Noise flooded the bunker.
Infected moans. Shouting. Cattle crying out.
“Shut it!” Adam yelled as three infected rushed into the room.
I tried to slam the door shut, but a hand stopped it from closing all the way. Bracing my weight, I leaned back against the door as I drew my knife. As I’d expected, one of the three inside the room had heard the commotion and turned my way, hands outstretched.
While Adam continued to fight the other two, I remained focused on the one coming at me. The dead man moved smoothly, reaching for my arm pressed against the jostling door. Its milky eyes never dipped to the knife in my other hand. My sweat-slicked palm slipped on the grip as I drove my knife up under his jaw. He dropped like a stone, taking the knife with him.
Lifting my gaze, I saw Adam shove one infected into the other one. It stumbled a step back, closer to me. I fumbled for my second knife. The door heaved hard behind me, and the blade clattered to the floor.
The infected turned toward me. Adam grabbed it by the back of the shirt and swung it around. The door jostled harder, opening a good inch before it crashed shut. I glanced to the side, saw the hand was gone, and slammed the latch into place.
When I faced Adam, it was in time to see the single, remaining infected knock Adam back into the wall. Adam’s face went slack, and his knees buckled.
The infected stood over him and let out a moan.
I grabbed the knife from the ground.
“Asshole.”
It turned at the sound of my voice, giving me the perfect target.
It dropped in a heap beside Adam, who had his eyes closed.
“Shit, shit, shit.”
I ran to the kitchen and washed my hands before returning to him and tapping his cheeks.
“Come on, Adam. Wake up.”
He didn’t respond. I checked his pulse then the back of his head. There was a considerable lump already forming, but no blood.
As much as I wanted to keep trying to help him, I knew I didn’t have that luxury.
Leaving Adam where he was, I ran back to the control room and absorbed what was happening on the monitors. What I saw made my heart stop.
The grey men were back, and they weren’t alone. There was a young, human man with them. He was walking in their midst, looking around the barn. An infected dropped from the trap door in the ceiling. The closest grey man ripped its head clean off and tossed it aside. The human said something and smiled. The grey man returned the expression as another used the ladder to climb up to the hayloft.
More of the grey men came in and began picking up the heads and bodies piled by the main doors. The infected. The grey men had killed them all.
The human in the middle pointed, and grey men started moving as if the human was directing them.
What in the hell was happening?
The man then left the barn, along with most of the other grey men. I stared at the empty space for a minute.
Those grey men had picked up a cow and hadn’t hurt it. They’d returned and brought a human with them. He smiled. He talked to them. And they listened.
I hurried out to the hallway and tried to wake Adam. He still wasn’t responding.
His words about working together echoed in my head, along with all of the stories we’d heard from people on the radio about grey men on a human killing spree.
Easing the pack off my back, I went to the door and hoped that the grey men were the miracle they seemed to be.
The moment I lifted the latch, something shoved against the door. Decaying fingers once again appeared and wrapped around its edge.
“Help!” I didn’t stop leaning into the door as I screamed again and again.