Don’t think.

Just move.

Don’t worry about a hundred people slowly walking towards you in perfect lockstep, movements completely identical, down to the rhythm of their blinking.

Just move.

Don’t ask yourself why three of them are wearing PRU uniforms: Alpha Team (Oliver, Wang, Kilpatrick).

Just move.

Don’t worry about what’s going on here. Just make sure no one gets hurt by it.

Just remember Adrian’s last words before he fell to his knees, putting his .45 to his head with trembling hands.

The eyes, the eyes, they’re in my fucking head. . .

Reach your spot, the one you picked out when you first entered the lab: long corridor, no doors, only way to the exit.

Don’t look up, you might look into their eyes. Just listen for footsteps and spray and pray down the hall.

You have three minutes until the planes come. Three minutes to stop the tide. Three minutes to stop whatever the fuck this is from getting out into the wild.

Don’t look up.

Don’t look up.

Don’t look up.