Rolling rocks revealing the undead hopping toward you, eggs instantaneously hatching out the ***. Boney insects with floppy ears and jawless mandible traps chasing rats through the sewer. During the injection trials in the BT building, I always thought of life as a rat. Post-extinction forefathers grimacing at the notion of our slimy, oppressive fingers gripping their tired rib cages. Claws clapse decisively. Box one. Bucket. Box two. Repeat.