The hospital loomed in the distance, its windows darkened and broken, like hollow eyes watching them approach. The overgrown parking lot was littered with abandoned cars, some with doors still ajar as if their occupants had fled in a hurry. Vines crawled up the cracked walls, and the faint groans of zombies could be heard from somewhere within.
"Why is it always hospitals?" Mallory muttered, kicking a stray can out of her path. "You never hear people saying, 'Go fetch supplies from the abandoned amusement park.' At least that would be fun."
"Would you prefer zombie clowns?" Alex asked dryly, earning a shudder from Mallory.
Greg adjusted his grip on his baseball bat, his face set in determination. "We stick together, move fast, and get out. Easy."
"Easy, he says," Clara muttered, checking the edge of her machete. "Nothing about this is ever easy."
