Twenty Seven

The cafeteria was in flames behind them as Angie and Park rushed down the hallway.  Kristen and Mr. Paulson followed.

"Shit," said Angie, stopping and turning back to look. "We really have to hurry now. No way we're putting that out."

Alarms went off all over the hospital. A splitting, piercing ringing.

"And this is when the sprinklers would be going off?" said Park, looking around.

"Yeah," said Angie. "Come on." She turned to look back at the others. Kristen was walking toward her.

"What?" said Angie just as Kristen balled up her fist and punched her.

"Don't you ever fucking treat my father that way!" she screamed.

Angie dropped the jugs of alcohol she was carrying. She flashed red and shoved Kristen away. "Back off, bitch! You want to beat my ass, wait 'til we get fucking outside!"

"Hey!" yelled Park. "As much as I love a good cat fight, we really really need to fucking get!"

Kristen glared at Angie. She rushed her, slamming her into the wall and grabbing her hair. Angie screamed and rammed her knee into Kristen's stomach.

* * *

"Come the fuck on!" said Park, yelling at Angie and Kristen. Mr. Paulson watched as his daughter and Angie fought in the hallway. He could feel the heat from the cafeteria behind them, even though it was a good twenty feet.

He said nothing, looking at Kristen's pale face. He knew the look. She was spent. It was the same look she had when she'd spent all day caring for him. The same look she had when Sam would go off by himself and do whatever the fuck it was he used to do.

He looked at Angie as she struggled with Kristen. The bitch had almost got him killed. Maybe he was asking for it. Maybe he wanted it. He should have died years ago. Did people think he liked being a tired old man who couldn't even fucking stand up anymore? Did people think he liked sucking away at his daughter's time? He could barely get to the toilet himself anymore. How long before he had to wear a goddamned diaper and lay on the bed while his daughter changed him?

He heard groaning come from the cafeteria. He wheeled himself around to look. Down the hallway corpses were approaching through the flames.

He turned back to the others. They were arguing with each other.

He started to say something, then shut his mouth. Fuck it.

Fuck this.

He looked one last time at Kristen. I'm sorry, he thought.

He wheeled the chair around to face back toward the cafeteria. He pushed the controller forward and moved toward the door. The corpses were just starting to emerge.

"Here I come, fuckers," he said. With his free hand, he reached behind himself and pulled the tube from his oxygen tank. He heard the slight hiss of the nozzle next to his ear.

The corpses saw him coming and groaned in welcome. Mr. Paulson reached over his head and twisted the regulator open as far as it would go. The oxygen blasted him in the back of the head, the hiss of it almost drowning out the groaning of the corpses.

"Dad?" came Kristen's voice far behind him.

I'm sorry.

The corpses closed in on him. He fished out his lighter, held it up to the oxygen nozzle, and lit it.

* * *

The explosion shook the hallway.

"Dad!" screamed Kristen, rushing toward the fireball.

"No!" Angie grabbed Kristen and pulled her back.

"Let me fucking go!" Kristen screeched, struggling with Angie.

Flames leapt across the ceiling and walls. Corpses groaned. Kristen fell to her knees, sobbing. "Dad!"

Angie looked up ahead and her eyes grew wide. "Everybody down!"

She and Park dropped to the floor. Angie pushed Kristen over to lay flat. "Let me go!" Kristen yelled.

Mr. Paulson's wheelchair flew over their heads, slamming into the wall to their right. Flames from it coated the wall and shot up over their heads.

"Come on!" yelled Park, climbing to his feet.

"No!" yelled Kristen, reaching toward the cafeteria. All Angie could see up there were flames and the outline of corpses. "Dad!"

Angie grabbed Kristen's shoulders and pulled her to her feet. "Come on!"

"Dad!"

Angie turned Kristen around and pushed her forward, down the hallway. She bent to get the jugs of alcohol. One was too close to the flames. She grabbed the one she could safely get and stood.

"Come on!" she yelled.

She and Park ran down the hallway, Angie dragging Kristen with them.

Twenty Six

Maylee drove as fast as she dared through the dark. Trees appeared and disappeared in the headlights.

"Slow down," said Dalton.

"Can't," she said. "We gotta get there. We gotta help Mom."

The road they were on was empty. No cars and few houses. They were almost outside of town now, running along the back-road shortcut Mom had taken to work before the old bridge closed. If they could get across the old wooden bridge, then it would be a short run down another back road to the hospital.

Maylee knew she was driving too fast. She couldn't help it. Her chest was pounding from the first bridge. I almost got us both killed, she kept thinking.

She could hear Dalton squirming in his seat next to her. She could sense it. She knew she should slow down.

"Can't," she muttered again, mostly to herself. "We gotta help Mom."

She rounded a bend and suddenly the bridge was there.

Both she and Dalton gasped and she slammed on the brakes.

The tires screeched and the car slid from side to side but eventually stopped a few feet from the bridge. Dalton was leaning as far forward as his locked seat belt would allow. He sat back and rubbed his shoulder. "Ow, Maylee!"

"Shhh," said Maylee, looking out at the bridge. A chain was tied from one post to another, blocking the way. A sign hung on the chain. In the headlights, Maylee could see that it read Unsafe, do not use. Future site of historical marker.

"Crap," said Dalton, looking out the window. "How are we supposed to get across?"

"It's just a chain, Dalton," said Maylee, undoing her seat belt. "We're lucky. Mom says eventually there'll be a big concrete post blocking the way. And there'd be no way we could move that. But we should be able to move a chain."

Dalton undid his seat belt. "I'll help."

"No, you'll stay here."

"Come on, Maylee. I can do it. It looks clear out there, anyway."

Maylee looked out the front window and sighed. It did look clear.

She pressed the control switch and her window slid down with a whir The cool night air blew in with no stench of bodies. She listened.

It was quiet except for typical night noises. Insects chittered. Leaves and grass rustled in the occasional breeze. No screams. No moaning.

"It's fine," she said after a few moments, breathing out. "So okay. I guess you can come. Just hurry. Let's get the chain unhooked, then get across."

She opened the door, leaving the engine running. Stepping out, she took another look around. Everything still looked clear.

Dalton got out and shut his door. He rubbed his arms. "It's cold."

"Yeah," said Maylee. "Come on, let's hurry."

She stepped over to the bridge, Dalton following. The chain ran from one wooden guardrail post to the other. Maylee walked over to one post and looked. The chain was simply wrapped around it and hooked with a nail.

"Wow," said Dalton, looking with her. "Low budget."

"Told you," said Maylee, smiling in the dark. She nodded across the road to the other post. "Go unhook that one."

Dalton nodded and trotted to the other side. Maylee grabbed the chain on her side and pulled it off the nail. She unwound the chain and looked over to Dalton. "Got it?"

"Got it," said Dalton, holding up his end of the chain.

A corpse grabbed Maylee from behind. Maylee gasped. She saw Dalton's eyes grow wide.

"Maylee!" he yelled, running toward her.

The corpse behind her groaned and pulled her into the woods. Maylee screamed and kicked, reaching back to push at the corpse's head. She felt slimy, cold skin and heard the corpse moaning and working its jaws. Maylee still gripped the chain and it dragged on the ground in front of her. She thrashed her head around, avoiding the thing's mouth.

The chain caught on a thick tree root. Maylee saw her chance and yanked herself forward, using the chain as leverage. She slipped from the corpse's grasp and fell to the ground. She spun around and looked up.

The corpse was an old man with a bloated belly and rotting skin. A portion of his throat was missing, and Maylee could see the cords in the man's neck moving up and down as he gnashed his teeth.

"Maylee!" yelled Dalton, careening out of the darkness. He screamed as he ran straight into the corpse.

The corpse groaned and wrapped its arms around Dalton.

Maylee clambered to her feet and looked around frantically for a weapon. Why had she left the bat in the car? The chain in her hand would have to do.

The corpse bent in to bite Dalton's throat. Maylee swung the chain over her head and whipped it at the corpse. The thick metal links caught the corpse in the cheek. It grunted and stepped back, letting go of Dalton. Dalton screamed and ran over to Maylee.

Maylee was mad now. She swung the chain again at the corpse, this time harder. The corpse grabbed at them and the chain whacked off two rotten fingers.

"Maylee, come on!" said Dalton, pulling her back toward the car.

"Not yet," she said. She twirled the chain round and round over her head. She gave it as much slack as the tree root behind her would allow. The corpse reached for her. She grunted and whipped the chain forward.

 The chain wrapped tightly around the corpse's arm. The corpse kept moving toward her, oblivious to the chain.

"Shit," she said. "Okay, let's go."

They both turned and ran through the trees toward the headlights of the car. She could hear the corpse groaning behind her. It sounded further and further away.

Dalton, ahead of her, reached the road and ran for the car. Maylee reached the road and turned around. The corpse was still far behind them. It was tugging at the chain, which was still wrapped around its arm and caught on the root.

She smiled and flipped off the corpse. Then turned and ran back to the car.

Dalton was already inside and shutting the passenger door. "Come on!"

Maylee flopped into the driver's seat and slammed her door. Her window was still down and she could hear the corpse groaning and the chain rattling.

She put the car into drive and started forward.

As soon as they hit the bridge she heard loud groaning and cracking. She stopped.

"Shit," she said.

"Was that the bridge?" said Dalton, looking around.

"Yeah," said Maylee, swallowing. "Yeah it was."

Wood cracked underneath them. She heard something hit the river below with a splash.

"Crap, Maylee," said Dalton. "Let's go back."

Maylee shook her head. "No, we've lost too much time as it is. We have to get to Mom."

She eased the car forward. The bridge creaked and shook, but held.

She eased the car to a stop and looked at Dalton. "There, see? We'll just go slow and..."

With a groan, the bloated old man appeared just outside Maylee's window. His arm was missing.

Dalton screamed. The corpse reached its remaining arm into the car. Maylee fumbled with the window control, hitting the door handle instead. The door swung open, knocking into the corpse. The corpse's arm hooked around the door as it swung out.

The corpse slammed into the wooden guardrail. The rail snapped and fell away. The wood under the driver's side rear tire gave way and the car slumped to one side.

Both Maylee and Dalton screamed as the car leaned out over the river. The door dangled out over the water, the corpse hanging from it. The corpse groaned and bit up at Maylee.

More cracking came from underneath them. The car rocked. Dalton was still screaming.

Maylee turned in her seat and kicked down at the corpse's head. It bit at her shoes as she slammed the soles into the corpse's face. She grunted and kicked down as hard as she could.

With a horrible tearing sound the corpse's torso came free of its remaining arm. Still biting up at Maylee, the armless corpse fell to the river below and vanished with a splash.

The car shook as more wood fell from the bridge. Maylee reached out over the water - willing herself not to look down - and grabbed the door handle. She slammed the door shut. The corpse's arm snapped as the door closed on it. The remains of the arm bounced off the bridge and down into the water.

"Hurry!" said Dalton. Maylee heard more cracking and groaning. Wood was falling into the water so fast there were almost no breaks in the sound.

Maylee slammed on the gas and the car raced forward. The car bounced as wood fell away underneath it.

The headlights lit up the chain across the other end of the bridge. They both screamed. Then Maylee squared her jaw. There was no other choice. She gunned the engine more and the car picked up speed.

The car hit the chain and Maylee's heart leapt when it snapped. The car reached pavement just as a huge chunk of the bridge fell away into the river. Maylee screeched to a halt. The second chain and sign flew away from the front of the car, clattering to the road.

Both Maylee and Dalton looked over their shoulders. The bridge gave a final groan and collapsed into the river.

"We're in so much trouble," said Dalton.

"I think the world has more things to worry about right now," said Maylee. She turned back and gave the car gas.

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."