The stairwell felt like it stretched into infinity, every step heavier than the last. Travis led the way, gripping his oxygen tank like a lifeline, the others trailing behind him in silence, save for their ragged breathing. The walls were stained with dirt and streaks of dried blood, their hands leaving sweaty marks as they gripped the railing for balance. The air was thick with the stench of decay, and each groan from below sent shivers down their spines.
Five flights up, exhaustion had settled deep into their bones, the weight of fear pressing down on them. Janice's voice cut through the labored breathing, her words hesitant but filled with guilt. "What if... there are survivors? People needing our help?"
Steve stopped short, turning to her with disbelief. His face, slick with sweat, twisted into a snarl. "What do you mean, survivors? Are you insane? We can barely save ourselves, and you want to go out there looking for people? You think this is some hero movie?"
Eli nodded, his breath heavy, his gray hair matted to his forehead. "Steve's right. We're barely surviving ourselves, young lady. You think we got the strength to go playing rescue?"
Janice's face hardened, her eyes filled with determination. "What if it were one of us? Wouldn't you want someone to help? We can't just leave them."
Her voice cracked, and she turned to Paris with pleading eyes, seeking understanding. But the weight of exhaustion and the reality of their situation anchored Paris to her harsh response.
"We can't," Paris said quietly, her voice laced with regret. She turned to Eli, who gave her a slow, reluctant nod, before facing Janice again. "I understand, believe me, but it's not safe. We have to focus on getting out alive."
Janice's shoulders slumped in defeat, her expression a mix of sorrow and frustration. "Fine," she whispered, her gaze dropping to the floor. "You're right."
Steve let out a breath of relief, rubbing his forehead. "Thank God, finally. Now let's get out of here before something else goes wrong."
Travis grunted, motioning for everyone to keep moving. "Let's get to the roof. Should be one more floor."
The group trudged up to the ninth floor, their legs burning with each step. For a brief moment, hope flickered in their hearts—Travis's words were a lifeline, a promise of an end to the nightmare. But as they approached the next landing, a door swung open violently, slamming against the wall.
A man stumbled out, clutching his abdomen where his flesh hung in torn shreds, blood seeping between his fingers as he struggled to keep his insides from spilling out. His face was twisted in agony, his steps uneven.
Steve threw his hands up, his voice tinged with hysteria. "For the love of God, these people keep coming out of nowhere! It's like a damn horror movie!"
Travis, Eli, and the forgetful man sprinted toward the door, slamming into it with their full weight. From behind the door, the groaning of the zombie-like creatures grew louder, their snarls and desperate scratching echoing through the stairwell. The door buckled under the weight of their onslaught as the creatures pushed, trying to claw their way inside.
"Hold it!" Travis yelled, straining as he pressed his shoulder against the door.
Janice's eyes flashed as her instincts as a nurse kicked in. "We need to help him," she said, rushing over to the wounded man with Paris at her side. The man moaned in pain, his steps faltering as Janice took hold of him, trying to stabilize him. Blood poured through his fingers, dripping onto the floor in a slick, dark trail.
"Upstairs, now!" Janice ordered Paris, her voice sharp and professional. Together, they half-carried, half-dragged the man toward the stairwell.
Steve was already at the top of the stairs, panting as he watched the chaos unfold below. His hands shook as he clutched his scalpel tightly.
Travis, Eli, and the forgetful man were losing ground. The creatures on the other side of the door snarled louder, their rotting fingers pushing through the gaps, blood-stained nails scraping at the air. Eli's face was red with effort as he gritted his teeth.
"We can't hold it!" Eli shouted.
Travis's heart pounded in his chest as he tried to come up with a plan. "On three, we run. Eli, you and... uh, you two go ahead. I'll hold the door."
"No!" Eli grunted, sweat pouring down his face. "We leave together. We're not leaving you behind, son."
The forgetful man nodded, his eyes wide with panic but filled with the same stubborn resolve. "We run together."
The door groaned, the weight of the creatures behind it becoming unbearable. Travis could feel his strength fading. "Fine. On three."
"One…" Travis gritted his teeth, pushing back against the door as he prepared to run.
"Two…"
Before he could count to three, a cold, slimy hand latched onto his ankle. Travis's heart skipped a beat as he looked down in horror to see a decayed hand wrapped around his shoe, pulling him toward the floor.
"My foot!" Travis yelled, panic flooding his voice.
Eli and the forgetful man held the door with all their might as Travis kicked at the creature's hand, his boot striking the zombie's skull with a sickening crack. Blood splattered across the ground as the creature's head caved in, and its grip loosened.
"Three!" Travis roared, kicking the creature away and pushing himself up the stairs.
The three men bolted, racing up the stairs with the groans of the creatures following close behind. The undead swarmed into the stairwell, their grotesque forms stumbling over one another as they fought to catch up.
By the time Travis, Eli, and the forgetful man reached the top, the others were already there—Janice, Paris, and the wounded man huddled near the door. Steve stood with wide eyes, pacing back and forth, his hands trembling.
"It's locked!" Paris cried, tears streaking down her face. "How are we going to get out now?"
Steve let out a deranged laugh, his voice cracking with despair. "This is it! This is how I die. Locked in a stairwell like some bad joke."
Janice, her voice shaking, began reciting Psalm 23 under her breath, her hands clasped together as tears rolled down her cheeks. "The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want..."
Eli, panting heavily, collapsed against the wall, covering his face with his hands. "We're done. I can't—there's no way out of this."
The forgetful man was hunched over, gasping for air, his eyes darting between the door and the stairwell as the groans of the creatures echoed closer and closer.
The wounded man, his face contorted in agony, let out a scream as the pain became unbearable. "Help me... please!"
Steve, frantic and desperate, grabbed Janice's IV pole and began slamming it against the door's lock, hoping against hope that it would break. He pounded the metal with all his strength, but the lock didn't budge.
"Come on!" Steve yelled, smashing the pole down with reckless fury. But the door held firm, the metal clanging loudly with each strike. "Goddammit!"
Behind them, the groans grew louder. The creatures were coming. They could hear the shuffling feet and scraping nails as the zombies climbed closer, their moans filling the stairwell with dread.
Paris collapsed to her knees, sobbing. "We're trapped..."
Travis stood at the door, his eyes scanning the lock, looking for any weak point, any way out. His heart raced as his mind ran through every possible scenario, but nothing seemed to work. They were stuck, the undead mere moments away from tearing them apart.
Janice's voice grew louder, her words echoing through the stairwell as she recited the prayer with growing desperation. "Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil..."
The creatures were at the final flight now, their dead eyes staring hungrily up at the group, their gnarled hands reaching out, ready to tear into their flesh.
Steve slammed the IV pole against the lock one last time, but it snapped in his hands, leaving him holding a useless piece of metal.
Eli looked up, his face pale, sweat dripping from his brow. "Is this really how it ends?"
The forgetful man pressed his back against the door, eyes wide in fear. "I can't die like this. I can't!"
Travis gripped the oxygen tank tightly, ready to swing, ready to fight to his last breath. "Stay together!" he shouted, his voice trembling but strong. "We'll make it through this."
But deep down, everyone knew the truth.
The creatures were coming.
The stairwell was filling with their grotesque forms, each one hungrier than the last. There was no escape, no way out.
As the group huddled together, backs pressed against the door, weapons clutched in trembling hands, the only question left was:
Would they survive the night?