When I finally forced my eyes open, darkness still swallowed everything. My body felt leaden, refusing to move. Even lifting a hand or parting my lips sent sharp tears through my muscles.

But… this pain was a relief. Proof I’d survived. Without it, I’d have thought I was already dead.

Guess those two incendiary bombs stopped the zombies for me?

“The zombies… ugh!” I shifted slightly, wincing as agony flared through every nerve. Gritting my teeth against the tearing sensation, I stretched out and grabbed my backpack.

I fumbled it open, pulling out a pack of bread—but couldn’t tear the wrapper.

*Stupid!* I cursed myself, remembering the combat knife at my waist. I pulled out my dagger, sliced the packaging, and forced down dry bites. Then I grabbed a glucose pouch, stabbing it open with the blade.

*Pfft…*

The thin pouch burst, spilling some liquid. But I didn’t care. Just being alive was luck enough.

I lapped up the syrup like a starving beast. Once strength seeped back, I tore open sausages and instant noodles, chewing them dry while gulping glucose. Finally, my stomach felt full.

I sighed, pulling out my lighter. My fingers trembled weakly as I flicked the wheel.

*Swish… swish… swish!*

Three tries before the flame caught. This weakness was the aftermath—that state had drained me completely.

I glanced down—and nearly jumped out of my skin.

Twenty-some charred corpses littered the sixth-floor landing. They stretched from the corner all the way to the metal door, coating the stairs in blackened flesh. But what froze my blood was the hand—*almost touching my shoe*.

“So close… I almost died here!”

After all… I had no idea if I was immune to zombie toxins. Surviving once didn’t guarantee anything.

Regaining some strength, I pulled out a Changbaishan cigarette. I flicked one out, lit it, and snapped the lighter shut. In the pitch-black stairwell, only the orange-yellow ember glowed.

Leaning against the icy wall, I inhaled a harsh lungful of smoke and slowly exhaled. My body was recovering. This new physique had its perks—at least the old me would’ve died back there.

*Though the old me would’ve found another way,* I thought. *Not brute force.*

The ember’s glow faintly lit the stairs below. I heaved myself up, shouldering my backpack. Trash bags? Forget them. Gripping the white steel railing, I shuffled downward. Corpses crunched underfoot—

*Crunch… squelch…*

The sounds were sickening. But I had no choice. I stepped over the pile of bodies.

Halfway down—

*Skree!*

A guttural shriek! Something grabbed my ankle!

*One was still alive!*

*I’d let my guard down!*

My unsteady legs buckled on the uneven corpses.

“Ugh!” The world spun. My backpack and the bodies broke my fall—but the hand clamped on my calf didn’t loosen.

*It rolled down with me!*

Dazed, I saw the zombie lunge.

“Ahhh!”

I threw my arms up, blocking its rotting body. A wave of stench hit my nose. Moonlight glinted on its half-melted face—eyeball dangling, skin peeled away. Its crimson eyes locked onto mine, icy dread flooding my veins.

*Snap! Snap! Snap!*

Its jaws snapped wildly. The mouth had split wide—ripped cheeks gaping enough to swallow two fists!

“Die!”

Adrenaline jolted through me. I yanked my combat knife free. Left hand pinned its neck. Right hand drove the blade upward—*through its jaw*.

*Squelch!*

Thick black blood oozed down the blade. The zombie shuddered once… then went limp.

“Ghh!”

I shoved the corpse aside, exhausted but desperate to avoid its blood. No idea if skin contact meant infection.

*Huff… huff… huff…*

I gasped for air, strength drained again. Collapsing onto my backpack, I lay on the cold floor.

Minutes passed before I could push myself up.

“Hah… careless…” My breath still hitched. But I couldn’t stay another second. Even with the zombies dead, I couldn’t check them all…

*Yeah. I’m scared.* Who wouldn’t be?

I’d fallen right outside the sixth-floor metal door. And when I saw it—

“The door’s open!”

I gripped my combat knife tighter. Its weight in the dark was a sliver of comfort, even if my arms could barely lift it.

Just as I feared… she’d escaped.

“That bitch!”

The curse did nothing but vent my rage. I scanned the floor. No patient rooms—just lab doors with numbered signs.

Straight ahead lay a break room. Staff quarters, probably.

Peering through the glass, I saw beds, daily supplies… even a TV. Useless junk now, without power.

I pulled the metal door shut behind me. I needed rest. No dying in my sleep to some zombie’s teeth. The stairs were clear, but this door was insurance. Peace of mind.