Dave walked into room and looked around. The office was illuminated by a single emergency light just above the door. The lighting was dim, but Dave was able to visualize a massive desk, walls lined with books, and a couple of luxurious rugs. The desk was strewn with papers. Along one wall there was a table, cluttered with stacks of files and boxes. The place had apparently been a mess even before the zombies ran amok inside. On the wall opposite the table there was a small door, which Dave presumed to be the hiding place of his friend Horton. Dave opened the door and peered inside. Horton was lying on the floor of the coat closet. He did not make an effort to rise once the door had been opened. Dave crouched to get a closer look at Horton. “Hey, are you okay?” he asked. Horton groaned, “I’m alive, for now. But I’m really messed up. Devlin poisoned us.” His breathing had developed a perceptible rattle. Dave pulled Horton out of the closet and situated him on one of the thick rugs.
