‘It’s locked,’ Barry grunted.
‘Don’t you have the key? You’ve got keys to everywhere else.’
‘Sorry.’
‘Smash it open then.’
‘What about the noise?’ he instinctively asked. Paul looked down the staircase behind them, back into the heart of the building. Even from here he could see the constant movement of the dead.
‘Bit late to worry about that.’
With limited space to manoeuvre his coiffured bulk, Barry held onto a handrail, swung back, then crashed his shoulder against the door. It rattled in its frame but didn’t open. Another couple of attempts were equally unsuccessful.
‘Let me,’ Paul said, pushing Barry to one side. ‘You’re not wearing the right shoes for breaking and entering.’
He launched a barrage of well aimed kicks at the lock. The wood began to splinter and crack. Another f
