"Looks like no one—living or Infected—has been through here in a long time."
The hospital's outpatient lobby was blanketed in thick layers of dust. The once-pristine floor tiles now lay hidden beneath dried bloodstains faded nearly to invisibility, scattered pamphlets, and abandoned medical equipment strewn in every direction.
Looking at the scene before him, Colbert could easily imagine the chaos that must have erupted here when the Cordyceps outbreak first hit.
He crouched down and ran his fingers through the dust, rubbing it between his fingernips. Then he surveyed the lobby—not a single footprint anywhere. That confirmed his assessment.
Twenty-odd fully armed soldiers flanked him on both sides, their weapons trained on every corner and blind spot, ready for any Infected that might appear.
A sergeant approached from behind and spoke quietly. "Sir, what are our orders?"
"Hmm..." Colbert rose slowly, stroking his chin in thought. After a moment's deliberation, he decided they should sweep the building first.
"I noticed from outside that this outpatient building has six floors, plus a basement level and underground parking. Split into teams of six—each team takes two floors. And make sure anyone heading to the parking garage brings their gas masks. We're doing a thorough search of every inch of this place."
"Yes, sir!"
The sergeant wasted no time, turning to relay orders and assign team leaders. Within moments, eighteen soldiers had split off under their respective commanders, jogging toward the stairwells on either side of the lobby. The rapid thud of combat boots on stairs echoed through the building as teams ascended and descended.
With the three teams dispatched, six soldiers remained in the lobby. Colbert nodded to them. "Let's begin our sweep. We need to secure this area quickly—can't keep everyone waiting outside in this cold."
He personally led the small team through a systematic, room-by-room search of the entire ground floor, checking every possible hiding spot for survivors or Infected.
The lobby wasn't as spacious as the upper floors. Even with a thorough search, it only took about half an hour to clear completely.
Most of the examination rooms contained nothing unusual beyond scattered debris, overturned chairs, and thick dust coating everything.
A few rooms had been barricaded from the inside. After confirming no one was alive within, the soldiers forced the doors open. Inside, they found only decomposed human corpses—no mutations, no fungal breeding grounds.
These people must have fled into these rooms during the outbreak to escape the Infected, Colbert reasoned. But with the creatures lingering outside and no courage to make a break for it, they'd all starved to death in here.
"This floor's clear. Let's head to the second."
After forcing open the last barricaded door, Colbert stepped inside and examined the twisted corpses. Confirming nothing abnormal, he backed out and led his soldiers toward the stairs.
"Wait."
Halfway there, something occurred to him. He stopped abruptly and turned to look at the door at the far end of the corridor—the connecting walkway to other buildings.
Colbert considered the situation. The blizzard outside had reduced visibility to almost nothing, but from the map he'd glanced at earlier, the hospital complex was clearly massive. They couldn't possibly search every building, and besides, this outpatient wing alone would be enough to shelter everyone.
He pointed at the last two soldiers in line. "You two stay behind. Block off every exit except the main entrance."
Then he led the remaining four soldiers into the stairwell and up to the second floor.
Compared to the lobby below, the second floor was far more chaotic. A maze of corridors connected dozens of rooms, and abandoned hospital beds cluttered the already narrow hallways. In some places, the debris was piled so high they had to climb over it.
Colbert moved swiftly through the corridors, pushing open doors on either side just as he'd done downstairs, showing no concern about Infected suddenly appearing.
Then a gust of cold air hit his face from the left, immediately catching his attention.
"Hm? What's this..."
A window hadn't been closed properly. Freezing wind whistled through the gap—but what really drew his eye was the corpse slumped beneath it, head hanging limply.
Unlike the other rooms with bodies, this one's door stood wide open. And judging by the lack of decomposition, this corpse had died far more recently than those downstairs—within the past week, by his estimate.
Colbert strode into the room and examined the body. A pistol was clutched in its right hand, and there was a hole in the head. Suicide.
His gaze shifted to the items beside the corpse: a battered, twisted notebook and a small pack. Without hesitation, he bent down and picked them up.
Unzipping the pack, Colbert found it stuffed with various medications. A slight smile tugged at his lips as he handed it to a soldier behind him.
Just as he was about to open the notebook, his radio crackled to life with a report from another team:
"Sir, basement level clear. No sign of Infected. However, the passage to the underground parking garage has been sealed off. It'll take considerable time to clear. Requesting permission to proceed outside and enter the garage through the external access point."
"Sealed off?"
Colbert's brow furrowed. Under normal circumstances, he would have prioritized clearing the internal passage—it was underground, easier to contain if something went wrong, and the safer option overall.
But then he glanced out the window at the rows of vehicles lining the street below. His heart wavered. Every minute they spent here was another minute those people had to endure the freezing cold in their vehicles. After hours of travel through the blizzard, many were already in poor condition. If they didn't find shelter soon...
Colbert squinted, took a deep breath, and rationalized. The lobby had been clear. The second floor seemed safe too. No reports of Infected from the teams upstairs. This place really did appear to be empty.
It should be fine...
Against his better judgment, he keyed his radio. "Understood. Proceed to the external access point and enter the garage from there. Report immediately if you encounter any problems."
"Roger that, sir!"
Pocketing the radio, Colbert rubbed his temples. For some reason, a dull ache had been building in his head since earlier.
He shook it off, suppressing the discomfort. He'd see the medic after the sweep was complete.
Refocusing on the notebook in his hands, Colbert flipped it open. Most of the earlier pages had been torn out, and the final section was stained with blood, rendering it illegible.
Only the last few pages remained readable:
November 3, 2013 — Milo's condition has gotten worse. It's getting colder by the day. If we don't find antibiotics soon, he won't make it much longer. I don't understand why Steven insists on dragging this burden along. We can barely keep ourselves alive!
November 4, 2013 — Damn it! They actually agreed to Joyce's proposal. They want to go to the hospital for that guy. The place is crawling with Infected! I can't understand Steven. Watching them make this idiotic decision, I'm starting to think maybe I should just deal with that deadweight myself...
November 5, 2013 — Damn, the pharmacy was cleaned out, just as I thought. Looks like they're still set on going to the hospital. Joyce has been watching over that guy constantly. I haven't found a good opportunity. Maybe I should wait until they're all asleep tonight?
November 6, 2013 — I still couldn't do it yesterday. Why is Joyce so obsessed with that guy? Steven and a few others have already gone ahead to scout the hospital. Now it's just me and Joyce here. They're about to move out. Today might be my last chance...
November 7, 2013 — Joyce figured out what I was planning. She pulled me aside and we had a massive argument. Was I really wrong? As much as it kills me to admit it, I've missed my last chance. I've started gathering weapons. Steven is my brother—I can't just let him go into danger alone. I glared at Joyce, gritting my teeth. If anyone dies on this mission, I'll make that bitch pay. This is all her fault!
They're dead! DEAD! All my brothers are dead! That whore Joyce grabbed the medicine bag and ran, leaving everyone else to die. I should have killed Milo when I had the chance. But she didn't get to enjoy her victory for long—I caught her. I tied her up and threw her into the darkness of the parking garage. I watched all the nearby Infected flood in after her, then sealed the entrance. Listening to that bitch's screams and pleas echoing from inside... I've never felt more satisfied.
I went to the pharmacy to finish off Milo, but here's the irony—his body was already cold. The bastard died last night. And that bitch never said a word!!!
I buried all my brothers. This room has the best view. Didn't expect it to snow today. The streets look beautiful without any Infected around. Living like this is exhausting. Goodbye, you goddamn world...
...
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