The splintering crash from the rear of the church, followed by a triumphant, inhuman shriek, cut through the terrified gasps of the group like a death knell. Their sanctuary, so desperately won, had been breached almost before they'd caught their breath.
"Vestry door!" Rick roared, his head snapping towards the small, previously overlooked entrance near the altar. "Shane! Glenn! Ethan! With me! The rest of you, hold that main door, reinforce it best you can! Lori, Carol, kids to the altar, stay low!"
Panic threatened to engulf them, but Rick's decisive command, rough as it was, gave them focus. While Dale, T-Dog, and Morales threw their weight and remaining adrenaline against the shuddering main oaken door, now groaning under the assault of a dozen or more Runners, the others raced towards the back.
Two Runner Variants, their movements sickeningly fast and fluid even in the dim, dust-filled light of the church, were already squeezing through the splintered remains of the vestry door, their eyes fixed on the terrified huddle of women and children near the altar. A third was trying to force its way past them.
[IMMEDIATE INTERNAL THREAT! 3X RUNNER VARIANTS BREACHING VESTRY. CHILDREN AND NON-COMBATANTS AT EXTREME RISK. NEUTRALIZE HOSTILES IMMEDIATELY.]
Shane reached them first, his shotgun barking once, then twice, the blasts deafening in the enclosed space. One runner's head exploded. The second took the blast mass and was thrown back, momentarily stunned but not out. The third lunged past him, straight for where Lily, Carl, and Sophia were screaming, shielded by Lori and Carol.
Ethan, his bat a blur, intercepted it. The System highlighted a trajectory for its lunge, and he met it with a desperate, two-handed upward swing that connected solidly with the creature's jaw, sending it staggering sideways, away from the children, its shriek cut short. Glenn was there instantly, his tire iron whistling as he brought it down repeatedly on the downed creature's skull until it lay still.
The second runner Shane had shot was back on its feet, lunging at him. Shane, fumbling to reload, backpedaled, cursing.
Ethan saw his opening. He still had a good chunk of Survival Points. That flashbang pellet… it was a gamble, but they were about to be overwhelmed.
System, shop! Flashbang Pellet! Now!
[PURCHASE: 'FLASHBANG PELLET (MINIATURE)' - 45 SP. CONFIRM?]
Confirm!
[ITEM ADDED TO INVENTORY SUB-DIMENSION.]
"Cover your eyes! Down!" Ethan screamed, fumbling in his pocket as if for a lighter or a rock, then hurling the small, innocuous-looking pellet towards the vestry doorway where more shadows were trying to press through, and towards the runner advancing on Shane.
The pellet went off with a brilliant, searing flash of white light and a sharp, percussive CRACK that momentarily stunned everyone. The runners caught in its immediate vicinity shrieked, recoiling, clawing at their faces, their unnatural coordination shattered.
"Now!" Rick yelled, already recovering.
Ethan, Shane, and Glenn surged forward, exploiting the momentary chaos. Ethan's bat crushed the skull of the runner that had been menacing Shane. Glenn dispatched another disoriented one. Rick, using his Python with deadly precision, took down a third that was just stumbling through the ruined vestry door.
For a precious few seconds, the immediate internal threat was neutralized.
"The door!" Shane roared, grabbing a fallen, heavy wooden lectern. "Block this damn thing!"
Together, they heaved the lectern against the shattered vestry door, wedging it as best they could. It wouldn't hold for long, but it might buy them minutes.
Shane rounded on Ethan, his face flushed, eyes narrowed despite the ringing in his ears. "What in the hell was that, Miller? Some kind of firework?"
"Old M-80," Ethan panted, the lie coming quickly. "Military surplus. Found a couple. Figured it might give 'em a pause if things got tight." His heart was still hammering from the close call and the audacity of using a System item so openly, even if disguised. The System flashed: [PLAUSIBLE DENIABILITY: LOW TO MODERATE. SHANE WALSH: SUSPICION LEVEL SIGNIFICANTLY INCREASED. RICK GRIMES: OBSERVING INTENTLY.]
There was no time to dwell on it. A tremendous CRACK echoed from the front of the church. One of the heavy oak panels of the main door had split wide open. Decaying hands, impossibly strong, were tearing at the splintered wood. The pews they'd piled against it were beginning to slide.
"They're coming through!" T-Dog yelled, his voice hoarse with terror and exertion.
The small group was exhausted, trapped between two failing entry points, the screeches of the Runner pack a deafening, relentless wave of sound from all sides. Dale looked utterly defeated. Lori and Carol were trying to keep the children calm, a near-impossible task. Morales was checking his dwindling handful of bullets.
It was a slaughterhouse waiting to happen. Their sanctuary had become their tomb.
Just as the main door began to buckle definitively inwards, and the first few lean, snarling faces of the larger pack began to force their way through the splintering wood and shifting pews, Rick, his eyes darting around the small, besieged church like a cornered animal, let out a sudden shout.
"There! Under the altar! Look!" He was pointing towards the stone floor at the base of the simple, raised altar platform. Partially obscured by a fallen, tattered altar cloth, was a dark rectangle, a heavy iron ring set into it. A trapdoor.
"It's a trapdoor! Might lead to a crypt, a cellar, anything!" Rick yelled, hope, wild and desperate, flaring in his voice over the din of the assault. "It's our only way! Ethan, Glenn, Shane, try to open it! The rest of you, hold them back as long as you can!"
Their last, desperate chance lay hidden beneath their feet, while death clawed its way in from every other direction.