Chapter 7: The Quiet Breaks

Travis stood frozen for a moment, staring down at the grotesque, lifeless body of the monstrous creature that had nearly killed them all. His hands trembled, smeared with dark, coagulated blood, the stench clinging to his skin. The others were equally rattled, but there was no time to dwell on their shock. The groans from outside echoed through the halls, and the unsettling reality of their situation was impossible to ignore.

"I think it's time to leave. Right now," Travis said, his voice steady but strained.

Everyone nodded in agreement, shaken but determined to find a way out. Steve wiped his face with a trembling hand, still pale, and scanned the room for anything they could use as weapons.

"Grab whatever you can," Steve muttered, his voice low but urgent.

Travis grabbed the oxygen tank that had saved them and gave it a reassuring shake. Eli moved towards the remains of the broken chair Steve had shattered over the creature's skull, wrenching off a jagged piece of wood. Janice grabbed an IV pole, testing its weight with a grim expression. Steve spotted a scalpel and quickly pocketed it, his fingers twitching nervously.

Paris frantically looked around but came up empty-handed. "I can't find anything," she whispered, her voice tinged with panic.

Janice, noticing Paris's distress, rummaged through a nearby drawer and found a pair of surgical scissors. She handed them to Paris, who accepted them with relief. "Thank you," Paris said softly.

Janice gave her a firm nod, her voice calm but commanding. "Stick together, and we'll get through this."

Travis looked at the group, his eyes hardening. "Go for the brain if you have to. Stay close, and we'll make it out of here."

The group took a collective breath as Travis turned the handle on the door. His heart pounded, his mind racing with thoughts of what waited for them outside. He pushed it open slowly, the creak of the hinges painfully loud in the oppressive silence. They stepped out into the hallway, the fluorescent lights flickering erratically above them, casting long, disorienting shadows on the blood-splattered walls.

The scene was beyond horrifying—rivers of blood smeared across the floor, chunks of flesh and organs scattered in every direction, bodies torn apart and abandoned like broken dolls. Some lay still, but they all knew the bodies wouldn't stay that way for long.

For a moment, an eerie quiet hung in the air, interrupted only by the distant groans of the undead. The group moved cautiously, gripping their weapons tightly. Every step felt like walking through a nightmare.

"What is that smell?" Paris whispered, gagging as the putrid stench of rotting flesh and decay invaded her senses. The others started to smell it too, a vile mix of blood, death, and something else—something rancid.

Travis, leading the group, noticed the hospital's front entrance was completely blocked by debris and overturned equipment. He pushed ahead, determination fueling his every move. "We'll find another way," he whispered, more to himself than anyone else. Behind him, Paris followed closely, with Eli, Janice, and Steve bringing up the rear.

The distant groans grew louder, sending chills up their spines. Their grip on their makeshift weapons tightened as their eyes darted to every corner, every flickering shadow, waiting for something to spring out at them.

Suddenly, Travis stopped in his tracks. He pointed silently to a room up ahead, where one of the creatures was hunched over a pile of bodies. The sounds of it feeding—ripping through flesh, crunching bone—filled the hallway. It was tearing through its victims with grotesque precision, its sharp, bloodied teeth gnashing as it devoured what was left of the people it had claimed.

Travis motioned for everyone to stay quiet and move past, inching along the hallway in silence.

They were almost clear of the room when Steve, his eyes locked on the feeding creature, didn't notice his foot getting tangled in a fallen tube. He fell to the ground with a soft thud. Panic surged through him, but he hadn't made enough noise to alert the creature.

Eli and Travis rushed over, lifting Steve to his feet as Paris and Janice stood watch, scanning their surroundings. They moved quickly, hearts pounding, eyes wide. The groans were getting louder, closer.

As they turned the corner, they froze. A dozen zombie-like creatures stood in front of them, their backs turned, gnawing at something—or someone—just beyond view. The smell hit them in waves, the same awful stench that had filled their nostrils moments ago. Paris's hand flew to her mouth, her eyes wide with horror.

"That's the smell," she whispered, almost gagging. Everyone grimaced, the stench filling their lungs, making it hard to breathe.

Travis and Eli exchanged a quick glance and then spotted a stairway at the end of the hall. It was their only hope. They gestured silently to the others and began to move toward it, stepping carefully, holding their breath, praying the creatures wouldn't notice them.

But before they could reach the door, a blood-curdling scream shattered the silence.

"Help! Someone help me!"

A man came sprinting down the hallway, his eyes wild with terror. The creatures all turned in unison, their heads snapping toward the group. Their dead, hollow eyes fixed on the intruders, their snarls filling the air with malice.

"Run!" Travis shouted.

They sprinted toward the stairway, the creatures now racing after them. Eli and Travis threw themselves at the door, wrenching it open just as the creatures closed in. They slammed it shut behind them after each person including the man made it through, but not before several of the creatures managed to get their arms inside, clawing desperately at the group.

Janice, thinking quickly, grabbed the oxygen tank from Travis and swung it at the creatures' arms, smashing down with all her strength. Bones snapped and shattered under the force, the arms hanging limp on the other side of the door as they finally managed to shut it.

Panting and shaking, they backed away from the door, their hearts racing in their chests.

As they caught their breath, they turned to the man who had broken their quiet. He stood there, hunched over and breathing heavily, his clothes disheveled and torn. His hospital gown was smeared with blood, but his wide eyes told a story of fear and confusion.

"Who the hell are you?" Steve demanded, still trembling.

The man looked up at them, his eyes clouded with panic. "I... I don't know. I can't remember. What's happening? Where am I?"

Paris's eyes narrowed, suspicious of the man, but there was no time for questions. They could hear the creatures banging on the other side of the door, and it was only a matter of time before the barricade gave way.

"Stay quiet, and stay close," Travis ordered, gripping his oxygen tank like a weapon once more.

The man nodded, looking terrified and utterly lost. As they began to move again, Paris couldn't shake the uneasy feeling settling in her gut. Who was this man? And what would happen if they didn't escape in time?

And then there was the box. The box she had taken from the facility. The one she still hadn't opened. Her thoughts raced. Would she ever get the chance to find out what was inside?

As they made their way up the dark stairwell, the sounds of the undead growing louder with each passing moment, one question lingered in her mind:

Would any of them make it out of this alive?