Just what the hell are those things man," yelled private Johnson, as he unloaded just over half his M-4 carbine's clip at the screaming creatures. The bent-limbed horrors were peppered with bullets, but still they continued to crawl toward the soldier and his sergeant; shrieking in a strange unintelligible language. The creatures were by no means fast; they were limited to crawling, but their large bulky arms showed no sign of weakness. It served as both a weapon and a shield, dragging the rest of their thin emaciated body along the floor.
"I suggest you duck for cover Johnson, those things will tear you apart in melee," said first-sergeant Gabriel as he placed a hand on Johnson's shoulder and ushered him behind the blockade of furniture that had been set up. The sergeant pulled the pin on an old frag grenade. One that he had found within a storage box in the facility and he held it tightly in his hands until he was sure of the distance. "Let's see if they can handle a good explosion eh?" he snarled as he lobbed the grenade. He then ducked for cover behind a thick, wooden couch. His heart thumped in his chest, but he only heard it for a moment as the loud report of the grenade's explosion deafened him and left his ears ringing.
The sergeant counted slowly in his mind, steeling himself. Upon reaching the count of 'three', he drew his pistol and popped up from cover; ready to shoot at anything that moved. What he found however was a disabled mass of twitching bodies. It appeared that the explosion has shredded the pathetic joints off the crawler's emaciated shoulders and all of them appeared unable to move if either one or both of their arms had been destroyed.
"Oh man, this is like some kind of house of the dead shit man! It's like I'm in the fuckin' house of the dead!" said Johnson, swearing loudly and shaking his head at the sight of the wriggling creatures. He slapped his right arm in order to stop it from shaking.
"Actually they're more like Necromorphs these ones. Have you ever played that game Dead Space?" The sergeant smiled and stepped closer, testing to see if any would be able to lunge at him. It appeared that once a single limb was destroyed, the crawlers lost their ability to balance themselves and as a result of that: they seemed to give up entirely. "These creatures appear to die, or at least become disabled, once you blow off some of their limbs. A plasma cutter would have been a wonder in this case." Sergeant Gabriel was quite the horror buff and he enjoyed all kinds of the games where the dead came to life. It was probably those experiences that kept him calm during this unusual occurrence. The rest of his squad, save that one fellow Johnson, had lost their minds almost immediately and, in a state of total panic, had run to their deaths.
Their story began about four hours prior: When the joint united nations military had been called in to deal with a "special threat". Their commanders told them that the facility they were being flown to had been a hidden base for scientific experiments. Until of course it had all gone wrong. In order not to risk a public panic, the threat needed to be dealt with as quickly as possible. Their leaders had been scarce on the details, but sergeant Gabriel assumed that it was some form of biological agent; probably one that had been highly classified and was probably highly dangerous.
The situation however, was far worse than he had originally assumed. They were not dealing with mindless microbes grown in Petri dishes; the threat was far more real than that. Oxygen masks and disinfectant would do little; considering that they were facing a horde of undead monstrosities.
"So what are we gonna do sarge, we gonna call for back up. No way we can take these things!" said Johnson, "I don't mind dying with a bullet through my head. Least I know I'm getting military honours after that; but here, man I might even come back as one of those freaks!"
"Actually, I highly doubt that is the case. These creatures do not appear to be raising the flesh of the dead. Whatever they kill, stays killed. That soldier earlier, I didn't catch his name. Robert, Rogers?"
"Uh actually sarge, it was Ronaldo. You know, like the soccer player," said Johnson as he checked his magazine and sighed.
"Right, Ronaldo. Anyway, he was bitten by one of those fanged things, the ones that looked like anorexic girls. He didn't come back as one of them, he stayed pretty much dead even though we were pinned down by the creatures. This means that their disease can't spread."
"Great, so that means I just die once in horrible agony and it's all over. Thanks for the pep talk sarge."
"I'll excuse your tone this time soldier, owing to the situation. However, the fact that this disease can't spread gives us a valuable edge over these 'things'. We don't have to fight them one by one, we just need to destroy them all. They will stay dead and the disease can't spread. This is a laboratory, one that houses deadly chemicals. Are you following my train of thought?" asked Gabriel as he holstered his pistol and got himself ready to move.
"I'mma leave the whole chemistry thing to you sarge, I didn't go to no prep school; but if you got a plan, then I'm with you," replied Johnson, licking his lips and cocking his rifle.
"Good, then first we're going to need a map and some supplies, follow me," said Gabriel as he took point and lead the pair of them down the quiet, desolate hallway.
The facility was mostly lit for now, it seemed as though the creatures had not gotten to the power cables yet and that made things a great deal easier. Gabriel kept his eyes open for labs and armouries, or key locations where a map might be displayed. He didn't find one, a map that is, but he did make his way to a security office.
"Oh thank the lord for all this ammunition," said Johnson as he ran toward the ammo racks like a child in a toy store. "I'm going to kill me some undead sons of bitches after this." He laughed, as he began loading several empty magazines.
"Try to be cautious Johnson, we don't want to run out at a critical time," sergeant Gabriel advised him as he checked through the security office for a manual or procedural reference sheet. No guard room would go without one, because new guards needed to be trained quickly and the old guards rarely had the patience. Just as he found it however, snugly wrapped between two thick files, the lights within the room and the facility went out.
"Blast and damnation," cursed Gabriel as he fumbled for his flash light. "Johnson, I could use your torch over here."