"You better back off right now, or I swear I'll shoot!"
After Bryan noticed the blonde woman's movents, a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes. But before he could warn her, Sarah—on his back—beat him to it. She aid her pistol directly at the woman and shouted a warning.
At first, Sarah hadn't noticed the blonde woman's approach. But she'd felt Bryan tense up and noticed him glancing repeatedly to one side.
Following his gaze, she spotted the woman steadily closing in on them. Sarah wasn't naive. One look at those suspicious movents, and she understood exactly what the woman intended.
Even if the woman truly ant no harm, Sarah wasn't about to let her get any closer. She refused to gamble with the lives of the people she cared about. So she raised her gun without hesitation and issued her warning.
"Don't—don't shoot! I didn't an anything by it..."
The blonde woman's face went ashen when she saw the gun pointed at her. She hadn't expected to be caught. She threw her hands up imdiately and veered away, moving toward a different part of the crowd.
But in her haste to edge sideways while keeping her attention fixed on Bryan's group, she failed to notice the raised ledge of a collapsed step directly ahead.
Her foot caught on the edge. Her montum carried her forward. She stumbled and crashed face-first into the ground, unable to get back up for several long seconds.
The people running behind her were startled by her sudden fall, but no one stopped. No one even tried to go around her. Instead, they trampled right over her, using her body as a stepping stone. Her screams ant nothing to them.
"Serves her right."
Watching the woman get trampled, Sarah muttered under her breath. But then her expression darkened—not out of sympathy for the woman, who had clearly intended harm. It was the actions of the people behind her that disgusted Sarah. They were running near the front of the group. Slowing down for half a second to step around her would have cost them nothing. Yet they chose to walk over her instead. So didn't even bother adjusting their footing.
Just then, Bryan stumbled. He nearly went down but caught himself at the last mont, barely avoiding a catastrophic fall.
The brief delay caused them to fall back significantly in the group.
"Dammit!"
Bryan could feel his arms and legs shaking violently. He gasped for air. Looking at the short distance remaining, hearing the Infected shrieks growing clearer behind him, frustration and helplessness welled up inside him.
He knew that with his current strength and stamina, he couldn't carry Sarah the rest of the way.
"I'll help!"
Just as Bryan trudged forward, despair creeping in, a woman's voice ca from behind. A mont later, the weight on his back lightened noticeably.
"You—you guys!"
He heard Sarah's startled exclamation. Turning his head, he saw a sweat-drenched woman and a boy behind him, their hands supporting Sarah's body as they ran.
The mont he recognized their faces, Bryan knew who they were—the mother and son Sarah had shared food with. He never imagined they would be the ones to co to his rescue.
With the load shared, his legs regained so of their spring. He heard Sarah speak with heartfelt gratitude: "Thank you so much!"
"Don't thank us. If it weren't for you, we probably wouldn't have made it this far." The woman looked at Sarah with equal gratitude. Then she glanced back at the seemingly endless horde and the stragglers being swallowed up one by one. "I'll do what I can, but if the Infected catch up to us, we'll have no choice but to leave you behind."
anwhile, Wilfred had intended to step forward and help, but rembering his current condition, he hesitated and stayed back. He pulled the grenade from his coat. If things got desperate, he would buy them ti himself...
Trudging through the thick snow, Bryan carried Sarah forward with everything he had. Sweat poured down his face in rivulets. He was grateful he'd been training his body constantly and had eaten earlier—otherwise he'd have collapsed long ago.
But most of the survivors hadn't been so fortunate. Without food to replenish their energy, they were gasping for breath, their pace slowing. So were now even slower than Bryan, despite him carrying another person.
"SHRIEEEEK—!"
An Infected burst out from sowhere and lunged at Bryan.
"Watch out!"
Allen spotted it and cried out in alarm. He raised his pistol and aid at the creature's head, but his hands were shaking so badly he couldn't pull the trigger.
Sarah saw it too. She raised her pistol, but clinging to Bryan's back made aiming impossible. All she could do was fire wildly at its torso.
The bullets punched into the Infected's chest, staggering it for a mont. But with a furious shriek, it lunged again.
"Damn it!"
Seeing the Infected nearly on top of him, Bryan glanced at Allen frozen in place and cursed inwardly. Too much to ask, after all. He released one hand and drew the knife from his belt, preparing to deal with it himself.
"Ahhhh—!"
But just as the Infected was about to reach him, Allen—who had been paralyzed—suddenly saw flashes of his mother's death and Sylvia's final monts. His expression twisted into sothing feral. With a scream that seed to shatter so barrier inside him, his finger squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
Black, viscous blood sprayed from the hole in the Infected's skull. Its lunging body went limp, though montum carried it a few more steps before it collapsed.
Bryan stared, knife frozen mid-swing, caught off guard.
He looked at Allen—arm still raised, gun barrel trailing smoke, face blank with shock and lingering fear.
Seeing that Allen had finally broken through, Bryan's lips curved into a small smile. He sheathed the knife and gave the boy a thumbs-up. "Nice shot."
Then he hoisted Sarah higher on his back and took off running again.
Allen followed automatically. He looked at the pistol in his hand, then at the Infected he'd just killed. A strange feeling welled up inside him. Shooting an Infected... wasn't as hard as he'd thought.
Tilting his head, he managed an awkward smile. He raised the pistol again, aid at another approaching Infected, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
...
By now, the two groups had covered five or six hundred ters. The rear group had been completely wiped out. Only the soldiers remained, sprinting to catch up with the lead group.
"Move! We're almost there!"
Tracy saw the Infected finishing off the stragglers and closing fast. She shouted at the top of her lungs, hoping to ignite whatever survival instinct remained in her people.
But even with her rallying cry, the group's pace barely increased. The deep snow made travel difficult. Most were running on empty. The only reason they'd made it this far was the mortal terror driving them beyond their limits. There was nothing left to give.
"Huff... huff..."
Bryan's breath ca in ragged gasps. Sweat stread down his face. But his legs never slowed.
Watching him struggle, face flushed and drenched, Sarah knew he was nearing his breaking point. "Bryan, put down. You can't keep carrying —we'll both die!"
"Don't say that." He gripped her legs tighter and fixed his eyes forward. His voice was firm. "We're going to make it. Both of us."
"Ahhh—!"
Just as the group stretched into a long, desperate line, the survivor at the very back was finally caught. The scream—so close now—sent a jolt of terror through everyone. They turned to look.
The sight of those snarling, twisted faces bearing down on them was almost too much to bear. So felt a surge of adrenaline and found new speed. Others went weak in the knees and crumpled to the ground.
While Bryan pushed himself forward, his peripheral vision caught movent. To his right, a short-haired blonde woman was slowly drifting toward him.
Her movents were subtle, but he'd noticed imdiately.
He shifted slightly to the left, keeping his eyes forward while tracking the woman's feet out of the corner of his eye. Sure enough, she was still angling toward him.
Watching her put on an innocent expression, Bryan felt a cold smile form inside. He understood exactly what she was doing. The earlier chaos had scared so of these people. They needed soone to slow down the horde—and a group of defenseless children was the perfect sacrifice.
...
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