The hunter is at the door. John turned the generator back on; no use in hiding since he obviously knows we're here. We've barricaded the door as best we can, and at first it seemed like enough.
But the part of him we can't hold back is his voice.
He's begging, pleading with us to let him in. Says there's a pack of eaters following him, and if we don't let him in, he'll be dead in a day.
I know it's a lie; if he really was normal, there are a couple other buildings here he could hole up in if he had to. But he sounds so distraught, his voice breaking and hoarse as he yells and pleads and pounds the door. His hands must be bloody by now.
It's enough to make me wonder if he really is telling the truth.
He knows my name.
He says my mother sent him to come find us.
It's been over twelve hours, and he still won't stop begging us to let him in.
