Lanz

KURT Lanz, MD, inhaled through the scorched, gaping hole in his face where his nose used to be. Part of him--the rational, thinking part--knew that when he'd yanked off his burned nose to eat, he'd managed to deviate his septum. But that didn't matter now.

All that mattered was blood.

After killing the lights, he'd scampered to the geriatric ward, giddy with the thought of defenseless old people. But it had been picked clean.

Next, he'd gone to the Birthplace, but found the entrance locked. He couldn't fit through the small window hole in the door, which infuriated him, because he could smell humans in there.

Oncology was next and yielded similar results. The beds were empty, the ward in disarray. Lanz tried to squeeze a few drops of blood from a severed leg he'd found on the floor, but it had been sucked dry. He made do chewing on a blood-soaked bed sheet, swallowing the torn strips.

The many others roaming the halls had sensed their blood supply gone and begun to turn on each other. Lanz even joined in, pouncing on a smaller creature--a teenager--that was being eviscerated by a group of larger adults. Lanz got away with a kidney and half the liver.

Neither soothed the growing ache in his belly.

He craved blood.

He wanted it more than he'd ever wanted anything in his life.

Half-insane with bloodlust, he remembered that bitch up in pediatrics. Jenny. Assuming she'd been resourceful enough to fight off the horde, perhaps she was still alive. Maybe she'd even managed to protect some of the children.

The innocent, defenseless, delicious little children.

Only one way to find out...

Lanz slunk into the stairwell, taking the steps three at a time, his mouth salivating at the thought of the nurse's sweet, warm blood.