The car was rocking back and forth on its springs. The number of undead gathered had grown, probably attracted to the scent of blood from the man’s severed finger. The keening was almost unbearable, of shanghaied souls hungering for something monstrous that simultaneously repelled and tantalized. They beat ineffectually against the safety glass with pulpy limbs and shattered teeth when they attempted to gnaw their way through. The rear window imploded, shards caving inward as the vacancy immediately filled with flailing desperation.

“Come on, for God’s sake,” beseeched Zane, eyes transfixed to the field glasses.

“Hmm. He could come in useful as a specimen…” Despite the warmth of her features, Dr Chang was cold to the bone, and he sometimes wondered if she had a soul. But he still believed in her.

Dr Chang took the remote from her pocket and depressed it without ceremony.

The whole hill lit up like a pagan festival.

“Oh, joy. It works.” Even her gestures of triumph were featureless. “Let’s go.”