Finding the stairs leading down blocked, Brother Scar’s men also changed direction and headed upward.
The floor above was also crawling with zombies. Song Jinhe and her group had just finished clearing the hallway when several more burst out from the fire exit.
She was still running a fever. Her body was in agony, and the clarity of her perception was fading.
“You guys go first, I’ll catch up in a second,” Song Jinhe said, turning back with her weapon before anyone could object.
There was no time to explain. she had seen the buzz-cut man duck into a room, clutching a walkie-talkie.
He was going to call for reinforcements.
The hospital wasn’t far. Based on the timing, the other team must have already left the hospital!
Reaching the room where the man was hiding, Song Jinhe took oil from her space and poured it directly under the door.
She could only sense his movements now; she couldn’t hear anything. Between her splitting headache and the static of her fever, her senses were dulling. She had no way of knowing if he had already made contact with the other squad.
Watching the zombies approaching in the hallway, Song Jinhe unhurriedly lit a Molotov cocktail. Only when the zombies were nearly at the door did she hurl it.
The moment the fire touched the oil, the flames spread instantly.
Inside the room, the buzz-cut man was in the middle of a crackling transmission, reporting their location and status. The sudden wall of fire surging from under the door caught him off guard. Someone was trying to burn him alive!
“What happened? Hello?” a voice crackled through the walkie-talkie.
Unable to answer, he grabbed his weapon from the table and lunged for the door, intending to stab whoever was outside the moment it opened. Instead, he was met by a zombie engulfed in flames.
He wasn’t fast enough. The zombie collapsed onto him, and searing tongues of fire licked his palms, raising large, painful blisters. Just as he finished off the zombie, a sudden coldness pierced his chest.
The buzz-cut man looked down at the machete buried in his body and then at Song Jinhe, who was leaning against the doorframe.
Through the distorted static of the walkie-talkie, a man’s voice continued to demand, “What the hell is wrong with you? What’s happening? Answer me—”
Song Jinhe pulled the blade out with a grunt. She snatched the walkie-talkie from the dead man’s hand and tossed it into her space, instantly cutting the signal.
The area they were in was like an isolated island, surrounded by floodwaters. It would be several more days before the water receded enough for them to leave properly. If the remaining thugs merged with the hospital team, they wouldn’t survive for long.
Song Jinhe caught up with Cheng Yan and the others. The path they had taken earlier was different now; zombies could emerge from anywhere.
Despite their caution, disaster struck. A zombie suddenly lunged from the shadows and grabbed Peng Zhixue. He let out a terrified scream as it opened its rotting maw.
The area was cluttered with debris, preventing Song Jinhe from reaching him immediately. Zhang Yi managed to stab the zombie first, and Song Jinhe arrived a moment later to finish the job. Together, they killed two zombies.
“Brother Peng, are you okay?” Zhang Yi asked, breathless.
Peng Zhixue took a deep breath. “I’m… fine.”
The path ahead was still crawling with the undead. By the time they reached the loading bay, they were all exhausted. Fortunately, the zombies that had been loitering outside earlier had dispersed. They prepared to get into their cars and flee.
Suddenly, a deformed, armless zombie crawled out from under Cheng Yan’s car. Startled, the group reflexively smashed it down with their weapons.
At that moment, a dark shadow moved across the overhead walkway.
The object he threw at Cheng Yan’s group was… a severed, living zombie head!
“Look out!”
Song Jinhe’s warning was a fraction of a second too late. Peng Zhixue managed to push Cheng Yan out of the way, but he couldn’t dodge it himself. The head clamped down, biting him on the palm.
Bright red blood welled from the shallow teeth marks. He clutched his hand, his face contorted in pain. Song Jinhe looked up with a cold expression at the tattooed man, who stepped out from behind some shelving, his clothes stained with zombie blood.
“I only came to scout the path, but I didn’t expect such a bonus,” he chuckled. “Don’t look so surprised. I’ve been to this place before. You killed several of our men; a price has to be paid.”
The tattooed man let out a sharp whistle and vanished behind a row of shelves before they could react.
“There’s a pharmacy nearby! If we go now, there’s still time!” Zhang Yi cried, looking at the wound on Peng Zhixue’s hand. “It’s such a small wound, if we just…”
“It’s too late.”
Peng Zhixue shook his head and turned around bitterly. Two jagged, bloody scratches on the back of his neck were now visible to everyone.
The silence among Song Jinhe, Cheng Yan, and Zhang Yi was deafening.
The wound on his hand could have been treated; Song Jinhe had hemostatic medicine and bandages in her space. But the scratches on his neck… there was no coming back from that.
They had started as strangers meeting by chance at the hospital, but after everything they had endured together, the bond had changed. Seeing this happen hit them all hard. They were so close to leaving this place.
“I know I’m going to die,” Peng Zhixue said, forcing himself to stay calm. “So, I want to help you as much as I can while I still can.”
He continued, “If there’s still a chance to leave, can you drop me off near Happiness Community? You don’t have to go inside, just the outskirts is fine. It’s not far from here.”
Cheng Yan’s eyes were rimmed with red. He nodded solemnly. “I will get you there.”
Zhang Yi wiped away her tears and pulled a bottle of iodine from her bag. “Let’s clean it first. Maybe… maybe it’ll help.”
They all knew it wouldn’t, but no one had the heart to say it.
Talents could resist the zombie virus to an extent; if the injury wasn’t severe, there was a chance of survival. But the awakening of a talent, much like the initial infection, happened without warning or clear cause.
Upon inspection, they found that one of the tires on Song Jinhe’s car had been slashed.
“Should we all squeeze into one car? We can pile the supplies at our feet,” Zhang Yi suggested.
Song Jinhe shook her head. “It’ll still run once I put the spare tire on.”
Besides, she had one more thing to do.
That psychopathic tattooed man hadn’t run away because he felt his revenge was complete; he had left because the other team was coming to back him up. What happened just now was a warning.
They wanted the group to run so they could follow them, track their movements, and eventually corner and slaughter them in despair.
Song Jinhe moved Cheng Yan’s share of the supplies into their backseat and gave them six more Molotov cocktails.
“What are you planning?” Cheng Yan asked, noticing the sharp, lethal glint in her eyes.
“The best defense is a good offense. We need to pull them up by the roots. Those people have accomplices; we need to bypass the hospital’s direction when we leave. You guys go first in a moment.”
With Cheng Yan’s help, Song Jinhe finished changing the tire. She climbed into the driver’s seat and buckled her seatbelt.
The other three got into the second car, and the engines rumbled to life.
Zhang Yi sat in the passenger seat, clutching the bag of Molotovs. Peng Zhixue carefully reached into his inner pocket, pulled out an old wallet, and looked at the photo inside. His eyes were filled with a profound, helpless sorrow.
He didn’t want to die. A part of him was still praying for a miracle, even as his body began to tell him to accept the inevitable.
Song Jinhe followed behind as they drove out of the alley. As they expected, the streets were crawling with zombies that had migrated from the flooded zones—some even had river snails clinging to their rotting flesh.