Infected

81.

No one had answered at Apartment 202, and Dew was halfway through picking the lock when he heard the horrible scream. It was a man’s scream, and one that sent a wave of fear dancing at the base of Dew’s spine. There was something in that scream, something beyond pain or fear.

Dew jumped up, his knees popping loudly in the still hallway. The back staircase was closest. He sprinted up the steps, pulling out the cellular as he ran.

“Otto, get them in here!”