Chapter 8

As they stepped out of the pharmacy, the cool air hit Marcus's face, doing little to quell the simmering anger within him. He glanced at Ian, whose contemptuous glare felt like a physical weight. Marcus had to take deep breaths to resist the urge to punch the man.

Briggs, leading the way down the deserted street, took the point once more. Erika fell back with Marcus, who was beginning to feel the pain from his injury subside. The throbbing in his shoulder was less pronounced than before, a testament to the resilience his body had gained. This was a positive development, as he couldn't afford to show weakness now. Not when a certain someone was likely plotting against him.

"Hey," Erika said softly, concern etched on her face. "You did great back there. I know it was tough."

"Yeah, well, Ian doesn't think so," Marcus replied, struggling to maintain his composure. "What's his problem? Do I look like someone who killed his parents or something?"

"He wasn't always like this," Erika explained. "When everything fell apart, it hit us all hard. He's not handling it well, and he's taking it out on you." She paused, her tone firm. "I'm not excusing his behavior. If he crosses a line, you have every right to defend yourself."

Marcus was taken aback by Erika's last statement but nodded in response, grateful for her support.

He had survived so far, racking up nearly 90 XP from all the zombies he had killed, and he was just 10 points away from leveling up. The stakes were higher now, and he couldn’t afford to make mistakes.

As they rounded a corner, Briggs raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. The street ahead was blocked by a row of abandoned vehicles, and the muffled sounds of groaning infected echoed from somewhere beyond. "We need to find another way around," Briggs whispered, scanning the area.

Marcus's heart raced as he peered around the vehicles. A few dozen feet away, a group of zombies shuffled in their direction, their decayed bodies moving with an unsettling rhythm. "How do we get past them?" he whispered, anxiety creeping into his voice.

Briggs thought for a moment, his brow furrowing. "There’s an alleyway on the left side of this block. If we can make it there without being noticed, we can find a route around."

"And if they see us?" Ian piped up, his tone sharp. "We’ll be overrun."

Marcus glanced at him, keeping his voice calm. "We’ll be fine, we just have to stay quiet."

Briggs nodded, gesturing for them to follow him. They crept toward the alley, moving as silently as possible. The groans of the infected grew louder, and Marcus felt his pulse quicken, every step heavy with tension.

Once they reached the entrance to the alley, Briggs turned to the group. "Stay close, and whatever you do, don’t make a sound. We’ll slip through quickly."

The alley was narrow, the walls lined with debris and garbage. As they moved deeper into the shadows, Marcus kept his gun raised, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. The distant shuffle of the infected reminded him just how close they were to losing everything.

Halfway down the alley, Marcus caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. A figure—a woman, filthy and disheveled—emerged from a doorway. Her wild eyes, matted hair, and panicked expression gave away her desperation.

"Help!" she cried, her voice sharp and trembling.

Briggs’s hand shot up, signaling for silence. "Stay back!" he ordered, but it was too late. The woman’s cry had already echoed through the alley.

"They're coming! They’ll get me!" she screamed again, frantically looking over her shoulder before rushing toward the group. "Please, you have to help me!"

Marcus instinctively stepped back as the woman grabbed at his shirt, her grip tight and frantic. The sudden movement startled her further, and her cries grew louder.

"Let her go!" Ian hissed, shoving the woman away.

"Stop!" Briggs snapped, stepping between them. "She’s going to lead them right to us!"

Suddenly, the alley fell eerily silent. The low groans of the infected had stopped, replaced by the unsettling quiet of anticipation. Marcus froze, his heart pounding as he realized what had happened. The woman’s desperate cries had drawn their attention.

For a brief, agonizing moment, nothing moved. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the infected turned in unison. Dozens of rotting heads snapped in their direction, their lifeless eyes locking onto the group.

"Oh no..." the woman whimpered.

Marcus’s pulse quickened. In the distance, the guttural growls of the infected grew louder, a terrifying chorus that sent a chill down his spine. One by one, the infected started to move, their shambling steps quickening into a frantic, hungry charge.

"They’re coming!" Ian’s voice was laced with panic as he backed away, his eyes wide.

Marcus felt a surge of dread. His mind raced as the infected began pouring toward them from both ends of the alley.

"Run!" Briggs shouted, snapping them all out of their frozen state. "Move, now!"

With no other option, Marcus grabbed the woman’s arm, pulling her with him as the group bolted down the alley. The infected were closing in, their guttural snarls growing louder with each second. The ground seemed to vibrate with the sheer number of them, their relentless pursuit shaking Marcus to his core.

Every step felt like it could be their last, the sound of shuffling feet and snarls filling the narrow passage. Marcus didn’t dare look back—he didn’t need to. He could feel the infected gaining on them, could hear their grotesque groans growing closer and closer.

"Faster!" Briggs yelled, pushing them ahead. The alley narrowed further ahead, forcing them to squeeze between piles of debris and garbage. 

“Over there!” Erika shouted, pointing to a dilapidated building with a partially open door just ahead.

Without hesitation, they veered toward it. Marcus reached the door first, yanking it open as the others rushed to follow him inside. He cast one quick glance back at the horde, now mere feet away, before he stepped through the door and pulled it shut behind them.

The room was dark, the air thick with dust and decay. As they caught their breath, the sound of clawing and scratching echoed from outside as the infected pressed against the door. 

“We can’t stay here!” Marcus urged, glancing around. “They’ll find us!”

Briggs nodded, his face grim. “We need to find a way out and fast. Stay close, and whatever happens, don’t let them separate you.”

As they moved deeper into the building, Marcus couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a warning, every whisper of air a reminder of their precarious situation.

He glanced at the woman, who was clinging to Erika's arm, her eyes wide with terror. “You okay?” Marcus asked, hoping to reassure her.

She nodded, though her face was pale. “I just want to get out of here,” she whispered.

Marcus turned his attention back to the group, determined to keep everyone alive. Whatever had been lost in this world, he wouldn’t let it take them too.

“Let’s keep moving,” Briggs said, his voice steady. “We’ll find a way out of this.”

As they continued through the darkened hallways, the echoes of their footsteps mixed with the distant moans of the undead outside. The walls seemed to close in around them, the shadows growing heavier with each passing moment.

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