"Oh lord," Scott muttered as watched the rotting forms come tearing through the open gates to the compound before he yelled, "Hurry up! They're coming!"
"I'm going as fast as I can!" Bruce shot back as he continued to try to pick the lock of the armory's door. Finally his pick caught the right mechanism and the door slide inward under his weight. Scott shoved Bruce the rest of the way inside, knocking him from his feet and pushed the door closed behind them, relocking it.
"This isn't going to buy us much time," Bruce warned getting up as the first of the dead-things threw its body against the door trying to force its way in after them. "Pretty soon they're going to notice the windows," Bruce added waving his hand around at the armory's entrance area.
"There were supposed to be soldiers here!" Scott wailed.
"Where the heck are they?"
"Does it matter?" Bruce snapped. "They probably dead like most folks around here. Either that or they're cut off and haven't been able to get here yet through the masses of those things all over town out there. We're the soldiers now Scott or we better be if we want to stay alive. My dad brought me up here a lot before I moved to Asheville and started college.
This place is so remote that their security is pretty slack. I can get us into where they keep the weapons."
A trash can smashed through the entrance area's main window and clanked as it rolled across the floor. A rotting man dressed in a torn, button-up, once white shirt came crawling through the opening after it. His jaw dangled unnaturally as his hollow eyes fell upon them and a gargling moan erupted from his throat.