Ali meticulously checked the entirety of the tenth floor, ensuring no zombies lurked in the shadows before making his way to the staircase that led upward.
However, when he arrived at the stairwell, he was met with an obstruction. Piles of concrete chunks, steel beams, and other debris had been deliberately arranged to block any access to the upper floors. It was clear that the humans inhabiting the higher levels had taken measures to secure themselves, ensuring nothing-human or otherwise-could easily ascend from below.
With a sigh, Ali turned back and retraced his steps to the tenth floor, pausing at the window through which the escapees had made their desperate climb. He surveyed the scene, eyes scanning the jagged edges of the window. 'It seems this is my only way up,' Ali mused, calculating the risks. The kid had claimed no one had seen them during their escape, but Ali couldn't discount the possibility that their absence had been noticed by now. Time was ticking.
He crossed the room and knelt beside the two lifeless bodies, the young man and the infected woman, whose tragic tale had ended mere moments ago. Ali reached for the discarded handgun, dismantling it with practiced ease. He extracted a single bullet from the chamber-just one-and found the magazine completely empty. With a quiet scoff, he muttered, "I don't need it anyway." He carefully loaded the single bullet back into the chamber and holstered the gun at his waist. It wasn't the weapon he relied on, but it might serve its purpose if needed.
Next, Ali turned his attention to the bodies, searching for any clean remnants of clothing. He stripped what he could find, using the fabric to wipe the grime and blood from his face and hands. The scent of decay clung to the air, but cleanliness was a necessity in a world overrun with disease and death. Every small detail mattered when survival hung in the balance.
Satisfied with his brief preparation, Ali opened his pack and pulled out a ration bar. He chewed methodically, his eyes scanning the room as he ate. This was his only source of sustenance, and he treated it with care, sealing the bag tightly once he was done.
Contaminating his food with the filth of this apocalyptic world was a risk he couldn't afford.
Now ready, Ali returned to the window, crouching low as he peered up the side of the towering skyscraper. The eleventh-floor window was his next target, though the decaying structure of the building presented a formidable challenge.
Moss and mold clung to the walls, and the glass panes were filthy, cracked with years of neglect and exposure to the elements. It was a sight that represented the desolate state of the world. Once, these skyscrapers had been symbols of human ambition, towering over bustling cities. Now, they were rotting tombs.
Ali shifted his gaze downward, taking in the writhing horde of zombies below. The mass of undead pressed against the building, clawing at the walls as if sensing prey above. If he fell, the damage from the drop would undoubtedly injure him.
The real threat, however, would come from the swarm of zombies that would try to tear him apart before he had a chance to heal. A fall from this height would be tough.
"If I fall, it'd be trouble', Ali thought coldly, assessing the risks. He flexed his wrists, steeling himself for the climb. His eyes, now cold and focused, betrayed the deadly resolve coursing through him.
"Let's go," he muttered to himself, his voice barely a whisper on the wind.
With a powerful surge, he leaped from the window, his hands finding purchase in the cracks and crevices of the crumbling building's exterior.
Ali scaled the wall with precision and ease, his body moving fluidly despite the decaying structure beneath his fingers. His grip was unyielding as he climbed, and within moments, he reached the edge of the eleventh-floor window.
Hanging by one hand, he carefully peered inside, his sharp eyes scanning the room. It appeared to be empty-another storage room, just like the others he had encountered on lower floors. Boxes, long since abandoned, lay strewn about, their contents decaying and forgotten. Old papers littered the floor, crumbling under the weight of years. 'A storage room', Ali thought. 'Just like every other floor l've been on' Nothing out of the ordinary, but he remained cautious.
To his right, a large chunk of concrete jutted out, its surface marred by deep cracks. The structural integrity of the skyscraper had clearly been compromised by years of neglect and the ravages of the apocalypse. He inched closer to the weakened section of the wall and, with a swift kick to its side, sent the crumbling piece tumbling away.
BOOOOOM
The concrete block crashed to the ground below, crushing several zombies in the process. Their mangled bodies were instantly smashed under the weight, the sickening crunch of bones and flesh muffled by their confused groans. They screeched and wailed, disoriented by the sudden impact.
Seizing the moment, Ali punched the window, shattering the glass in one swift motion. The sound of breaking glass was masked by the commotion below, the confusion among the zombies serving as a perfect distraction. Ali took one last glance at the chaos before hauling himself through the now-broken window, landing silently inside the eleventh floor.
The storage room was as expected-dusty, forgotten, and littered with remnants of the past.
But it wasn't the storage room that concerned him. Ali moved with practiced caution, opening the door to the hallway beyond. A foul stench immediately assaulted his senses—a sickening combination of fresh corpses and rot.
There was no sound of human movement. The floor was eerily silent as Ali made his way from room to room. It wasn't until he reached the main chamber that he found the source of the stench.
'Thought so..' Ali muttered internally, his eyes narrowing at the sight before him.
A pile of bodies lay in the centre of the room, a grotesque heap of corpses, all with holes punched through their skulls.
Even those who appeared to have died from other injuries had been stabbed in the forehead, a precaution to prevent them from reanimating as zombies.
Ali approached the pile, his gaze flickering over the lifeless forms. The majority were men, though there was a middle-aged woman among them, her body mutilated almost beyond recognition.
Ali crouched down, examining the corpses. 'Recent', he thought, noting the condition of the bodies. 'These guys might have been players. Actually, most of them were. Their bodies are cleaner than the average survivor's-free from the grime of this world. Even though they've been stripped of most of their clothing, there are still remnants of the grey uniforms that Paradise hands out'.
He rose to his feet and followed a blood trail leading from the pile of corpses to a door at the back of the room.
The smell of death grew stronger as he opened it, revealing a grim scene. The wall of the skyscraper had been torn down completely, creating an open space where bodies had clearly been dragged to the edge and tossed over.
Ali approached the opening and looked down. Below, the zombies clustered together, piling on top of each other as if waiting for their next meal to fall from the sky. The horde below was more concentrated here than anywhere else.
'So they were throwing bodies down as food for the horde', Ali realised.
'That explains why the zombies stick so close to this building compared to others. What a special breeds of idiots, these motherfuckers were creating a zombie feeding ground right under their noses'.
'Good thing I reinforced the barricades. If these fools had thrown down the rest of the bodies, the zombies would've piled up high enough to reach this floor!' Ali thought in annoyance, anything that would give a zombie a chance to enter this building for the three days he was here was a red line for him right now.
With one last glance at the bodies below, Ali turned away from the window and left the eleventh floor. As he continued his ascent, he noticed a distinct change in the condition of the stairwell. Unlike the lower levels, the upper floors were much cleaner, the dust and decay less pronounced.
When Ali reached the twelfth floor, however, the change in atmosphere was immediate. The entire office had been repurposed into a massive toilet and bath area. The stench was overwhelming. Ali grimaced, closing his nose as he made his way through, but found no sign of any soldiers or guards.
It was odd. The young man he had interrogated had insisted that every floor was heavily guarded, yet Ali had encountered no one. No resistance, no movement— nothing. Still, he remained on high alert.
None of this deterred him as he continued upward. 'Twelve cleared, eighteen more to go, Ali thought.
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