Dead America: Lowcountry | Book 5 | Lowcountry [Part 5]

out, but no such luck as they reared on her and Hawk.
He nearly smashed into the back of her as she stopped short, preparing to sprint back to the coffee shop.
“Heyooo!” somebody bellowed, and there was a clatter of metal as Troy darted out from the sporting goods store, a baseball bat in his hand.
The zombies seemed confused for a moment, looking back and forth as if unsure which human would taste the best, and Grace took advantage of the situation. She lunged and stabbed at one that had its back turned closest to her and then leapt back as the noise drew the attention of its partner.
Hawk took care of that one, smashing it in the side of the skull with his weapon, and Troy let out another holler as he neared them.
The five still standing ran for him, and Grace and Hawk tore after them, swinging hard.
Troy’s baseball bat connected with one’s face, sending the body staggering back into its friends, and the back two fell with wet crunches as metal crushed their skulls. The final ghoul flailed around as the others fell on top of it, and Grace leaned forward, stabbing it in the face before it could get free.
Aaron skidded up to them, clutching his tire iron with wide eyes.
“Oh, you decided to join us?” Troy drawled.
“We have to get into the store!” Grace urged, and took off for the doors, three teammates in tow.
“Wait, inside?!” Troy cried, though he followed her in.
She and Hawk closed the doors, bolting them down, and then turned around to face the horde of hungry ghouls turning around to face them.

CHAPTER TEN
Grace dove to the right, slamming into a ghoul in a department store uniform, sending it over the railing to the first floor below. They were on a mezzanine, a store escalator in the center next to an elevator in a glass tube.
The first floor crawled with zombies, but there were enough up where they were to be deadly.
“We need to block the escalator!” she cried, and it was true, but they were going to have to fight their way there.
Hawk grabbed a rolling rack of clothes, swinging it around and letting it go to smack into a group of zombies running at him. They got tangled up and fell in a heap, the hangers clattering to the floor as the rack fell over.
Troy followed his lead, and thrust a second rack at Aaron, who was simply standing open-mouthed in fear.
“Get your shit together!” he barked. “We’ve got to fight!”
Grace flew past them to the wall, wrapping her fingers around a sturdy-looking shoe shelf. It was fastened to the wall, so she climbed it like a ladder until she balanced on top of it, pressed back against the wall. She pulled the handgun from the back of her pants, took aim at one of the ghouls closest to Hawk, and fired.
The bullet hit its mark, and the noise caught the attention of the bulk of the creatures. They ran towards her, their fingertips just brushing the tops of the shelf. Shoes fell everywhere as they flailed for her, but she focused on the ones still unperturbed by her.
The trio of ghouls stuck under Hawk’s rolling rack found their footing and launched towards Aaron. Grace fired three times, taking out two with headshots and hitting the third in the shoulder. The cluster around her grew, drawing most of the zombies to the noise of the gun.
“Block the escalator!” she screamed, as she spotted some ghouls attempting to get up the frozen stairs below. Despite their clumsiness, with enough flailing and determination, she didn’t want to bank on them not being able to get up.
Hawk and Troy brained two more ghouls near them, and then grabbed their rolling racks of doom, pulling them towards the escalators. Aaron staggered over to the railing, looking down to the floor, and Grace’s blood boiled. She couldn’t help but imagine what it would be like to put a bullet in his head, put him out of his misery.
But she wasn’t a murderer. Killing zombies was one thing… killing a human was another. Of course, if he kept up this level of uselessness, it likely wouldn’t be long before he was a zombie, and she’d have to put him down anyway. But they’d cross that bridge if and when they came to it.
Hawk and Troy shoved rack after rack down the stairs, and the noise began to draw the back of Grace’s group, easily now at twenty or so.
She took aim and fired at one that was closest to the boys, dropping it and putting the heat back on her. A particularly tall zombie clawed at the tip of her shoe, and she grunted, kicking out and steadying her balance before swinging down with her crowbar to take it out.
When the escalator was sufficiently full of metal and clothing, creating the most effective barrier they could build, Hawk and Troy turned back to her.
“If you try to get them from the back, I’ll keep drawing them back to me with the gun,” Grace called, and they both nodded.
Troy glanced over at Aaron, who was still clutching the railing, looking down at the sea of angry ghouls below. He stalked over and grabbed the man by the arm.
“Get your ass in gear or I’ll throw you over myself,” he snapped.
Aaron clenched his jaw, defiance in his gaze, but it was laced in stone fear at the threat. He nodded jerkily, and they came to stand with Hawk.
Grace fired again, at a zombie in the middle of the horde to make sure the falling body wouldn’t draw attention to the back, and then the three men went to work.
They darted forward, each smacking down a skull. Hawk managed to stab a second ghoul before jumping back, and Aaron and Troy retreated immediately as creatures whipped around.
Grace was ready and aiming, and popped off three quick shots in succession, dropping three distracted zombies in the back. Another