Finally, there was a gap in the door wide enough for him to slip in, and he did. Just as he made it to the other side, a hand lunged for him, grasping his shirt sleeve. He screamed, trying desperately to shake away. It was slowly pulling him back, the glint of eyes barely seen within the fog outside.
“Use the bayonet!” she commanded.
He obeyed, hacking at the hand with his gun’s blade. Whoever grabbed him screeched in pain, pulling more violently.
Voices whispered from the mist beyond the door, growling a garbled German and begging him to join them.
He screamed again, hacking as fast as he could, blood splattering across his mask. Finally, the hand ripped off and the remaining limb retreated.
“Go, find me! I’m at the top level!”
He nodded, sprinting toward a concrete staircase. Just as he reached it, something behind him shifted. He spun around, his rifle trained at a man rising up from a sitting position. He was certainly dead before, his chest oozing blood and left arm missing.
He growled horribly and made a slow shamble toward him. The boy screamed, taking flight up the stairs. He crossed the two flights before him, finding another room with now two wound-walkers stalking about, more than a dozen lying dead. He skirted past them, climbing the next staircase.
“Just up here, hurry!” she shrieked.
He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, his breathing raspy and quick. To his dread, as he reached the top, he found what were once researchers. They still bore lab coats and still stood where they may have before. They jittered in place, as if violently twitching for no apparent reason, all of them facing the opposite direction to the boy. Between them, a mass of red, gas-like liquid swirled and danced within a glass case. This case was kept suspended between four tesla coils, each coil buzzing with electricity.
“Free me.” came her soft voice, so gentle and comforting.
He aimed his gun, knowing well that the bullet would give him away, and fired.