The sound reverberated through the long hall as the bunker’s steel door shut for the final time. The familiar sound of footfalls echoed outward, but this time it was produced by only a single pair of boots. Dr. Brody’s assistant traversed the hallway carrying a large black body bag slung over one shoulder—in his hand was a small silver briefcase filled with the future.

It smirked, revealing a row of ancient, rotting fangs as a hundred feet above, the desert winds swirled.

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