Relentlessly, silently, the snow fell, shrouding the hills. Already the village was completely cut off, no on able to get out, no help able to get in. Well stocked up with food and fuel, they should have been able to survive. But this time everything was different. This time there was something more in the village.
The first victim lay staining the snow with dark blood. His face, eyes staring blankly, was a weeping mass of ulcers. His expression was a mask of animal hatred.
Now the others, crazed with thirst and blood lust, were stumbling through the streets.
And still the soft snow fell.