Jack took a drag on the cigarette that was still in his mouth. Jack pulled out his flashlight, turned it on, flashed it around the empty office space, then covered it with his hand. Jack wished he hadn't done that almost immediately upon seeing the place. Trashed would be putting it mildly, the floor was a mess, and there was probably nobody alive on this floor. Jack considered the closed office, he knew if there was anyone alive, that's the best place to hide.<br/><br/>'If there are survivors, they'd be armed,' Jack thought. 'If I open the door and armed survivors are in there, I get shot before they know its help arriving. If there is a monster in there, I get ripped apart before I know what happens. If I knock on the door to alert anybody in there, if its a monster it could set a trap for me, and if there are monsters on this floor I am making my presence known to them as well as the survivors, then I die along with anybody else in there. As much as I hate to do this, there is no hope for anybody who may be in that room, so I'm leaving.'<br/><br/>Jack decided that if this floor was trashed, the likely-hood of any upper floors being trashed was equal simply because people would have panicked and fled downstairs to escape, so if there were survivors, they'd be here, if not here, then they were all dead. Jack decided to walk downstairs again, pulling his shotgun from his back and loading another shell into it.<br/><br/>(Is anyone else getting a Half-Life vibe from what Jack is going through? Where's a frickin' crowbar when you need one...?)