The faint hum of the system, always present in the back of August’s mind, suddenly faltered as the group moved cautiously down the darkened hospital hallway. It was a sound he’d grown so used to that he only noticed it when it disappeared. For the first time since the system had activated, there was silence in his head—a silence that filled him with dread.
“August,” Cara whispered sharply. “What’s the plan?”
August stared at the flickering overlay of his HUD. The map was lagging, static crackling at the edges. The icons indicating nearby hostiles blurred and vanished, leaving an empty grid. Panic surged in his chest, but he swallowed it down.
“Hold on,” he muttered, tapping his temple as if that would somehow kickstart the system back into action. It didn’t. “Something’s... wrong.”
“Wrong?” Jude’s voice was taut, his body leaning heavily against the wall for support. His leg had only worsened since the last encounter, and his face was pale, sweat glistening on his brow. “What do you mean, wrong?”
“The system’s glitching,” August admitted reluctantly. He glanced at Cara, whose sharp eyes immediately narrowed.
“Great,” she muttered, adjusting her rifle. “So the thing you’ve been relying on to keep us alive decides to take a nap. What now?”
August clenched his fists, forcing himself to focus. The system had been a constant in this nightmare, a lifeline. But if it was offline, even briefly, they couldn’t afford to stop moving.
“We keep going,” he said finally. “We don’t need the system to get out of here.”
Cara didn’t look convinced. “You sure about that?”
“Do we have another option?” August snapped, his voice sharper than intended. He took a steadying breath and turned away, motioning for them to follow. “Stick close. We’ll be fine.”
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The hallway ahead was a stretch of shadowed uncertainty. The dim emergency lights overhead flickered sporadically, casting long, distorted shapes on the walls. Every sound seemed amplified in the silence—the scuff of their boots, the rattle of Jude’s bat against the floor, the faint groans of the undead echoing somewhere in the distance.
Without the system’s guidance, August had to rely on his own instincts. He checked every corner, every doorway, his grip on the crossbow tightening with each step. He couldn’t shake the feeling that they were being watched, though he saw nothing to confirm it.
“This place gives me the creeps,” Jude muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. “Like we’re walking through a damn horror movie.”
“Keep it down,” Cara hissed. “You want to let every Sprinter in the building know where we are?”
Jude grumbled something under his breath but didn’t argue. August didn’t blame him. The tension was suffocating, each moment dragging out longer than the last.
As they approached a set of double doors leading to the stairwell, August froze. There was a sound—a faint, wet squelching coming from just beyond the doors. He motioned for the others to stop, holding up a hand for silence.
“What is it?” Cara whispered.
August didn’t answer. He slowly reached for the door handle, his heart pounding in his chest. He opened it just enough to peek through the crack, his eyes scanning the dimly lit stairwell.
At first, he saw nothing. Then, his gaze dropped to the landing below, where a cluster of Sprinters was hunched over something—a corpse, he realized. The creatures tore into it with savage ferocity, their heads jerking back and forth as they devoured their meal.
August swallowed hard and pulled the door shut as quietly as possible. He turned back to the others, his face grim. “Sprinters. At least five of them, just below us.”
Jude let out a low groan. “Five? Great. Just great.”
Cara adjusted her rifle, her expression hard. “What’s the plan?”
“We avoid them,” August said. “We’ll take the long way around, find another set of stairs.”
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“And if they hear us?” Cara asked.
“They won’t,” August said, though he wasn’t sure he believed it himself.
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The long way around turned out to be a maze of twisting corridors and debris-filled rooms. Without the system to guide them, every turn felt like a gamble, every decision a potential death sentence. August could feel the weight of the group’s trust—or lack thereof—pressing down on him with every step.
As they moved, the faint sounds of the Sprinters grew louder. Their guttural snarls and the slap of their feet against the floor sent shivers down August’s spine. He forced himself to stay calm, to focus.
They passed through what appeared to have been a patient ward, the beds overturned and the walls streaked with blood. The sight was all too familiar, a grim reminder of how far the world had fallen.
“Hold up,” Cara whispered, her hand on August’s shoulder. She pointed to a nearby doorway. “That looks like an old supply room. Might have something useful.”
August hesitated. Time was precious, and every second they lingered increased the risk of being discovered. But supplies were scarce, and they couldn’t afford to pass up an opportunity.
“Fine,” he said. “But make it quick.”
Cara slipped into the room while August and Jude kept watch. The hallway was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that set August’s nerves on edge. He gripped his crossbow tightly, his eyes scanning every shadow.
A sudden crash from inside the supply room made him whirl around, his heart leaping into his throat. “Cara?” he hissed, stepping toward the door.
“I’m fine!” Cara called back, her voice strained. “Just knocked something over. Give me a sec.”
August exhaled slowly, trying to calm his racing heart. He glanced at Jude, who was leaning heavily against the wall, his face pale. “You okay?” August asked.
“Peachy,” Jude muttered, though his voice lacked its usual sarcasm.
Before August could respond, a new sound broke the silence—a rapid, rhythmic thudding, growing louder with each passing second. His blood ran cold.
“They’re coming,” he whispered.
Cara emerged from the supply room, a bag slung over her shoulder. “What’s coming?”
“Sprinters,” August said, his voice low and urgent. “We need to move. Now.”
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They ran.
The thudding grew louder, echoing through the hallways as the Sprinters closed in. August’s heart pounded in time with their footsteps, his mind racing. Without the system’s map, he had no idea where they were going. He could only hope they were heading toward an exit.
“Keep moving!” he shouted, glancing over his shoulder. The first of the Sprinters came into view, its twisted form barreling toward them with terrifying speed.
Cara fired her rifle, the sharp crack of the shots echoing through the hallway. The bullets struck the Sprinter, sending it crashing to the floor, but more of them appeared, their snarls filling the air.
“This way!” August yelled, spotting an open doorway ahead. He led the group into what appeared to be an old surgical ward, its rows of operating tables and medical equipment now covered in dust and grime.
They barricaded the door behind them, but the Sprinters slammed into it almost immediately, their inhuman strength shaking the makeshift barrier.
“We can’t hold them off forever!” Cara shouted, reloading her rifle.
August scanned the room, searching for anything that could help. His eyes landed on a row of oxygen tanks near the far wall. An idea formed in his mind, reckless but their only shot.
“Help me with these!” he said, running toward the tanks.
Cara and Jude followed, their movements frantic. Together, they rolled the tanks toward the door, positioning them as close to the barricade as possible.
“What’s the plan?” Jude asked, his voice tight.
“Create a bomb,” August said, grabbing a scalpel from a nearby tray. He punctured one of the tanks, the hiss of escaping gas filling the room.
“That’s your plan?” Cara said, her eyes wide. “You’re going to blow us up?”
“Not if we time it right,” August said. He grabbed a pack of surgical gloves and tied one of them to the valve of another tank, creating a makeshift fuse. “When they break through, we light this and run.”
“Run where?” Jude demanded.
August didn’t answer. He didn’t know. All he could focus on was the task at hand.
The barricade was failing, the door buckling under the force of the Sprinters’ assault. August lit the glove with a trembling hand, the flame dancing precariously close to the stream of gas.
“Now!” he shouted.
They ran toward the far end of the ward, throwing themselves behind an overturned table just as the barricade gave way. The Sprinters surged into the room, their snarls filling the air.
The explosion that followed was deafening. The blast sent a shockwave through the ward, shattering windows and throwing debris in every direction. August felt the heat against his skin, the force of the explosion knocking him off his feet.
When the dust settled, the room was eerily quiet. August sat up slowly, his ears ringing. The Sprinters were gone, their twisted bodies reduced to charred remains.
“We did it,” Cara said, her voice shaky. “We actually did it.”
August didn’t respond. His HUD flickered back to life, the system’s monotone voice breaking the silence: Reboot Complete. Warning: Interference Detected.
“What the hell does that mean?” Jude asked, his voice tinged with fear.
August stared at the glowing text, a chill running down his spine. He didn’t have an answer—but he had a feeling they were about to find out.