A hundred meters wasn't far. Even with the blizzard impeding them, the group covered the distance in just a few minutes.
Scanning the buildings on both sides of the street, Bryan realized that most of them were actually hospital-affiliated structures. There were surprisingly few places suitable for shelter.
Fortunately, the survivors who'd opted for nearby buildings had all chosen ones close to the convoy. No one had ventured this far out, leaving them free to pick whatever they wanted.
After brief discussion, they settled on a two-story café. The height would let them observe the hospital area.
Though the wind and snow obscured full visibility, they'd be able to see the convoy's general situation—enough to make quick decisions.
Tracy peered through the glass door, checking for Infected inside. Seeing none, she pushed the door open and waved everyone in.
"HSSSHHRRR—!"
But as they entered, the noise drew the distinctive shriek of Infected from the second floor. Rapid footsteps pounded overhead, heading toward the stairs.
Everyone's hearts lurched. They drew their pistols, aiming at the stairwell, ready to fire.
The thunder of footsteps on the stairs grew closer, then three Infected burst into view. Spotting the living humans at the entrance, they bared their teeth in grotesque excitement and charged.
Three Infected were no match for armed humans. Tracy gave a dismissive smirk and gestured for the others to hold fire. She raised her rifle, squeezed off three precise shots, and dropped all three.
"You all start a fire. I'll check upstairs."
She glanced at the bodies on the floor, spoke over her shoulder, and before anyone could respond, stepped over the corpses and headed up the stairs.
Wilfred watched her go, raising a hand to say something—but she'd already disappeared around the corner. He gave a wry smile and turned to the others.
"That woman is certainly... enthusiastic."
Bryan couldn't agree more. Tracy hadn't been part of their plan, yet she'd volunteered to escort them out of concern for their safety—and now she was doing the dangerous work of clearing the building. Enthusiastic was an understatement.
RAT-TAT-TAT—!
Just as they were setting down their packs to start a fire, gunfire erupted from somewhere outside. The sound wasn't loud, but it was clear enough for everyone in the café to hear.
Instant alertness. They turned toward the source of the sound, but the wind, snow, and concrete walls blocked their view. They could hear the continuous gunfire but couldn't see anything.
A sense of foreboding settled over all of them. Bryan's words from the bus suddenly echoed in their minds. They turned to look at him.
Could everything he said about his nightmare... actually be true?
"Why are you all looking at me? Stop standing around—get upstairs and see what's happening!"
Bryan knew what they were thinking, but they couldn't make assumptions without knowing the situation. He urged them to hurry upstairs for a better vantage point.
"Right, let's go." Snapping out of it, Wilfred called out, and everyone rushed toward the stairwell.
When they reached the second floor, they found Tracy standing frozen at a window, her back to them, rifle hanging limply at her side. She was staring at something outside.
Without a word, they rushed to other windows and looked toward the convoy.
What they saw left them just as frozen as Tracy—mouths agape, eyes wide with disbelief.
Through the swirling snow, a dark mass had emerged within the hospital grounds. It was moving toward the hospital entrance, and as it drew closer, the mass grew larger—endless, it seemed.
From within that surging darkness came the staccato of automatic weapons fire and the boom of grenades. The sounds carried clearly even at this distance, a hundred meters away. The convoy by the hospital entrance would have heard it even more clearly.
The entire convoy erupted into chaos. It was parked in two rows along the street. People in the row nearest the hospital craned their necks out windows to see what was happening. In the other row, doors stayed sealed, but the shadows of panicked passengers could be seen scrambling inside.
The dark tide rolled forward like an avalanche. Even without seeing clearly, everyone knew what it had to be.
Just as the explosions sounded, a bus suddenly pulled out of the convoy formation, towing a disabled vehicle behind it. It drove straight to the hospital's security gate and parked sideways, completely blocking the entrance.
The military must have received advance warning. They'd cleared the bus and were now using it as a barricade. Soldiers scrambled onto the bus roof and other elevated positions, training their weapons on the hospital grounds—clearly hoping to replicate the defense they'd mounted at Waskom, using the bottleneck to hold back the Infected.
But looking at the hospital's perimeter wall, Bryan knew it was futile. Infected were exceptional climbers. That wall wouldn't slow them down for a second.
At the same time, all soldiers who'd been resting in the trucks deployed. Some took positions along the wall to provide fire support; others began evacuating civilians from the buses, herding them away from the hospital entrance.
The gunfire from inside the hospital grew closer as the dark mass advanced—and then fell silent.
Six or seven figures in military uniforms burst through the snow, sprinting desperately toward the entrance. They'd abandoned their weapons to run faster.
Behind them poured countless Infected—ragged, barefoot, faces twisted in hideous hunger. Even from this distance, Bryan could see the bloodlust gleaming in their eyes.
The fleeing soldiers ran for their lives. The Infected drew closer with every second. Terror was written plainly on the soldiers' faces as they raced toward the gate, clearly planning to climb over and onto the bus roof.
The soldiers at the entrance opened fire, trying to cover their retreat and slow the pursuing horde.
The first soldier to reach the gate vaulted onto it, grabbed an outstretched hand from above, and hauled himself onto the bus roof. The man behind him tried to follow—but whether from panic or misstep, his foot slipped. He fell, lodging himself in the gate's framework.
The soldiers behind him, expecting to follow smoothly, faltered. That split-second hesitation cost them everything.
The Infected were right on their heels. They lunged, tackling the remaining soldiers to the ground. The man stuck in the gate was torn apart in his frantic struggle to break free, ripped to pieces by dozens of clawing hands.
Blood sprayed everywhere. The crimson only drove the Infected into greater frenzy. They surged forward, trampling over each other, and within moments, the soldiers had vanished beneath the tide.
"It's... it's really a horde..."
Standing at the café's second-floor windows, the group watched the horrifying scene unfold. Their jaws dropped. They turned to stare at Bryan, stunned that his nightmare had come true.
Though most of them had suspected as much, Tracy was completely in the dark. She snapped back to reality and snatched up her radio, shouting frantically:
"Kane! What's happening over there?! Answer me!"
"Kssshh—kssshh—"
Only static answered her calls. No matter how many times she tried, the radio returned nothing but white noise.
Tracy's face grew increasingly grim. She was so focused on the radio that she didn't notice the Infected now swarming against the hospital fence, climbing over the walls—or the crowds scattering in all directions, the scene descending into total chaos.
In the time it took her to keep trying the radio, the makeshift defensive line collapsed entirely. The endless tide of Infected couldn't be held back by a bus and a handful of soldiers. In minutes, the barrier was overrun.
No amount of gunfire could stem the flood. The soldiers on the bus roof were pulled down and torn apart by the Infected pouring over the walls.
Seeing that the line couldn't hold, the remaining soldiers abandoned their positions. Military discipline crumbled. Those who could run fled toward any vehicle that could still move, hoping to drive away.
With no one left to stop them, the Infected surged forward unopposed, chasing the fleeing crowds like predators pursuing prey.
Screams filled the air. The orderly evacuation dissolved into pandemonium the instant the Infected broke through.
One by one, the slower runners were tackled from behind. People trying to climb into vehicles were dragged back out through half-closed doors.
Some people, seeing the Infected gaining on them, tripped their neighbors to buy themselves time. Others shot the legs out from under the people in front of them. Some even grabbed other people's children and hurled them toward the horde to create a distraction.
Every imaginable ugliness of human nature was on full display.
Crimson blood painted the snow in spreading pools, carving the street into a boundary between life and death. The peaceful scene from moments ago had become a living hell—and those watching from the surrounding buildings could only stare in frozen horror.
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