With his head turned to the side, Brown sees the light dim as infected cross through the beam. The sound of running feet stops, the shadow deepening.

Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck!

His stomach tightens and it feels as if something has a firm grip around his heart. The air inside his mask suddenly seems overly warm, his breath short and nearly panting. Brown tightens his hold on the sidearm, analyzing at what point to rise and fire. Slowly, he lets go of the hex key and transfers the weapon to his right hand. He moves as close to the door as possible without triggering an opening and presses into the floor, trying to sink through the hard surface.

The shadow deepens even further, almost entirely blocking the light through one of the doors. Brown feels the slickness of sweat as it gathers on his brow and trickles to the floor below. The coolness of the surface is in direct contrast to the heat he feels building inside. If any of the infected outside get remotely close to the door, they’ll easily see his large form huddled on the floor.

Okay, time to keep your cool, man. T’aint nothing but a thing. Shoot your way if you have to and figure the rest of the shit on the run. You didn’t make it through those tours just to be taken down by a—

A scream erupts on the other side of the door, interrupting his thoughts. Brown’s nerves are so tight that he nearly comes off the floor without any muscular involvement. His finger closes around the trigger, his mind alerting the rest of his body that it needs to spring into action.

A second shriek comes from further away, followed by another sounding like it came from the same location. Brown can almost hear panting coming from the infected blocking the light. The sound of shuffling shoes reaches through the door. Brown can almost sense the infected’s hesitation, as if it knows there’s prey close and wants to find it. Although he tells his body to wait, he remains taut, ready to spring into action.

A third scream comes from the same direction as the first, amid scurried shuffling outside. A shriek, sounding more like frustration than anticipation, vibrates the glass panes. The shadow moves away, bright light again filtering through the doors. Footsteps pound on the concrete walkway, fading away.

Fuck me! Well, that does it for my jar of luck. It has to be empty now.

Brown is surprised to find the legs of his pants dry as he finishes locking the last of the front doors. The infected was only a step away from being able to see him in all his shining glory. Brown feels exhausted, not only from the intense flow of adrenaline, but from understanding what lies ahead. He doesn’t know if he has the strength or energy to face the future, but really doesn’t have much of a choice.

I’m not sure to what end, but I’m not about to roll over and give up.

He’ll just take one step at a time, focusing on each one before worrying about the ones that follow. Although he keeps the big picture in mind, contemplating it all at once is overwhelming. He wouldn’t have as much worry if he didn’t have his two tagalongs—and unlimited firepower would be nice—but neither is part of his reality. The cadets are part of this and he has three magazines. That’s the situation; there’s no use wishing for something different.

Hugging the wall to minimize his silhouette should anyone look in, he inches down the hallway toward the final side door.