[center][img]http://i.imgur.com/2eYYEgi.png[/img][/center]

The feeding frenzy continues as the group transfer the gymnastic benches from the cupboard. However, more shamblers continue to pour into the gym from outside, and there are now around 40 of them. 

But not all of the new comers seem happy to fight for a space at the table. Two badly decayed females, probably made victims in the early days of the crisis, peer across at the group. It takes them a microsecond to realise the group is very much alive, and the two shamblers are taken by an unfathomable urge to consume. 

At once, they march forwards, stumbling over the crouched forms of their feasting comrades. Their arms reach up longingly, and their blue, crusted lips let forth a pair of soul-retching moans. Their eyes fix Angie as she passes another bench out from the cupboard, and they shamble towards her.

Meanwhile, the bodies of the group's dearly deceased have almost been entirely consumed, from skin to bone. The dead break their teeth on the harder parts, and their meal starts to protrude from any abdomen wounds they have. It is a grizzly sight, but unless they are disturbed, they will continue until there is nothing left.