Inside: Scared, dirty, tired people.  Men and women.  A young girl.  An injured man.

 

Outside:  Shambling, moaning monstrosities.  People at one point, but not now, and certainly in no condition to be milling about the pre-dawn, winter street.  Sometimes one of them will notice movement behind the iron grate of the Quick-Stop, and charge with sudden, feral speed to batter itself uselessly against the plexiglass and steel.

 

Days ago, the screaming and the shooting and the sirens stopped.  Now there's only the moaning, and somewhere in the distance, the faint annoyance of a car alarm.  Across the street, the glowing sign of Karnowicz's auto shop flickers its lonely greeting into the darkness.

 

The survivors suddenly awaken to the sound of a roaring engine, the squeal of tires and the echoing "crump" of impact.  Seconds later, the street, the sign and the Quick-Stop are dropped into complete darkness!