She's fast. Terrifyingly, inhumanly fast. You don't have time to react before she slams into your chest, shoving you back against the shelf. Jars of pasta sauce smash to the ground, icy fingers grasp at your throat, and then, just as fast, the pack is on her, dragging her off you and to the ground with a bestial roar of rage.
Her gaze stays locked onto you, her lips stretched into a wide gaping grin, as the pack begin to rip her apart.
Claws. Teeth. Sickeningly fresh blood.
You don't see who takes her head off, but you see the aftermath. Her body twitches, thrashes... and then, all at once goes limp and begins to rot. White flesh blackens, shrivels, and withers away leaving a husk of ash and bones wrapped up in a green apron.
The skull is still staring at you... still smiling.
You don't waste any time. You leap over the corpse and run with your pack through the shop.
A different song is playing. The Beach Boys. Surfin USA.
What the fuck is this place?
You find the broken back door and step through into an icy store room, piled high with palates of packaged food. From the other end of the room you hear several growls following by a crash and scuffle.
"Fuck," you mutter, sprinting around the maze of plastic wrapped products. "Fuck fuck fuck fuck..."
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