Robert was about to break into a tirade when he suddenly froze.
“I’ll be there”? Are you alone?” He blurted out urgently. The commander exchanged glances with the Gorgons; one of the soldiers, Stan, if I’m not mistaken, moved forward, his face contorted in a mask of panic.
“I’m alone,” came the short response. The man said something else, but no one could make it out: the connection cuts swallowed his voice.
“Chris?” Robert asked anxiously. No response. “Christopher?!”
The empty hall echoed with a rustling repetition, and then the room sank into an unsettling silence. Almost tangible. The soldiers froze in place. Robert continued to hold the radio close to his face. For a moment, his expression darkened and fell before he straightened with a determined movement and looked around at everyone with focused eyes.
“We're going up and out. Now. We'll pick up Chris on the way,” Sbort added before Norman, who had stepped forward, could speak. Robert's voice was quiet and firm. The commander glanced at Stan – the dark-haired man with cold blue eyes and a scar above his upper lip – who had lowered his chin to his chest, clenching and unclenching his fists. “Taren, I…”
Robert didn't have time to finish. From the first floor, we clearly heard the sound of rasping breaths and shuffling footsteps; slow, as if someone were dragging their feet. Everyone froze, listening. I didn’t even realize I had clamped my fingers into Sam’s hand, digging my nails into his skin.
No, there was no doubt those were footsteps; but not just one person's. And that horrible, chilling, raspy breathing… Sam’s face went ashen.
“R.. Rob.. ert?” Dort stammered. I felt my knees shaking. My whole body was trembling.
The commander of The Gorgons kept his eyes fixed on the stairs, while I, as if chained, couldn’t move to turn around.
Robert waved his hand a couple of times. Moments later, Sam and I were separated. Stan, holding a pistol, took Sam by the arm; Norman pulled me toward him. Sbort was the first to begin climbing up, and we all followed one after the other. The soldiers moved in unison, almost silently, while the entire room was filled with the sound of shuffling, groans, and other disgusting noises.
Step by step. Higher and higher. I could already see the growing shadows on the floor. I started to hyperventilate, everything blurred in front of my eyes, and I wanted to run back, but Norman held me tightly, dragging me along. The landing ahead was clear, we only needed to reach it and cross the hallway to the door…
And then, the last step. I turned around to take one last look down the corridor.
A scream pierced my ears. I didn’t realize at first that I was the one shouting. Coming out of the doors and pavilions, they filled the corridor.
4
Ancient Northern legends spoke of the Queen of the Gloom, the personification of death; of how she would come into the world on Judgment Day and shroud it with her sister, the Mistress of the Ice Marshes, with ice floes and cold. This was why it was believed that death's breath was frosty, and why the sense of her presence made one shiver.
And in that moment, I felt death's breath touch my neck, sliding down my spine. In that moment, I felt the presence of death beside me. In that moment, nightmares came to life.
The infected were undeniably dead. With such wounds, life was impossible. But the infected kept coming.
I screamed. I wailed, unable to be silent. Norman immediately pressed me to him, covering my mouth with his hand, and I felt how I was shuddering from within, how everything inside me was tightening; I was trembling, shaking as if in a painful fit. Darkness clouded my vision.
The horribly tormented bodies—torn, gnawed at, and reeking—moved toward us from all directions, gasping, delirious, their glassy, yellowing eyes staring.
“Run! We need to get out of here!” Robert's sharp voice snapped me out of my daze; Norman was already pulling me toward the exit… And we ran. “Faster! To the street, everyone!”
Those creatures had always been so close.
A second wind came. All exhaustion vanished in an instant; the instinct for self-preservation was stronger. The only thought spinning in my mind was: "Get out of here! Run! Save yourself!" I ran, not feeling the floor beneath my feet and not knowing if I was really running forward or standing still.
In one second, my entire life flashed before my eyes…
One of the creatures jumped – whether my inflamed brain perceived it that way or it truly happened – and nearly grabbed me. I swallowed a cry, feeling myself pulled backward. Later, recalling it, I could say with certainty: Norman saved my life in that moment. Norman, holding me tightly, saved my life. If he hadn't reacted, I would have died.
I could have died then, on the first day…
We burst outside. The cold air struck my face.
“Doors! Shut those damn doors!” Robert's deep voice echoed dully in my consciousness, striking my ears with a metallic resonance. “John, Steven, hurry!”
I didn't want to stop. Run! Run away from the building! But Norman kept holding me firmly by the elbow, and when I tried to break free again, he pulled me toward him.
Stan and Michael were pushing against the doors, preventing them from opening under the pressure from the other side, while two other Gorgons tied the door handles together with paracord. Sarah reloaded her weapon lightning-fast, while Sam, stepping back slightly, fell to the ground, covering his face with his hands and pulling his knees to his chest.
I stood bent over, trying to catch my breath. Gasping for air, I glanced around in fear, unable to understand: why weren't we running away? There wasn't enough air in my lungs.
They were close. They had been right there all this time.
Robert once again unsuccessfully tried to establish contact over the radio. No one responded. Only static and noise. I shifted my gaze down the avenue and saw more figures in the distance – their jerky, unnatural movements, their angular gait, as though they had lost control of their own bodies – silently, I opened my mouth, turned to Norman, trying to say, to show… He nodded briefly, then waved his hand towards the commander…
“Sbort, we need to leave now!” Stan said, breathing heavily as he adjusted the straps of his vest. Behind him, the infected slammed against the doors, leaving marks on the glass that were either bloody or purulent. “We can’t delay! We can't afford to be stupid!”
“You’re overstepping,” Robert shifted his gaze to Taren, who immediately paled and took half a step back.
Dark, coal-gray clouds had covered the sky. They swirled, clustering together. The city was shrouded in an impenetrable blanket. Blood. Smoke. Ashes. Emptiness. People were nowhere to be seen. I looked at a figure in the distance, moving slowly toward us, hearing the creaking and wheezing behind the doors, and the thought flashed instantly that things would never be the same. That the world we knew was gone.
“I should have told him to head straight to the cars,” Sarah said quietly to Norman, “and we would have met up there. You know he would have made it.”
“No, we can’t split up again. And not in this condition…” The Gorgon didn't finish. The echo of a couple of consecutive gunshots spread through the area. Shots fired nearby; the soldiers stood rigid, scanning their surroundings. At that moment, the first cracks appeared in the door.
“Robert,” I gasped in a voice that wasn't mine, watching as the spiderweb cracks spread across the glass.
A second. Two.
Another gunshot rang out very close, and I instinctively turned around. A soldier burst out of the alley, jumping over a body that had fallen at his feet. He seemed to be covered in blood.
“Sbort,