John came to, slowly, then all at once. He wasn't sure how long hed been out, but it couldn't have been more than a few minutes given how hot the cabin still was. The heat from his escape pod's reentry radiated inwards from the cabin bulkheads, making him feel like a turkey in an oven. He fumbled around for the release lever, smearing the blood stain his forehead left on the dashboard when he impacted it however many minutes ago. He finally found it, and gave it a desperate tug. The escape pod split in two, and cool air rushed in sending a much appreciated chill over his body, he breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn't landed in the Sahara desert or somewhere scorching hot. But where was he? His eyes still blurry from his recent concussion, he took in his surroundings: trees, a light dusting of snow, mostly flat terrain, a person no more than 30 feet in front of him. John began to crack a smile when his eyes finally adjusted, and he saw that it was in fact not a person standing there. Instead stood a wretched looking (zombie?), skinless, and panting rapidly like a rabid dog. Despite it being near freezing outside, its flesh seemed to be melting off its body, blemishing the virgin snow. John sunk back into the seat of the escape pod and prayed this sight was just a symptom of his concussion.