Don’t linger in the mud or it will sink you. There’s still shit to be done. And honestly, mine would probably have gone off if I didn’t have it turned off and locked in my drawer. I hate those things,” Brown comments.

Without waiting for a response, Brown turns and resumes the slow trek to the ground floor.

At the heavy wooden door at one of the entrances, Brown hesitates. There isn’t enough room between the latch and jamb to work the hex key into the slot. Brown edges the door open as the shrieks in the surrounding area rise in volume. Without a window to judge when to inch the door open, Brown has to pull out what’s left in his jar of luck, hoping there is still a little left and taking the chance that the present moment is the best time. Pushing on the bar, the door creaks open. He quickly slides the hex into the slot and twists. He then eases the door closed and releases the bar, making sure that the door latch is extended and secure.

With the back door and one of the side doors locked, Brown and the cadets creep down curving stairs into the entrance foyer housing Thomas Jefferson’s statue looming over a large seal emblazoned on the floor. The main entrance comprises an inside and outside set of double wooden doors with panes of glass occupying almost the entire frame. Shadows pass the windows as infected race by. Some scream while others remain silent.

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Brown states.

“Why is that?” Clarke queries.

Not bothering to answer, Brown waves his hand to keep the two cadets out of sight and edges along the outside of the rotunda. He peeks around the corner of the entrance in time to see three shadows streak by the entrance. The bright light streaming through the portal makes it hard to see anything other than dark figures. With the large panes, the doors won’t stop any determined infected for long, but locking them will keep out the ones just looking for a tour.

The screaming has diminished in volume, indicating that the infected have moved farther outward, or that their initial excitement is drawing to a close. Brown remembers that they only seem to shriek when they catch sight of or hear a sound associated with prey.

Brown goes to the floor and crawls from the corner. The gleaming aluminum that shields the bottom of the doors from the shoes of the thousands of cadets is barely taller than his prone body. At the first set of double doors, his firearm in hand and flat on the floor, he pushes on one of the doors and slithers through. He could just lock the inner set, but doesn’t know the mentality of those infected. Getting through one door and then being blocked may only encourage them to find a way to enter.

Aware of his very precarious situation, Brown momentarily rethinks what he’s doing. There are five thousand cadets and staff, most, if not all, infected with the sickness. He’s not sure if all of them will turn, but even if only half of them do, then the others will shortly follow.

As long as they don’t outright die.

The deep anxiety of being in a position where he can easily be discovered gnaws at his stomach. His only source of comfort is knowing that it’s lighter outside, which makes it more difficult for anyone passing to see what’s inside.

Come on you weakling, don’t freeze on me now.

Brown crawls forward, the well-polished floor aiding his movement. At the outer door, he pulls his body parallel, switching his sidearm to the other hand and pulling the hex key out of his pocket. Rising just enough to peek through the glass, he sees that the wide walkway outside is clear. He pushes to his knees and places a hand on the door, easing it open just enough to insert the key into the slot, and then allows the door to gently close. Shuffling forward, he pushes on the second door and hears the clicking of heels running on a hard surface.

Releasing the door, he drops to the floor, making himself as flat as he can. The door shuts with a soft hiss of air and faint click.