The door was several inches of pristine steel. Even still, there was a distant thunder as the creature on the other side hammered on the door as hard as it could.

John’s eyes were dragged back to his friend by a new sound. A low groan from a throat that hadn’t been used in days. Not many of the researchers had heard it first hand, and those who had were likely dead by now.

He didn’t care that his legs no longer worked, or that this room was going to be his final resting place. He thought briefly about how heavy a gun feels in your hand when its purpose is murder, and then about whether or not killing someone who has already died even counts.

The corpse was sitting up now, a lifeless stare bringing John back to mindfulness. The barrel of the Colt scraped against the ground before it was raised to his new friend. The thump of the gun as he pulled the trigger was the realest thing he’d felt in the last six days.

The corpse settled back into a more corpse-like pose, and John closed his eyes.

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