The lobby hit us like a wall.
Infected. Everywhere. Packed into the space like they'd been drawn here and forgotten, milling through the dim wreckage of what used to be a place people came to sit in the dark and watch something that wasn't real. Now the dark was real and so was everything moving through it.
The one saving grace was that Romero's group was nowhere in sight. A handful of bodies lay scattered across the lobby floor, already shot down, his men had punched through here fast and hard. If I had to guess, they'd pushed straight through to the corridor door at the far end, the one currently being pressed against by a slow, stupid tide of Infected trying to follow them through.
I caught a glimpse past the doors into the corridor beyond. More Infected inside. Moving.
How Romero's group had gotten through without casualties that was beyond me. But that was a problem for later. Right now we had our own.
