The dim light illuminated the blood-stained corridor where broken machinery stacked into little mounds, sparkling with mechanical firelight.
Sounds of twisted husks moving echoed in the silent darkness.
It seemed as though someone was slowly approaching through the night, or as though a creature on all fours was crawling slowly and laboriously across the ground.
Sharp nails scraped across the metal floor, making a sizzling, piercing noise.
Under the dim light, the sound approached from afar, like the Grim Reaper's scythe scraping the ground, coming closer bit by bit.
"Damn it."
A man leaning against a toppled piece of huge machinery spat as he dragged his bloodstained left leg back from behind the cabinet.
He raised the assault rifle in his hand, ejected the magazine, and tossed it aside.
Then his hand searched around his waist until he found another magazine in the deepest pocket,
"Just the last one left, damn fast usage."