"Shoot and scoot, people! Keep a move on," Bill shouted as he turned back to unload a burst from his rifle into the horde of screeching infected giving the four of them a running chase down the street. "Yeah, great advice old timer," Francis said, huffing as he sprinted. "If you hadn't said that, I'd 've figured they were selling cookies."

"Not the time to be an ass, Francis," Zoey said.

Louis was out in front of the pack, clutching his Uzi for dear life. "Hey, guys, look! I think we're gonna make it!" he said, pointing at the spotlights of Mercy Hospital looming ahead of them. Helicopter evac from the roof of the hospital was rumored to be one of the last ways out of the city.

Running and gunning, over block after city block, keeping the lead flying all the way, the foursome had won some breathing room with a diversion into a sewers. "I hate ladders," Francis groaned, wiping muck off his vest before he clambered out of the manhole and back onto the street. Mercy Hospital had seen better days: bullet holes pockmarked the blood-smeared walls, bodies lay rotting, and CEDA pamphlets declaring quarantine orders fluttered in the breeze. The lights were on, but flickering as if they were about to give up the ghost any minute now.

"Evac ain't gonna wait for us forever, folks," Bill said.