Nate DuFort

I scrambled backward, remembering the pistol in my hand.

I raised it and shot at him.

The first three bullets went wide, and he fired again.

A slug grazed my left leg.

Red flashed through my vision as the pain took my breath away.

I squeezed the trigger one more time and heard a thud.

It took a moment for my vision to clear, and when I looked up, Silent Sam was on the ground, a pool of red growing around him.

I shouted, impressed against the gouge in my leg.

I took off Sam's belt, opened his backpack, and found a medkit.

Using butterfly strips and some gauze, I covered the wound, but it still oozed and burned as if there were a hot iron in my leg.

It would have to do.

I pulled myself up, my vision swimming and narrowing.

I couldn't quit and stepped around Silent Sam, his blood squelching under my boots down the hallway.

The corridor elongated, doors sprouted open, and creatures from every depth of hell emerged.

I closed my eyes and kept walking.

The screeching of the monsters filled my ears.

I could feel their claws on my skin, but there was no pressure behind them.

Nothing held me back, and after a moment, my head bumped into the door.

I opened my eyes and looked behind me.

313 was there, approaching, fire erupting from the ground as if she was bringing hell with her.