“RUN!” Nathan roared, pushing both of them toward the alleyway.

Before a single thought could break through the panic, Rolen’s legs moved on instinct—his lean body sprinting down the alley as the world blurred beneath his heels. The eerie laughter chased them like a hungry pack of hyenas. His lungs burned with every breath, his heartbeat almost deafening as terror coursed through his veins.

Lexa flanked the engineer. Her normally carefree expression now held a mixture of fear as well as the thrill of adrenaline rushing through her body, her boots smacking against the wet pavement while the wind rushed past her clothes, uncaring. She didn’t dare to look behind her. All she could focus on was the weight of the rifle in her arms and the rising sunlight that blinded her at the end of the alleyway.

Nathan ran behind them, grabbing anything within reach and throwing it in their wake, his body moving faster than his thoughts could catch up.

He got his hands on a crate, jaw clenched as he lifted the wooden box with sickening ease. He spun around and, in a flash, slammed it into the face of what used to be a woman, only mere inches away from his own
.
The infected woman shrieked and stumbled, then disappeared beneath the trampling horde of the rest of them. The sound of her bones crushing under their heels was oddly satisfying to his ears.

Nathan didn’t even stop. He kept sprinting after Lexa and Rolen, tipping trashcans and barrels whenever he could. He snatched a glass bottle, smashed the back end of it against the wall, and threw the jagged weapon over his shoulder.

It connected. He could hear the glass slicing infected flesh behind him. It did very little to slow them down, though. The screeching of the infected only seemed to come closer with each passing second, until the soldier could feel their breath tickling the back of his neck once again.

Then, in the corner of his eye, the combat medic saw something move. His attention snapped in that direction, and his eyes widened.

It was a little girl.

No older than ten, her red eyes held no innocence or life that came with that age. Her little pink princess dress was filthy and torn at all sides, yet it wasn’t her state or her appearance that made his breath hitch.

This husk of a child was down on all fours.

Her limbs were wrong—twisted in ways that a human body shouldn’t be doing, like her joints were dislocated to allow her to move like this. Her toes and fingers dug into the brick walls as she climbed the side of the building with practiced ease.

Like she’d been crawling like a spider her whole life.

Rolen squinted his eyes, the sun blinding him the moment his feet stepped out of the alleyway. He didn’t slow his pace for even a second, heading straight for the large building across the street.

The goth pushed his legs to run faster, a sharp pain forming in his side—his body silently begging him to stop. But he couldn’t.

A dark shadow fell over his terrified frame.
For a split second, the world seemed to stop. That was until he felt his body suddenly jerk and slam down onto the cold, hard ground.

“ROLEN!” Lexa screamed.

An infected burst from the right, its crooked finger hooking around the leather bag trapped around Rolen’s shoulder and dragging him to the ground.

Rolen grunted the moment his side connected with the ground. He whipped his head around, fearful blue eyes staring deep into the red ones of a construction worker that crawled all over him. The static buzzed in the back of his skull, stronger than ever, blurring his vision while the thing’s awful breath filled up his nose.

For a moment, just a moment, Rolen thought he saw the red eyes flicker, like a dying flashlight clinging to failing batteries. Then Nathan’s fist crashed into the infected’s jaw. The sound of bone shattering rang throughout the engineer’s ears before a new sensation burned through his body.

It was pain.

Nathan breathed with uncontrolled rage the moment his eyes had laid on this thing touching what wasn’t theirs to touch.

His red eyes flared, and before he could even think, his fist connected with the infected’s jawline—force enough to send it a good few feet into the air as it shrieked in that godawful noise, a noise the soldier was getting sick and tired of hearing.

He pulled out his sidearm the moment the infected got back up, opening its mouth to shriek at them again, but it never got to finish.

The gunshot echoed through the street, making everything go silent for just a second. Whatever was left of that man now lay out on the pavement.

His attention snapped back to Rolen. A loud cry of pain left his lips as he clutched his left arm, the smell of blood snapping him out of his anger.

Three deep gashes had ripped Rolen’s shirt and skin open.

Fuck.

“I’ve got you—go!” Lexa yelled, covering them, rifle raised, shooting at every pair of bloodlit eyes that came too close.

Nathan grabbed Rolen by his right arm and hoisted him onto his feet, earning another hiss of pain from the young engineer.

“LEXA, HURRY!” the combat medic yelled and dragged the smaller male toward the large building only a few feet away from them. He pushed the emergency door open, shielding Rolen inside, his gun still clutched in his left hand.

More gunshots cracked through the air as Nathan covered Lexa until she made it inside. Both of them immediately shoved the door shut and turned the lock. Not even a second later, the bodies of the infected pounced against the door, banging and shrieking. The door rattled against its hinges, yet they were unable to burst inside.

Rolen was still clutching his arm, his back against the wall and on the verge of hyperventilating as he felt blood tickle down his hand. Nathan instantly turned his attention back to the shaking goth.
He reached out to take a look at the wound, but Rolen flinched away from him.

“No, don’t—!”

“Rolen.” Nathan’s voice was calm—almost too calm for the situation. “Rolen, look at me.”
His tone softened as he crouched down, lowering himself so he wasn’t towering over him.

“I need to treat it. It might get worse if I don’t.”
Still breathing heavily, Rolen nodded, flinching slightly when Nathan gently moved the bloody, torn cloth aside, looking at the deep gashes running down his arm. Judging from the spacing, it looked like claw marks. Most likely it happened when the infected latched onto him, clawing blindly as Nathan ripped it away.

The gashes were bleeding heavily, but it didn’t look like they hit any major arteries or muscles. It was mainly just a flesh wound, but it needed stitches for sure.

“You’re gonna need stitches. For now, I’ll disinfect it and wrap it until I can treat it properly,” the combat medic stated, reaching down to the medical pack on his person. Nathan pulled out some disinfectant and bandages and quickly went to work.