpses flooded in.

"Maylee!" yelled Dalton.

"Just stay here!" she said, undoing her seat belt and climbing from the car.

She had little room to move. The car was up against the guardrail. She slid her way clear of the door and shut it. The corpses were everywhere, groaning and reaching at her. The car kept them at bay. For the moment.

She gripped the bat and sidestepped to the back of the car. The burnt-face man groaned at her.

"Fuck off," she said, slamming the bat across his head. His head rocked to one side and a chunk of burnt flesh flew off and onto the road behind the car. He fell onto his back, groaning and pawing at nothing.

Maylee looked down where the car met the guardrail. The bumper had somehow hooked itself onto the metal of the rail. She frowned and whacked the bumper with the bat. The metal bent inward but was still hung on the rail.

The burnt-face man stood up. His newly-exposed flesh was red and raw. He growled at her, reaching.

"I said fuck off!" said Maylee, slamming his head again. He groaned and fell back down.

Maylee whacked the bumper again. The metal crumpled and came free of the rail.

"Damn right," she said to no one. She turned and looked around. The corpses from the graveyard were close to the car. The priest on the hood was doing his best to climb onto the car's roof. He was reaching for her desperately, clutching at air.

She sidestepped, quickly as she could, back to the door. She opened the door and slid back in, tossing the bat into the backseat.

"What the crap!" said Dalton.

"Not now," said Maylee, closing the door. She pulled the car into reverse and turned the wheel hard to the right. She gunned the gas and the car lurched free of the guardrail and into the middle of the bridge. She heard crunching and squishing and knew they were corpses.

The priest on the hood groaned and slid off the car, smacking his head on the windshield on his way down. The glass cracked a little more.

"Go go go!" said Dalton.

Maylee straightened the wheel and gunned the engine. The car sped backward, bouncing as it hit the road and was free of the bridge. For a panicked moment Maylee lost control of the car as it rocketed backward.

"Shit!" she said, slamming on the brakes. The car spun in the road and they both screamed.

The car came to a halt longways across the road. The back tires were very close to a ditch.

"Dammit!" said Dalton. "Your driving sucks, Maylee!"

Maylee ignored him and looked over at the bridge. It was now choked so thick with corpses there was no way they'd get across it.

"Shut up," she finally said, pulling the shifter into drive and turning the car to face away from the bridge. She took one last look at the bridge, then sped away.

"Looks like we have to try the old bridge," she said.

Twenty Three

Angie entered the laundry room, Park right behind her. Kristen and Mr. Paulson followed. One of the dryers was still running, loud and hot. Stacks of linens were piled everywhere.

Mr. Paulson looked around. "You people actually wash these things? Shit, how dirty were they before?"

"Be quiet," said Angie. She walked to the other side of the room, where another door led back out into the hall. She looked carefully around the edge of the door. Nothing.

"Okay," she said, walking back to the others. "It's clear for the moment. Let's get our shit together and then get back to it."

She walked to a folding counter and set her jug of alcohol on it. Freeda had been folding sheets at this table. She undid the belt around her waist and took one of the full jugs from the belt. She used the full jug to refill the used one. Then she slid the jug back onto the belt and tied the belt around her waist.

Park was reloading his rifle. He shook the box of ammo and cursed. "Running kind of low already."

"Great," said Mr. Paulson. "So we'll all get halfway, then run out of ammo and get eaten. What a great fucking plan this is."

Park looked at Mr. Paulson. The large dryer in the corner rumbled and groaned.

"Well, here's a thought," said Park. "How about you keep your fucking mouth shut and quit attracting their fucking attention?"

Kristen sighed, looking at both Park and Mr. Paulson. "We aren't getting out of here, are we?"

"Quit saying crap like that," said Angie, adjusting her belt.

"Sam died before we even got out of that room. How in the hell are we going to make it all the way out of this building?"

"I said quit saying crap like that!" Angie snapped, glaring at Kristen.

Kristen sighed again and backed up against a wall. She put her head back.

Angie gave her one more glare, then went back to adjusting her belt.

The dryer stopped.

The groaning didn't.

Angie spun around to face the dryer. Park turned his rifle to it.

"What the hell's that noise?" said Mr. Paulson.

The groaning could be heard clearly now. It was not mechanical. It was loud and gurgling. From what sounded like a choking throat.

Angie looked more closely at the dryer. It was set a foot or so away from the wall.

"Shit," she said. "It's behind the dryer."

"Well, it's stuck then," said Park. "Let's leave it and get the fuck out of here."

"Wait," said Angie. "We can't be sure. It could be someone hiding."

"They're awfully fucking small," said Park.

"And not very verbal," said Mr. Paulson.

"It could be a hurt child," said Kristen. "A survivor. Hurt and hiding."

Angie looked at Kristen and nodded. She hated her, but she was right.

"We have to make sure it's dead before we leave it," said Angie.

"Fine," said Park. "Just hurry."

Angie stepped toward the dryer. The groaning continued. It did indeed sound like a child's voice.

"Is someone there?" said Angie, taking another step.

The groan became louder. Whatever was behind the dryer gurgled and moaned.

"It's okay. We're friends." She stepped up to the edge of the dryer. "Don't be scared." She looked over at Park. Park nodded and got his rifle ready.

Angie nodded to Park and turned back to the dryer. She took a breath and pulled the dryer further away from the wall. She leaned over the top of the dryer, looking down.

Two small, cold hands grabbed her face and pulled.

"Fuck!" Angie heard Park say behind her.

"That's it," said Mr. Paulson. "She's done. Let's get out of here!" Angie heard the wheelchair start to whir.

Angie looked down at what had grabbed her. A small child, hungry and very obviously dead. It was a small boy with portions of his scalp chewed away. He tugged at Angie's head but was not strong enough to get his writhing mouth to her.

"Oh shit," said Angie, softly. It was the boy. The boy Angie had seen eaten.

"Stop right fucking there!" yelled Park, presumably at Mr. Paulson.

The wheelchair stopped. "You gonna pull a gun on a crippled old man?" said Mr. Paulson.

"Stop pointing that thing at my father!" yelled Kristen. Angie heard Kristen's gun cock.

Angie felt tears coming. The boy writhed and gnashed at her. His fingers pawed at her face, but he was too weak to do any damage. "I'm sorry," she said.

She pulled her face away and turned to the others. Park had his rifle pointed at Mr. Paulson. Kristen had her rifle pointed at Park. "Knock it the fuck off!" Angie said, stomping over to Kristen. She snatched the rifle away.

"Back off, bitch!" said Kristen, tears in her eyes. "His stupid friend killed my husband!"

"Shut the fuck up or I will shoot you myself," said Angie, stepping back over to the boy. The boy was still caught behind the dryer, but his head and arms were now visible over the top.

Angie stared at the boy and allowed herself a few seconds to cry.

"Who the fuck is that?" asked Park.

"I dunno," said Angie. "Just some kid, I guess." She swallowed, leveled the rifle and fired.

The boy's head rocked and a large hole appeared in his forehead. His glazed eyes closed and he slumped forward. Dark blood slowly pooled on the top of the dryer.

She turned and gave the rifle back to Kristen. "This is only for those things." She looked at Park. "Same goes for you. Now come on, we've made enough noise."

Groans came from both doorways.

"Dammit!" said Park.

Angie looked in both directions. Corpses were already stumbling in the way they had come. The groans from the way out were getting closer. She scanned the room quickly.

"This is it!" yelled Park. "Just keep shooting until the ammo runs out."

"Then what?" said Kristen as she looked around, panic on her face.

"Then I finally get my wish," said Park, quietly. Angie was close enough to hear. She ignored it for the time being.

Her eyes landed on a wheeled cart full of folded white linen. "Here," she said, running over to the cart. She opened the jug of alcohol and dumped all of it onto the linen.

More corpses from the way they had come groaned and came through the doorway. Angie took out Park's lighter and lit the pile of linens. It burst instantly into flames.

"Shit!" said Mr. Paulson.

Angie screamed and pushed the cart into the corpses. The corpses moaned as the cart hit them. The corpses and most of the doorway burst into flame.

"Crazy bitch!" yelled Mr. Paulson. "We're flammable too!"

"Not if we run," said Angie, turning for the second door. "Go!"

All four of them moved to the door. Three corpses came through the other way, blocking them.

"Shit!" said Park, raising the rifle.

Angie was out in front, inches from the closest corpse. The corpse, what was left of a dried rotted woman covered in a dirty burial dress, grabbed her. The woman's mouth opened, dry skin ripping and cracking, and she leaned in to bite. Angie fumbled in her smock, found the scalpel, and shoved it into the woman's eye socket. Angie grunted and pushed the scalpel in as hard as she could. The corpse shook, then dropped away from her.

"Duck!" yelled Park.

Angie did. Park's rifle went off, the shot flying over Angie's head and into the corpse standing closest to her.

"Shoot the other one!" she yelled. The remaining corpse, a man covered in yellow and red sores, fell on her, groaning. She rolled over on to her back, trying to push him up. He was heavy and strong.

"I can't get a shot!" yelled Park.

"Leave her!" yelled Mr. Paulson.

Fire was spreading on the far wall. Angie could feel the heat from it. She put her palm on the corpse's forehead. He snarled and bit at her, missing but close. Angie pushed upward with all her might. The corpse's head moved up an inch or two, but that was all.

"You'll have to do better than that!" yelled Park.

"Fuck the stupid bitch!" yelled Mr. Paulson. "We're going to burn to death if we stay!"

Angie heard Mr. Paulson's wheelchair start to move. She heard it whir toward the door. From the corner of her vision, she saw one of his wheels move past her.

"Get back here!" yelled Park.

The wheel of Mr. Paulson's chair crunched over the leg of the corpse atop Angie. "Shit!" said Mr. Paulson, trying to swing the chair the other direction. He connected with the corpse's thigh, knocking it to the side and off of Angie.

Park's gun rang out. The corpse flew back a few feet and landed on its back, head destroyed.

Angie stood and glared at Mr. Paulson. She looked at the fire. It was spreading badly.

"Okay, now let's go!" yelled Park.

"Not yet," said Angie. She moved to a wall next to the washing machines. "I hate to admit it, but Mr. Paulson's right." She pulled a fire extinguisher from the wall and moved to the fire. She pulled the pin and emptied the extinguisher into the flames. In a few seconds the flames died down and stopped.

"We don't want the place burning down before we get out," she said, moving to drop the extinguisher. The dried corpse of the woman, the one with the scalpel buried in her eye socket, stirred. She moaned and began to sit up.

"Shit," said Angie. She stepped over to where the corpse was struggling to right itself. She hoisted the extinguisher over her shoulders and threw it down at the corpse's head. The head imploded, sending dried skin and dust flying. The corpse fell down again and stopped moving.

Angie looked back at the others. She undid her belt and removed a jug of alcohol. She tied the belt back and took out Park's lighter.

"Now we can go."

Twenty Two

Maylee looked quickly up and down the street. "Come on," she said. "Let's go."

She ran to the open garage, Dalton behind her. The car sat inside, the running lights casting the garage in a dim glow.

"Wait," said Dalton, stopping behind her.

Maylee stopped and turned. "What?"

Dalton was staring at the garage. "I thought I heard something in there."

Maylee turned back to look. She saw nothing. The running lights switched off and the garage fell back into darkness. She listened. She still heard moans, far away but getting closer, but nothing coming from the garage.

"It's fine," said Maylee, gripping her bat. "Come on." She raised up the keys and clicked the unlock button again.

The running lights came back on.

Something lunged at them from under the car.

They both screamed and jumped back. Maylee dropped the keys and raised her bat with both hands.

A small and very startled mouse blinked at her and ran down the street.

Maylee watched it go for a moment, then let out her breath and lowered the bat. "Dammit."

"They had mice, too," said Dalton, also watching the mouse.

"Probably had the same landlord," said Maylee. Her heart was pounding. She reached down to the pavement and recovered the keys. "Now hurry up and get in the car."

Maylee ran into the garage and grabbed the driver's side door handle. She pulled open the door. She cast a look in the back seat, just in case. Nothing. She tossed the bat back there and climbed into the driver's seat. Dalton climbed in the passenger seat. They both shut their doors.

"Okay," said Maylee.

"You sure you can drive?" said Dalton.

"Sure I can do it better than you," said Maylee. She tried putting a key in the ignition. It didn't fit. She sighed and tried another one. It didn't fit either.

"You need the key that starts the car," said Dalton.

"Be quiet, Dalton," said Maylee. Finally she found a key that fit.

She was about to turn it when a corpse stumbled into view.

They both gasped.

The corpse was wandering down the street, passing in front of the open garage door.

"Be quiet," whispered Maylee, staring at the corpse. "It hasn't heard us."

She heard movement from Dalton's seat and looked. He was pulling the bat from the back seat.

"Leave that alone," Maylee whispered. "Just keep quiet and let the thing walk past."

"I want it just in case," whispered Dalton, clutching the bat and staring out the window. The corpse was halfway across the open garage door.

"It's mine, anyway," whispered Maylee, grabbing the bat. "Give it to me."

Dalton pulled back. "No," he whispered.

"Dammit, Dalton," Maylee whispered. They tugged the bat back and forth. Maylee pulled hard. Dalton scowled at her and pulled back. Maylee shifted in her seat and her elbow hit the car horn.

The horn blared out of the garage onto the street.

"Shit," said Maylee, letting go of the bat.

The corpse grunted and looked their direction. Two other corpses came around the corner. All three began to move toward the car.

"Double shit," said Maylee, grabbing the keys and turning.

"Hurry!" said Dalton.

The car came to life. The corpses were close to the garage now. Maylee tried to put her foot on the gas, then discovered the seat was too far back.

"Shit," she said, reaching down for the seat lever. She could hear the corpses groaning now.

She pulled the seat up further and straightened back up. The corpses were in the garage.

"Hurry, Maylee!" yelled Dalton.

Maylee pulled down the gear shift and slammed on the gas.

The car rocketed backward and slammed into the garage wall. Maylee and Dalton were thrown back in their seats.

"Ow!" yelled Dalton.

"Dammit!" said Maylee, fumbling with the gear shift.

The corpses were closing in on the car.

Maylee moved the shifter into drive and gave the car gas. The wheels spun but the car didn't move.

"Why aren't we moving?" said Dalton, staring at the corpses and clutching the bat tightly.

"We're stuck on something!" said Maylee, pushing harder on the gas. The wheels spun and she smelled smoke. The corpses reached the car. They grabbed at the hood and groaned.

"Crap!" yelled Dalton.

Maylee screamed and slammed all her weight on the gas. The tires screeched but the car stayed put.

"Dammit!" yelled Maylee, slamming her weight down in the seat. The car bounced. She heard something behind the car clatter and the tires engaged. The car shot forward, knocking the corpses aside.

The car bounced onto the street and kept going. Maylee and Dalton screamed as the car raced across the street and into a mailbox on the other side. The mailbox flew across the yard and smashed against the wall of the house behind it.

Maylee finally took her foot off the gas. She was panting. She looked in the rearview mirror. The corpses were strewn in the street, beaten up but still moving. One of them was almost to its feet.

"Damn, Maylee," said Dalton. "You sure you drive better than me?"

"Yes," said Maylee. She put the car in reverse and backed into the street. The car bounced as it hit the pavement. She spun backward until the car was facing the right way. "Now put on your seat belt."

"Seriously?" Dalton raised his eyebrows at her.

"Dammit, Dalton, just put on the shitting seat belt right shitting now!" Maylee yelled, sounding a little like Mom when Mom was really, really mad.

Dalton glared at her and clicked his seat belt into place.

"Thank you," said Maylee, then put on her own seat belt. "Now we can go."

She put the car into drive and drove.

Twenty One

Angie stared at the corpses behind the door. The room would be full of them in seconds once they opened the door.

"Everyone sure they're ready?" she said. "We'll have to move quick."

"Yep," said Park, holding his rifle.

Kristen said nothing, but held her rifle as well. Mr. Paulson was quiet for the moment, hand on the wheelchair controller.

Angie looked back at Park. "You think this will work?"

Park shrugged. "Hope so."

Angie turned back to the door. "Yeah. Me too."

The corpses bit at the glass.

"Okay," she said. "Let's go."

Angie splashed the door with rubbing alcohol and lit it. Flame shot across the glass for a few seconds, then sputtered out. The glass was blackened and the corpses behind it had backed up several feet. Angie unlocked the door quickly and opened it.

The corpses groaned and came for them.

"Everyone back up!" yelled Angie. They all stepped backward, further into the room.

Corpses filed in, groaning and biting at them. The group stayed clear, backing up as more corpses entered the room.

"This won't work," said Kristen. "Oh god. This isn't going to work."

"Shut the fuck up," said Park.

"Circle back!" said Angie.

The group turned, backing up to their left now. More corpses came in. There were at least twenty in the room now. They reached for the group as they came in, but were blocked by the nurse's desk. Angie and Park had pushed the nurse's desk so that it ran outward from the door frame, corralling the corpses straight into the room. A few more came through, then no more.

"That must be it for the immediate hallway," said Angie. "Everyone keep backing up!"

The group backed toward the wall now. The desk was at their left. Some of the corpses stumbled around the desk and moved toward them.

"I think now would be a good time," said Park.

"Yeah," said Angie. She climbed up onto the desk and stood. Taking the open jug of alcohol, she dumped a large amount on the floor just by the door. A few corpses, the last to enter the room, reached for her but missed.

Angie set the jug down and knelt on the desk. Leaning forward with the lighter, she lit the puddle she had made.

Flame wooshed up at her and into the room. She pulled back, nearly singed. The corpses moaned and backed further away from the door, deeper into the room.

"Now!" yelled Angie, jumping from the desk and back to the others. She and Park pushed the desk to the other side of the door, right over the already-sputtering flame. The corpses were still backing away, moaning and wincing at the fire.

"Hurry!" said Angie. Kristen and Mr. Paulson rushed out the door and into the hallway. Angie and Park moved to the far side of the desk and pushed it against the door, blocking it. They both climbed over the desk and out the door.

Angie shut the door, looking at the corpses filling the nurse's station. Freeda's body was still in there, but she pushed the thought down. There was no helping that.

"Too bad these don't lock from the outside," said Angie.

"The desk should slow them down pretty good," said Park, turning to look down the hallway.

"Yeah," Angie nodded.

A moan came from further down the hall. The rest of the group turned to look. A corpse, a man with a missing ear and arm, was stumbling toward them.

"Hey fuckface," said Park. "You missed the party in the room back there."

Park leveled the rifle at the corpse and fired. The corpse's head snapped back and it dropped to the floor.

"Not bad," said Angie.

"Yeah," said Park. "If only deer would walk as slow as these things."

"And if only you two talked as little as they do," said Mr. Paulson. "Are we going or what?"

"This way," said Angie, walking down the hallway. "Follow me."

They moved quickly and quietly down the hall. Angie's back strained under the weight of the alcohol jugs tied to her waist. The whir of Mr. Paulson's wheelchair was the only sound.

Each of the patient rooms they passed was empty. Blood and hunks of meat were scattered across the beds, across floors and across the walls. But nothing moving. Nothing biting.

"So far, so good," Angie muttered.

They passed a room and Angie glanced inside. A patient was hanging sideways off the bed. A large hole had been chewed into their head. Brain and bloody muck coated the sheets.

They had cleared the room, Mr. Paulson bringing up the rear, when a corpse burst through the door.

"Shit!" said Mr. Paulson. The corpse was an old man in a cowboy hat. Portions of his cheek were missing, and flaps of bloody skin dangled as he moved.

The man grabbed Mr. Paulson. Mr. Paulson wrenched at the joystick and the wheelchair sped backward. The man held on, dragging alongside the chair. The man's teeth inched toward Mr. Paulson's face.

"Someone get this fucker off me!" Mr. Paulson yelled.

"Dad!" yelled Kristen, racing after him.

"Dammit, dumbass!" yelled Park. "Use your gun!"

"Dad!" Kristen kept running, holding her gun in one hand and showing no sign of using it.

"Shit," said Park. He leveled the gun at the chair and fired.

Kristen screamed and dropped to her knees. Mr. Paulson's chair stopped. The corpse shook, then slid to the floor. Blood oozed from under the corpse's hat.

"You crazy fucker!" said Mr. Paulson, wheeling the chair further back, away from the corpse.

"Dad!" said Kristen, climbing to her feet and rushing over. "Are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay," said Mr. Paulson. "No thanks to you three." He wheeled around her and back to Angie and Park. Kristen followed.

Angie watched them approach and sighed. Kristen looked shaken, but Angie refused to feel sorry for her. Not yet. "I gave you the gun for a reason," she said.

Kristen looked at the gun in her hand and frowned. "Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Angie said, turning back to head down the hall. "Just be smart." She started walking. The others followed.

Things were quiet for several more feet. Angie held up a hand and the others stopped. A few feet up ahead, another hallway split off to the right. And many feet ahead of that, several corpses had stumbled out of their rooms, groaning. The corpses hadn't noticed them yet.

"Wait here," Angie whispered.

"Fuck that," whispered Park. He turned back to Kristen and Mr. Paulson. "You two wait here."

Angie and Park crept toward the opening of the side hallway.

"This the second hallway you talked about?" whispered Park. The corpses up ahead continued to ignore them.

"Yeah," whispered Angie. "And it looks like we might have to use it. Unless there's even more of those things down there."

They reached the edge of the opening and slowly peered around it.

The second hall was empty.

"Looks good to me," whispered Park.

"Yeah," whispered Angie, casting a glance at the corpses further down to their left. They still hadn't noticed. "It's just a longer way around. We'll have to move even faster. I've got to be outside when my kids get here."

Park nodded.

"Hey!" yelled Mr. Paulson. "Are we fucking moving in here?"

Angie and Park turned back to Mr. Paulson. Kristen whispered to him. "Dad, we've got to be quiet."

"For fuck's sake," said Mr. Paulson, loudly. "You all retarded? Those things are dead. They can't hear."

The corpses down the hall moaned and started moving toward them.

Mr. Paulson blinked. "Well, fuck me."

"Yeah," said Park.

"Come on," said Angie, starting down the side hallway.

Park followed her.

They moved quickly for a few feet before Angie realized Kristen and Mr. Paulson weren't following.

"Wait," said Angie, stopping. She turned and trotted back to the main hall.

Mr. Paulson was struggling with his chair. Kristen was trying to help. The corpses were closing in, getting close to where Angie stood, leaning out into the hallway.

"What's wrong?" said Angie, running over.

"Fucking chair's broken!" said Mr. Paulson, wrenching the joystick from one side to the other.

"Careful, Dad," said Kristen. "Don't break it."

"It's already fucking broken, idiot!" yelled Mr. Paulson.

Park came back into the hallway. He looked at the three at the chair, then at the corpses coming closer. "We gotta move!" he said. He fired down the hallway, taking down one of the approaching corpses.

Angie moved to the back of the wheelchair. Mr. Paulson cursed and wrenched at the joystick. The corpses groaned and drew nearer.

"Wait," said Angie. "A wire came off the battery. It must have come loose earlier."

Mr. Paulson wrenched the joystick from one side to the other. "Damn it! Those fucking things are getting closer!"

"Your fault, dipshit!" said Park, firing at another corpse. The corpse went into a spasm then fell, limp. Three were left, getting close now. Soon they would block the way to the side hall. Park backed up, reloading the rifle.

"Hold on," said Angie, taking hold of the loose wire and moving it back to the battery.

Park finished loading the rifle and shot down another corpse. Two were left. "We don't have unlimited ammo here! I was only able to grab a few boxes!"

Mr. Paulson swore and leaned on the joystick.

Park fired again. One corpse was left, a large man with bloody, matted hair.

Angie snapped the wire connector into place on the battery.

The wheelchair sprung to life and shot down the hallway. "Shit!" yelled Mr. Paulson. The chair collided with Park, knocking him forward. Park sprawled to the floor, spinning to face up, toward the corpse. The corpse groaned and reached down at him. Park tried to move his rifle into position but the corpse knocked it aside in its blind grasping.

The corpse groaned and opened its mouth.

A shot rang out. The corpse's head snapped to one side and its body shook. Then it fell over, off of Park and onto the floor.

Angie looked to see Kristen lowering her rifle.

"Shit!" said Park, standing. He kicked the wheel of Mr. Paulson's chair. "Be fucking careful or you'll be dragging your crippled ass!"

"Hey!" yelled Kristen, pointing the rifle at Park. "You leave my father alone!"

Park scowled at her.

More groans came from the far end of the hall. Another group of corpses came into view.

Angie pushed Kristen's gun down and addressed Park. "We gotta go."

Kristen pulled her gun away from Angie's hand but kept it down. "Keep your friend away from my father."

Angie looked at Kristen. "My friend is half eaten in the nurse's station."

She turned away from Kristen and Mr. Paulson and headed for the side hall. Park raised his eyebrows at her as she passed.

She stopped at the entrance and looked down the second hallway. Still clear, as far as she could tell. "Okay," she said, looking back to the others. "Let's hurry."