"Goddamn it!"
If Shane had been wrestling with his conscience a second ago, that question died the instant the stranger screamed, "I saw you!"
Every shred of compassion in his chest turned to ice.
Stupid fucking bastard.
This wasn't ignorance. The man knew what shouting meant in a city full of the dead. But he'd done it anyway, trading their lives for a chance at his own without a moment's hesitation.
In Shane's experience, there were two kinds of people in this new world: those who died fast, and those who made sure someone else died instead. This asshole was firmly in the second category.
Save him? Hell no.
The only question now was how to survive the shitstorm this idiot had just dumped on them while keeping a kid alive in the process.
The stranger's voice had barely faded when the street erupted in response.
The walkers that had been shambling aimlessly moments ago all turned as one. Their footsteps changed from sporadic dragging to a dense, rustling shuffle, like a thousand cockroaches scuttling across concrete.
The injured man finally realized what he'd done. The hope drained from his face.
"No... no! Open the door! Please, you have to let me in!"
He pounded on the barricaded glass with both fists, making the furniture behind it shake. Blood from his leg wound smeared across the already-filthy surface.
"Open the..."
A walker slammed into him from behind, driving him face-first into the glass.
The man's scream cut off as rotting teeth clamped down on his shoulder. He tried to pull away, but two more walkers crashed into him, pinning him against the door. His eyes locked onto Shane's through the grimy window.
For a split second, their gazes met.
Then the feeding frenzy began.
Lucien had seen violence in films. This wasn't that.
The sound of teeth tearing through fabric and flesh made him think of his mum's Sunday roast, the way the knife separated meat from bone. But roasts didn't scream. They didn't thrash, beg, and reach desperately toward the people who'd refused to open the door.
Blood sprayed across the glass. The man's screaming dissolved into choking gurgles as more walkers converged, their hands ripping into him. Lucien could see fingers disappearing into the man's abdomen, pulling out loops of intestine.
His stomach heaved. He tasted chocolate and bile.
But he couldn't look away. His brain wouldn't let him. Some part of his mind was cataloging every detail, filing it away under THIS IS WHAT HAPPENS IF YOU FUCK UP.
"Lucien!" Shane's bark snapped him back to reality. "Get over here!"
The deputy was already moving, sprinting toward a massive oak desk in the center of the lobby. The walker horde was pressing against every window now.
Lucien's legs moved before his brain caught up. He dropped his trunk and threw himself at the desk, shoulder hitting solid wood hard enough to send pain lancing down his arm.
"One... two... push!"
Shane's face was grim, veins standing out on his neck as he threw his weight against the desk. Lucien planted his feet and shoved with everything he had.
The desk moved inch by inch.
Outside, what was left of the stranger slid down the blood-smeared glass, leaving red streaks. The walkers were tearing into the corpse with more frenzy, fighting each other for pieces.
"Keep pushing!" Shane grunted.
Lucien's body wasn't built for this kind of exertion, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. They managed to wedge the desk against the main entrance just as something heavy slammed into the doors.
"Not done!" Shane was already moving, pointing at the floor-to-ceiling windows on the far wall. "Filing cabinets!"
They ran.
The metal cabinets were lighter than the desk but packed full of papers that made them awkward to maneuver. Lucien grabbed one side while Shane took the other, and together they half-dragged, half-shoved the first one into position.
Then the second.
The third.
Outside, the walker horde was growing. Lucien could see them through the windows... dozens, maybe hundreds, all pressing forward. Hands slapped against glass. Bodies pressed against doors.
"This one!" Shane was wrestling with a particularly heavy cabinet when a window exploded inward. Glass rained down across the floor. A middle-aged woman in a torn business suit, half her face missing, lunged through the opening, her working hand scratching the window frame.
Her eyes locked onto Lucien, who was closest, and she let out a shriek.
"Shit!" Shane yanked his revolver from its holster, but hesitated.
The walker hauled herself further through the window, torso clearing the frame. Her legs scrabbled against the glass shards, cutting through dead flesh without any sign that she felt it.
Lucien's eyes darted around wildly.
In the corner, half-hidden by a toppled filing cabinet, lay a metal crowbar. It was bent and rusted, but still solid enough.
The walker's leg came through the window. She was trying to stand. In seconds, she'd be fully inside and coming for them.
He moved.
His body kicked into a kind of autopilot he didn't know he had. He grabbed the crowbar and brought it around. The walker had just gotten her foot under her when his swing connected with the back of her knee.
The impact jolted up his arms like he'd hit concrete. There was a wet crunch, and the walker's leg folded sideways.
She pitched forward, her remaining momentum carrying her face-first into the lobby floor.
He didn't let himself process what he was doing. He raised the crowbar high and brought it down on the back of the walker's skull with every ounce of strength his scrawny arms could muster.
Crack!
The sound was worse than he'd expected. The walker's head caved in like a rotten melon, brain matter and dark, congealed blood splattering across the floor in a radius that caught his shoes.
The body twitched once. Twice. Then went still.
Lucien stood there, staring down at what he'd just done. The crowbar felt heavy now. His arms were shaking so badly he almost dropped it. He gulped in air, panting hard.
He'd killed something. The thing had been dead already, technically, but his hands had just destroyed what was left of a person who'd had a life and a name.
And the worst part? It had been easy.
"Holy shit."
Shane's voice barely registered. Lucien was aware of the deputy staring at him, gun still half-raised.
"Kid, I—"
Another window shattered.
"Move!"
They grabbed the nearest cabinet and heaved it across the broken window, wedging it tight enough that the walkers pressing against it couldn't squeeze through. Then another. And another.
By the time they finished, Lucien's muscles were screaming and his hands were scraped raw.
"Upstairs!" Shane grabbed Lucien's trunk on the floor, shoving it into the kid's hands. "Go!"
They ran for the stairs as the sound of breaking glass and splintering wood echoed from behind them. The barricades were holding, but for how long?
Lucien's legs burned as he took the steps two at a time, Shane right behind him. The moaning followed them up.
When they reached the second floor, Shane's eyes swept the corridor
"There!" He pointed at a door at the far end marked MANAGER. "That one!"
Lucien sprinted for it, fumbling with the handle. Unlocked, thank God. He burst inside with Shane on his heels, and together they slammed the door shut.
Shane threw the deadbolt, then immediately turned to survey the room. "Help me move the sofa."
The office was surprisingly intact, with leather furniture, a heavy desk, and neatly arranged filing cabinets. Clearly someone important had worked here. Someone who'd probably died when this all started.
They grabbed the sofa and wrestled it across the floor. It scraped and squealed, leaving marks on the hardwood, but they got it wedged firmly against the door.
Only then did Shane stop.
He slumped against the sofa, and slid down until he was sitting on the floor. Sweat plastered his hair to his forehead, and his uniform was dark with moisture.
Lucien collapsed beside him and let the suitcase slip from his hand.
For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They just sat there, listening to the sounds from below. The walkers were still pounding on the doors and windows, but the noise was muffled here.
Lucien's internal clock had stopped working, it could've been minutes or hours. His adrenaline was crashing hard, leaving him feeling hollowed out and sick.
The pounding downstairs was lessening. Maybe the walkers were losing interest. Maybe they were finding other prey. Or maybe they were just settling in for a siege.
Shane let out a long breath. When he looked at Lucien, his expression was complicated.
"That was..." He trailed off, clearly struggling for words. "You did good. Most adults would've frozen up."
Lucien couldn't bring himself to feel proud. His hands wouldn't stop shaking, and when he closed his eyes, he could still see the walker's skull caving in.
"I killed it," he said quietly.
"You stopped it," Shane corrected. "It was already dead. You just made sure it stayed down."
Silence settled over them again. The office was getting darker, the sun was setting somewhere beyond the grimy windows.
"Looks like we're spending the night here," Shane finally said. He glanced at Lucien. "Hope you don't have a curfew. Your parents are gonna be pissed."
It was a joke. A bad one, the kind you made when things were so fucked that humor was the only defense left against screaming.
Lucien understood that. He tried to smile, but the expression felt wrong on his face. Like wearing a mask that didn't fit.
"Don't worry, officer," he said quietly. "I don't have a home."