limited effect on the people closest to him, but no sooner had he gotten their attention than the rest of the people swallowed them back up in panic. Holt jumped onto another counter and lent his own considerable voice to the effort. Between the two of them, they regained some order within the mob within a few minutes. Holt's throat felt shredded, but the job got done.
Mutt finally had everyone's attention. “Thank you. Listen up...I'm Sergeant Mutters. Some of you in here know me personally, by face, name, or stellar reputation. Doesn't matter, because if you're familiar with me at all, you know I'm not going to put up with this shit. Period. We will maintain order in here. Anybody has a problem with that, there's the window.”
Mutt paused for a moment to see if there were any challenges. Holt wasn't exactly floored to see that there weren't any.
Mutt continued. “Okay, see that guy...wave, Holt...right over there? That's my new deputy, Holt. He's killed before, so I'd do what he says. He's going to be putting his team together, so if you are trained and can be trusted with a weapon, go see him. Now, who has medical training?” Several hands went up, and he motioned those people to him.
Well, I've just been voluntold, Holt thought. That hasn't happened since I separated from the Air Force. But someone had to do it.
He noticed that Anders was glaring at him, apparently upset that he'd been passed over for the spur of the moment promotion. He strode over to Holt, anyway. “Well, look at you, keeping my spot warm. What am I doing?”
Holt heard a familiar bell sound behind him, but it didn't register right away. “Find as many guys...or women, I don't care...with strong stomachs as you can. Then, we have to make nice with the head of building security, seeing as I stuck his own gun in his face. We'll need their help in locking this place d-”
Holt heard screams and whipped his head around. It took him less than a second to realize what the bell sound had been.
The elevator.
From the garage.
No way, Holt had time to think before the doors opened. Chaos took over in just a few seconds. When he had a moment to reflect later, Holt thought that what had happened with the six passengers on the second floor elevator was far worse than more horrifying than facing the thousands on the street. Holt immediately forgot about his problems and concentrated on the one thing he had the slightest control of: survival. He almost welcomed it.
When the doors opened, the unfortunates who were standing close were attacked immediately. A few, the lucky ones, died almost as quickly. The truth was that if everyone who was immediately attacked died they could have contained it right then and there; Holt, Mutt, and Anders were already moving with their weapons drawn and most likely could have dealt with the half dozen zombies before they did any more damage. As it happened, some died and the rest were turned with frightening speed. In some cases, only a few seconds passed between bite, death, and reanimation. There was no warning. Everyone else surged away as quickly as they could, but the bodies were already packed tightly and there was nowhere to retreat to. The slower, weaker ones were trampled underfoot.
The infection traveled outward like a ripple in a pond. Zombie infects human, human turns, new zombie infects another, rinse and repeat.
“The stairs!!!” Anders screamed, and Holt thought that was a great idea. He had no chance of stemming the tide here, so he chose the better part of valor. Mutt apparently had the same idea, as did a few others. Those with weapons used them indiscriminately, as everything in their path either was a zombie or was turning into one. Anders made it first and slammed open the door. Holt had a vision of the man grinning crazily and slamming the door shut on everyone else, but he actually sent a few rounds in support, despite having already reached safety. Mutt, and several others caught up with him.
Learning to Kill: Stories