Edward swung the door open and dragged the man in. "Bitten?" he raised the pistol commandingly.<br/><br/>A voice came through the radio," west wing is over-run, we'll keep fighting as long as we can! Run! We'll get their attention!" Then a blood-red flare whistled into the cold air. Heads among the hordes turned and some began to shuffle off in search of easier prey.<br/><br/>"Sir?" Trevor paused in his shooting, asking for advice.<br/><br/>"Run. I have a chopper in the waiting. We'll go as soon as this gentleman here is declared safe." The weapon waved threatheningly  in the air, thick with human sweat.