The loading dock was eerily silent, save for the low hum of the hospital's emergency generators and the occasional shuffle of movement in the distance. The stillness felt oppressive, as if the air itself was holding its breath. Shadows danced across the concrete walls, distorted by the faint flicker of emergency lights, making the already tense atmosphere feel suffocating. Kate stood near the ambulance, her crowbar resting heavily in her hand. It wasn't just a weapon anymore—it had become an extension of her, a symbol of her will to survive. Each scuff on its metal surface told a story, each dent a testament to how far she'd come.
Inside the ambulance, the supplies they'd managed to scavenge were packed meticulously: medical kits, saline bags, canned food, bottled water, and any tools they could find. It wasn't much, but it was a lifeline—a fragile thread keeping them tied to the hope of survival. Every item had been hard-earned, each a risk, a moment stolen from death itself. Kate could still feel the weight of the oxygen tank she'd carried on her back earlier, the sharp ache in her arms a reminder of the stakes.
She glanced at Evan, who stood a few feet away, gripping a flashlight like it was the only thing tethering him to reality. His face was pale, streaked with grime and sweat, and his lips were pressed into a tight line. His eyes betrayed him, though. They darted nervously to the edges of the loading dock, where the faint sounds of shuffling echoed. Despite his fear, there was a quiet determination in his expression that Kate had come to admire. He was young, barely out of med school, and it showed in his trembling hands. But he hadn't faltered—not when the infected had swarmed the ER, not when they'd fought their way through the hospital's darkened halls. That was something.
"Ready?" Kate asked, her voice barely above a whisper. Even in the silence, she feared being too loud, as though the mere sound of her voice could summon the monsters lurking in the shadows.
Evan swallowed hard, nodding. His hands trembled slightly as he adjusted his grip on the flashlight. "Let's do this," he murmured, his voice low but resolute.
Kate gave him a tight nod. She didn't bother with reassurances; they both knew words wouldn't make this any easier. She took one last look at the loading dock, her eyes sweeping over the shadows for any hint of movement. The distant shuffles seemed louder now, closer, but the darkness made it impossible to tell where they were coming from. Satisfied—for the moment—that they were alone, she motioned for Evan to follow her as they slipped back into the hospital through the side door they'd propped open with the mangled remains of a gurney.
The hallways were darker now than they'd been on the way out, the emergency lights flickering sporadically. The hospital was a tomb, its silence only broken by the occasional groan of settling debris or the muffled noises from above—noises they both knew were not human. Every step they took seemed deafeningly loud, the echo of their footsteps bouncing off the walls and amplifying their paranoia.
The once-pristine corridors were unrecognizable. Overturned hospital beds and stretchers blocked their path at every turn, forcing them to maneuver carefully through the debris. Shattered glass crunched underfoot, a sharp reminder of the chaos that had unfolded here. The walls were smeared with handprints—bloody streaks where desperate people had tried, and failed, to escape. Kate avoided looking at them too closely. The horror of those moments was too much to bear, even secondhand.
The air was thick with the stench of death. It clung to their clothes, their skin, seeping into their very being. Kate fought the urge to gag as the smell grew stronger with each step. She could hear Evan breathing heavily behind her, his footsteps faltering slightly as they passed a particularly grisly scene—a pile of bodies shoved into a corner, their forms twisted and broken.
"Don't look," Kate said softly, though she didn't need to. Evan had already turned his head away, his free hand covering his mouth and nose.
Somewhere in the distance, a metallic clang echoed, followed by the unmistakable sound of something heavy being dragged. Kate froze, raising a hand to signal Evan to stop. They stood motionless, straining to pinpoint the source of the noise. The dragging sound grew fainter, eventually disappearing altogether, but the tension lingered.
"We're close," Kate whispered, though the words felt hollow. The basement was just ahead, but every step toward it felt like a gamble, a roll of the dice they couldn't afford to lose.
Finally, they reached the heavy metal door that marked their safe haven. Kate knocked three times—quick, deliberate. She held her breath, waiting for a response. For a moment, there was nothing but silence. Then, a voice called out from the other side, tense and wary.
"Who's there?"
"It's Dr. Mitchell and Evan," Kate replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins. "We've got supplies. Let us in."
The sound of the lock disengaging was the sweetest relief Kate had felt all day. The door creaked open just enough for Claire's face to appear, her eyes wide with worry. She scanned the hallway behind them before quickly ushering them inside.
The basement was no less grim than when they'd left it. The cramped room was stifling, crowded with too many people and too little space. The faint light from a single bulb hanging overhead cast harsh shadows on the faces of the survivors, accentuating their exhaustion and fear. Patients lay on the floor or leaned against the walls, their injuries untreated for far too long. Blood-soaked bandages were a common sight, and the faint moans of the suffering filled the air.
"You're back," Claire said, her voice heavy with relief.
Kate nodded, her shoulders sagging as she finally allowed herself a moment to breathe. "We got what we could," she said, gesturing to the supplies they'd brought. "It's not much, but it's better than nothing."
The survivors moved quickly, distributing the supplies with a quiet efficiency born of desperation. Claire took charge, directing people to organize the medical kits while Evan joined a paramedic in tending to a young woman burning with fever. Kate stood back, her eyes scanning the room. There were too many injured, too many pale, hollow faces. The weight of their reliance on her pressed down heavily.