The room was about the size of a typical ward, the layout cluttered with a disorganized table and bookshelves. Behind the bookshelf, a hospital bed was pushed up against the wall.
A quick glance at the space revealed it was rather modest. The entire room was visible in an instant, the walls closing in like a tight corridor.
As I entered, I quietly shut the door behind me. The stale air hung heavy as I began to sift through the various papers, hoping for a break. Then it hit me—this was a hospital, not a private clinic. How foolish of me to expect medicine in an outpatient room.
Among the scattered piles of paperwork, I spotted a small diary. It wasn't much, but it seemed significant, so I tucked it into my pocket.
I needed to get to the pharmacy. It was likely in the lobby on the first floor, as hospitals usually placed pharmacies near the entrance.
The plan was simple—exit the room, turn left, and head straight into the lobby, where I was sure the pharmacy awaited.
Stepping out of the room, I cautiously peered into the hall. Once I was certain it was safe, I moved quickly, my eyes scanning the hall for danger.
The scene that met me almost caused me to freeze.
Several push beds lined the hall, their contents drenched in black blood. The grotesque sight left me nauseated, but I had no time to stop. I hastily made my way toward the main exit of the hall, trying not to make eye contact with the horrors around me.
But just as I reached the door, a chilling growl echoed from behind me.
Two decaying, twisted figures slowly approached, their bodies rotting, and their movements unnervingly slow. Yet, the grotesque sight alone froze my legs in place. Fear gripped me tightly. I realized then that I had overestimated my courage.
As the two walking corpses shuffled closer, I snapped out of my stupor and bolted.
I ran a few paces before my eyes caught sight of a room at the end of the hall. The door had three large letters on it: "Medicine Collection." It was half open, almost like an invitation.
Gritting my teeth, my mind raced. Should I go back? Was it safer to escape? My desperation won over caution, and I made a snap decision to sprint toward the door, hoping to get the medicine before the corpses caught up.
But I hadn't considered one fatal flaw—if I could enter, so could they.
Inside, I barely had time to think before a horrifying sight caught my attention. A female walking corpse, its face almost completely gone, turned toward me as I entered. Its mouth, devoid of skin, twisted into a grotesque grimace before it let out a shriek.
I froze, terror rooting me in place for a second, but I had no choice. I couldn't leave without the medicine. My mind locked into survival mode.
With shaky hands, I grabbed the kitchen knife at my side and rushed forward. I slashed at the walking corpse's shoulder repeatedly. The knife cut deeply into its rotting flesh, but its movements didn't cease.
I cursed under my breath. I remembered something from the radio broadcast. The most effective way to kill these things—destroy the head.
I quickly stepped aside, my heart pounding. Without thinking, I kicked the walking corpse hard in the stomach. It staggered back and hit a stool, collapsing to the floor.
Taking my chance, I leaped forward, using my knee to pin its chest. I raised the knife high and struck.
The sound of the blade cutting into its skull was sickening, but it worked. The corpse stopped moving.
I didn't waste a second. I tore the knife from the corpse's head and hurried to the shelves, desperately grabbing any medicine that could be useful. Antidiarrheal, antibiotics, fever reducers—anything that could save my family, I shoved into a plastic bag.
As I exited the room, the two walking corpses had just reached the door. Panic surged, but I found the exit and made a break for it.
This hellhole was not a place I wanted to linger.
But as I neared the final exit, something I dreaded appeared.
A handful of decaying bodies blocked the doorway. Panic exploded in my chest. Wolves at my front, tigers behind. I was trapped.
Tears welled in my eyes as I felt a wave of helplessness. I could hear my heartbeat thundering in my ears, each second feeling like an eternity.
I was alone.
Then, the sound of rapid footsteps broke the stillness.
Before I could react, I saw the shadows of two figures appear, rushing toward the walking corpses. The next moment, there was a loud thunk, followed by the soft squelch of flesh meeting steel.
The two walking corpses collapsed to the floor with muffled thuds.
I froze. In front of me stood a young man, his expression calm and unfazed. He casually sheathed his long knife and glanced at me, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Not enough," he muttered under his breath.
I blinked, confused, before turning back to see more walking corpses stumbling toward us. Without a second thought, I ran toward him, seeking shelter behind him.
The man didn't flinch as the corpses drew near. He stood tall, raising his blade, moving with swift precision. In seconds, the remaining three corpses were reduced to lifeless heaps on the floor.
I stared at the ground for a moment, shocked by the gruesome sight. Despite the stench, a part of me wanted to cheer. But before I could gather myself, the man tugged me into a nearby control room.
He wiped his blade against the bedspread, then turned to me with a detached expression. "Are you from the hospital?"
I hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah... I guess."
"Where are you hiding?"
"The back kitchen in the canteen."
He raised an eyebrow. "You?"
I swallowed hard. "My family. My parents, my brother, and my grandmother."
He studied me for a moment, his gaze scanning the room before he finally spoke. "Why did you come out alone?"
I reached into my pocket, feeling the medicine I'd collected. "I had to. I can handle it."
He didn't respond immediately. Instead, he took a quick glance around the room before saying, "Go."
As I stepped out of the ward, something tugged at my thoughts. I turned back, suddenly unsure.
"Are you alone?" I asked.
He nodded, barely acknowledging me.
Feeling a sudden tension, I quickly added, "You should come with us. It's safer with more people."
He let out a small chuckle, but it didn't sound amused. "Do you think it's easy for me to survive alone? Or for me to carry you and your family along?"
His words hit me like a punch to the gut.
Later that night, after giving the medicine to my family, I found myself being pulled aside by my father. His face was full of concern.
"What happened out there?" he asked, his voice full of worry.
I briefly told him about the walking corpses, leaving out the details about the blood on my kitchen knife. I focused instead on the man I had met.
Dad was intrigued. "Living people? Are you sure?"
The fact that we hadn't seen anyone alive for so long weighed heavily on us all.
"We've been isolated for so long," he murmured, a sense of despair in his voice. "No one else has survived."
My father sighed, looking at my grandmother and the baby in the corner. "How could anyone want to be with us?"
I smiled weakly. "It's not about what they want. I can protect you all."
"Are you sure?" Dad asked, his voice laced with doubt. "You look pale. I'm starting to think I'm getting too old for this."
The fridge was empty, save for some leftovers, and the remaining instant noodles would be our only meal. We were running out of food. Tomorrow, we'd be forced to face another crisis—food shortages.
That night, after everyone had fallen asleep, I got up to sharpen the kitchen knife. Tomorrow, I would go to the canteen and search for more supplies. My family couldn't go hungry. They depended on me. And I wouldn't let them starve.