It felt as if just turning around would mean being grabbed. Breathing was painful – my chest felt as though it were being squeezed by iron clamps.
A blood-covered man lunged forward, pulling others with him. Robert shouted something. My peripheral vision captured an image that would stay with me forever – a mutilated body lying at the corner of a house: blood soaked the blue dress of the girl, her torn flesh covered with a film of whitish pus.
There was no need to ask questions. We just needed to run, to keep running… My heart pounded, and the panic from everything happening around us didn't let up for a second. It felt as if nature itself were aiding in this madness, lowering leaden clouds, pressing the thin bushes and grass down to the ground. The cold wind swept through the streetlights, buildings, and lonely trees beyond the road, picking up debris and scattering it from place to place.
A light, cold rain began to fall.
At some point, I realized that no one understood what was happening. Everyone was just running somewhere, running from someone. Past houses, across streets and alleyways. And I kept seeing the infected. They were multiplying.
How fortunate that I was wearing combat boots!
My breath caught. We ran through a narrow gap between two buildings. The air reeked of dampness and feces. We quickly emerged into an alley, turning around the corner of a house… I flinched and took a step back. The soldiers stopped abruptly, raising their weapons without hesitation. Dozens of people blocked the path. Infected people. I clutched Sam's arm.
“We need to go,” Robert said with a trembling voice, trying to remain calm, “quietly turn around…”
The infected noticed us. They heard us, sensed us. Their glazed eyes fixed on us. The triumph of nightmare. The triumph of death. Gurgling sounds, as if water or blood were in their lungs, erupted from somewhere deep within the creatures. They began to move toward us, some slowly, others too quickly.
Dead. Impossible. This couldn't be real.
"Let's go! Let's go!" Robert shouted quickly, and we tried to rush back… But they were here too. On the other side of the street, another dozen of these creatures. I realized with horror that we were surrounded… A wild panic surged inside me. I wanted to scream, grabbing my hair with both hands… "Up! Everyone to the stairs! Now!"
I looked around. On the building, in that foul passage, there was a fire escape leading up to a window on the third floor. Sam immediately pushed me toward it. Everyone rushed there, trying to avoid the infected. The stench was no longer noticeable. The first of the soldiers climbed up skillfully, one after another.
Growling and moaning came from all sides. They were getting closer and closer, and we were trapped…
“Shayer!” Robert barked; I nearly jumped out of my skin. The commander pushed me toward the stairs, "Come on! Move! Move!"
The wheezing and guttural sounds echoed through the alley.
I came to my senses as I was already climbing up, clutching the cold metal rungs. Step. Another step. I couldn’t feel anything beneath me. Sam climbed behind me. Then Michael. When I was near the top, I saw Robert being the last to climb the ladder, kicking away an approaching infected person.
Those seconds will remain in my memory forever, as some of the most terrifying – that feeling of overwhelming fear, cold and all-consuming, will stay with me.
Everything ceased to exist; the world around seemed like it had never been there… Only disbelief. Only the desire to climb higher as quickly as possible. Only the fear of being grabbed and pulled down.
I was even surprised when the ladder suddenly ended, and I was pulled up onto a sort of small balcony made of rusty metal bars and grates, covered with loose wooden planks. Horrified, I shrank away from the edge of the partition, pressing against the cold concrete wall. I breathed deeply; my head and ears felt hot and heavy. I could hear the creatures clinging to the rungs of the ladder, scratching it, shaking it like… What if they climb up now? Where would we run then?
But no one was climbing after us. The Gorgons stood at the edge of the partition, watching what was happening below, and Sam peeked out from behind them. I cautiously took a step toward Dort, touching his shoulder. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw one of the soldiers approach the window, knock on it, and shine a flashlight inside. The infected continued to move around below.
The sound of breaking glass echoed, and I flinched and turned around. The Gorgons also turned.
A bloodied man – Christopher, as I understood – smashed the glass with his elbow and shook his hand.
“I think it’s better to wait there,” he said, glancing around at everyone. For a moment, his eyes settled on Sam, then on me. The man raised an eyebrow.
“Yes, that would be better,” Robert nodded, “check out the apartment. We’ll take a break. It’s been two days without sleep. We need rest. We can’t get through outside anyway – it’s cold,” the commander added, glancing down once more.
We began to climb inside in the order given by Sbort.
I approached the window, leaned on the frame, and carefully made my way inside the stuffy and dark apartment, trying not to cut myself on the shards of glass. It was damp. Chilly. A thick layer of dust covered all the surfaces; no one had been here for a long time. A lonely lightbulb hung from a wire from the whitewashed ceiling. The gray wallpaper rippled, and in the corners, it had peeled off and hung down.
"Clear," Michael's voice came. "Clear," Norman echoed him. I climbed onto the bed in the corner of the room, hugged my knees, trying to calm the shaking and stay out of the way. The tension in the air grew, palpable on a physical level. Something was brewing, evident in the looks and the sharp movements of everyone present.
Christopher returned from the other room, throwing three Gorgon backpacks onto the floor. The other soldiers turned to look at him as he cast a look toward Robert from beneath his brows; Chris’s arms were literally covered in blood up to his elbows. His entire face, neck, and clothing were caked in dried and cracked blood and dirt. His eyes were swollen and red. He breathed heavily, licked his upper lip as if to say something, but then Stan, throwing a backpack with force, turned directly toward Chris.
“You went back for the others, didn't you?” Stan spat through clenched teeth. “And Charles went with you. So why did you come back alone?” The muscles in his face twitched with tension. Christopher met his hard gaze but remained silent. “You couldn't get them out, could you?” Taren’s voice broke into a rasp; Chris's silence was driving him mad. “Where’s my brother? Where's Charles?! What happened?! Answer me, Lewis, this damn second!”
I glanced anxiously at the Gorgons, at Robert, expecting someone to step in any moment. But everyone remained still. Sbort tiredly covered the upper half of his face, pressing his fingers to his eyes.
“Pretty much what happened, I suppose, with Amanda,” Christopher finally retorted bitterly. “That was her uniform, right?” He nodded in my direction, and my breath caught with anxiety as the image of the girl’s lifeless body reappeared in my mind, her limp arm dripping with thick, crimson blood… Her clothes were still warm. “Fantastic, our plan to get out of the city quickly! So, sacrificing our own people is acceptable, but saving civilians is our sacred duty!” The words were no longer directed at Stan. Christopher, whose neck veins were bulging, turned to Robert. “So you gave me the order to return and leave the others behind. Not to take the wounded. Not to save the surrounded. You told us to leave,” Chris almost growled, enunciating each word. “You sacrificed us, your own people,” he punched his chest with force, “but goddamn it, you brought civilians with you?!
It seemed to me that even the Gorgons were looking at Christopher with some apprehension. But not Sbort. He placed his hands on his hips and tilted his head back slightly. Robert remained silent, looking tired and slightly concerned.
“You don't think that