In the veterinary room, Rebecca silently slid a chair under the damaged door handle to barricade it. Billy lay bruised and bloodied on the steel exam table, an IV of saline in his arm. Rebecca discarded a used syringe into a hazardous waste container already overflowing with bloody gauze.
Examining her reflection in a small tabletop mirror, Rebecca traced her fingers around the gaping cut on her cheek, flinching at the sharp sting. Blood still oozed from the wound. She opened the first aid kit and soaked some gauze in antiseptic, she began dabbing at the injury. Cleansing the wound was excruciating but necessary.
Once the blood was cleared away, Rebecca prepared a syringe with local anesthetic and injected it around the edges of the cut, sighing in relief as numbness set in. Blinking back tears, she picked up the suture needle with forceps and began methodically stitching the wound closed. Each puncture of the needle produced a soft whimper, but Rebecca kept her hands steady, tying off each knot and snipping the threads with scissors.
When the last suture was tied and the wound neatly closed, Rebecca bandaged her face with gauze and tape. She turned her attention to the map laid out on the table, tracing alternate routes with her finger and marking the lab as her destination.
After gathering her first aid supplies, Rebecca slid a fresh shell into her shotgun and clicked the chamber shut decisively. With one last glance back at Billy's unconscious form, she swiped her keycard and slipped out the door into the unknown dangers that awaited.
On the table, the annotated map remained next to Billy's abandoned pistol and Hunk's knife. A hastily scribbled note read, "In case I don't make it, and you somehow do."
Rebecca moved cautiously through the corridors, shotgun poised in her hands. The t-shaped hallway was stained with dried blood, the dark shadows amplifying her unease. Each step echoed off the cold concrete walls as she approached the partition ahead.
Chewing sounds drifted from around the corner. Gripping her weapon tighter, Rebecca edged toward the edge of the wall. She poked her head around just enough to glimpse two doors blocked by zombies gorging on dismembered corpses. Bile rose in her throat at the gruesome sight.
Wheeling back, she steadied her nerves and approached the nearest door. The handle refused to budge under her grip. With no other choice, she moved to the next door and slipped inside unseen.
The room beyond was consumed in darkness, the silhouettes of construction equipment and an ancient platform visible in the light from the corridor. Rebecca examined the rickety elevator, operated by a hand crank like the ones used in old mines. Peering down into the shaft, there was only endless blackness below.
Turning, her eyes caught on a roll of duct tape sitting on a workbench. She set the shotgun down and, using a screwdriver, carefully removed the small flashlight from her pistol. With a few quick wraps of tape, she secured the light to the barrel of her shotgun.
Climbing onto the unsteady platform, Rebecca gripped the crank and began turning it. The pulley squealed to life, lowering her into the pit. The cable pulled taut above her. After descending only a few meters, distant moans drifted up the shaft, growing louder with each passing second.
Rebecca's blood turned to ice in her veins. She released the crank, braking the platform to a halt. Swinging her shotgun down, the flashlight's beam illuminated the horror below. Rebecca choked back a scream, paralyzed by shock and terror at the sight.
The pungent odor of decay perfumed the humid air as Rebecca stood atop the rusted metal platform, suspended just out of reach of the ravenous horde below. She surveyed the tangled mess of pipes and ventilation ducts crisscrossing the shadowy ceiling high above, searching desperately for an escape from the snapped cables and tilted platform.
The construction workers turned zombies clawed upwards, ragged fingernails scraping against the steel floor, their vacant eyes and gnashing teeth fixated on her warm flesh.
Rebecca retreated towards the crank handle, boots sliding precariously on the angled surface. With a grunt of effort, she tried to turn the rigid wheel, managing to lift the platform a few feeble meters before the cable groaned and snapped. She staggered, arms flailing, as the platform crashed down, knocking the shotgun from her grip. It clattered to the floor below, just out of reach, as gruesome hands snatched greedily for the weapon.
Spying a thick cable dangling overhead, Rebecca scrambled for purchase on the listing platform. She leaned out, toes barely balancing, stretching for the shotgun. The horde's foul breath washed over her as she batted away clawing hands. Her fingertips finally closed around the barrel and she dragged it back from the sea of darkness.
Rebecca rejoined on the slowly descending platform, shotgun in hand. With a determined look, she took off at a run as the platform dropped another few feet. In one smooth motion, she leaped over the railing, managing to grab onto the cable with her free hand while clutching the shotgun in the other.
Her legs wrapped tightly around the cable as she dangled in the air. For a brief moment, her hand slipped, and she scrambled to regain her grip as the horde of zombies below grasped at her heels. She kicked violently, fighting to defend herself and avoid plummeting into the sea of gnashing teeth.
A shriek of terror escaped Rebecca's lips as she lost her grip again, the mob of undead now clawing at her boots in an attempt to drag her down. Adjusting the shotgun with her free hand, she brought it level to the head of one of the zombies. At the last second, thoughts of conserving ammunition made her hesitate. She needed another way out.
Noticing a series of pipes attached to the high walls, an idea sparked. Carefully wedging the shotgun between her neck and bicep to secure it in place, she reached up to start climbing. The shotgun swung wildly with each movement as she struggled to balance on the narrow cable.
Gauging the height of her objective, Rebecca snatched the shotgun back into one hand. She began swinging her leg, using the momentum to launch the shotgun up and over the top of the pipes. The wild swinging continued as she built up enough force to jump and grab onto the pipes. Her grip was tenuous, but she had made it.
As she tried to pull herself up, the jostled shotgun tumbled free. Rebecca's heart leapt as she managed to catch it between her knees. Hyperventilating with the effort, she took a deep breath before letting go with one hand. She allowed herself to drop just enough to grab the shotgun with her free hand. With a final heroic effort, she flung it over and scrambled up to safety.
Collapsing onto her back, Rebecca's chest heaved as she gulped air. After a moment, she rolled over and began crawling down. Raising the shotgun, she peered below, hoping to find an exit route. But the exits were blocked for as far as she could see by a seething mass of zombies.
Glancing to her right, she noticed a ventilation slit in the wall that she might be able to squeeze through. Bracing herself as securely as she could, Rebecca took aim and fired a blast from the shotgun. The metal covering the slit blew open with a resonant clang. She shimmied through the newly opened passageway, leaving the horde far behind.
A beam of light danced ahead of Rebecca as she crawled on her belly through the ventilation tunnels, guided by the narrow cone of her flashlight. She paused at a grate overlooking the barred armory, taking in the racks of rifles and shelves of ammunition before resuming her advance.
Her heart quickened at the sound of something scraping against metal in the distance—was it her imagination? With difficulty, she angled her light through a nearby vent just in time to see Danny's limp body being dragged into the darkness by an unseen assailant.
Fear coursed through her veins but she pressed on, soon stopping before another slit just wide enough for her slender frame. Bracing herself against the vent, she drove her booted heel into the grate once, twice, until the screws gave way and she could wriggle through feet first. The shotgun she had carried clattered to the floor as she emerged and glanced warily up and down the corridor.
Rebecca descended, landing awkwardly on her ankle. She stifled a groan as pain radiated up her leg, then pressed onward, shotgun gripped tightly in her sweaty palms. Her eyes scanned the corridor, taking in the robed corpse devoid of an arm. An open door yawned before her like a bottomless abyss. Bloody footprints led inside.
She moved toward the darkness, senses heightened. The corridor turned right up ahead. Weak light outlined two rooms on either side, armored glass barriers revealing the disarray within—metal tables bearing lab equipment in chaotic heaps, more spatters of red marring the floors and walls.
At the far end, an armored door stood halfway open, traces of blood oozing from the gap. Rebecca's gaze shifted between each shadowed corner. A guttural screech erupted from the left room, spurring her to flatten herself below the glass. Slowly she raised her head, peering inside.