In a split second, Ethan weighed his options. There was no way he could outrun them across the open ground. He glanced around and spotted a tall slide structure in a children's playground nearby. Without a second thought, he sprinted toward it, using every ounce of energy he had left.
Ethan reached the playground and scrambled up the enclosed ladder of the tall slide structure. It was designed for children, but at that moment, each step felt like a monumental effort. When he reached the top, he turned around and looked down.
The infected had reached the playground and were circling the slide structure, howling in frustration. While it seemed their lack of coordination made climbing the ladder difficult for them, Ethan knew that didn't guarantee his safety for long. He glanced at the ladder's connection points and recalled news stories about deteriorating public infrastructure. The structure creaked ominously under his weight, and Ethan questioned its ability to withstand the aggressive clawing and shoving from below for an extended period.
He scanned his surroundings, desperate for another way out, and his eyes fell upon a cluster of closely spaced trees not far from the slide. The branches seemed sturdy and well-placed for climbing, and the proximity of the trees to one another offered a means to move horizontally, potentially allowing him to bypass the infected on the ground entirely.
Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Ethan mustered every ounce of strength and leaped from the top of the slide structure to the nearest tree branch. The adrenaline coursing through him lent his muscles a temporary boost, enabling him to grasp the branch. He nearly lost his grip, his fingers straining against the wood, before managing to steady himself. As he hung there, his chest heaved, lungs desperate for air.
Below him, the infected emitted a cacophony of frustrated snarls. Though they couldn't reach him, the slide structure groaned ominously, each creak echoing Ethan's doubts about its stability. Knowing he had to move, Ethan looked up at the complex network of branches above him. For a man who spent most of his days in front of a computer screen, the physical exertion required was exhausting. His muscles ached in protest as he began to climb, each movement laborious and draining.
He reached for another branch, his arms trembling from the effort. Sweat trickled down his forehead, stinging his eyes, but he forced himself to continue. It was a grueling, painstaking process, but Ethan slowly moved from one tree to the next. His breaths came in ragged gasps, each one a victory in its own right.
Once he'd put what felt like a sufficient distance between himself and the infected, though in reality it might have been just a couple of trees away, he stopped to rest. His muscles screamed for relief, his whole body drenched in sweat. With shaky hands, he took out his phone and searched for a signal, his eyes squinting at the screen. Finally, bars appeared, and he immediately dialed Jane's number, praying she'd pick up. Again, voicemail. Suppressing a sob, he sent her a text: "EMERGENCY. Lock doors. Stay inside. Call me ASAP."
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Exhausted but aware he couldn't afford to linger, Ethan took a brief moment to scan the park and the street beyond. His eyes caught sight of a nearby building with a flat rooftop. It wasn't too far from him.
Ethan weighed his next move carefully. The building's rooftop loomed ahead, both a sanctuary and an intimidating physical challenge. His body screamed for rest, but time was a luxury he didn't have. Steeling himself, he calculated the distance to the next tree, and then to the building. Could he make it? He had to.
With a clenched jaw, he reached for the nearest branch on the next tree. His muscles trembled, each fiber straining as he pulled himself forward. It felt like lifting weights, except the stakes were higher. His hands were sore, the skin scraped from his desperate climbing, and his grip felt weak. Nonetheless, he persisted, making his way, agonizingly, toward the tree closest to the building.
Once there, he assessed the gap between the final branch and the rooftop. It looked like a chasm, but it was now or never. Taking several deep, steadying breaths, he backed up on the branch for a running start. His heart pounded in his ears, drowning out the sounds of the infected below.
He sprinted along the branch and leaped, arms outstretched, toward the building. For a moment that seemed to stretch into eternity, he was in the air, the ground and infected far below, the rooftop his only salvation. He crashed onto the rooftop, arms flailing for anything to grab onto. His fingers found purchase on the edge and, with a herculean effort, he hauled himself up.
Lying there for a moment, he felt a mix of relief and utter exhaustion. His muscles ached as though he'd run a marathon. Sweat soaked through his clothes, and his lungs gasped for air. But he was alive, and for the moment, safe.
Gathering his strength, Ethan stood up and surveyed the rooftop. It was a flat space, punctuated only by some HVAC units and a solitary metal door. That door could be an entrance to sanctuary — a place to find supplies, maybe even other survivors. But just as quickly as the thought entered his mind, a darker one followed: it could also lead to a building teeming with the infected.
The metal door seemed to mock him, a gamble between potential safety and possible danger. His eyes narrowed as he studied it, taking in the handle, the hinges, the wear and tear that hinted at its age. Could it be locked? Should he even attempt to find out?
His hand hovered in the air, inches from the door's handle, trembling not just from physical exhaustion but from the weight of the decision. The magnitude of the risk made him hesitate, his mind racing through scenarios, each more uncertain than the last. The infected couldn't reach him up here, but what if the building's interior was even more dangerous? Was it worth the gamble?
Mustering every ounce of courage, Ethan's hand enveloped the handle, his heart pounding as he got ready to breach the threshold into uncertainty.