Of all the places to be when the dead reanimated, a hospital was one of the worst. Easiest to hide in at least, every door locked and within a matter of minutes there was enough blood in the air to hide a living pulse behind thin plywood.
Lucky for the little pulse hiding amongst cleaning supplies, trying not to jump at every snarl and scream in the air, waiting as the sound of bare feet shuffling through viscera faded as the undead left in search of fresh prey. The little pulse was left alone.
The little pulse was hungry and cold and scared but none of these were enough to make it leave just yet. They fell asleep to the sound of sirens and crashing metal in the distance, tossing and turning enough to spill a few bottles in their sleep.
The little pulse woke up pulseless and starving, clouded eyes staring at nothing as clumsy bloated hands banged at the closet door. They didn't tire and were repaid for their efforts as a taller little pulse opened the door and was met with their ravenous fate.
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