the fact we’re just going to leave her here to die.
Flynn moves backwards into the lift, kicking away the fire extinguisher in the process, but holds the door open with his hand as if to give her time to reconsider. She doesn’t budge.
“ SIOBHAN,” he shouts, but she still stays put.
With a quick turn of her head, she mouths the words “Go,” before facing away again, letting us know she’s intent on killing as many as she can.
With the horde almost upon us , Flynn releases his grip on the door and fires until it shuts across in front of him.
“Stupid crazy bitch,” he roars thumping the metal walls in frustration and anger.
As the lift moves I can still hear the rattle of the Browning until it stops all of a sudden. No more shots are heard ringing through out the hospital.
I drop my head as a sign of respect and sorrow for the obvious outcome of Siobhan’s suicidal showdown. Flynn’s equally dejected, but is managing to keep himself together.
Before we had ever gotten int o the lift, it was already prepared to go to the underground car park.
“When the doors open , run for the jeep. It’s parked beside the lift entrance,” Flynn instructs.
“Got ya.”
I watch the as the floor numbers come and go as we pass each level. Then to my dismay I notice the button for the first floor lighting up, indicating that someone there has pressed the button. Flynn must have noticed too as he holds his right arm out against my chest and directs me right up against the back wall.
“Crouch,” he whispers.
We both take up a kneeling position and point our respective guns at the door.
The lift bell dings and the door folds open. Standing there with his back to us is a lone man; distracted by something in the distance and seemingly unaware that the lift has arrived.
I ’m confused as what to do, unable to tell if he’s infected or not. So here we stand in silence, guns aimed at his head, reluctant to make our presence known and find out his true form.
The few seconds it takes for the door to begin sliding shut again feel like an eternity. However, as it gradually rolls and scrapes its way across its rails I breathe a sigh of relief and lower my gun arm.
That is until a wandering hand shoves itself in the way of the door at the last second, causing the safety mechanism to fling it wide open again.
Standing there, facing us this time is a man in his late forties or early fifties. One hand remains on the lift door and the other is clutching his shoulder. A trickle of blood is extruding from between his fingers.
O bviously taken aback by the realisation that two guns are being shoved in his face he retreats back a couple of steps.
“Don ’t shoot, don’t shoot,” he pleads.
He can talk! That means he ’s human right?
“Please help me. Some maniac has bitten me badly. Just two minutes ago. Won’t you do something please?”
Fuck it. It ’s already too late for him.
He takes a step towards us, still begging for assistance.
“Step back,” Flynn commands in a strong and insistent voice. The man hesitates momentarily from this surprise, before resuming his grovelling advance.
“I s aid move back, NOW,” Flynn barks the order this time.
His gun held strong and steady , unlike mine which is shaking around in my hands.
A lack of compliance from the obviously distressed man is rewarded with a hefty kick to his mid rift. Thi s sends him stumbling backwards; eventually landing in a heap on the floor.
“Why won ’t you help me?”
The word ‘me’ extends into a blood curdling shriek, as his body begins to writhe around on the floor. It’s a really freaky and disconcerting sight.
The lift door has begun closing again, as the now metamorphosed guy rises up and makes an attempt to rush us. Flynn lowers the barrel of his gun, and squeezes off a couple of rounds into the legs of the oncoming threat.
The door grinds shut just in time to absorb the full wallop of the falling mass of flesh. That’s
Flynn moves backwards into the lift, kicking away the fire extinguisher in the process, but holds the door open with his hand as if to give her time to reconsider. She doesn’t budge.
“ SIOBHAN,” he shouts, but she still stays put.
With a quick turn of her head, she mouths the words “Go,” before facing away again, letting us know she’s intent on killing as many as she can.
With the horde almost upon us , Flynn releases his grip on the door and fires until it shuts across in front of him.
“Stupid crazy bitch,” he roars thumping the metal walls in frustration and anger.
As the lift moves I can still hear the rattle of the Browning until it stops all of a sudden. No more shots are heard ringing through out the hospital.
I drop my head as a sign of respect and sorrow for the obvious outcome of Siobhan’s suicidal showdown. Flynn’s equally dejected, but is managing to keep himself together.
Before we had ever gotten int o the lift, it was already prepared to go to the underground car park.
“When the doors open , run for the jeep. It’s parked beside the lift entrance,” Flynn instructs.
“Got ya.”
I watch the as the floor numbers come and go as we pass each level. Then to my dismay I notice the button for the first floor lighting up, indicating that someone there has pressed the button. Flynn must have noticed too as he holds his right arm out against my chest and directs me right up against the back wall.
“Crouch,” he whispers.
We both take up a kneeling position and point our respective guns at the door.
The lift bell dings and the door folds open. Standing there with his back to us is a lone man; distracted by something in the distance and seemingly unaware that the lift has arrived.
I ’m confused as what to do, unable to tell if he’s infected or not. So here we stand in silence, guns aimed at his head, reluctant to make our presence known and find out his true form.
The few seconds it takes for the door to begin sliding shut again feel like an eternity. However, as it gradually rolls and scrapes its way across its rails I breathe a sigh of relief and lower my gun arm.
That is until a wandering hand shoves itself in the way of the door at the last second, causing the safety mechanism to fling it wide open again.
Standing there, facing us this time is a man in his late forties or early fifties. One hand remains on the lift door and the other is clutching his shoulder. A trickle of blood is extruding from between his fingers.
O bviously taken aback by the realisation that two guns are being shoved in his face he retreats back a couple of steps.
“Don ’t shoot, don’t shoot,” he pleads.
He can talk! That means he ’s human right?
“Please help me. Some maniac has bitten me badly. Just two minutes ago. Won’t you do something please?”
Fuck it. It ’s already too late for him.
He takes a step towards us, still begging for assistance.
“Step back,” Flynn commands in a strong and insistent voice. The man hesitates momentarily from this surprise, before resuming his grovelling advance.
“I s aid move back, NOW,” Flynn barks the order this time.
His gun held strong and steady , unlike mine which is shaking around in my hands.
A lack of compliance from the obviously distressed man is rewarded with a hefty kick to his mid rift. Thi s sends him stumbling backwards; eventually landing in a heap on the floor.
“Why won ’t you help me?”
The word ‘me’ extends into a blood curdling shriek, as his body begins to writhe around on the floor. It’s a really freaky and disconcerting sight.
The lift door has begun closing again, as the now metamorphosed guy rises up and makes an attempt to rush us. Flynn lowers the barrel of his gun, and squeezes off a couple of rounds into the legs of the oncoming threat.
The door grinds shut just in time to absorb the full wallop of the falling mass of flesh. That’s
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