Skybridge Corridor
A glass-enclosed passage connecting two academic buildings.
A layer of dust coated the glass beneath their feet. Through the grimy surface, they could see the dense, seething mass of Walkerss below.
Merle glanced down, cursed, and then took the lead forward.
Eleven people walked along the glass corridor, each step taken with extreme caution.
If the glass shattered, they'd fall right into the horde of Walkerss below—no chance of rescue.
At the end of the corridor was a fire door.
A heavy metal door, shut tight.
Merle tried pushing it. It didn't budge.
He pressed his ear against it, listening. No sound came from within.
"Anyone in there?"
He called out in a hushed voice.
No response.
He knocked three more times, a distinct rhythm—the pre-arranged contact signal used within the Umbrella Corporation.
Still no response.
Merle frowned, took a step back, and scrutinized the door.
"Could be locked. Or maybe barricaded from the inside."
He glanced back at the largest member of his team. "Big guy, give it a kick."
The team member nodded, stepped up to the door, took a deep breath, and raised his foot—
"Wait!"
A voice suddenly came from behind the door, low but clear.
Everyone froze.
Merle raised a hand, signaling his team member to back off.
He leaned close to the door crack, speaking in a low voice. "Umbrella Corporation. Rescue."
Three seconds of silence.
Then came the heavy sound of scraping from behind the door—someone moving a heavy barricade.
The metal door slowly swung open, revealing the face inside.
Sandra.
She looked utterly exhausted, eyes bloodshot, her combat uniform stained with dust and blood. But she stood straight, her gun never lowering.
Seeing Merle, she visibly relaxed, though her words remained sharp. "Why is it you?"
Merle looked her up and down, grinning, his tone as irritating as ever. "Well, Sandra, you're a tough one to kill, aren't you?"
Sandra shot him a glare. "Your mouth is filthier than a plunger."
Merle was unfazed, leaning in with a cheeky grin. "You've smelled one?"
Sandra took a deep breath, deciding not to engage further.
Any more of this, and she might be tempted to shove her gun in his mouth.
"What happened to Brock?"
Merle's smile vanished.
Sandra's expression darkened, but she didn't answer. Instead, she turned and walked back down the corridor. "Come inside first."
Merle waved a hand, leading his team in after her.
They passed through the corridor, turned a few corners, and arrived at a large classroom.
The classroom door was barricaded tight with desks and chairs; the windows were blocked with blackboards and debris.
In the dim light, several figures sat or lay about.
Two of Sandra's teammates were leaning against a wall. Seeing Merle, they managed weak smiles.
They had minor scrapes and bruises, nothing serious.
Besides them, there was another group in the classroom.
Eleven.
All young, wearing dirty clothes, faces etched with fear and exhaustion—they looked like students.
In a corner were two old men, hair gray, wearing glasses, huddled on chairs and still trembling, not yet recovered from their shock.
Merle was stunned. He looked at Sandra, his eyes asking: *Are you serious?*
Sandra ignored him, leaning against the wall to sit down with a long sigh.
Merle walked over, squatted beside her, pulled a pack of Lotus cigarettes from his pocket, and offered her one. "Talk. What happened?"
Sandra took the cigarette, lit it, inhaled deeply, let the smoke swirl in her lungs, then slowly exhaled.
Nerves stretched taut for too long finally loosened a fraction.
"After we arrived, we found this place at the University of Georgia was an official refugee camp set up by Athens."
She said, "Built by the National Guard. Organized, disciplined. Had hundreds of survivors."
"And then?"
"Then it fell."
Sandra flicked the ash from her cigarette, her voice calm as if recounting someone else's story. "That Old Professor said someone hid a bite wound, turned at night. Chain reaction. The camp was gone in a single night."
Merle fell silent.
He'd seen this before.
A small wound, a single lie, could destroy hundreds.
"By the time we got there, the camp was already chaos," Sandra continued. "Walkerss everywhere, people running everywhere. We tried to help, but there was no time."
She pointed at the students. "These kids ran out on their own, followed us. Those two old men are top biology experts, here for an academic exchange at the University of Georgia. They followed us out too."
"What about Brock?"
Merle asked again.
Sandra stubbed out her cigarette, grinding it under her foot.
"Indoor gymnasium. The door was shut, full of Walkerss inside. I made a mistake—I didn't remind them to crack the door open first."
Her voice grew very quiet.
"Brock went to open it. As soon as he pushed the door, thousands poured out. He tried to turn and shut it, but it was too late. One by the door grabbed his hand and bit down..."
Silence.
Merle didn't reply, just offered her another cigarette.
Sandra took it, lit it. This time she didn't inhale deeply, just held it between her fingers, watching it burn slowly.
"I shot him."
She said, "While we were barricading the stairwell in this building. The infection spread fast in him. He was almost turned in under ten minutes. I didn't want him to become one of those things. Gave him a shot. Let him go with dignity."
"So you don't know if Allison is among those Walkerss?"
Merle asked.
Sandra shook her head. "No idea. We never had a chance to look. After the camp fell, millions of Walkerss poured out from Athens City. Just tens of thousands have this place surrounded tight. We hid in this building, barricaded the doors, waited three days."
She looked up at Merle. "You're the first living soul I've seen come here in those three days."
Merle nodded, stood up, walked to the window, and peered out through a crack in the blackboard covering it.
The roars from below could be heard even through several floors. He pulled out his walkie-talkie and pressed the transmit button. "Boss, found her. Sandra's alive. Two of her teammates too. And also..."
He glanced back at the students and the two old men.
"...also eleven college students and two old men. Heard they're 'experts'."
A few seconds of silence came from the walkie-talkie. Then Wu Fan's voice replied, "Don't move them yet. Bring them back."
Merle grinned. "Understood."
He turned off the walkie-talkie, faced everyone, and said, "Let's go. Taking you home."
A Puma helicopter was beside the building's rooftop balcony.
The violent wind from its rotors whipped across the rooftop.
Merle led his team on board first.
Then Sandra's two teammates.
Followed by the students.
They climbed onto the balcony. Looking down through the gaps at the countless hands reaching up to pull them down, their hands shook and legs went weak. Merle pulled from above, Sandra pushed from below, sending them up one by one.
The two Old Professors were arranged to go last.
Sixteen people crammed into the cabin, packed so full turning around was difficult.
Wu Fan leaned out from the cockpit, shouting to Sandra and Merle, "You and a few of your people stay here first. I'll take this batch back, return for you in two hours."
Merle gave a thumbs-up. "Got it!"
The cabin door closed. The Puma took off, flying toward the direction of the CDC.
Sandra and Merle stood on the rooftop, watching the helicopter grow smaller until it became a dot disappearing into the horizon.
Merle pulled out his cigarettes, offered one to Sandra, and lit one for himself.
"You think..."
He exhaled a plume of smoke. "...those two old men are really that important? More important than us?"
Sandra didn't answer, just kept watching the sky.
*Try telling a guy who didn't finish elementary school how awesome experts are. He won't know how awesome, just thinks 'experts' are about as useful as bricks.*
Merle shrugged and didn't ask again.
Half an hour later, the Puma landed on the lift platform in the woods near the CDC.
The students were led off the helicopter. Some legs were too weak to stand; one knelt on the ground and cried as soon as they landed.
The two Old Professors were helped down. They looked around at everything—the metal platform, the deep passageway, the massive red-and-white emblem—with dazed expressions.
Kyle had already arrived at the forest landing pad in a humvee, holding a clipboard.
Wu Fan jumped down from the helicopter and said to him, "These eleven students and the two old men. Arrange quarantine. Don't treat them poorly. Those two old men are top experts. Be polite."
Kyle nodded. "Understood."
Wu Fan turned and walked back to the helicopter.
The Puma took off again, flying back toward the University of Georgia.
Behind them, the two Old Professors stood on the platform, watching the helicopter vanish into the sunset, murmuring, "The Umbrella Corporation... what kind of place is it?"