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He fumbled frantically for the shoulder holster, managed to get the gun free only to have the zombie clamp onto the wrist of his gun hand and hold the weapon useless at arm's length.

Day was turning slowly into night when the charge went off. The entire building shook, and the zombie released its death grip. Neil collapsed to the floor and lay shaking his head, trying to clear it. The zombie had turned to see what was happening and was still staring down the aisle when Neil, firing from the floor, blew the top of its head off. The huge body sagged, then slowly toppled forward, flat on its face.

Neil scrambled up and unslung the backpack, pulled a pin; tossed the charge toward the center of the room, up over the tops of the machines. He turned and, running bent low, made for the front doors. A handful of zombies near the doors turned to stare dumbly at him as he ran past, but it was too late to stop him: he was free.

He threw himself at the doors, arms crossed before his face, and the wood splintered. He landed rolling, and then he was up and running. Behind him, he heard the satchel charge go off. He rounded the corner as the plague-spreading machines began to go up, one by one, each successive explosion following close on the one before it.

He finally stopped a block away and looked back to see a monstrous cloud billowing roiling down the street toward him.

He lifted his goggles to watch.

He had been down, but he was never out...