Making his way towards the end of the hallway, James notied a large figure murmuring maniacally. "Kuka, is that you? Are you okay?" James asked. Kuka turned toward James with his relentless murmuring. Making his way closer in an attempt to determine what was going on, James could see Kuka roaming naked through the building. "Kuka, are you okay, man? You need me to get a towel or something?" Kuka stalked slowly toward him, holding a chef's knife in one hand and a fillet knife in the other. James tried to back away, but it was too late. Kuka approached him faster than he would have thought possible for the six-foot-six Samoan. Kuka appeared massive in the dim light with his large gut, long arms, and clenched fists. His beady eyes appeared to glow behind the tiny oval-shaped eyeglasses he wore. Before he knew it, kuka was standing in front of him. Instinctively, James went into a defensive stance, causing Kuka to stop just feet from him. Kuka shook the vacant look fromhis face and yelled, "Its too late! It's too late for us all! Its coming. It has come for you now! We're all infected. This is the only way out!" He began chanting in a language James couldn't understand. Kuka raised his hands and, before James could key the mic, ran the knives across his throat in a macabre crisscross manner. A smile flashed across his face as blood squirted fromhis neck. He fell to his knees grinning as blood streamed down his chest. James stood frozen in horrified shock as he watched Kuka's body fall forward, leg still twitching. James noticed a light-green vapor seeping out of the wounds. He keyed his mic, requesting immediate medical assistance and any form of backup. He approached Kuka, and tossed the knives aside. As he knelt down, James struggled to turn the massive man over. Gasping for air James quickly collapsed into darkness.