Terror lent Victor speed. He clambered out of the mausoleum into the night, the thing shambling behind. He risked a look over his shoulder. More of them were emerging from the graves around him, an army of the restless dead rising to surround their disturbed leader. Victor sprinted for the gate in blind panic, a skeletal hand closing around his ankle. 

He cried out in pain and fear, lashing out with his pistol. The grip released. Victor staggered to his feet and ran. Victor frantically worked the locks, willing his hands to move faster. The tomb shuddered and then cracked open with a resounding boom.