The pitch-black threshold inhaled. The dark breathed on the Vanguard for exactly two seconds. The absolute silence stretched tight enough to snap. Then the horde screamed.
Hundreds of ghoulish anomalies charged the breach in a blind, deafening frenzy. Emaciated, pale bodies poured out of the dark like a flood of rotted meat. They possessed no self-preservation. Rusted iron stamped with barcodes grafted directly into their spines. Faded P.A.C.I.F.I.C. visitor badges fused right into their pale chest cavities. The plastic tags were yellowed and cracked. One badge near the front of the wave slapped against a ruined, protruding sternum. The plastic read DR. COLE ASHFORD, RESEARCH DIVISION 7 in crisp corporate lettering.
