"Chris, open the door on my mark!" I ordered, stepping up right behind the frame.
Chris nodded grimly, reaching for the latch. James and Aisha took their positions on either side of the doorway, flicking the selector switches on their Death Chant Tommy guns from semi-automatic to full-auto.
"Now!"
Chris yanked the iron latch, and the door didn't just swing open… it completely caved inward under the violent weight of the horde.
BANG-CRACK!
A screeching wave of winged, bone-armored thralls came crashing over the threshold, tumbling over one another in a frantic, bloody pile. The sheer kinetic impact sent Chris stumbling backward across the floor. In a split-second attempt to regain his balance, he accidentally dragged the bound, crystallized Lukreia right into the line of fire.
"DIE, YOU MONSTERS!" Aisha screamed.
She pulled the trigger, letting loose a roaring, continuous stream of full-auto fire. Bright orange, enchanted fire-bullets erupted from her barrel, tearing straight through the calcified hides of the leading thralls. Even though the heavy recoil of the Tommy gun violently shook her small frame, she held the weapon firm at hip height, sweeping the muzzle horizontally so not a single round went to waste.
Beside her, James fired with deadly precision. He raised his stock to his shoulder, sending high-velocity wind-bullets whistling through the air, popping thrall skulls like overripe melons with clean, calculated headshots.
I stepped straight into the breach to finish the vanguard.
BOOM! BOOM!
I pulled the trigger of my Death Chant shotgun, unleashing heavy, pressurized blood-bullets that obliterated the remaining cluster of winged horrors at point-blank range, turning their chest cavities into painted mist on the corridor walls.
"Ah! GET OFF ME!" Aisha shrieked suddenly.
A half-decapitated thrall crawling on the floor reached out with a calcified claw, locking its grip tightly around her boot. Without hesitating, Aisha aimed her Tommy gun straight down and emptied six rounds into its skull, completely shredding its face until the hand went limp.
I pinned the shotgun stock against my hip and brought my right knee up sharply, using the hard joint to rack the slide with a heavy, metallic CLACK.
VRRR-CRACK-SHATTER!
Before I could chamber the next shell, the violent screech of tearing metal echoed from behind us. The webbed glass window we had abandoned seconds ago shattered inward in a cascade of lethal shards.
Two massive, winged bone-thralls burst straight through the drapes, their calcified ribs snapping open like jagged jaws as they dove straight for our exposed backs.
"Guys, behind us!" I screamed, spinning on my heel.
One of the winged thralls reared back, raising its elongated humerus bone blade to split my skull. I ducked hard to the left… the calcified blade whistling an inch above my hood and embedding deep into the plaster wall. Before it could yank its limb free, I jammed the muzzle of my shotgun under its chin and pulled the trigger.
BOOM!
Its head exploded into a cloud of dark, corrupted blood and bone fragments.
"Aisha, James! Keep clearing the hallway! I've got the window!" I barked, keeping my eyes locked on the shattered glass frame without looking back.
Dozens of winged thralls outside realized the window was open and began diving straight toward the room like starving vultures. The first beast barreled through the broken frame, launching a mid-air tackle directly at my chest. I sidestepped its dive, letting its momentum slam it face-first into a metal bedside table, then delivered a heavy point-blank shot to its spine.
BOOM!
Before the smoke could clear, a second winged horror lunged through the gap. I didn't have time to rack the slide. I thrust my weapon forward, driving the purple-sheened bayonet affixed to my barrel straight through the beast's neck, pinning it against the window sill.
SCHLICK!
With my single hand, I racked the shotgun slide against my knee and pulled the trigger, blowing its torso apart and kicking its lifeless body back out into the open air.
BOOM!
The 20-square-meter patient room transformed into an absolute warzone. The air grew thick with gunsmoke, the deafening roars of full-auto Tommy gun fire from James and Aisha, and the wet crunch of tearing flesh. Blood painted the walls, white bedsheets were shredded by shrapnel, and shattered glass crunched underfoot with every step.
Standing right at the shattered window, I leaned out into the open air to cut off the breach at its source. Looking down from the second story, the scene was horrifying. The hospital courtyard below looked like an ocean of rot… a dense, undulating crowd of hundreds of infected pressing against the building's facade, with dozens more taking flight straight toward my position.
I braced my boots against the bloody floorboards, raised the Death Chant, and began raining heavy blood-bullets down into the climbing horde.
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"Hallway's clear! No more zombies!" James's voice echoed over the deafening ring of my ears.
"Let's move!" I barked.
I hauled my boot back and delivered a heavy kick to the metal patient bed, sending it crashing against the shattered window frame to create a temporary barricade against the incoming winged thralls. Turning on my heel, I sprinted out of the room.
The first-floor corridor was absolute carnage. Piles of mutated bodies were stacked three-deep, and a literal avalanche of dark, thick blood pooled over the tile floor. As we sprinted toward the main entrance, a terrifying roar echoed from the far end of the hallway… hundreds of infected were cascading down the central staircase and bursting out of adjacent wards, flooding the hall behind us.
We had no time to clear them. I yanked my canvas cloak tightly around my face and shoulders to block out the lethally bright sunlight outside, reached out with my single hand to throw open the main hospital doors, and burst out into the open air.
"Run! Keep moving!" I yelled.
We bolted across the open street, diving straight into a narrow, shadowed alleyway to break line of sight. But the moment we rounded the brick corner, we ran straight toward another massive horde blocking the exit. Dozens of calcified ground-thralls locked their milky eyes onto us and let out a collective, blood-curdling shriek, surging forward in a mass of snapping jaws.
"It's a dead end! Turn back!" Aisha screamed.
Fortunately, none of these particular thralls had mutated wings. We spun around and sprinted full speed back toward the main street.
TRIP-CRACK!
"AAAGH!"
James hit the cobblestones hard, his Tommy gun sliding across the dirt. He had tripped over a rotting, severed forearm, twisting his foot at an impossible angle. His ankle swelled instantly beneath his leather boot, turning a dark, sickly purple.
Chris and Aisha… hauling the bound, crystallized Lukreia between them… were so consumed by pure survival instinct that they kept sprinting, completely unaware that James had fallen behind.
"Go! Leave me!" James gasped, clutching his leg as the shrieks of the incoming horde echoed down the alley.
"Shut up," I snapped.
I slid to a halt beside him, grabbed him by his collar, and hoisted his heavy frame over my left shoulder using pure vampiric strength. Bracing his weight against my chest, I sprinted after Chris and Aisha, ducking beneath the shadow of the awnings to avoid the scorching sun.
Rounding a sharp corner, I spotted a faded wooden sign swaying above a small storefront.
A tailor shop.
"In here! Fast!" I ordered.
I shoved James through the door, kicked it shut behind us, and used a quick drop of blood to lock the iron bolt in place. We scrambled behind the heavy oak display counter, crouching low in the dark, dusty shop.
Outside the thin glass storefront, the ground vibrated violently as the massive horde swept past the building, their wet, dragging footsteps and guttural snarls echoing through the thin wood before slowly fading down the avenue.
"Shh… don't make a sound."