Kael was behind the door when it opened and the surge of zombies was like the opening of a dam's gate. Complete chaos. An amalgamation of rotting flesh and teeth.
The hinge didn't creak; it shuddered, metal protesting as if the door itself knew it was a bad idea to let anything in. Kael kept his back angled just enough to avoid being the first thing the stampede hit, palms pressed to the frame, shoulders tense. He couldn't see any of it, but he didn't need sight to understand what a crowd of undead sounded like when it finally had permission to move.
It was wet. Heavy. The scrape of feet that weren't careful, the slap of flesh against flesh, the low throat noises that weren't quite words and weren't quite animal calls either. The corridor beyond vomited bodies into the room, and the air changed instantly, turning thick and greasy with the stink of old mouths and half-dried gore.
