Hank returned to the doorway and lifted his makeshift 'lock' out from the safety bar. 'Ugh', there were a lot more slow zombies out there now, plus Juan was firing at something, no doubt a speedy Gonzales, 'Well Speedy', Hank thought as he patted his shotgun, 'I got a little something for ya right here.'
Hank thought that if this were a movie he would now chamber a round in his shotgun and rush blindly out into the parking lot. In real life he already had a round chambered, the safety was off and he had no desire to be hit on his blind side by a zombie waiting just out of sight on one side of the door.
He pushed the door open and looked down the sidewalk. Nothing one way, turning he peered the other way. All clear. Looking across the street at Juan on the roof of the convenience store he waited for him to gesture go or no go. Juan was a bit busy sighting at something beyond Hank's vision. 'That's okay, I can get the door shut.' Hank turned around and picked up the chair from inside the door, holding it carefully he lifted it from the outside until it was above the locking bar, then eased the door shut. Once it was 'locked' again he pulled the chair legs back down into position, locking the door against the really stupid zombies. 'Or people.', he mused. Doing this had taken both hands and when he finished he quickly grabbed his shotgun and second backpack. Just in time, a slow zed was a little too close for comfort. This time, it was an old man wearing a hospital robe. The ties in the back had come loose and now the only thing holding the robe on was his outstretched arms. Hank shuffled forward, pointed the gun at his head. The discharge made mincemeat of the man's head and the body toppled backward.