The hospital was a husk of its former self, a once-bustling center of healing now consumed by death and rot. The air was cold and stale, carrying a metallic tang that clung to the back of August’s throat. His footsteps echoed faintly as he led Jude and Cara through the cracked, tile-lined hallways. The system’s map guided them forward, a pale, glowing beacon of order in the chaos of their surroundings.
Every so often, August would glance over his shoulder. Cara’s face was set in a hard line, her rifle at the ready, while Jude shuffled along behind, his bat gripped tightly in both hands. His limp had worsened, but he hadn’t complained since their narrow escape from the mercenaries.
“We should check the pharmacy,” Cara suggested, her voice a strained whisper. “Jude needs something for his leg, and we could use supplies.”
August nodded, his eyes scanning the glowing markers on his HUD. “It’s marked on the map. First floor, west wing. Not far from here.”
“Not far,” Jude muttered with a grim smile. “I’ve heard that before.”
August ignored him, pushing open a set of double doors. The hinges groaned in protest, the sound seeming to carry for miles. He froze, his heart racing as he waited for a response. Nothing. He let out a slow breath and stepped through.
The system chimed softly in his mind: High Hostile Presence Detected. Proceed with Caution.
“Stay sharp,” August murmured, gripping his crossbow tighter.
----------------------------------------
The pharmacy was in shambles. Shelves were toppled, their contents scattered across the floor. Broken glass crunched under their boots as they moved cautiously through the room, their weapons at the ready. Most of the shelves had already been picked clean, but a few stray boxes and bottles remained.
Cara crouched by a shelf, sifting through the debris with practiced efficiency. “Painkillers, antibiotics, gauze—this’ll help,” she said, shoving items into her backpack.
Jude leaned against the wall, his face pale and drawn. “Just make sure you find something for me before I keel over.”
Cara shot him a look. “Don’t tempt me.”
“Quiet,” August hissed. He had noticed the faintest sound—a rapid, rhythmic thumping. It wasn’t footsteps, but something faster, heavier. The system’s HUD pulsed urgently, highlighting the walls around them in a faint orange glow.
“Sprinters,” the system announced in its monotone voice. “Fast-moving infected. High threat level.”
“Sprinters?” August whispered. He didn’t have time to ask for clarification. The thumping grew louder, closer, and suddenly, one of the side doors slammed open.
The creature that burst through wasn’t like the zombies they had encountered before. Its movements were erratic and jerky, but impossibly fast. Its decayed face was a mask of pure rage, its milky white eyes locked onto them. It charged without hesitation.
“Move!” August yelled, firing a bolt from his crossbow. The projectile struck the Sprinter in the chest, but it barely slowed down. It stumbled slightly, then lunged forward with an animalistic snarl.
Cara opened fire, the sharp crack of her rifle echoing through the room. The bullets tore into the Sprinter, sending it sprawling to the ground. But even as it lay twitching, more of them appeared, pouring through the broken door like a flood.
“There’s too many!” Jude shouted, swinging his bat as one of the creatures lunged at him. The bat connected with a sickening crunch, and the Sprinter collapsed, but another took its place almost immediately.
“Fall back!” August yelled, pulling out his knife as one of the Sprinters closed in on him. He slashed at its neck, the blade cutting through decayed flesh, but the creature’s weight still sent him sprawling to the ground.
Cara grabbed him by the arm, hauling him to his feet. “We have to go!”
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The system chimed again: New Skill Unlocked: Explosive Trap Deployment.
August didn’t hesitate. “Cover me!” he shouted, pulling up the skill interface. His HUD displayed a glowing grid over the floor, allowing him to place the traps with precision. He selected the positions quickly, watching as small, translucent devices materialized in the air before dropping to the ground.
“Traps are set,” August said, his heart pounding. “We just need to—”
Before he could finish, a Sprinter slammed into him from the side, sending him crashing into a shelf. The creature snarled, its jagged teeth snapping inches from his face. He struggled, pushing against its rotting frame, but its strength was overwhelming.
A gunshot rang out, and the Sprinter’s head snapped back, blood and bone spraying across the room. Cara stood behind it, her rifle smoking. “Get up!” she yelled.
August scrambled to his feet, his eyes darting to the traps. The system’s HUD showed their activation status, but something was wrong. The glowing markers over the devices were flashing red.
Warning: Trap Malfunction. Manual Detonation Required.
“Are you kidding me?” August muttered. He grabbed his crossbow and turned to the others. “The traps aren’t working. We need to get out of here.”
“No kidding!” Jude shouted, swinging his bat wildly at another Sprinter. “But where?”
August checked the map. The system highlighted an exit on the far side of the pharmacy. “This way!”
They fought their way through the horde, the Sprinters’ relentless speed and aggression keeping them constantly on edge. Every corner of the room seemed alive with movement—gnashing teeth, clawing hands, and the wet, guttural sounds of the infected.
As they neared the exit, one of the traps finally detonated. The explosion was deafening, sending a shockwave through the pharmacy and knocking several Sprinters off their feet. The blast didn’t kill them all, but it bought the group precious seconds.
“Keep moving!” August shouted, shoving Jude forward. They burst through the exit and into the hallway, slamming the door behind them. August jammed a nearby metal rod through the handles, creating a makeshift barricade.
For a moment, there was silence except for their ragged breathing. But the pounding on the door started almost immediately, the Sprinters throwing themselves against it with terrifying force.
“That’s not going to hold,” Cara said, her voice tight.
“I know,” August replied, his mind racing. “There’s a stairwell nearby. If we can reach the upper floors, we might be able to slow them down.”
Jude groaned, leaning heavily against the wall. “I don’t know if I can make it up another flight of stairs.”
“You don’t have a choice,” Cara snapped, grabbing his arm. “Come on.”
The pounding grew louder, cracks forming in the door. August led the way, the system’s map guiding him to the stairwell. They climbed as fast as they could, their footsteps echoing in the narrow space. Jude’s breathing was labored, each step a struggle, but he kept going.
When they reached the third floor, August stopped, scanning the area. The system highlighted a small supply room nearby. “In here,” he said, motioning for the others to follow.
They barricaded the door behind them, piling furniture and debris against it. The pounding of the Sprinters was faint now, but it was only a matter of time before they found a way up.
August sank to the floor, his chest heaving. The room was dark, lit only by the faint glow of the system’s interface. He glanced at Cara, who was checking her rifle, and then at Jude, who was slumped against the wall, his face pale and sweat-soaked.
“We can’t keep doing this,” Cara said, breaking the silence. “We’re not going to survive if we keep running into every trap the system sets for us.”
“It’s not setting traps,” August said, his voice defensive. “It’s trying to help.”
“Is it?” Cara shot back. “Because from where I’m standing, it seems like your system is more interested in leveling you up than keeping us alive.”
August didn’t respond. He couldn’t deny that the system’s priorities often felt... detached. Cold. But it was all he had—the only thing guiding him through the chaos.
A new notification appeared on his HUD: Mission Update: Clear the Third Floor to Unlock Escape Route.
August sighed, rising to his feet. “We’re not done yet.”
“Of course we’re not,” Jude muttered, shaking his head. “Why would we be?”
Cara looked at him, her expression unreadable. “What’s the plan, then?”
August checked the map. The system highlighted several red markers on the third floor—more zombies, though it wasn’t clear if they were Sprinters or something worse. He tightened his grip on his crossbow and looked at his companions.
“We clear the floor,” he said. “And then we get out of this damn place.”
Cara nodded, her jaw set. Jude groaned but pushed himself to his feet. The pounding on the lower levels was growing louder, the Sprinters relentless in their pursuit.
“Let’s finish this,” Cara said, her voice grim.
August opened the door, his crossbow at the ready. The hallway stretched out before them, dark and silent. But he knew better than to trust the quiet. The hospital of the dead wasn’t finished with them yet.