Ineffective, yes. But it did keep the thing from eating me.
The shooting continued, everything in the room blending into a terrifying stew of noise and screams and shooting and groans. From the corner of my eye, I saw Dax dive under the desk. He popped back up holding the PC tower, then ripped the cording out from its back. He lifted the tower over his head and slammed it directly into a zombie’s face. The back of the machine fell off upon impact, and the video card and fan toppled out.
Evie sprang at another revenant, her paws landing against its chest. It went over backwards, then batted at her as she made a gallant effort to tear its throat out. I scanned the room for something I could use against these dead fucks besides my fist.
My gaze landed on sections of pipe the dog had so diligently inspected earlier.
Hey, it was better than nothing.
I snatched up a pipe and started swinging.
The first crack sent a vibration up my arms; the second made my wrists hurt. I crashed through the horde, not really caring what parts of them I hit, as long as the dead fuckers stayed the hell away from me.
The pipe slammed into heads and torsos. Our poor lighting meant I couldn’t really see what the hell was going on; I just caught flashes of those grinning faces, the feral eyes, the snarling mouths and bloody, broken teeth. Clack-clack-clack. They were all hungry. Where the hell had they come from?
“What the fuck is going on?” Hammond demanded.
“Zombies!” Tony whipped out his pistol and took aim at the nearest shambler. “Zombies are going on, General! Help us!”
He joined Logan in firing on the revenants. The room lit up with each muzzle flash, and I saw just how many ghouls were trying to jam their way toward us. They wouldn’t all fit in here. They couldn’t possibly.
How did they all know we were here? We must have attracted the attention of a herd when we were coming in. But where had the herd been hiding?
“This is a death trap!” Logan bellowed. He slipped one pistol into its holster and yanked out the other one. “Everybody outside! McKnight, you lead. Vibeke, Dax, you follow. I’ll clean up after!”
“McKnight?” Hammond’s voice cut through the chaos once more. “McKnight, are you alive?”
Tony picked up the receiver again. “This city is fucked up, General. Send the tank, send everything, send the fucking cavalry!”
“McKnight, I said go!”
Holy shit, Logan sounded like a real soldier right then.
Tony didn’t need further instructions. He barged through the crowd, throwing elbows and blasting away with his pistol.
I went after him, not stopping to see if Dax and Logan were following. I swung that pipe like it was going out of style, striking a head sinking into rotting flesh each time. My arms started to ache, and the smell—oh God, the smell—bits of flesh flew off with each connecting strike. They landed on me, clogged my nostrils, nearly got in my eyes.
Where’s the door? WHERE IS THE FUCKING DOOR?
I would not die in here. Could not. Could not go out this way.
I swung harder. I hacked. The pipe blazed up and down, briefly illuminated with each flash of Tony’s careful shots. Dead, glazed eyes reflected the light, and now and then I caught a glimpse of teeth. One placed itself in front of me, its jaw opening up, ready to turn me into a nice little midday snack.
I bashed it in the mouth. Teeth scattered and flew across the room, some of them hitting its compatriots. It didn’t care—it was beyond the help of a dentist anyway—and turned its head back to me, opening its mouth again.
“Go fuck yourself,” I said, jamming the pipe straight into its mouth and back. I shoved, pushing all my weight against the rod and pushing the ghoul backward, right out the door and into the corridor wall.
The pipe pushed through its head with a crunching noise, and it flailed for another second before falling still.
I yanked the pipe out and swung to the left. I had a narrow space to maneuver now, and charged blindly after the sound of Tony’s pistol and the brief flashes it emitted as he barreled down the corridor toward the warm, welcoming square of grayish light pouring in from the open front door.
The door, and the handful of revenants still staggering through it.
They followed us. The fuckers followed us. But how? There hadn’t been any of them when we made our way through the Quarantine Zone. It had been completely empty. Zombies weren’t supposed to plan, or hide out quietly waiting for us to distract ourselves. But they were doing just that. Had been doing just that.
Oh, God, what if they could plan?
No. They don’t plan.
One must have spotted us and others followed. Right?