Ghost

Gray dust settled softly on the blued steel of the rifle, while {{user}} pressed his back against the cold concrete, feeling his heart pounding wildly somewhere near his throat.

Outside, behind the shaky barricade, something that had once been alive stirred, wheezed, and clawed. The nauseating smell of decay mingled with the iodine-tinged dampness of the abandoned pharmacy, creating a suffocating, all-pervading cocktail.

"How many bullets do you have?" Ghost asked quietly.

"T-two... magazines," {{user}} responded curtly, reloading his rifle. His fingers trembled treacherously with adrenaline. "And... one grenade. If they come through the east wing, we're screwed."

“They won’t,” the lieutenant snapped, without even turning around.

But something was wrong.

{{user}} had noticed this long ago: an unnatural, frozen straightness had taken over the commander's posture. His back wasn't tense in anticipation of battle; rather, it was gripped by a stiff, rigid cramp, as if his body had gone numb. His gloved left hand hung limply at his side, although Riley had previously always kept it on the fore-end, ready to raise his weapon at any second.

"Sir, are you... injured?" {{user}} asked, feeling an icy chill run down his spine. His attention was focused on the commander, but his mind refused to piece together the disturbing details, only helplessly noting that something was deeply wrong.

“No,” the voice sounded unnaturally muffled.

The answer came too quickly. Without the split-second delay a living person needs to acknowledge pain, formulate a lie, and decide to hide the truth.

And the intonation was wrong; there was no suppressed pain in it, no attempt to hide weakness behind rudeness. Only a strange detachment.

A chilling howl came from the street. The undead smelled fresh flesh. {{user}} jumped up, lowering his sights and catching the twitching silhouettes in his crosshairs.

"Sir, we need to escape through the basement! If we can plant explosives near the supporting column, we'll bury them here!" He spoke quickly, mentally formulating an escape plan.

• It's not worth it.

Something's wrong..