I

The Leadership Seminar Buffet

Hiding behind the heavy marble of the teller's stations wasn't going to protect Lisa Korolenko from the crowd of zombies massing outside. She knew that, but she didn't want to tell anyone.

"Cover those doors," shouted Logan Swanson, standing heroically in the center of the room with the security guard's gun.

On the floor, the mangled corpse of the security guard had already stopped bleeding. The bank manager, Mister Ballard, was used to giving orders, but he moved now without questioning. Lisa watched her boss start to barricade the inward-opening double doors with plush chairs and potted ferns. None of the seminars he attended had prepared him for this, and she was glad Logan was taking charge of the situation instead.

Behind the counter with her were two customers and a teller named Helen. Helen whimpered in panic. Lisa put an arm around her. She wanted to comfort her coworker but didn't know what to say. Her eyes glanced up at the security monitors.

More zombies were arriving every minute, surrounding the building, but Lisa kept herself calm. She had imagined scenarios like this. All those late night movies were finally coming in handy. She knew the rules for zombies.

Logan heard the whimpering teller and leaned over the counter. "Don't worry," he told his girlfriend. "I'll handle this." Logan raised the gun for emphasis. The customer named Kaveh started to stand, but Logan shook his head. "No. I said I'd handle it."

The other customer pulled his friend back behind the teller's stations, and Kaveh sat with his back against the deposit slips, eyes filled with resentment, arms folded across his chest.

The moaning sound from outside rose and fell. Zombies pounded with inhuman chaotic rhythms on the two wooden doors, and Mister Ballard's barricade of plants and chairs was already crumbling. Logan saw that and yelled, "Not that stuff. Use one of the desks."

Logan stuck the gun into the back of his jeans while he and the manager moved to stand at opposite ends of the desk closest to the door, the one that belonged to Lisa.

Lisa watched the handles of her purse bob back and forth as they carried her desk across the room. Her medicine was in there. Should she say something? She couldn't tell them why she needed it, especially now.

They carried it past the fallen security guard. Blood was soaked through his uniform, and his right arm was contorted into an impossible position. He was dead. Lisa had worked with Vince for years. He'd always been nice to her, but when the zombies had attacked, he'd panicked. Now he was just gone, and the smell of decay so soon confirmed everything. They'd have to destroy the body before it reanimated. When he came back, he'd be nothing but a mindless killer. Lisa wouldn't let that happen to her.

The two men set her desk down near the front doors. Logan gave a condescending look and knocked the manager's barricade away with one shove. Lisa saw their defense go down, and her spine tensed for something to go wrong.

Wood cracked. A hand burst through the door and grabbed Logan's arm.

Logan reached for the gun in his belt, but the rotting hand pulled his shoulder hard against the door and kept him from turning far enough. He tried to pull away, but undeath had given the zombie incredible strength.

He hooked his leg over the desk, knocking Lisa's snow globe off the other side. "Push," he shouted at Mister Ballard. Was he barricading the door with his last act or just desperate for a barrier between himself and the clutching corpse?

It didn't matter. The bank manager was frozen, watching Logan struggle against the zombie hand.

"Help him," Lisa said out loud. Mister Ballard did nothing. Another hand, then another, burst through the door. Logan didn't stand a chance. He couldn't fight them all.

#

Kaveh stood up again from the cold marble floor. He was tired of hiding. He was tired of being the immigrant who pretended to be an American, and he was tired of working the line at what passed for ethnic cuisine in this town when he knew he could do things ten times better. He picked up the baseball bat from where Logan had dropped it on the way in, and he slammed it into the hand that pinned Logan to the door.

Logan took a step back and drew the gun. "Get behind me," he said.

Kaveh stayed where he was, gripping the bat.

Logan shot each of the intruding hands, but they didn't stop grabbing the air.

"What are those things?" Kaveh asked.

Logan fired again, but the click, click, click said the gun was empty. Kaveh gave him points for accuracy, but you had to keep track of your ammo. He could tell Logan had never cooked twenty dinners at the same time. Kaveh had. He knew the only bullets they had left were the two clips in the dead guard's belt.

Logan yelled, "Get the desk."