The military inside the Quarantine Zone had finally spotted the two groups about a kilometer out. But they couldn't leave the perimeter fence to provide direct support—doing so would mean losing its protection and engaging the Infected head-on, which would result in massive casualties.
Their only option was to provide covering fire from within the safe zone. The distance was too great for small arms to be effective, so they brought out the tanks, using artillery shells to strike at the horde and buy the survivors more time.
"SHRIEEEEK—!"
As the shell hammered into the ground, the earth shook violently. The blast also roused every Infected lurking in the nearby ruins. The entire area around the safe zone came alive with movement.
Infected poured out of the surrounding buildings on all sides. The moment they spotted the two groups of humans, they shrieked with excitement and charged.
"Son of a bitch, today just keeps getting better!" Bryan shouted as Infected emerged from the ruined buildings ahead. He pulled the sawed-off shotgun from the side of his pack and blasted one that was rushing straight at him, sending it tumbling backward.
The other soldiers and survivors drew their weapons as well. They still had a swarm bearing down on them from behind—they couldn't afford to be slowed by scattered Infected ahead.
"Ahh!"
Just then, Sarah stumbled on an uneven piece of rubble. Her foot caught on a raised stone, and she pitched forward, hitting the ground hard with a cry of pain.
Hearing her, Bryan stopped immediately and turned to find her sprawled on the ground. Without hesitation, he ran back, helped her to her feet, and asked urgently, "Are you okay? Can you still run?"
"Hssss—!"
Sarah winced as Bryan helped her up. She could feel the pain radiating from her knee, but she forced a strained smile. "I... I'm fine."
She tried to take a step forward, but the moment she put weight on her leg, another gasp of pain escaped her. If Bryan hadn't been holding her, she would've collapsed again.
Seeing that Sarah couldn't run any further, Bryan's brow furrowed deeply. He glanced back—Anna, Lucy, and Wilfred had somehow gotten pushed to the other side of the fleeing crowd.
He looked at the swarm closing in behind them, then at the remaining distance ahead. His eyes filled with frustration.
But he knew that with his remaining strength and stamina, there was no way he could carry Sarah the rest of the way.
"Let me help!"
Just as despair began to creep in, a woman's voice came from behind. He felt the weight on his back lighten as someone took on part of the load.
"You—you guys!"
Sarah's startled voice rang out. Bryan turned to see a sweat-drenched woman and a young boy behind him, their hands supporting Sarah's body as they ran alongside him.
He recognized them instantly—the mother and son Sarah had given food to. He never expected them to be the ones who would come to their aid.
With the burden shared, his pace quickened. He heard Sarah say gratefully, "Thank you so much!"
"Don't thank me. If it weren't for you, we probably wouldn't have made it this far." The woman looked at Sarah with equal gratitude in her eyes. Then she glanced back at the horde stretched out behind them and the stragglers being overtaken one by one. "I can only help so much. If the Infected catch up, we'll have to leave you behind."
Rat-tat-tat—!
At that moment, soldiers inside the safe zone appeared along the rubble piled against the perimeter fence. They opened fire on the pursuing Infected, their bullets tearing into the horde.
The Infected were now within effective rifle range, and the covering fire began to slow them down considerably.
With less than a hundred meters to go before reaching the safe zone, Wilfred's expression relaxed at last. He began to slow his pace.
"Urrghh!"
But the moment his body relaxed, his face contorted grotesquely. He doubled over and vomited a mouthful of some unidentifiable substance.
"Dad!"
At that very instant, as if by some unspoken connection, Anna clutched her chest. A sudden tightness gripped her heart.
Instinctively, she turned to search for her father—and saw him lagging behind the group, bent over with his hands on his knees, clearly in distress. Her face went pale. She turned to run toward him.
"Anna! Stay back!"
Hearing her cry, Wilfred snapped his head up. When he saw Anna running toward him, he raised a hand and shouted for her to stop.
Then he straightened and yanked the hood from his head. Exposed to the daylight was a face covered in bulging veins, eyes so bloodshot they were almost entirely red. At first glance, it was nearly indistinguishable from an Infected.
"This... this..."
Anna saw her father's face and froze in place, eyes wide with horror. Her lips trembled violently. She tried to speak, but no words would come.
Wilfred gazed at his daughter, his eyes filled with longing. But hearing the shrieks growing closer behind him, he turned to Lucy, who stood beside Anna. "I know we barely know each other, but please—take my daughter away from here. I'm begging you."
Lucy stared at Wilfred. The moment she saw his face, she understood what had been wrong with him these past two days. She gave a small nod, then reached out and grabbed Anna's arm, trying to pull her forward.
"No!"
Anna snapped out of her daze the moment Lucy touched her. She screamed in anguish and tried to wrench free, desperate to reach her father.
But Lucy's reflexes were faster. Her hands clamped down hard, holding Anna in place.
Realizing she couldn't break free, Anna's rage boiled over. Her bloodshot eyes turned toward Lucy as she screamed, "Let go of—"
Before she could finish, Lucy's hand shot out and delivered a swift chop to the back of her neck. Anna's eyes rolled back, and she went limp.
Lucy caught her, slung her over one shoulder, gave Wilfred a final nod, and sprinted toward the safe zone.
Watching them disappear into the crowd, Wilfred shifted his gaze to Bryan and the others. He mentally calculated when they would make it inside. A genuine smile spread across his face as he slowly turned around.
"Ahhh!"
The fleeing survivors behind him caught sight of his Infected-like face and screamed in terror. They scrambled to either side, giving him a wide berth.
He paid them no mind. As the Infected drew closer, he slowly reached into his coat and pulled out the grenade. Then, almost reflexively, his hand drifted to his waist—to where a rectangular canister was strapped beneath his jacket, secured with cord.
He twisted off the cap of the canister. A hint of amusement flickered in his eyes. He murmured softly, "Sorry, Bryan. Stealing from you right at the end like this."
Then Wilfred summoned every last ounce of strength, forcing his rigid fingers to grip the grenade. He faced the oncoming wave of Infected and charged without an ounce of fear.
He was like a dying lion, hurling himself at a pack of wolves. Even knowing his life was about to end, he would fight to his very last breath.
"You monsters that walk among the living—let me send you back to hell where you belong!"
When his vision was filled with nothing but Infected, Wilfred raised the grenade high with a roar. He yanked the pin free. An instant later, the swarm engulfed him.
BOOM!
Seconds later, a massive explosion tore through the horde, sending Infected flying in all directions. Searing flames erupted from nowhere, spreading outward from the blast in a rapidly expanding ring. As the tightly packed Infected collided and tangled with one another, the fire leaped from body to body, spreading with terrifying speed.
In the blink of an eye, the flames had connected into a single inferno. There, in the frozen wasteland of snow and ice, a breathtaking sea of crimson fire blazed to life.
...
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