Disintegration

He looked up and saw that the bodies had advanced all the way along the side of the hotel and had now begun to spread across the front. Through the gaps between upturned pieces of furniture he could see them moving continually, steadily surrounding the entire building. The steps leading up to the main entrance held them back temporarily until the weight of flesh still surging forward forced the leading cadavers to climb. Howard let go of the dog and helped barricade the doors with whatever he could lay his hands on. Rotting faces stared back at him through the glass and the bodies slammed their bony hands against the window continually. For a moment he thought he saw one of them grab the handle and try to pull the door open.
    “Is that gonna hold them?” Harte asked, wiping sweat from his eyes.
    “Going to have to, isn’t it?” Lorna answered. Her voice echoed around the now almost pitch-black reception area. As well as shutting out the final shards of fading light, the haphazard blockade had changed the acoustics of the room, muffling the sounds outside and amplifying the noise indoors. “What now?”
    Gordon and Hollis moved closer.
    “Where will we be safest?” Gordon wondered.
    “Right in the middle of the building?” Lorna suggested. “Either that or we should head up?”
    “There’s no way out if we go up,” Harte said ominously.
    “Don’t think we have a lot of choice.”
    “We need to get out of sight,” Hollis said. “A room big enough for all of us where they won’t see us.”
    “We could try—” Harte began to say before being interrupted by a horrific scream from the other end of the hotel. It was Caron. He froze with terror, not wanting to know what she’d found. Around him others began to run toward the source of the sound. Even from a distance he could hear what was happening.
    “They’re inside,” Caron cried, running down the west-wing corridor.
    “How?” Hollis demanded.
    “Swimming pool,” Jas said, his voice full of desperation and disappointment. “Fucking things must have got in through the doors into the pool.”
    “Then block the bloody corridor off!” Gordon yelled, pushing past Caron and hurtling toward the pool and gym.
    It was too late. By the time he’d got there the creatures were already swarming out into the open, steadily filling the marble-floored area in front of the restaurant, bar, and the Steelbrooke Suite. The dead moved with renewed speed, their progress helped by the pressure of others moving up through the narrow corridor behind them, forcing them forward. Within seconds their numbers were such that they burst through the doors into the courtyard and began to spill down the glass-fronted corridors on either side. In places the decorative glazing began to crack and give way under the pressure. The noise of the shattering glass seemed to excite the dead still further as they spread through the building.
    “Up!” Jas shouted, loud enough for all of them to hear. “First floor, middle room. Trust me!”
    With no other option, Lorna, Ginnie, and Howard began to climb the staircase at the reception end of the west-wing corridor. Caron and Gordon ran back down the hallway toward them, glancing back over their shoulders at the steadily advancing tide of corpses which washed after them. Hollis shoved them up the staircase, then turned to face Harte and Jas.
    “What about Webb and Martin?” he asked, the nearest bodies now less than thirty meters away.
    “Fuck them,” Jas immediately replied. “We left them in the restaurant. With a bit of luck they’ll have managed to block the door before they got in.”
    “All of this is Webb’s fault,” Harte seethed. “He doesn’t deserve to survive.”
    “What about Driver?” Hollis demanded, the nearest bodies now close enough for them to be able to see the horrific detail in their dead faces. “We can’t just leave him, can we?”
    “He’s probably dead already,” Jas snapped. “Now come on, get upstairs.”
    Hollis didn’t move, struggling with his conscience.
    “Which room was he in?”
    Harte was struggling too.
    “East wing, top floor,” he replied. “Can’t remember which number…”
    “Leave him,” Jas said again, grabbing both men’s arms and trying to drag them up.
    “Oh, fuck it,” Harte snapped, squirming free from Jas’s grip and running down to reception, then back across and up the corridor on the other side.
    “What the hell are you doing?” Hollis gasped as