Chapter 6: Level 5
’Ding!’
The soft chime of the elevator echoed like a whisper before a storm. With a groaning hiss, the doors slid apart, revealing the dimly lit lobby of the building. Shadows danced across the cracked tiles and smeared walls—silent harbingers of the horror that lay ahead.
Yuki stepped out first, her metallic boots hitting the floor with a low, ominous clink-clink. Her silhouette gleamed under the flickering ceiling light—an armored wraith, blade in hand, unmoved by death.
Merek followed, his revolver already drawn. The heavy weight of the gun in his right hand was oddly comforting. Then he saw them—five of them. Three lurked on the left, and two staggered from the right. The air thickened instantly, laced with rot, sweat, and the coppery bite of dried blood.
The last of the three on the left was grotesquely bloated, its massive frame jiggling with each step. A deep, guttural growl escaped its maw, overpowering the rasping breaths of the others.
Merek didn’t need to ask. He knew.
"High-level..." he muttered under his breath, eyes narrowing.
"I’ll take the right," he declared aloud, lifting the revolver and locking onto the two approaching zombies. They were young—barely older than teens. One still wore a bloodstained school blazer, the other had a cracked phone hanging from their neck, frozen in a message they never got to send.
Merek didn’t blink.
He steadied his breath, heartbeat hammering like war drums in his chest. His aim had always been shaky, but at this distance, he didn’t need to be perfect—just fast.
Closer. Closer.