"This fucking game! Why does the ammo vanish like it's mocking me? I tried every trick in the book this time, and still—empty clips right when that grotesque freak comes into view!" Ira's voice erupted in a furious howl, her frustration spilling over without a shred of care for how she looked on the glowing screen.
She was back in the sterile white loading room, a purgatory she'd visited too many times.
For the seventh consecutive run, that hulking monstrosity—a grotesque mash-up of sinew and rot—crushed her like a bug. This hybrid zombie, with its oozing sores and thunderous roars, had become her personal nightmare, a nemesis she couldn't outrun or outgun.
