Sprinting through the dark, wood clad hallways, the two men barely glanced at the dust draped exhibits either side of them. “Dave” The trailing figure yelled, “Take a right” as he pointed toward a large set of double doors approaching on their right. Bursting through the doorway they stumbled to a halt as a figure in the middle of the room turned toward them. With a guttural scream the leading man swung the small hatchet in a giant arc, burying the blade deep into the creature’s skull, collapsing it to the floor and yanking the wooden handle from his hand as it fell to the floor. Planting his foot on the now still face, he grabbed the protruding handle and pulled upwards. As he strained to free the weapon a loud crash echoed from a side door to the room. Eyes widening, he pulled harder, trying to free the blade locked in place by bone and muscle.
The door smashed inward, followed immediately by several stumbling figures, causing Dave to let go of the axe and turn toward the third entryway to the room.As he ran toward the door he yelled at his companion, who remained motionless watching the ghoulish figures pour into the room with wild eyed fear.
“Mark! Mark! Get over here man, we have to GO!” he screamed, slamming his shoulder into the door and throwing it open. With a start, Mark blinked, swore and sprinted for the door, diving through into the darkness as the door slammed closed behind him. Scrambling to his feet he turned and saw Dave, bracing against the door as the first of the undead slammed into it. As the door shook and the pounding increased, Mark slowly backed away. “Mark, give me a hand, please, help me hold this shut! Get that bookcase, that will slo.. Where are you going, no, NO, COME BACK!”
Dave’s screams echoed down the hallway as Mark sprinted away toward the museum exit. As he reached the exterior doorway the echoing screams abruptly stopped. Without a second look back, Mark pushed through the door and ran out into the early dawn.