It is now, as Walter is lost, frightened and astonished in the eyes of Joe’s severed head that he finally notices the loud clatter of many footsteps running up the stairs from the warehouse below. The sight of Joe’s head must have distressed Walter somewhat cause his eyes are beginning to tear. Behind the foggy glass surrounding the room Walter watches as a slim dark silhouette runs for dear life followed closely by a much larger and slower shadow.
The mother passes the window she had broken with Joe’s head and looks in as she passes. She could see Walter for less then a half a second.
You fucker! She thinks to herself as she sprints left around a corner
The mother knows which room her son is in. The slim shadow gets some time and distance from the larger shadow that pursues her. She turns another corner outside the room and bursts through the door of the old staffroom. The mother stops dead in her tracks at the sight of Walter standing opposite of her with a table much like the one downstairs between them. This table, however, has a rabid severed head clicking its’ teeth on it. She stands still for only half a second, blood-covered, ripped-white-shirt-wearing, skinny, young, blonde woman. She is looking for her son Andy, but she is not alone for long.
With the exception of Andy whom is still frightened on the floor, everybody is moving at the same time. The mother rounds to her left around the table towards her son holding the knife in a threatening manner and not taking her eyes of Walter. Anger pumps adrenaline through her veins and feeds the fury that has been built up in her over the last day. She is so close to the finish line, deep breath. Walter returns her stare and walks to his left around the opposite side of the table towards the door. Walter clearly believes that somehow the mother escaped and has been chased into a corner by his allies. Walter is somewhat comforted by his assumption. At the sight of the mother wearing a white tank-top and long skirt now covered in blood, Walter begins to chuckle.
“Been twenty-eight days already?” He laughs.
The mother makes a “fuck you, you’re not funny” smirk at Walter as she now stands a few feet from her son. Walter fails to notice that he now has his back to the door she had come in through. Albert and the others pour into the room so quickly that they knock Walter over and land on top of him like he has the football.
Before Andy could see anything his mother picks him up and lifts him through the open hole she made in the window. As she cuts her hands carelessly trying to get through the window as quickly as possible, she hears Walter say his last words.
“What the hell you guys? I think you sprained my-AAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHH!” Reid bites down hard into the back of Walter’s neck while holding down both of his arms.
Albert gets up and grabs Walter by either side of his head. Albert pushes down on the back of Walter’s head with his left hand and begins to sloppy-punch Walter in the back of the head with his right hand. From the pressure and punching sensation Walter is feeling, which breaks his nose against the floor, it is as though Albert is trying to crush his skull like a cantaloupe. The steel chair-arm clangs on the floor with every slam Albert’s gives with his hand. David and Tala each grabbed one of Walter’s legs. They bite into them first and then pull the two legs right off, almost in unison. The sensation of pain causes Walter’s eyes to widen as he stares directly at dust particles on the floor. Albert stops punching Walter for a moment and brings his teeth down into the back of Walter’s head. Having no bottom row of teeth to bite down with, the loosened flesh is of no use to Albert. He lifts his head up while moaning. Walter only need endure this for two more seconds.
Albert presses both hands down onto the back of Walter’s head. Under the crushing force of Albert’s entire upper body, Walter’s skull cracks sending sharp fragments of bone through every inch of his brain. Albert lets out a moan as if satisfied to have his hands submerged in the blood, brain and boney mess that used to be Walter’s head.
The mother looks back through the open window at the popping sound of Walter’s head being crushed like a watermelon.
“Yeeesh! She says. He’s dead… Sick fucker!
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