Rain taps off the windows of the abandoned martial arts school where Armi was an instructor for 15 years. He'd tracked five petrified survivors here, and now the horde is gathering outside.
Armi kneels near the back door and lets out a long, slow breath. He draws his katana from its black guard and slides it into the gap in the rusted door. With some patient pressure, he pries the latch loose.
He opens his mouth, but before he can speak, he hears Buzz out in the alley, belting a sea shanty from the getaway van. Armi sighs the sigh of a leader who has asked for silence too many times.
"Single file. Breathe slowly. Walk. Do not run."
The survivors slip out as the horde starts to drift around the building, attracted by the singing. Armi bows to his empty school and exits, jumping into the van, where Buzz yells, "Ahoy!" Buzz looks at Armi with a smile, gets a weary glare in response, and puts the van in gear, racing past the gathering horde.