She pushed against the door, struggling to keep 'them' from getting in. Her heart pounded, her mind whirled, and as she looked at the limp form of her companion, it dawned on her that she just might die tonight. What a way to go. Fighting for your life against some slobbery, smelly Howlers. Could be worse though. She could be having a heart attack at some concert, with Beyoncé shouting into a mic.
She sighed and gave up. Quickly, she ran ten feet over to the limp body, pulling out her machete as she readied herself for a fight. From the darkness of the hall she saw red eyes starring at her, zoning in on her flesh. "May God have mercy on my soul."