Nate DuFort

I heard a howl and when I looked up, a figure ran up the road.

As it became clearer, I recognized them.

The man in the bathrobe.

I searched, and in my panic I found a shut-off switch and clicked it.

The gate stopped its movement, but it didn't close.

The man in the bathroom was closer, and there were other figures behind him.

Silent Sam went to one knee and aimed his shotgun, waiting for them to get into range.

I searched, but the switches moved, vanished, or grew legs and scrambled away.

I closed my eyes and brushed my hand over the panel until the gate came back to life and slowly closed.

Sam fired, and the robed man fell, his legs shot out from under him.

Two more shots, and the other people dropped.

The gate closed so slow that I wondered if it was moving at all.

Sam waited as they dragged themselves closer with incredible speed.

The robed man stood, his shattered leg bending grotesquely beneath him.

Sam fired again, and his other leg exploded in a red mist.

The gate closed as the other two slammed into it.

The smooth steel left nothing for them to grab onto, and they smashed their fists into it as we walked into the building.

It looked untouched.

Even after the last four years of being abandoned, the lights still worked and the passcode opened all available doors.

The howls of the townies outside faded as they lost interest and wandered back to their cycles.