Failure Is Not An Option

As Charles and Neil executed their risky plan to rescue Payton, the tension in the air grew palpable. They made their way to the edge of the third-floor balcony, took a deep breath, and leaped into the pool below. The water rippled and splashed as they submerged, aiming for a swift and silent entry.

However, the commotion of their descent didn't go unnoticed. The sound reached the ears of Catherine, positioned on an elevated vantage point, vigilant against any potential threats. Without hesitation, she readied her Mossberg 940 Pro Tactical, a weapon she had mastered for the sake of the group's defense.

The moment Charles and Neil surfaced from the pool, intending to proceed with their plan, a sharp crack echoed through the air. Catherine's precise shot hit the water with deadly accuracy, disrupting their intended stealth.

Both Charles and Neil, realizing they had been discovered, turned their attention towards Catherine. 

The sharp crack of Catherine's Mossberg 940 Pro Tactical echoed through the air, and the hotel courtyard was filled with the disorienting sound of shrapnel. Payton, caught in the midst of the failed rescue attempt, felt the impact of the shrapnel.

Neil and Charles, reacting swiftly, rushed to Payton's side. The urgency of the situation heightened as they realized the danger they were in. Ignoring the stinging pain from the shrapnel, they grabbed Payton and carried her toward the hotel's basement.

As they reached the locked door, the weight of the situation pressed upon them. Without hesitation, Neil and Charles worked together to break the lock. The metallic clatter of the shattered lock resonated in the narrow corridor as they forced the door open.

With Payton in their arms, they hurriedly entered the basement, leaving the chaos outside behind.

In the dimly lit basement, Neil, Charles, and Payton hastily barricaded the door with an old wardrobe, their hands working swiftly to secure their newfound refuge. The echoes of their hurried movements reverberated in the confined space, a desperate attempt to fortify their sanctuary.

As they turned around to catch their breath and assess their surroundings, a chilling sight awaited them. In the doorway stood Catherine, her silhouette outlined by the faint light filtering in from the corridor. The Mossberg 940 Pro Tactical hung from her shoulder, a grim reminder of the group's need for vigilance in the face of danger.

Her gaze, unwavering and stern, met theirs. The basement became a tense tableau, frozen in a moment of uncertainty. 

As Catherine approached, seemingly ready to express her frustration or issue a stern reprimand, Payton, displaying remarkable resilience, stepped forward and preemptively spoke up.

"I'm sorry," Payton's voice cut through the tension in the basement. Her apology hung in the air, an attempt to diffuse the mounting conflict and bridge the gap between them.

Catherine, momentarily taken aback by Payton's unexpected apology, paused.

"Go to my office. We'll talk there," Catherine instructed, her voice carrying a blend of authority and an underlying willingness to address the situation.

Payton, sensing the opportunity to resolve the tension and seek understanding, nodded in compliance. The penthouse, usually a space for strategic planning and decision-making, now held the promise of a dialogue that could potentially mend the fractures within the group.

As Payton made her way to Catherine's office, the group in the basement remained in a state of uneasy anticipation.

"Thanks for trying to keep everyone safe," Catherine acknowledged, her tone carrying a mixture of gratitude and caution. However, the tension in the air heightened as she continued, "But one for many isn't a good deal."

The weight of her words hung in the basement, emphasizing the difficult choices and sacrifices that defined their existence in the post-apocalyptic world.

Neil and Charles, facing Catherine's unwavering gaze and the barrel of the Mossberg, understood that their actions, no matter how well-intentioned, were subject to scrutiny. 

Acknowledging the complexities of the situation, Catherine lowered her Mossberg 940 Pro Tactical. The tension in the basement eased as the immediate threat of confrontation diminished. Without a word, she turned and walked toward her office in the penthouse.

Inside the office, Payton awaited, her emotions a mix of apprehension and a genuine desire to understand and reconcile. The door closed behind Catherine, muffling the sounds from the rest of the hotel.

Charles, expressing gratitude for Neil's assistance, nodded appreciatively as they both processed the recent events. Before they could delve into further discussion, Simon burst into the basement with a sense of urgency.

"Guys! Dustin needs help at the barricade!" Simon exclaimed, his voice echoing the immediate danger they faced.

Neil and Charles, instantly recognizing the need for unity in the face of external threats, exchanged a quick nod. They swiftly followed Simon, their collective focus shifting from the internal conflicts to the imminent danger at the barricade.

As Neil, Charles, and Simon rushed to the first-floor barricade, they were met with a horrifying scene. Riley, a member of their group, was caught in the clutches of zombies who had breached the barricade. Dustin, valiantly attempting to save him, struggled against the relentless onslaught.

The frantic atmosphere intensified as the group realized the immediate threat to one of their own. Neil and Charles, driven by the instinct to protect their fellow survivor, joined forces with Simon to confront the encroaching undead.

"Grab Riley! We need to pull him back!" Neil shouted, his voice cutting through the chaos.