A bit underhanded, sure—but survival, and the desire to carve out a better place in this world, are worth it. So, silencing the squeak of my conscience, I continued my "guardianship" of Sherry.
Skirting the shelves on the right, we didn't turn left—there it was plainly visible that we'd only end up making a circle. Besides, an ordinary zombie was already shuffling in our direction (more precisely, toward Sherry). We went straight again, edging around another rack piled with junk, and only then turned right. The left side was completely blocked, and there didn't seem to be anything useful over there anyway, while straight ahead we'd already reached a wall. A short room. On the far side we found steel lockers on one side and a ventilation shaft on the other. Tch, couldn't we have come across something better?
"Up you go first. I'll keep watch," I said with a hint in my voice—though I wasn't sure the girl would catch it.
By the time she was halfway into the vent, the zombie finally shambled up to us. You're all so damn slow!
A light flick of the back of my hand—and the poor bastard was literally sent flying backward. The infected slammed into the heap of junk on the blocked side, toppling it and collapsing beneath it. No, that didn't kill him—but it didn't look like he'd be getting up anytime soon.
I, on the other hand, was in mild shock.
Yes, I could have thrown a zombie before—but with both hands and a lot more effort, at least in my first form. So just how much stronger had I become?
Found something to be proud of, huh… If I'd tossed a Tyrant like that, then maybe. But a zombie? And the weakest one at that—the basic, starter model of the infected. Nothing to brag about. Especially since it's completely useless to me: basic infected don't even react to me anymore.
"What happened?" Sherry's voice came from the other side.
"Nothing much. Just brushed off an infected," I said—without lying in the slightest.
"Hurry up and get over here before it catches you! And… don't leave me alone. It's scary here."
Looks like I'd been misunderstood a little—but whatever.
Diving into the shaft and feeling it widen enough to follow the contours of my body, I cursed the designers of this ventilation system for making it so damn small. Finally, with an awful screech, I crawled out on the other side and looked around.
Tch. We were inside some kind of round pipe—and judging by Sherry's grimace as she pressed herself against me, it didn't smell too good in here—and it was probably dark as well.
Meanwhile, along the ceiling scurried the creatures I'd compared myself to more than once lately—cockroaches. Everything would've been fine, except for their size. As big as rats, at least. That's what the T-virus does!
"Don't be afraid. It's okay, I'm here. Let's go," I encouraged Sherry. It was worth remembering that she was already showing remarkable courage—not just for a child, but in some situations even for an adult. Still, every survivor who makes it out of this city is going to need mandatory sessions with a psychotherapist.
On the far side of the pipe we found a passage identical to the one we'd come through… well, before I crawled through it. Naturally, Sherry went first. I lingered behind, crushing a few cockroaches and watching as liquid from them stretched toward me.
Now even I felt disgusted—but I wasn't about to run from blood, was I? Even though I wasn't entirely sure it was blood; I didn't remember insects having any. Then again, these roaches were clearly far from normal, so why couldn't they have developed a circulatory system?
I hadn't even started climbing when Sherry screamed from the other side.
Acceleration and a forward lunge…
That was my mistake.
Because of it, I crumpled the shaft like an accordion and got stuck halfway out—hanging upside down, waist caught, over a gaping hole in the floor. Judging by everything, this was a trash chute. And down below, along with most of the garbage, went Sherry.
I hope she's at least alive. Otherwise, all this effort was for nothing.
Bracing my hand against the edges of the shaft, I yanked my legs free, still gripping the rim, then tucked my knees and twisted until I was upright. Letting go, I fell after the trash—and the daughter of one mad scientist.
I landed near Sherry's head. She lay sprawled atop black garbage bags, clearly unconscious. And behind me, I heard shuffling footsteps. How sick I am of these zombies!
I turned—and saw Birkin pivoting toward me. Wait! He already infected her? And is this really happening here? Well, judging by the green veins glowing under the red light, yes, he has infected her.
Damn it. There's no way back up now. What if, because of my presence, he lunges at Sherry?
"Graaar!" Looks like this monstrosity remembers me. Fine then, it's settled—we'll play.
"Come here, baby!" I snarled, unable to hold back my grin.
The monster advanced toward me at an unhurried pace, half-submerged in water. And there was a strange sensation—as if someone else was also heading this way from the passage behind me—but there was no time to look.
Who knows what the monster in front of me might pull?
I need to face it one-on-one—and I have that chance.
(End of Chapter)
P@treon: /SadRaven
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