As one, the mob of undead charge your way with an alarming speed. Barely managing to grab your bag of necessities and a yipping Rocky, you make a dash for the library.

The girl from the window has opened the metal employee's door and, with her lips pressed tightly together, wide doe eyes behind metal rims, she motions for you to hurry. Your feet slam against the asphalt as violently as your heart is slamming against your chest.

You can hear the nearness of the undead, smell the decay closing in on you. You're two steps from the door when you feel something brush your shoulder.

One of the undead crashes into the concrete building beside you. You leap nearly out of your skin and through the door. The girl locks it immediately behind you. Heaps of undead crash into the door on the other side, but it barely budges.

"Tha-" you utter, but she stops you from talking by urgently putting a hand over your mouth.

She's a tiny, mousy sort of thing with milky skin that rarely sees the sun and bland brown hair. Her forefinger is straight as a board, pressed against her lips in a signal that means 'quiet'.

You get the message and nod. She lets go and beckons you follow her into the main area of the library.

Rocky has stopped yipping, but he's clearly unhappy about the close proximity of the moving dead things outside. Low rumbles stir within the little pooch. Scooping him up, you follow the girl.

The small doorway you pass reveals a grand room. There are shelves tall and far, filled with books.

"They'll go away soon," she whispers as you walk. "Once they don't hear us back there for a while, they'll forget."

"They will?" you ask, stunned. Until this moment, it was your impression that they'd wait out there as long as it took. The cat waiting for the mouse.

She nods and shoves her glasses up her nose. "They hunt by sound and scent. They can smell and hear us back there, but they won't where we're going."

"Where are we going?" you whisper.

So far, you've just let her lead you through the huge, empty library. She didn't seem dangerous. Actually, she'd saved you from danger, automatically earning a certain level of trust in your opinion.

"The basement," she whispers. "What's your name?"

You pause. It seems you don't trust her that much. You're not sure if it was just the overall shock the frightful day brought, but you've got the sudden need to be cautious.

"Alex," you lie.

"I'm Sally," she says as you start to descend a set of dingy stairs.

The room is huge and lit with only a few dim lights. The dirty walls and floors are entirely undecorated. Long forgotten volumes piled in aged boxes take up a big part of the basement. A misfit group sets at a dusty table in the middle.

"This is Charlotte," The mousy girl says. A girl with curly blonde hair gazes at you through vastly mascara'd lashes. She gives a feeble wave.

"Chuck," Sally says, indicating a man with thick glasses and bad skin to the left of Charlotte.

"And Louis," she says. A melancholy boy sitting beside Chuck with long dark hair, wearing all black waves.

"Guys, this is Alex," Sally tells them.

Rocky starts going wild in your arms and you try to calm him.

Louis suddenly brightens and says, "Rocky!"

Then you lose control of Rocky. The dog jumps to the floor and leaps into the arms of Louis, who cuddles and smooches him.

"You found him!" Louis says. "Thank you!"

"Shhh, keep it down," Charlotte says angrily, but Louis is so happy, he doesn't even glance in her direction. He's smiling away as Rocky's little tongue laps his face.

"Ah, you're welcome," you say. "He was good company."

Charlotte scoffs as though the thought of a dog being good company was ludicrous. You decide you don't like her at all.

An awkward silence falls. Everyone is staring at each other and nothing in particular.

"So what next? How do we get out of here?" you ask, breaking the quiet.

"Get out of here? Are you crazy? Did you see what's out there?" says Charlotte.

"Yeah," you shoot back. "And I'll tell you what I haven't seen. I haven't seen any food or water in here. I haven't seen medical supplies or-or anything."

You glare around, waiting for someone to counter your statement or else confirm it. No-one says a lousy thing.

You keep going. "If we stay here, we're sitting ducks, guys. We have to do something. We need a plan of action."

"But they're everywhere. Don't you get it? If we go out there, we're. . . ." As though she can't bring herself to speak the horror, she loses her voice.

"Zombie food," Louis finishes for her.

"And if we stay here, we're as good as dead anyway," you say.

They're all gaping at you like you've proposed they build a stairway to the sun. All except Sally. She hikes up her glasses.

"Sitting ducks," she repeats. "Ducks. That's it! The ducts. It might be a tight squeeze for Chuck, but we'll all fit through."

"You're as nuts as Alex here," Charlotte spats at Sally.

"No. No, this could work," Chuck says.

CONTINUE TO CHAPTER 15