Run: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller by Rich Restucci

the left, and a 2 on the door on the right. There was movement behind the door on the left. Rick called out, “Hello?” and instantly he could hear the tell-tale moans of the infected. There sounded like a lot of them. Seconds later, pounding started on the flimsy door, and dust fell from the ceiling. 
    The two men beat a hasty retreat back to the door at the end of the corridor, but not before the door with the 1 on it crashed open, spilling four undead into the corridor. There were more behind them in the room. A very dead Asian man with a katana sticking out of his chest stepped over his comrades, trying to get to a savory hot meal. The creature stepped on the hand of one of the fallen, splintering the bones with an audible crack. Infected seemed to pour out of the room, all intent on the feast twenty feet away. Rick pulled the door closed, and both men hurried down the steps. Three seconds later, pounding started on the heavy door. 
    “At least the damned door opens in!” Dallas declared as they took the stairs two at a time. 
    “Did you see that guy with the sword?” Rick asked. “Must be tough to turn corners, huh?” 
    Dallas and Rick burst into the lobby, Dallas yelling for everyone. 
    Rick turned and locked the stairway door, and the lobby filled with the little band of survivors. 
    “We’re leaving!” shouted Rick. “Pack up, we have one minute!” 
    “What’s going on,” demanded Chris, “are they in?” 
    “The whole goddamn upstairs is full of ‘em!” Dallas told him, and immediately looked at Sam. “Sorry honey, I’m scared is all, I usually don’t swear too much.” 
    Billy looked annoyed, “We gotta move again? I just started settling in!” 
    “Move it!” Rick said. Billy harrumphed and stood up, still shirtless. 
    “Dallas cover the stairs, I’m gonna go up to the projection booth and look out the window to make sure we’re clear, everybody else be ready to leave!” Rick ran up the spiral stairs. He was up there maybe thirty seconds before he hurried back down. 
    “How are we doing?” asked Paul. 
    “There’s dozens,” answered Rick, ashen faced, “but that doesn’t change the fact that we need to leave, now!” 
    “They musta got through, Hoss, I can hear ‘em on the stairs!”
    Everyone but Dallas gathered near the door, weapons ready. Sam looked scared, Billy bored. “We need to do this quick!” Rick started. “Dallas, you take Billy and Earl, I’ll drive with the people that came with me. Everybody sit where you were sitting before if you can. Chris, you and I will lead. Dad, you and Anna cover Sam, get her in the Hummer fast. Dallas, you block with the truck, head toward the bay!” 
    “Wait!” Earl said quickly. He ran behind the counter and opened a tall white cabinet. He pulled out two baseball bats, one aluminum, and one wood. He tossed the wooden one to Billy, who promptly used it to smash the glass on an oblong box attached to the wall next to him. He reached in and withdrew a red fire axe. 
    He smiled a wicked half smile, “Only you can prevent forest fires…” 
    He one-hand tossed the wooden bat to Chris, who caught it effortlessly, gripped it in the middle and strode to the front door. He looked damn tough for a skinny nerd, with the Louisville Slugger in one hand and the Taurus in the other. 
    Dallas turned to look through the skinny glass window of the door leading upstairs. He looked into the dead Asian eyes of the man he had seen upstairs. The dead man smacked his open palm on the window with a wet splat. Black and red fluids smeared the window, and Dallas jumped back with a “ Jesus !” 
    “They’re here!” he yelped, as thumps were heard on the other side of the entrance. 
    “Dallas, let’s go!” Rick shouted, “One, two, THREE!” He counted and pushed the front door to the theater open. The door thudded against something and bounced back. He shoved again and it opened wide. An infected teenager in a black