After I passed the first tier of concertina-wired fences, I could hear the buzzing of gates closing behind us. I spied muzzle flashes up in the tower. I felt more than I heard heavy-caliber gunfire tossing clumps of turf into the air around me. I pushed myself into a sprint, passing the final gate before rolling to the ground and taking aim behind me.

The last row of gates slid shut, trapping the handful of corpses that had made it past the first two. The chattering of automatic fire finally caught up to my conscious mind, and I watched as the Dead were ventilated. I leaned back and gulped for air, wincing as my heart threatened to burst through my ribcage.

Suddenly I was blinded by light. I lifted my hand to shade my watering eyes.

“Throw your weapons on the ground,” the amplified voice demanded, “and put your hands on your head!” Beyond the illuminated disc cast by the spotlight, I could barely make out the bulky silhouettes of infantrymen slowly advancing. “Do it now!”

Aw, hell.