"Wasn't my idea," Gordon answers, picking his way down the hallway with extreme care. The residents of Ravenholm don't appear to have had much regard for where their trash wound up, at least not towards the end. "I went to bed the other night and woke up back in my world, twenty years after I left. And-"

Somewhere in the darkness up ahead, something stumbles. Gordon freezes. "One side," he murmurs, and points the orange gun back the way they came. There's a faint hum-

One of the big rotary sawblades they stepped over on the way here lifts from the floor and suddenly flies to a point directly in front of the gun barrel. One of the two zombies that had been lurking in the dark staggers into view, bloodied claws waving ahead of its eyeless, gorbling form.