Brian pushed through the dense weeds, scanning the factory walls for any possible entry point.
He kept his head on a swivel, watching for danger from every angle.
“Hm?” As he clambered over a pile of debris, he noticed something odd along the edge of the building.
Tiny gaps in the metal sheeting.
He crouched down and pressed against the loose panel.
It buckled inward, revealing a hidden opening.
A smile spread across his face.
“Just as I thought.
These guys always left themselves a way out.” It made sense.
In a place like this, violence was just another Tuesday.
People who ran operations out here always had escape routes.
No one relied on a single door.
He checked his surroundings.
He was near the back of the factory.
Carefully, he pried the entire panel loose and peered inside.
An office.
Desk, chair, a sofa by the door.
“Perfect.” Brian stood and hurried back the way he’d come.
He needed to find Sarah and bring her here.
On the other side of the building, Sarah walked slowly down the open road, her iron pipe held at the ready.
She scanned the walls for any way in.
But what she found instead were more warnings written in red paint.
“Do not open!” “Monsters inside!” The same message, repeated over and over.
“Who wrote all this?” She was so focused on the words that she didn’t notice the infected rising from behind a wrecked car.
It spotted her and let out an excited shriek before charging.
Sarah’s heart lurched.
She’d checked her surroundings.
How had she missed this one?
Her mind flashed back to the Black woman in the convenience store.
The stalker.
The evolved infected.
Was this one of them?
Fear gripped her.
She knew she couldn’t beat one of those monsters.
But she refused to die here.
She wanted to live.
Survival instinct took over.
She swung her iron pipe blindly behind her without turning.
THWACK.
The impact landed square on the creature’s head.
The infected stumbled but kept coming.
Sarah was small.
Her strength was limited.
The blow hadn’t done much damage.
But now she could see it was a normal infected.
Relief washed over her.
Normal was still dangerous, but it wasn’t a stalker.
She ducked as it lunged, then swung again, cracking the pipe against the back of its skull.
It staggered but didn’t fall.
She dodged another lunge and hit it again.
Over and over, she repeated the pattern.
Each time, she moved a little faster, a little more confidently.
The infected was furious.
It was being used as target practice.
It roared and prepared to charge again.
“Raaagh—” The sound died in its throat.
A gleaming blade had appeared behind it, driving deep into its skull.
The infected crumpled, its lifeless eyes still fixed on Sarah, as if refusing to accept its defeat.
Brian pulled the knife free and rushed to Sarah’s side, checking her over.
“Are you okay?
Did it hurt you?” “I’m fine.” Sarah beamed, swinging her pipe with exaggerated pride.
“I was giving it a pretty good beating, actually!” Brian shook his head.
“Next time, call for help.
Don’t take chances.” “Where did it even come from?” Sarah pointed at the wrecked car.
“Back there, I think.
I was reading the red letters and it just showed up behind me.” She glanced back at the spot, shuddering slightly.
She’d keep that lesson close.
Always watch your back.
Brian walked to the wrecked car.
Behind it, he found a bucket of red paint, a thin notebook resting on top, and a brush lying nearby.
The ground was covered in scattered handprints and footprints.
This was where the infected had been lurking.
He picked up the notebook and flipped it open.
Sarah crowded in beside him, curious.
It was a diary.
The entries were few—the writer had only started keeping it recently.
But what was there was valuable: September 10, 2013 Never thought I’d be writing a diary.
Been trapped here four days.
Food’s running low, but those things are still hanging around outside.
Can’t they find somewhere else to haunt?
I can’t wait much longer.
I have to do something.
There aren’t that many of them.
Maybe I should take the fight to them.
September 11, 2013 Ha!
These freaks rely on sight to hunt.
Dumb as rocks.
They didn’t even notice me sneaking up on them.
I remember Ford left a car for his buddy Morris.
That idiot never showed up—probably dead.
Guess God’s on my side.
But there’s something weird in there.
Half its skull covered in that nasty mushroom crap.
But hey, it’s missing an eye.
That makes it easier.
I’ll deal with it tomorrow.
September 12, 2013 I’m an idiot.
That one-eyed freak can track by sound.
Nearly got me.
Barely managed to lock it inside the factory.
Scratched me, though.
Damn it.
I wrote warnings in red paint all over the place.
Maybe it’ll keep people away.
I’m tired.
I’ll lean on the car and rest for a bit, then get out of here.
The last entry was from two days ago.
The writer had been infected shortly after.
Brian closed the notebook and stared at the factory.
According to the diary, there was definitely an evolved infected inside.
And it could track by sound, not just sight.
It was dangerous.
But it didn’t change his plan.
“Found a way in.
Come on.” He tucked the diary away and led Sarah around to the other side of the building.
They slipped through the hidden panel into the office.
Sarah’s eyes immediately went to the desk.
The hidden compartment.
She crouched down and spotted the recessed section on the floor.
But the desk was sitting on top of half of it.
To get to it, they’d have to move the desk.
And moving it would make noise.
She looked at Brian, asking silently for instructions.
“Patience.
We take care of the infected first.” Brian had come prepared.
Ever since learning about the evolved infected, he’d been planning for this.
He’d racked his brain, digging through memories of movies and games, looking for something easy to make but effective.
Molotov cocktails.
Simple.
Effective.
And they were his first choice.