"How do I get there?"

Herrick walked out of the room into the corridor, pulling him along.

"Through those doors, then you go to the end of the hallway and take a right. Go to the end of that hallway and take a left. On your next right, four doors down, you'll see a door leading to the stairwell. Go all the way down, and when you come out, go left, right, left, and then right again, all the way to the end of the last corridor. You'll see the sign for the lab. Refrigerators are in back. Grab at least five units of O-positive."

His head was swimming.

"O-positive. Okay."

"Help me with this."

They slid the furniture back from the door, and then Adam stared through the window. The paper that Herrick had stapled over the opening had blown away.

"Coast clear?" she asked.

"For now."

He heard the locks sliding up, his heart beginning to pound at the thought of going out there.

"Adam?"

He looked at Herrick.

"I know you don't want to go out there, but your wife will die if she doesn't start receiving new blood in less than thirty minutes."

Adam's daughter began to cry at the other end of the wing.

He wondered if he'd seen the last he would ever see of her.

"I'll take care of your girls, Adam," Herrick said. "Now get going."

Jenny

"I'M just going to see if the playroom is empty," Jenny told the clinging, whimpering kids. "I'll be right back."

Amid cries of protest, the nurse extracted herself from the tangle of children and stood up, holding the glowing green light stick in front of her like a talisman. She crept to the closet door, making sure her footing was solid. Jenny prayed Randall was on his way back for them. The desire to hear his voice again was overwhelming. For his many faults--the gullibility, the temper, the drinking, the inability to think ahead--the old Randall had been a rock. He'd also been one of the most reassuring, nurturing people she'd ever known, and all of her friends were nurses, so that was really saying something.

If the old Randall was back--and she sensed he was--he'd find a way to reach her, even if he had to walk barefoot through hell.

The intercom was near the front door, which was still barricaded shut. Jenny wanted to tell him to find an intercom, to let her know he was okay, to come for her and the kids, and...

And?

To tell him I love him.

Funny how that worked. During the dark days of their marriage, she had felt less his wife, and more his mother--always scolding him, trying to make him straighten up and fly right. But now that the shit had hit the fan, he was the one person in the world Jenny needed. She closed her eyes, for just a moment, imagining his embrace--like being hugged by a big, friendly bear.

Jenny hoped she'd be able to feel that embrace at least one more time.

He's alive. He's got to be alive. Randall has survived countless accidents and mishaps. Countless drunken bar fights. He's indestructible.

She opened her eyes, focused on the door. Holding her breath, she stopped just an arm's length away from the square window, listening for sounds.

The silence was so loud it made her wince.

Jenny let out a slow sigh, then took a cautious step forward and--

"STOP! A monster is going to pop out and grab you! I know it!"

Jenny's bladder clenched at the child's outburst. The courage she'd stored up seeped right out of her.

"It's okay," she said.

But it really wasn't okay, was it? Monsters--real monsters--were running around the hospital, killing people. Her husband was gone. Jenny had no weapons. And now she was about to peer through a broken window when there was a pretty good chance something would pop out and grab her.

Maybe staying put was a smart idea.

She was about to give in to cowardice when she remembered something her husband had said to her on their honeymoon. They'd spent the week at the ridiculous sounding "Camp Kookyfoot Waterpark" because Randall was nuts about waterslides. Jenny had initially resented him for it--it had been his "surprise" wedding gift to her--but it ultimately didn't matter because they spent most of the trip in bed. During one of their rare ventures out of the bedroom to eat at the suitably hokey "Kookypants Famous Bar and Grill," Randall had cut his sirloin into pieces too big to swallow and wound up getting one stuck in his throat. Jenny had calmly gotten behind him and applied the Heimlich, saving his life.

"Thanks, babe," he'd told her once he could breathe again. "It's nice to have someone I can count on. You know you can count on me too. Always and forever."

Well, "always and forever" had taken a detour, but Jenny sensed it had come full circle and was true again. And if so, she knew she could count on Randall coming back. Knew it like she knew the sun would rise tomorrow and water was wet.

Now Randall was in the hospital somewhere, surrounded by monsters, possibly hurt, maybe even dying, and she wanted, needed him to know she felt the same way.

Eyeing the window, Jenny took another tentative step toward it, squinting into the playroom, looking for signs of movement, listening for any--

"STOP!"

"Kids!" Jenny admonished, turning around. "You're going to give me a heart attack! Shush!"

Shaking off the adrenalin, she moved even closer to the door. Her imagination took over. Jenny could picture a monster crouching behind it, waiting to grab her once she got close enough.

Funny how just two hours ago she never could have thought such things existed. Now she was worried about one popping out and biting her head off.

Creeping ever closer to the door, too scared to even breathe, all Jenny could hear was the thrumming sound of her own pulse. The door loomed nearer.

Two feet away.

Eighteen inches.

Twelve inches.

Six inches.

Finally, Jenny could peek through the broken window into the playroom. She saw...

A massacre.

Severed limbs strewn everywhere. Entrails festooned on the chairs and tables. Half-chewed organs speckled the floor and unidentifiable lumps of fatty tissue and brain matter splattered across the walls. Some of the pieces were human--the people Jenny had left behind when she fled into the storage closet. But the majority belonged to the creatures. They had slaughtered each other.

For all the gore, there was surprisingly little blood. Jenny could smell raw meat, and the sickly-sour butcher shop odor of liver and sweetbreads, coupled with a deep, smoked pork scent courtesy of her dairy creamer weapon.

"Are they gone?" one of the children whispered.

Repulsive as it was, the playroom seemed to be empty.

"Yes," Jenny said. Her hand found the doorknob, sticky with fluid that had been squeezed from the slaughtered dracula stuck in the window.

"Don't go!"

"It's okay," Jenny said. "I'm just going to use the intercom. I'll be right back."

Touching the knob gingerly with just her fingertips, she swung open the door and immediately wiped her hand off on an unstained part of her uniform. The intercom was on the wall, right next to the barricaded door. Jenny moved carefully out of the closet, undecided on whether or not to leave the door open. On the one hand, she didn't want to put the children in danger. But the door locked automatically, and if she needed to get in there quickly, she didn't want to have to wait for one of the kids to let her in.

She opted for a compromise--closing it most of the way, but leaving it open a crack.