He tried to open the door, but it was locked, he remembered, but again how? He hadn’t done this before, had he?

His left hand slid unconsciously to his back pocket, and grabbed the guard’s blue keycard. Blue to match the cardslot in front of him. Color-coded?

Deep breath. Unlock. Open. In. Shut.

Holy shit.

If he hadn’t jumped and rolled, he’d have been a chary pile in the doorway. As it were, the beam or wave or whatever the hell it was had blasted a hole in the door some 2 feet in diameter.

The blasts kept coming. He didn’t have time to decide where as the fetid stench of death choked him: zombies.

Without a thought he strafed left, aiming headshots with pin-perfect accuracy, unloading his shotgun like there was no tomorrow. Bits of skull and rotting brains splattered the walls.

Second attempt. How he’d know? Not enough ammo the first time either.

But he had moved to the left this time, and there was a promising green glow coming from behind a pile of re-corpses.

BFG .

He smiled.