Sink Rate, Pull Up, Terrain, Terrain, Whoop Whoop, Too Low, Too Low, “Fuck, not going to make it!” “More throttle, more throttle.” The horrifying sound as the belly of the crippled airplane struck the ground and ripped apart echoed throughout the plane. Sounds, louder than an hurricane, bright light, heat, quiet. Wearily he climbed from the pilots seat, climbing up the avionics rack and into the night sky. Night? It was daylight. Face on fire … I was … Doing something …. I was … The horrible sound of the undead approaching … he ran, leaving whoever was left to their fate.