I stumbled down the broken street, every breath ragged, every step a Herculean effort. My legs felt like jelly, my head spinning from the tranquilizer still messing with my system. I forced myself to keep walking, one foot in front of the other, refusing to let my mind wander. If I let myself think—even for a second—the memory of what happened earlier would come crashing back, and I would fall apart all over again.
The quietness was gone and the world around me was chaos—smoke billowing into the air, the screams of the dying blending with the guttural moans of the undead. I couldn't tell if the explosions had stopped or if I had just grown numb to the sound.
I needed to move. To keep going. But my body was fighting me every step of the way.
My left leg gave out without warning, and I crumpled to the ground. Gravel bit into my palms as I caught myself, but that wasn't the worst of it. A searing pain tore through my thigh, and I gasped, clutching at my leg.
