They went down the stairwell, occasionally encountering zombies.
A door creaking open from one of the landings. A figure stepping out at the wrong time. A shadow shifting just enough to give away movement.
Ryan kept the pace steady.
"Watch the landings," he said quietly as they descended. "That's where they'll come from."
The lead pair reached the next floor.
The door was slightly open.
One of them nudged it with the barrel of his weapon.
It swung inward just enough, and a resident stumbled out.
"Contact," the operator said.
A single suppressed shot dropped it before it could react.
"Clear."
They kept moving.
Floor thirty-eight.
Then thirty-seven.
Each level looked the same.
Clean architecture ruined by neglect. Blood smeared along walls. Personal items left scattered across the floor just beyond the stairwell doors. It was clear people had tried to get out. It was just as clear most of them didn't make it far.
"Movement, right side," the rear operator said quietly.
