Remains of the Dead by Iain McKinnon Page B

the stairwell door wide open, light streaming in from the skylight beyond. Silhouetted against the opening, Cannon was tussling with a zombie.
    “Get off me, you dead fuck!”
    Cahz levelled his rifle at the mêlée. The muzzle danced, trying to track his target as the pair tussled.
    “Shit,” Cahz spat, unable to get a clear shot. Letting his carbine drop free in its harness, he dashed over to his comrade.
    Cannon twisted and succeeded in creating some space between himself and the zombie. He pulled back his hand and let fly a punch.
    He bellowed, “Fuck off!”
    The punch landed. Contorted by the impact, the creature’s head whipped back, its nose flattened and the skin ruptured. The corpse skidded to a halt not far from the crashed car. Cannon stormed over to the zombie and before it could rise up he pounded his boot into its face. The bone buckled and cracked and Cannon stomped his foot down hard again. With successive hammering its jaw snapped and an eye was popped from its socket.
    “I guess it wasn’t clear,” Cannon said, looking at the pulped skull. “Fucker popped out from behind the security desk.”
    “Come on, Cannon!” Cahz shouted, holding open the stairwell doors.
    “Annoying little shit.” Cannon squashed his boot into the remnants of the zombie’s face and gave a final twist of his heel.
    Cahz looked into the brightly lit stairwell. Golden streaks of sunlight were streaming through the grimy windows.
    Back out in the foyer, the first of the pursuing zombies had made it inside the building. As Cannon ran past he jammed the door shut.
    “Are you sure it’s safe up there?” Ryan asked.
    “You’re the local expert—you tell me,” Cahz replied, looking for a lock to the doors. “Cannon, watch the stairs.”
    “Sure thang, boss,” Cannon confirmed as he stepped past to take up position.
    Cahz tried to pause and listen. He couldn’t tell if the stairs were a safer option or not. For all he knew he was about to trap himself in with a horde of voracious undead.
    There was too much noise for him to pick anything out from the echoing stairwell. The constant moans of the pursuing zombies, the shuffling of feet, the infant crying and the old woman sobbing all combined to form a heart-wrenching chorus of misery.
    “Come on. Come on in quick,” Cahz beckoned to the stragglers. As soon as the pair were through the door he threw it shut. “How the hell do you lock this?”
    “Can we brace something against it?” Ryan suggested.
    Cahz could see the barrel of a lock but no key. He looked around for something to bar the door but there was nothing. The stairwell was a mosaic of peeling paint, dirty glass and small clumps of smashed detritus. The hard synthetic fibre carpet tiles wore a film of dust and plaster, muting what would once have been a rich royal blue down to a pastille shade. His eye was drawn to the vivid red of a wall-mounted fire extinguisher. Its colour was still vibrant unlike its washed out surroundings. The only betrayal of its neglect was the specks of rust clinging to the welds around its neck and brackets.
    The door thumped, yanking Cahz’s mind back.
    Instinctively he pushed hard against the door.
    “If only the door opened the other way, those dumb fucks would never work out how to get in,” Ryan offered.
    “Well, it doesn’t,” Cahz snapped.
    The door thumped again as a second then a third zombie added their force.
    Cahz kept his back to the double doors, holding them shut. “Look, those pus bags have got no strength but I can’t stand here all day.”
    “Want me to check upstairs?” Cannon asked.
    “Go, and take these two with you. You might need the extra muscle.”
    “There’s got to be filing cabinets or something we can use,” Ryan said as he bounded for the stairs.
    “If you’re not back in five minutes,” Cahz said, “I’m coming looking for you.”
    Cannon and Ryan started up the stairs, leaving the old woman behind. The hallway echoed with the clump