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This chapter's ending sounds simple, but I've got a plan. Things will come together-never fear!

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Panicking, Matt slammed his elbow into the door. A sharp pain shot up his arm. Vaguely thinking to use his good arm, he rammed his left fist into the wood. The door didn't even shake.

The zombie was a couple steps away, with another one…no, two now, following close behind. Yet another was still trying to go through the window. Matt hit the door again. Right punch, left punch, bam bam bam. His knuckles were beginning to bleed with the force of the impact, leaving small streaks of red clustered in groups on the door. The pain drove him now, forcing him to continue.

Shrieking, Mean slammed a fist into the wall beside of them. The drywall smashed beneath her fist. Imitating Matt now, she struck the wall with both hands mindlessly, yelling with each blow.

The lead zombie put a rapidly decaying hand on the back of Mean's cutoff Ramones shirt. She screamed, stopped punching, and backed into Matt. He turned around and looked into the glazed eyes.

The door behind them burst its hinges, knocking over Matt and Mean. It hit the lead zombie square in the head, making him fall. The two of them felt pressure on their backs as something lighter than them ran over the door.

The zombie third from the front collapsed, knocking over the two behind it. A low growl sounded, lower than any human alive could have made.

Silhouetted by the moonlight behind, Matt made out the shape of something small, vicious, and strangely reminiscent of Homer.

Bark, bark.

Here doggie.

As it ran towards them, Matt pushed himself closer to the empty doorframe. He grabbed the door as he rose, lifting it over his head quickly. With one last punch, it fell over, knocking down the slowly re-rising zombies. A sharp yip told Matt that something had hit the dog. Triumphantly, but beat, he sighed.

Mean, now on her feet, grabbed Matt's shoulder. "Come on!" she yelled at him. Both feet asleep, Matt stumbled behind her into the next room.

No time to spare, they went to the neared door, which easily opened. Not even looking inside, they ran in and slammed it shut. The door was lacking a lock, so Matt looked for something to barricade the door with. Mean went to a door on the other side of the room.

Feeling around in the dark room, Matt's hands ran over what was probably a counter. Hurrying along, he bumped into a chair, which he promptly picked up and placed under the door handle. With a sigh, he rested his head against the wall.

For a moment, he just relaxed, ignoring the dog run up and hit the door. Hey, at least he doesn't have opposable thumbs, Matt thought. He then noticed the his forehead hurt. Standing up straight, he moved a hand up and felt around a switch. Matt quickly flicked it up.

The overhead light turned on with a small click. Mean screamed and looked over at him. Turning his head to look at her, he said softly, "Isn't the power out?"

Returning to a quiet demeanor, she said, "It must be on a separate sys…why the fuck are we in the morgue?" Matt hurriedly looked around the room. On the left wall, fifteen steel drawers sat in rows of five, looking like filing cabinets. The rest of the room was a normal doctor's office, crowded in the right side of the room. A desk with messy papers sat close to the drawers. Matt stepped over to it and leafed through the papers as Mean went to check out the doctor's office side of the room. Well, at least that dog stopped, he thought, unsure when it actually had ended.

Shoving aside uninteresting memos and requests for supplies and the like, Matt picked up a small book. A photo was stuck carelessly inside the front cover. He took the photo and saw it was an old black and white print. A girl in a sundress and straw hat stood happily with her arm around a grinning young man in shorts. Both of their hands were up, revealing identical wedding rings. A caption was written in black pen below the picture, reading 'To The Future!'. Matt flipped it over, looking for a date. Bingo bongo, he thought obscurely as he saw 'June 30, 1959' written with the same ink.

Putting two and two together, Matt guessed the mystery man's age. "I'm surprised this guy still has a desk here." he said to Mean.

"Why?" she asked, sounding a little distracted.

"Well, this guy's gotta be around 75, maybe more." Matt responded, holding up the photo. Opening the book, he saw that it was a diary. Cute, he thought. Will I keep a diary when I'm 80 and senile? Matt flipped through the pages, noting the guy wrote regularly. He stopped at May 29.

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Adam didn't eat today. I'm worried about him. Sometimes, I wonder if Adam will be my last project. But what would I do? There's nobody left at home, not even that whiny, pathetic excuse for a dog. All gone.

They almost opened the divider today. My Lord, it was the fright of my life! If they found Adam, they'd surely separate us! I can't leave him! I have a feeling that he's the one. All we need is to get him on a regular feeding schedule, and we'll commence the transfer.

Sophie's excited for me. As well she should be. When I am Lord, she will certainly be at my right hand side. She's got soul.

I must try to feed Adam once again. He needs to accept the food when it is given.

Does he not know that I control him?

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"…What?" Matt asked blandly.

Mean looked over at him. "What'd you find?"

"One minute." Matt said quickly, and turned to the last page in the book. It was blank, so Matt flipped backwards until he found the last entry, dated June 25.

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It's hard to believe that the night is so near. Three days until the transfer. Adam's in top shape, and ready for action.

With the coming of the day, I begin to wonder why I continue to write in this wretched little black book. I shan't read it after the transfer, so why do I bother?

Although my excitement knows no bounds, I'm also a great deal angry. Sophie found a weakness with Adam today. With three days away, we decided to continue as scheduled. Besides, it's not like anyone caps bullets with something like mercury! Unless somebody breaks a thermometer or something over Adam's head, we'll be alright.

Oh! The excitement is just flooding! I can no longer write! Goodbye, you dirty little book!

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"Um…Meeeeean?" Matt asked slowly.

"Come over here."

"Yeah." Matt walked over to the doctor's side of the room, diary in hand. Sitting on the patient's chair, he handed her the book. "Seems our fave mid 80's man kept a liddle diary."

Mean took it, with a little bit of curiousity showing on her face. She flipped to the back entry, as he did. She read it quickly, frowning as she did so. "What the Hell does that mean?" she asked him.

Matt took a deep breath. "…Don't know." he finally said. Mean picked up something from the table behind her. She took Matt's right hand, and poured a load of peroxide on it.

"Ahh…ow, ow, ow, what are you doing, Mean, ow, ow, ow…" Matt said very quickly.

"Treating your wounds." Mean responded, suppressing a smile.

Matt sighed, and said, "One, ow, two, I'm fine.". He pulled his hand away.

She shook her head. "Look. There's a virus spreading, and you've got opened wounds. I don't want you infected."

Matt grinned. "Aww, you care about me!"

Mean responded with a look that could kill everything in a ten mile radius, if there was even anything still alive in such boundaries. "And…um, we're out of bullets. I'm too…" She frowned. "I'm too weak and girlish to fight."

"Yes. You. Girl. Weak. Cause you're nearly bigger than me." It was true. Matt was the tall and skinny type.

Mean punched him lightly on the arm. Matt noticed that she had a gauze patch on her hand. Forcefully this time, she grabbed his arm and put a gauze patch on his wound. She did the same to the left hand.

"Thanks…" Matt muttered.

Mean swallowed. "Ready?" she asked. They both looked towards the drawers at the other end of the room.

"Nope." Matt said. He got up and walked to the other end of the room. Mean followed, a little shaky. Her boots squeaked on the tiled floor with every step.

Matt grasped the handle on one of the draws. With a shaking hand, he slowly pulled the drawer open. It opened slowly, and Matt noticed that the inside had multiple blotches of rust. Other than that, nada.

"So…do we keep trying?" Matt asked.

Mean stepped up to look closer at the empty drawer. "We might as well," she said slowly. "It might have something to do with Adam or whatever that book was talking about." She stepped to the left and opened the bottom drawer. Matt walked over to the right, and followed suit.

Most of them were spotless, but one other had a little bit of rust inside. "Why the rust?" Matt asked.

Mean didn't respond for a moment, but Matt knew. "Probably blood." she muttered a moment later.

They met in the middle. Opening the drawers together now, they made good time on the last three. The middle drawer was completely covered in rust, although you never would have guessed that if it was closed.

"How melodramatic." Matt said when they closed the last door.

"Well, did you really want to find a corpse?" Mean asked.

"It doesn't make sense, though. Why have a combination morgue and doctor's office? Why is there nothing in the drawers?"

Mean didn't respond, mostly because a wall started to slide shut, cutting off the doctor's office. They both ran towards the rapidly closing wall, and tried to stop it from shutting by pulling back on the forward-most end of the wall. They had absolutely no effect. The wall dragged them forward, forcing them to let go as it closed off the doctor's office.

"Why the fuck didn't that happen earlier?" Matt asked angrily.

A drawer slid open behind them with a metallic squeak.

They both turned around very slowly.

The middle drawer was lying open, a huge corpse lying down on it. Muscles bulged from the visible arms and torso, making Matt wonder how the hell that thing had fit in that drawer.

"We…we checked that one. Just now. That doesn't happen." Mean stammered, pointing at the open drawer. Matt remained silent.

Predictably, the thing rose. Veins showed on its pasty-white body, especially around its bald head. It lifted a massive foot out of the sheet covering it, and stepped down from the drawer. The sheet fell, and Matt couldn't see anything between its legs.

It turned slowly to face them. The eyes were white, just like the eyes of the rest of the people that they had encountered that night.

Its mouth opened, revealing sharp fang-like teeth. Slow and struggling, an impossibly deep voice growled, "Tr..ans..ss..format..ation co…compl…ete."

All that Matt and Mean could do was stand there, mouths wide open, as what must be Adam took a step towards them.