They ran.
The service corridor was a long, fluorescent-lit throat lined with storage rooms and ice machines. The sound of bare feet slapping against the linoleum behind them was like a drumbeat of doom.
"They're faster than us!" Maggie screamed, her breath hitching.
"Not faster than bullets," a voice boomed from a side junction ahead.
Kofi stepped out, an MP5 submachine gun in his hands. Jengo was behind him, holding a fire axe. They were covered in blood, but it wasn't theirs.
"Get down!" Kofi shouted.
Thomas tackled Maggie and Lucas to the floor just as Kofi opened fire.
BRAP-BRAP-BRAP.
The sound was deafening in the confined space. The three infected at the end of the hall—Sarah and two resort chefs—were stitched across the chest. Black fluid sprayed across the pristine walls like oil.
But they didn't stop. They didn't fall. The bullets tore holes in their torsos, ripping through muscle and bone, but they didn't flinch. They didn't feel pain. They just kept coming, crawling over their own entrails.
"Headshots!" Dr. Aris screamed, stumbling out of the shadows behind Kofi. He looked like a madman, his glasses cracked and his white coat stained. "The central nervous system! Disconnect the brain!"
Kofi adjusted his aim. CRACK.
Sarah Caldwell's head snapped back. A dark, viscous mist sprayed from her temple. She collapsed instantly, sliding across the floor like a discarded ragdoll.
The two chefs followed. Three precise shots. Three deaths.
Silence returned to the corridor, heavy and ringing with tinnitus.
"Welcome to the party," Jengo said, offering a hand to Thomas to help him up.
"We need to move," Thomas said, staring at Sarah's body. "That was... that was the girl from the bar."
"That's not a girl anymore," Jax said, wiping his blade on his pants. "That's a Frenzy. That's Stage 1. And there are hundreds of them in the ballroom."
"We can't go back to the rooms," Kofi said, checking his magazine. "The lobby is overrun. We need a defensible position. Somewhere with thick walls and one entrance."
"The Laundry," Lucas said, standing up. He pointed down the hall. "At the end of the wing. Industrial washers. Steel doors. No windows."
Kofi looked at the boy, then at Thomas. "He's right. Let's move."