The new convoy arrives and the room gains two new bodies. The bodies are still warm and moving and the guards eye them carefully. They were not pronounced dead on the battlefield. Nor have they been yet pronounced alive by the doctors. They linger in a state of potentiality between death and undeath. Herbert, the less senior guard – though he is in truth a soldier from the front, momentarily placed on guard duty – wonders how long it will be before this General or that gains the idea of harnessing Necromancy. The Nurses come soon. They have a knife with them, delivering food. The bodies respond to the food mutely, moaning and moving slowly. Perhaps it is shell shock. Perhaps it is the pain of the wound. Perhaps it is something else. The doctor is busy, the other guard comments to Herbert. In surgery, it seems a General was wounded by an assassin. No time for common soldiers, alive, dead or in the other state. No one says words like Zombie or Undead in the hospital. Always just the other state. The wounded soldier’s scorched hands grope forward, seizing the nurse and seizing her, he thrusts his mouth forward – teeth plunging through her uniform into her shoulder. Herbert fires wildly and the other soldier calls for help. The other body raises slowly and the nurse begins to stir a moment later. In the end, all three are put to the bullet and the bayonet.