I looked down the ramp to where more of the infected were shambling our way. It was a surreal sight. They did not move as slow as movie zombies, but they weren’t fast, either. It was more a lack of coordination and maybe a disconnect from muscle memory. That and the injuries that had killed them. So many had chunks bitten out of their arms and legs, and that loss of muscle and tendon made them clumsy. They staggered and limped and sometimes crawled our way. You could outpace them with a brisk walk.

That wasn’t the point, though.

Despite those terrible injuries, they moved forward with a relentless consistency that spoke to an inability to fatigue, or to tire, or to stop. Sure, you could outwalk them, but for how long? It was like trying to outrun a glacier. Eventually it would catch up.

They would catch up, and sooner or later you’d have to deal with the implacability of them. There was no way to ever outrun their utter reality.

The realization terrified me on a level I’d never felt before. When Echo Team had faced other infected monsters similar to these, it had been in contained settings. A warehouse and a meat packing plant in Baltimore, inside the Liberty Bell Center in Philly. Not out in the open. Not with it spread so far already.

I think that’s when I realized that the world had changed. It was no longer creaking on broken hinges. It had fallen off. Unless there was some radical way the president had to reverse this, I knew that I was looking at the future.

I was staring through a ragged hole in the now to an actual apocalypse.

To Armageddon.

I wanted to cry. I wanted to hide.

I wanted to die.

I did not do any of that. Instead I turned and shoved Murphy toward the hotel door. “Let’s go,” I roared. Top, Bunny, and Torres walked backward behind me, firing at the oncoming tide of death.

— 10 —

We helped the people reinforce the doorway as best we could, and we shared a few of the weapons we’d brought with us. Murphy led us through the hotel to the elevators. There were a lot of scared people in there, but so far none of them were infected.

However, I took Torres aside and asked her about the people at the barricade who had visible bites.

“You understand that they’re going to get sick, right?” I said quietly.

She nodded, eyes big and filled with pain.

“Have you seen how fast this plays out?” I asked. “From bite to, um, transition?”

“Depends on how bad it is,” said Torres, and Murphy, who overheard, nodded.

“From what I’ve seen, sir,” said Murphy, “there seems to be some connection to consciousness. If they pass out then something happens and it accelerates, but someone with the same injury who stays awake seems to be able to fight it.”

“Fight it or last longer?” asked Top.