Eight Entry: Smoke On The Water

I stumbled through the broken window and into the front yard in a haze, oblivious to the glass shards cutting the soles of my feet. At this point, I noticed three things.

One. I couldn't see the city lights because a pall of black, acrid smoke covered the city. It stung my eyes and I had trouble breathing.

Two. The air was thick with the sound of screams and sirens. Blue and red flashes from further up the street sent mad shadows dancing over the corpses - walking and otherwise - that filled the streets. I saw one of our neighbours - a seven foot heavyweight in his prime - get pulled down by a dozen walking corpses, his screams muffled by a pile of rotting flesh.

Three. I had to get the fuck out of there.