Stephen Rusher's life has gone to shit. His girlfriend left him for a nomad biker, his bank is threatening to take his house, and now murderous beasts are roaming the above world.

Stephen's teeth clenched the old mag as his hands hurriedly filled the new one. His back ached over being hunched over in the air duct that was protecting him from the group of clots below him. He forcibly slowed his breath. Any second now the clots would notice him. Clots can't climb, but they're savage enough to climb over each other for their next kill.

Stephen's eyes looked across the room he was above. A dozen Clots crawled around and hunched over the bodies. The room was a storage closet he and a group of coworkers took shelter in. Unfortunately, a Crawler sniffed them out and scratched at the door. Somehow, through the screams and cries of pain and fear, a Scrake heard it and tore though he door with his chainsaw. Stephen lunged for the air duct, but his friends weren't so lucky. He knew he would never forget the screams and the sight of the Scrake ripping through the flesh and bones of his friends.

Much like Shaun of the Dead, Stephen stumbled through the last week, dazed from the tragedies of his life. It wasn't until he got to work that his coworkers met him at the main entrance with bludgeoning weapons and would only let him in if he swore to protect an exit that he was told of events. Others left the building to look for supplies like guns, ammo, and food. Eric something handed him a pistol with some extra mags, wished him luck, then left to distribute more weapons to door guards.

Stephen looked around the room as he replaced the mag. He flinched as it made the click. The heads of four Clots turned to face him and he swore they smiled. He twisted into the duct and his fingers scrabbled at the sides, looking for a hold. He pushed himself in and crouched inside the duct. Stephen crawled a few feet before noticing noises inside the ducts. He paused and tried to hear past the pounding of his heart. The ducts branched to the left and right, and he heard crunching, popping, and thunder to the right. He shuddered and he dragged himself through the shaft to the left. He tried to go as quietly as possible, but there wasn't a way to make no noise. He had the sickening feeling that those creatures were crawling through the ducts, but he pushed the thoughts aside. Forward was the only way.

He was going along with his stiff muscles before he froze. Shock, he thought, but he couldn't move. The adrenaline was nearly spent in his body. His mind finally realized the truth of what happened to the world and how he was certain to be dead in minutes. His head dropped onto his splayed hands. He felt like crying, like he should be crying, but nothing came out. This doesn't happen! Only in cheap American movies! He breathed slowly, in and out, trying to stop the panic from entering his mind.

He mapped the building in his mind. An entrance was breached, probably, Stephen thought, thinking of how the building was unsecured. It was only a few hours, it seems, that the security in the building lasted, before someone sounded the alarm. Then it was only seconds before the sounds of gunshots and screams ripped through the offices.

He was on the third floor near the south side, he guessed. The nearest fire exit's on the East side of this floor. If I keep going straight and right, I should reach the fire exit before long.

Finally catching his breath, he felt his muscles relaxing. He filled his lungs slowly, then raised his head. Resolve flowed through him, and motivation filled his mind. He purposefully crawled another foot forward, making his mind think positively, of living through this apocalyptic future.

The sounds of creatures moving trough the ducts grew louder behind him.