The back door was down a small corridor just off from the back of the restaurant floor. At the very end of the corridor was the office and a small storeroom opposite the back door. Halfway down the short walkway was the exit. All of the survivors cramped themselves into the office, apart from Steel. Steel waited at the back door, his ear pressed against the door, waiting for the right moment.
“This sucks man,” Yelped the younger one.
“Look, we were told to stay here and make sure nobody leaves. Ok?” said the older of the two men, a short, stocky man in a loud Hawaiian shirt and beige shorts. The younger one marched around, the MP7 machine pistol clutched tightly in his grip, his bottom lip curled up like a three-year-old who had been told no more candy.
“Screw this, I am going in,” said
