The dry, wretched noise of the plague ridden reached Carson's ears moments before their rank odour filled his nostrils. He heard the final splintering crash of the cabinets and chairs he had piled around the door, and gripped his weapon tight, sending a prayer to the Emperor. In his other hand he held his puny light, its thin beam lighting the way for the things clawing over the barricade.

His heart thumped in his chest as he aimed towards the entrance, his hands shaking slightly as he waited for them to enter. Their stench was suddenly everywhere – another putrid contamination of Tharius – and made him gag a little. Finally, he heard a scraping, dragging sound, and one of his would-be attackers appeared in the doorway.

He thought the initial fear and shock would have subsided by now, but the sight of the beastly being made him take a step backwards. But there was nowhere to go. No corner to run around; no stairway to salvation; no vehicle to hide in. One way the shambling remains of the citizens of Tharius, the other a ten-storey fall through a glass window.

The thing in front of him had been human once, but now it was a disgusting, rotting parody of life. It had died of the fatal virus that had spread like a wild fire throughout the city two standard weeks previously, and then it had returned to life a strange, undead monster. Carson would have laughed at such a thing being real before he had seen his friends, family and world turn into a warp-tainted landscape of flesh-eating hell. Some had dubbed them 'Plague Zombies', and the name was so right for them. All they craved was the flesh of the living, and they had been ever so hungry.

The zombie before Carson shambled forwards, its throat issuing a jagged gurgle as its movements hastened at the sight of him. As he shone his light at it he saw the decomposing features; yellowing skin hung loose over its angled jaw and dried blood caked its face. One eye had popped out of its socket – long lost in the throes of death, while the remaining one seemed to glare with unearthly menace as it rolled in its socket and looked right at him, a heinous intent shining within.

Carson composed himself and aimed at the zombies' head, and squeezed the trigger, the shot ripping through its head and pulverising its brain. The decaying body dropped to the floor, crashing through the wine bottles on the table in front of it. Before he could check it was staying down, another appeared, and another. They had evil, hungry looks in their grotesque faces. He fired off three more rounds, aiming for their heads. Both collapsed in mangled heaps and lay motionless on the fluid-stained carpet – a mix of torn flesh and congealed blood.

Yet more of the Plague Zombies filled the doorway and Carson's heart sank, how could he stop all of them? Early on he had discovered with the rest of the survivors that destroying their brains was the only effective way of killing them for good, but there was just too many.

He did not want to become one of them. He would rather take his own life. In desperation he turned to the window, looking in vain for some miracle to save him. It was lighter outside than it had been, the first rays of sunshine sparkling off the crack on the window. He turned back and fired off more shots at the zombies slowly moving towards him. They inched closer, some dying once more, while others tumbled over the fallen – but like a thick, deathly tide, yet more crawled and dragged themselves ever closer.

A thought punched into his frightened mind – the light! They hated sunlight. Of course! Ever since the plague hit the zombies had shied away from direct sunlight! If he could life long enough maybe the sun would rise and-

Maybe not enough rays would get into the hab? Maybe he would be dead, or un-living, by full sunrise? Frantically he opened up on the living dead, pushing them back ever so slightly; then he dropped his light and grabbed hold of the table in the room, and with a strength he didn't know he had, he threw it one-handed at the window. With a snap it rebounded off it, making the crack in the window larger, but not smashing it as he intended.

He swore colourfully and without thinking fired his pistol at the window, a cry of frustration slipping out of him. The light had fell to the floor and cast off haunting shadows as it spun slowly to a stop.

The clip emptied. The last of his ammo.

Small fragments of glass cut his face and hands, while most of the remains fell outwards, showering the streets below. A cold burst of air swept inwards, the wind threatening to push Carson off his feet. As he steadied himself, something grabbed hold of him and he was pushed to the glass-littered floor. He cried out in shock and pain, the glass biting deep into his arms and face. He felt a violent wind blow into his face, and to his horror, he realised he lay at the windows precipice, overlooking a fall to certain death. A heavy weight fell upon him suddenly, and he panicked, kicking out at whatever it was. He felt a writhing form slip over the edge, and as his eyes accustomed to the gloomy light, he saw the falling form of a Plague Zombie.

He tried to move away from the edge of the hab, but as he did so another zombie grappled his legs. As the sun inched higher in the sky, he saw his adversary with more clarity – this one was almost human looking. It had not been dead long. Maybe another survivor who had finally succumbed to the never ending assaults of plague victims. It was a man, his cheek torn, the ruined skin flapping in the wind, the ugly wound opened to the bone. The same malevolent glare could be seen in his eyes, as the others before, and he crawled over Carson, his teeth gnashing off one another in anticipation of raw meat.

Carson grabbed hold of its bloodied throat as it made for his face, its jaws snapping like that of some wild animal. With all his strength he held the zombie away from him, but the reanimated corpse struggled with a supernatural force, and its teeth edged closer and closer towards Carson. It groaned and moaned as it did so, and the sounds were all he could hear – even the wind seemed to have vanished as the horrible fate of being eaten alive descended towards him.

Then the sun rose, its rays beaming brilliantly into the hab unit.

The Plague Zombie, mere breaths away from Carson's flesh, howled suddenly, and relented, its arms trying to hide it from the morning sun. Carson rolled away, kicking into the dead thing, pushing it further from reach.

Then he swiftly made sure his whole body was in the sunlight.

At least five other zombies lurched in the shadows beyond the suns rays. Each of them moments away from attacking him also. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, and tears welled up in his eyes. So close, oh so close!

The zombie that had almost eaten him had backed into the shadowy interior of the hab, out of reach of each of the light. It has stopped struggling now, and with an inhuman calm stood looking at Carson. Every time the sun crept deeper into the hab, it moved inwards with it, along with the other zombies. The sudden quiet, and intent stares of the dead unnerved him. But he still had nowhere to go. He sat nursing his cuts and bruises in the sun, the wind now a gentle breeze, while the Plague Zombies glared silently at him in the shade.

He laughed at the insanity of it all. Minutes ago he had been literally staring death in the face, and now he had been saved by the sunrise. He briefly whispered a thanks to the God-Emperor, but stopped halfway through – what sort of God would save you, then place you in this impossible situation?

As soon as the sun set, or it hid behind a tall building, or was covered with a cloud, the zombies would attack. He had nowhere to run, stuck in-between flesh-eating mutants and a ten story drop.

The undead stood silently, waiting.