They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to.

With a silent nod between them, they took a breath and pushed forward into the second floor.

The hallways were a wreck—desks overturned, scattered papers fluttering across the tile, the air thick with the scent of mildew and something rotten. Old bullet casings littered the ground, long since abandoned by whatever fight had taken place here.

And standing among the wreckage were five infected.

Two Clickers. Three Runners. Luckily the clickers were separated from the runners.

James felt his heartbeat quicken, but he kept his grip firm on his knife, his muscles already tensing in anticipation.

Joel motioned for them to split up, his hands moving in silent commands—they would each take one of the Runners first. Silent kills only. No mistakes.

The three of them moved in sync, silent as shadows, weaving through the wreckage of overturned desks and scattered papers.

They spread out, each picking their mark.

Joel went first, moving like a ghost, his blade slipping effortlessly beneath the jaw of his target, severing the brainstem before it even knew he was there. He caught the body, easing it down slowly, muffling the sound of it hitting the floor.

Ellie mirrored his movement perfectly. A quick, practiced grip, her knife sinking into the side of the skull, the Runner twitching once before collapsing onto a desk, motionless.

James crept toward his target, knife poised, breath steady—

Then his boot landed on a shard of glass.

Crunch.

The Runner's head snapped up instantly, its glazed eyes locking onto him.

James lunged, driving his knife into its throat before it could scream, but the damn thing fought back.

The gurgling snarl it let out was just loud enough.

Click.

Click-click-click.

James' stomach dropped as the two Clickers in the hallway went still.

Then they screeched, heads snapping toward the noise.

The Runner convulsed violently in James’ grip, thrashing against the blade in its throat. He gritted his teeth, using his entire body weight to drive it into the floor before twisting the knife hard, silencing it for good.

Currency 7(+1)

The moment James’ Runner hit the floor, the Clickers charged.

Joel reacted first, stepping into the path of the closest Clicker, meeting it head-on.

It lunged wildly, its clawed hands swiping at his face, but Joel was faster. He dodged left, his blade flashing in the dim light, slashing across the exposed fungal growths that lined the Clicker’s skull.

The infected staggered, shrieking in rage, but it wasn’t slowing down.

With its enhanced strength, it recovered too fast, turning its body in a frenzied charge, slamming forward.

Joel barely had time to sidestep, but the force of the attack still sent him stumbling backward, his boots skidding on loose debris.

For the first time, James saw Joel struggle.

His breath still ragged from his own kill, James acted without thinking.

He rushed in, throwing himself shoulder-first into the Clicker’s ribs, his entire weight crashing against it.

The impact knocked it off balance, sending it sprawling over a toppled metal cart with a sickening crash.

Joel was on it in an instant, not wasting a second.

His knife drove up through its chin, the blade tearing into its skull. The Clicker went rigid, then slumped lifelessly to the ground.

One down.

A sharp thud echoed behind him.

James turned just in time to see Ellie struggling, her back pressed against a desk, the second Clicker clawing at her arms, teeth bared, lunging for her neck.

For a split second, James saw something on her face that sent a cold twist through his stomach—

Pure fear.

Joel froze, the sight causing horrible memories to flash through his mind.

James moved.

Teeth gritted, he lunged forward, his knife held in a two hand grip slammed into the back of the Clicker’s skull, the blade sinking deep, piercing through to the bone.

The Clicker shuddered violently, arms twitching—

Then collapsed, finally still.

James exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling with adrenaline, his hands still tight around the handle of his blade, waiting for it to twitch one last time.

But it didn’t.

Currency: 10 (+3).

James let out a shaky laugh, breathless, his whole body trembling from the effort. He pulled his knife free, wiping the thick, fungal gore on the Clicker’s torn clothing before finally taking a step back.

Then—

Joel was already on Ellie.

He moved fast, hands gripping her arms, turning her this way and that, scanning her for any wounds, any signs of a bite. His expression was stone-cold, but James caught the way his hands shook, just a little.

“You hurt?” Joel’s voice was sharp, edged with something James couldn’t quite place.

Ellie shook her head quickly, still trying to catch her breath. “No, no—I’m fine. I’m fine.”

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Joel’s gaze flickered down to her arms, his fingers ghosting over the scrape where the Clicker had grabbed her, but the skin was unbroken.

Ellie pulled her arm free. “See? Still in one piece.”

Joel didn’t look convinced, but he gave a curt nod and stepped back.

James leaned against the desk, still coming down from the fight.

He glanced at Ellie, who was rolling her shoulder, her face pale, but otherwise holding it together.

For a second, James debated saying something, cracking a joke to cut the tension—

But then he thought about the look on her face when the Clicker had pinned her.

He swallowed down whatever smart remark had been forming in his head and instead said, “…You sure you’re good?”

Ellie blinked, glancing at him.

Then she forced a small smirk, shaking off whatever had been lingering in her mind.

“Dude. I literally saved your ass two minutes ago.”

James let out a huff of laughter, rubbing his face. “Yeah, yeah. You’re welcome, by the way.”

Ellie scoffed. “Pfft. That Clicker had, like, three more seconds before I got it.”

James snorted. “Uh-huh. Totally.”

Joel sighed, rubbing his temple. “Alright, enough. We need to move.”

The joking fizzled out, and the reality of their situation settled back in.

They continued walking, moving carefully, each step measured, the floor beneath them creaking with age. The main-floor stairwell had taken time to find, but once they did, it felt like they had finally made some progress.

Until they saw what was waiting for them below.

Joel stepped forward first, peering through the narrow gap of the stairwell door. His body went rigid. Ellie and James, sensing his hesitation, edged closer and followed his gaze.

What they saw sent a cold dread through their bones.

The entire first floor was crawling with Clickers.

Their grotesque, fungal-ridden heads twitched violently, their bodies swaying unnaturally as they moved in erratic, uncoordinated patterns. Dozens of them filled the halls, their low clicks echoing, bouncing off the walls in a haunting, symphonic chorus. They seemed agitated by the noise of the horde outside.

But it wasn’t just them.

In the center of the infested horde, a towering, grotesque figure loomed. Its body was swollen and misshapen, thick fungal plating covering its skin like armor. Large bulging sacks of spores pulsed on its back, its breathing a heavy, deep rumble that sent shivers down James’ spine.

A Bloater.

James exhaled slowly, gripping his knife tighter, as if that would do anything against that thing.

Ellie swallowed hard. “Well, shit.”

Joel pulled back from the door, his face grim, already trying to piece together a plan.

They couldn’t take them all out.

They couldn’t sneak through.

They had one option: Distraction.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Back on the relative safety of the second floor, the three huddled in a tight corner, voices low but urgent.

“We need to pull them away,” Joel said, his tone sharp, all business. “If we can get them out of the hallway, we’ll have a straight shot to the maintenance tunnels.”

James furrowed his brows. “And how exactly do we do that?”

Joel’s gaze flicked toward the elevator shaft.

“Noise,” he said simply.

Realization dawned and Ellie tensed, already shaking her head. “No. No way, Joel. You are not doing that.”

“Ellie—”

“No!” She clenched her jaw, arms crossed. “That is a stupid-ass plan, even for you.”

James glanced between the two, knowing it was a bad idea to come between them. He caught the subtle shift in Joel’s stance—that unyielding, immovable look that meant he had already made up his mind.

"We don’t have another choice," Joel said, his voice calm but firm. "You wait for the sound. The second you hear it, you run for the tunnel. No hesitation."

Ellie’s hands balled into fists at her sides.

"Joel—"

"I’ll be right behind you."

She didn’t believe him. Not entirely.

James saw it in the way her shoulders tensed, in the way her fingers curled like she was holding back something she didn’t want to say.

For a moment, she didn’t answer.

Then—with a sharp exhale, she relented. “…Fine.”

Joel nodded once before stepping back, loading a fresh round into his rifle.

Then he left, heading back to the upper floors.

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

The pitch-black elevator shaft yawned open before him as Joel descended the ladder, the metal cold and slick beneath his hands. He moved fast, boots pressing firmly but carefully against the rungs, his grip steady despite the tension coiling in his chest.

The closed doors on the first, second, and third floors ensured he was safe for now—but that wouldn’t last long.

He reached the bottom, his boots landing softly against the elevator floor.

Joel took a slow, steady breath.

Then—he raised the stock of his rifle—

And slammed it against the metal doors.

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The sound echoed violently, reverberating through the walls like a gunshot in a cave.

For a split second, nothing happened.

Then, from the other side—

A chorus of screams erupted.

The Clickers shrieked, their clicks turning into frantic, desperate wails. Heavy footsteps pounded against the floor, dozens of clawed hands scratching against the walls, scrambling toward the sound.

Then—

A thick, heavy slam rattled the door.

The Bloater had arrived.

Joel could feel the metal shudder as the beast’s massive fists pounded against it, the low rumble of its breath reverberating through the shaft.

Time to go.

Joel climbed fast, gripping the ladder with white-knuckled hands, hauling himself upward just as another deafening crash rattled the door below.

The Bloater was determined, its roars vibrating through his bones.

But Joel didn’t look back.

The older man raced his way down through the floors and reached the second storey, stepping into the hallway, his heart still pounding in his chest. He had made it—

Then a Clicker slammed into him from the side.

His rifle slipped from his hands, clattering to the floor as the infected pinned him against the wall, its fungal teeth snapping inches from his face.

Joel gritted his teeth, shoving back, but the thing was strong—stronger than any human that skinny should be.

It thrashed wildly, clawed hands digging into his jacket, its breath hot and rancid as it shrieked into his ear.

Joel struggled, grappling its arms, keeping its snapping jaws at bay—

But the thing was too strong.

His arms struggled, his aged joints screaming in pain as he pushed them past their limits. He was out of his prime, and he wasn't sure he was going to win this one.

Then—

A sharp cry, followed by a wet crunch.

The Clicker suddenly shuddered, its body jerking violently before going limp.

Joel shoved it off just in time to see Ellie standing there, her knife buried deep in its neck, breath heavy.

She yanked the blade free, scowling down at him.

"You thought I’d just leave you?" she snapped.

Joel exhaled, shaking his head. "Told you to leave."

Ellie scoffed. "Yeah, well, you suck at giving orders."

James stepped into view, a pistol gripped tightly in his hands, watching the hallway behind them.

Joel stilled for a moment, taking in the gun.

His rifle was still strapped to his back—James hadn’t taken it.

Which meant—

Where the hell did the kid get a pistol?

But now wasn’t the time.

Joel picked up his rifle. "Move. Now."

They bolted down the stairs, their breath ragged, hearts hammering as they descended two steps at a time. The stairwell was narrow and steep, the walls lined with faded, peeling emergency exit signs. Dust rained from the ceiling, shaken loose by the distant, thundering blows of the Bloater still trying to break through the elevator doors.

Their boots thudded against the metal steps, the echo of their escape amplified in the tight space, but there was no turning back now.

Joel hit the first-floor landing first, shoving through the door into the main hallway, his rifle already raised. Ellie and James followed, breathless, their footsteps kicking up dust and discarded papers.

The air was thick with rot, the lingering stench of decay and fungal growth hanging in the space like an oppressive fog. The dim lighting from cracked overhead panels cast long, flickering shadows, making the entire floor feel even more like a damn nightmare.

Then—they saw it.

The faint, swirling haze of spores.

"Masks!" Joel barked, already reaching for his gas mask.

Ellie and James reacted instantly, pulling out what little protection they had.

Joel secured his gas mask, the worn rubber sealing tightly against his face with practiced ease. Beside him, James yanked the filtration mask over his nose and mouth, the straps digging into his cheeks as he adjusted it.

Ellie, with nothing better, pulled a surgical mask over her face, her eyes narrowing as she tugged it into place.

She knew she was immune, but still—breathing in spores probably wasn’t great for lung health. And besides, keeping up appearances mattered.

Her gaze flicked to James.

Can’t exactly drop that bombshell right now.

It wasn’t perfect—but it was better than nothing.

Then they ran.

They sprinted forward, navigating around overturned desks and broken down chairs, their footfalls muffled but still present—and that was enough.

A Clicker twitched violently in a nearby waiting area.

Then another.

The sound of running footsteps was like a dinner bell, and suddenly, every Clicker in the hallway reacted at once.

Their heads snapped toward them, fungal-covered faces twitching as a chorus of clicks rippled through the air.

Joel didn’t hesitate. "Move! Keep moving!"

The Clickers let out blood-curdling shrieks, lurching toward them with sickening speed, their jagged fingers clawing at the air as they stumbled over debris to reach their prey.

One of them lunged too close, its deformed hand grasping at Ellie’s backpack.

"Fuck off!" she growled, twisting her body just enough to break free, her knife flashing as she stabbed backward, barely clipping its arm before James shoved her forward.

No time to fight. Just run.

Joel was already ahead, clearing the path with brutal efficiency. He slammed his shoulder into a toppled reception desk, sending it skidding across the floor and crashing into a Clicker’s legs, momentarily tripping it up. The infected stumbled, shrieking in frustration, buying them a few precious seconds as they barreled toward the maintenance door.

The sound of the infected behind them was deafening now—rapid footsteps, shrill screams, the clicking growing louder and more erratic.

James reached the maintenance tunnel door first, yanking it open, practically shoving Ellie through.

Joel risked a single glance back—

And froze for half a second at the sight of what was coming.

The Bloater.

The massive, hulking infected shoved aside Clickers like they were nothing, its grotesque fungal armor bulging with every heavy step, its wheezing, labored breath thick with spores.

And it was charging right for them.

Joel lunged through the doorway, and James slammed it shut behind him, just as the infected crashed into it.

They threw their weight against it, forcing it closed.

Ellie grabbed a rusted pipe, shoving it through the handles, locking it in place.

Joel and James dragged a metal shelf, wedging it against the door just as the first heavy slam shook the frame.

The infected shrieked and howled, their clawed hands scraping violently against the metal.

But for now—

They were safe.