Free Rise of the Dead by Jeremy Dyson

Quentin whispers. “Everyone keep quiet until we make sure it’s clear.” He moves over to the restroom door and listens for a moment. Quentin leans his shoulder against the door to nudge it open and slips inside. A moment later Quentin returns and gives Danielle the nod and holds the door to the restroom for her, and then he eases the door closed.
    “Blake,” he points a finger at a door on the adjacent wall of the lobby. I nod and then he proceeds to check the other restroom.
    The door across the lobby sits below an EMPLOYEES ONLY sign. I check the handle, and I’m relieved to discover it’s locked. The long hallway on the other side appears dark and empty when I peer through the glass.
    I return to a stack of brochures about the cemetery on the service counter. I open one up and examine the map of the cemetery grounds inside. The office building is much larger than I expected, connecting to a chapel and a number of other administrative rooms. There are several other entrances we’ll have to secure, too.
    Quentin returns from checking the bathroom and I wave him over to the service counter and hand him the map. He studies it a moment and grazes his hand over the stubble of the trim goatee on his chin.
    “This place is pretty big,” I point out.
    “I can see that.” He throws me a sidelong glance to let me know he doesn’t need me to point out the obvious.
    The problem with hearing how smart I am all the time is that it makes it hard to remember everyone else isn’t a complete moron. It’s not like I try to be condescending, but I guess I come off that way, sometimes.
    “Of all the places we could possibly go, you guys take us to a cemetery,” Dom complains. “A cemetery… When dead people are attacking everyone.”
    “At least, all the ones around here are in the ground,” says Joey. He rummages through a plastic bag of provisions taken from the gas station.
    “We can’t be so sure about that yet,” Quentin reminds him. “If we are going to be here awhile, we better check out the rest of the building,” he says.
    “If we bust open that door and those damn things are back there, we won’t be able to keep them out,” Dom counters.
    Quentin sighs in frustration and looks to me to back him up.
    “She’s has a point,” I concede. “But I still think we need to check it out. We don’t want any surprises.”
    “Why don’t you break one of those teller windows and climb through that way?” Dom says. She points a lit cigarette at the service counter. “That way those things won’t be able to walk right in here.”
    “Not a bad idea,” admits Quentin. He casually picks up the metal garbage can and hurls it through the glass. Pieces of shattered glass plink against the tile floor of the lobby. Quentin snatches up the duffel bag, drops it on the counter and unzips it. After a minute of digging through the duffel, he locates a flashlight and uses it to clear away the shards that remain in the window frame. Quentin climbs through the opening and waits on the other side. “I ain’t doing this by myself,” he gripes.
    I wait a moment, hoping someone else will volunteer. With a grunt of exhaustion, I pull out the gun and hand it to Joey. I grab another flashlight and one of the two-way radios from the duffel bag on the counter, then toss the other to Joey.
    Quentin clicks on his flashlight and scans the back office while I lift myself over the counter. I drop down on the other side and follow him to a door at the back of the room. The office door opens to a dark hallway with several closed doors on each side. Through the doorway at the end of the hall, faint sunlight reflects off the tile floor in the corridor that runs along the back of the chapel.
    “Hello?” I call out. Quentin swivels back around and puts a finger to his mouth. I am not sure if announcing our arrival is a good idea or not. It’s a crapshoot, just like everything now.
    We work our way down the hall and find nothing behind the