Free LZR-1143: Infection by Bryan James

scrambled for purchase on the smooth steel, and my sneaker caught a break, providing enough traction for a final surge. Searching, erratic fingers brushed my ankle, as my legs were thrown over the top of the fence, the metal bar capping the links jutting suddenly and uncomfortably into my crotch.
    I exhaled in pain as the crowd reached the fence. Dozens of bodies pressed against the web of metal and it shook, nearly jostling me from my perch. Catching myself, I quickly jumped to the ground, nearly missing a rack of neatly stacked spice plants for the home garden.
    We again grabbed Fred and moved toward the sliding glass doors into the store. Behind us, the fence shook with the sounds of hunger and the moans followed us as we disappeared between rows of hydrangea.

    Chapter 7

    The double doors leading to the inside of the store were locked. Apparently, whoever had closed up shop here had had time to cross the T’s and dot the I’s, thinking perhaps that they’d be back later. The fence continued to shake, and the moaning was getting old fast.
    “If we break the glass, and those things get in, we’ve got issues,” I said, hefting the cement edging brick I had picked up, as Kate leaned against the wall and helped Fred to an Adirondack chair sitting in a display next to the door. Stating the obvious must be a symptom of exhaustion.
    “And if we don’t break the glass, and those things get in, we’re fucked.” She replied, jumping on board the obvious-statement express. This with a tired sigh and hands placed on hips.
    “Fair enough,” was the reply, as I lifted the brick to shoulder level. “You think this thing is armed, like that one at the hospital?”
    “You think it isn’t?” she asked sarcastically, clearly exasperated. “What the fuck does it matter? You think we need a better advertisement of our location than the ‘free lunch’ sign that our friends put up by huddling around that gate? I think in is better than out, and that’s about it right now. Just break the goddamned door. I’m sick of hearing these fuckers whine.” Her voice and her attitude betrayed her exhaustion, wits frayed after days of running.
    I tossed the brick, and the top pane of glass on the left hand door shattered, a horn beginning to bleat in short, concise bursts. Jesus, I hope the front doors are stronger stuff, or our stay here could be really short-lived. I used a length of hose to knock out the shards from the frame, and climbed through. The lights were out, but accent lighting above the shelving provided enough to see our way.
    Kate climbed in and gestured to Fred, who followed suit.
    “I’ll find the manager’s office and get the lights up and the alarm off,” I offered, “You guys might want to get something in front of this door. Try the furniture section, get a chest of drawers, a futon, something like that.” Kate nodded, and grabbed Fred’s hand, leading him down the aisle of fertilizer and gardening tools.
    “Wait,” I said, grabbing a shovel from the rack next to me and jogging after them. “Take this, just in case.”
    Kate looked at the shovel and sighed. “You’re probably right,” she said wearily. “I’ve still got this,” patting her lab coat pocket, “but I’ve only got three or four shots left, and my aim leaves something to be desired.”
    I grabbed a shovel, and walked toward the front of the store. From the outside, the fence rattled and the moans continued, following me further into the store. Passing racks of chips, soda and candy, my stomach, long neglected, reminded me when I had last eaten. As if in sympathy, a wave of exhaustion hit me, and my legs weakened. Adrenaline must be running low, I thought, turning the corner, through the dog food, the shampoo and the soap.
    I turned into a hallway leading to a break room and restrooms, and reached for the door to the manager’s office. A poster on my right caught my eye and my hand paused briefly above the doorknob. It described the