The shamblers’ chilling moans echoed through the gymnasium and hallways. With a spare few seconds of respite, Evan caught his breath in the musty, long vacant school smelling faintly rotten. A map of the campus showed he would have entered from the western end, by the numbered-300s classrooms. He quickly committed the layout to memory and noted a likely emergency exit in either the cafeteria or theatre, then hurried behind the foreign woman at a safe distance.

Evan warily tailed the four survivors after the fresh incident with Mike. There was no makeshift weapon about that he could take for defence in the constrained space but the heavy switchblade in his jacket’s zipped pocket remained a comfort. He eyed the young girl holding hands with a fragile old woman, who appeared to bear no familial relation to each other but their clasp was tight and determined. Their bond was a sharp reminder of the kids who had trusted him, who saw him as an older brother, that he had abandoned. He followed the pair’s lead - nearly into a throng of zombies  - they dashed left at the V-junction. 

He could see the exit! A gunshot thundered - the old woman crashed to the floor. He reacted fast - he shoved the screaming girl down. They were protected by the short wall raised to waist-high that ran the corridor. A second shot burst a window; shattered glass fell on them. “Crawl!” Evan urged. He moved with elbows and knees above the ground, the quadrupedal training had been a staple diet, and was foremost towards the door. He stood up by a full wall at the exit. It was a narrow harbour. The shamblers were closing in. They were trapped. He pressed his hands onto the bar: the sniper would be watching the door and he didn’t know if the exterior would provide any protection from their attacker, but he had to risk it. He opened it - a small gap - to steal a glance at their surroundings.