I just sat on the ground, completely in shock as the paramedics hauled the corpses onto stretchers, more a matter of formality as anything else.
The emergency workers and the cops had forgotten about me, turning now to the cleanup effort. As far as they were concerned, their job was done; they'd saved my life and killed the monsters.
But of course, they really hadn't. I realized it moments before the shit hit the fan once more. I had picked up a shell casing off the ground, wanting to have some sort of a morbid souvenier of the evening. I glanced down at it, and realized it wasn't silver.
"What the fuck?" asked one of the paramedics as the body of Kyra began to tremble and convulse as they were wheeling her into the ambulance. Likewise, the bodies of Arnold and Karen, still on the ground began to stir, and all three bodies began to expel the bullets.
A couple of the remaining cops ran to the bodies, only to be surprised when they sat up, biting the officers on the arms. Kyra flexed hard, snapping the restraints that held her, sitting up and tearing viciously into the hand of the female paramedic who'd been nearest to her.
I realized this wasn't over, not by a long shot.