Happy instantly regretted his choice. The door should've tipped him off but he'd mistakenly assumed by the lack of dead walkers around the building that the undead had already passed through and moved on. So he wasn't exactly expecting to hurl himself into a room full of reanimated corpses, but here he was. There was a flight of stairs several feet in front of him and a knot of about five zombies between he and it.
"Fuck!" he shouted, scrambling with the pistol tucked into his waistband. Instinct made him pull the pistol and aim to shoot. He was a little rusty, but he'd gotten plenty of practice the last few weeks and he wasn't a terrible shot. The fact that his bullet hit it's target was a short lived triumph because when he turned back to the door he'd come in from, he found the exit blocked by two more of the walkers, drawn here by the sound of his gun and the smell of his flesh. Happy allowed himself one more curse and hid the gun away again in favor of his baseball bat. Not particularly subtle, but at least it wouldn't draw more of the damned things his way.