Chapter 4: Pharmacy (Part 2)
Adam stopped at the door. The neon sign above the entrance flickered weakly, and the letters forming the word "PHARMACY" looked like they were moments away from crumbling into dust. He grimaced and slid his back along the wall until he reached the doorframe.
The door was ajar. The interior was steeped in semi-darkness, as if the light itself was afraid to enter. The air beyond the threshold stood still—thick and tense, like the moment before a thunderclap. Nothing moved inside. No sound, no sign of life—only an oppressive, sticky silence that seemed to squeeze around his throat.
He reached out and pushed the door carefully. It creaked, as if eager to betray his presence to the world.
He stepped inside, slowly, almost on tiptoe.
The smell hit him immediately—mustiness, plastic, dried blood, and something else... chemical, biting. The floor was littered with medicine packages, overturned shelves, and shattered glass.
Something gleamed on the tiles in the light spilling in from the entrance. Dark red streaks led from the depths of the pharmacy, winding between scattered bottles and boxes like narrow streams. Beside them were footprints—deep, irregular, as if left by someone limping. The blood was partially dried but still sticky. Something or someone had come through here recently.
Adam pressed himself against the wall and peeked behind the first shelf.
He froze.
Behind the counter, hunched low to the ground, sat something that might once have been human. Now it was just a shadow, a ragged shell with dead eyes staring blankly into the void. Another shadow stood by the back wall, swaying slightly, as if fighting against gravity.
Two zombies.
And no emergency exits.