433

You reach the end of the corridor and use the keys to pop open rusty metal doors that creak as they swing. Cool spring air blows in the early evening. You walk up a steady incline to a loading dock enclosed in a tall cement wall, the ground splattered with oil and skid marks. An old supply truck partially blocks the tall metal gate, its driver door wide open and broken glass on the seat. The smell of alcohol hits you in the face. It reminds you it has been a while since you've had anything to drink. You guzzle a bottle of beer as your companions walk ahead.

Jaime moves to the gate and slides it open, the metal rattling as it moves. The infected call from above, their upper torsos hanging from cracked windows a few stories high, and a body falls from the fourth floor, hits the wall, and rebounds into the dock. Like a popped water balloon, the carcass splatters and spurts out liquid in a red sheet on the ground.

"How did you get here, Luth?" Jamie asks.

"We walked."

"Seems sensible to drive back now with all these people." Woody pulls a piece of thick cloth from a dumpster and clears the glass from the truck's driver seat. "This will prob'ly fit us all."

"Why aren't we taking multiple cars? There's a lot full," Madison says with a scowl. "We can even get a BMW or Lexus in the teacher's lot."

"We can take one of the swim team's vans," Brody says. "They're super new and decked out. Real comfortable." "Whatever y'all want to take matters less and less the more we stand here. We need to boogie on out of here," Woody says, and just as he speaks, the sounds of the infected in the area chime in with howls.

"Woody's right," Jaime says and steps close to you. "Should we take a few vehicles? We have me, you, Woody, and the twins."