"You better back off right now, or I won't hesitate to shoot!"
As soon as Brian noticed the woman's intentions, a cold glint flashed in his eyes. But before he could warn her, Sarah — still on his back — shouted first, pointing her pistol directly at the blonde woman.
At first, Sarah hadn't noticed the woman's suspicious behavior. But she had sensed something was off with Brian, noticing how he kept glancing sideways.
Following his gaze, she quickly spotted the blonde woman inching closer. Though she didn't usually assume the worst in people, she wasn't naïve either. That kind of movement was too obvious. Even if the woman had no ill intent, Sarah wouldn't risk it.
She tightened her grip on the gun and aimed it straight at the woman, shouting:
"Stop! Don't come any closer!"
"Don't! Don't shoot! I didn't mean anything by it—"
The woman had been moving silently toward them until suddenly being met with the barrel of a gun. Her face turned pale with shock — she hadn't expected to be caught so easily. She raised both hands immediately and changed direction, stepping away from them in a hurry.
But while distracted and focused on Brian and Sarah, she failed to notice that she had stepped near a high step ahead. As she lifted her foot, she misjudged the height and stumbled forward due to her momentum, crashing heavily to the ground. She didn't get up for a long time.
The fleeing survivors behind her were startled by her sudden fall, but none stopped to help. Instead, one after another trampled over her body without hesitation, treating her like a stepping stone. Her screams of pain went completely ignored.
"Hmph! You got what you deserved."
Seeing the woman fall and get crushed underfoot, Sarah muttered bitterly. It wasn't sympathy — she knew the woman had bad intentions. What truly angered her was the callousness of those who stepped over her. They weren't even at the back of the group. A simple detour would have taken just a second, yet they chose cruelty without a second thought.
Just then, Brian suddenly staggered mid-run, nearly falling flat on his face. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he managed to steady himself.
Still, this brief stumble caused them to fall behind. The distance to safety was short, but the infected behind them were getting closer. He could feel his arms and legs trembling uncontrollably.
He gasped for breath, frustration burning in his chest. He wanted to keep running, but he knew he couldn't carry Sarah much longer.
"I'll help you!"
Just as despair began creeping into his mind, a woman's voice rang out from behind him. Then, he felt the weight on his back lift slightly, and his pace instantly lightened.
"You two?!"
Sarah cried out in surprise. Brian turned his head and saw a panting woman and a boy supporting Sarah's body from behind, keeping up with them as they ran.
Brian recognized them instantly — the mother and son Sarah had helped earlier. He hadn't expected them to return the favor.
With the burden eased, Brian's steps grew lighter. He heard Sarah say gratefully:
"Thank you so much!"
"No need to thank me," the woman replied while holding onto Sarah. "If it weren't for you, we probably wouldn't have made it this far."
Then she glanced at the long line of survivors trailing behind and the infected closing in fast.
"I'll do my best to help, but if things go south… we're definitely running first."
Da-da-da—!
At that moment, soldiers suddenly appeared inside the safe zone, standing atop the rubble along the perimeter fence, opening fire on the chasing infected horde.
Now within effective range, their gunfire significantly slowed the infected, giving the survivors a crucial advantage.
With less than a hundred meters left to reach safety, Wilfred finally allowed himself to relax.
"Ugh!"
But the moment his guard dropped, his face twisted in pain, and he vomited a large amount of blackish fluid.
"Dad!"
As if sensing something wrong through their bond, Anna suddenly clutched her chest and felt a wave of suffocating tightness.
Instinctively, she turned around, searching desperately for her father. To her horror, she found him lagging far behind, bent over with his hands on his knees, clearly in agony.
Her face paled.
"Dad! Wait!"
Hearing his daughter's cry, Wilfred shot his head up and saw Anna rushing toward him. He immediately raised his hand and bellowed:
"Anna! Don't come here!"
Then he stood up straight, yanked off his hood, revealing his face — covered in bulging veins, bloodshot eyes, and skin turning an unnatural shade. At a glance, he looked no different from the infected themselves.
"This... this..."
Anna froze in place, her eyes wide with terror. Her lips trembled violently, unable to form a single coherent word.
Wilfred looked at his daughter with deep longing. Hearing the infected drawing closer behind him, he turned to Lucy beside Anna and said urgently:
"We don't know each other well, but please... take care of my daughter. Please!"
Lucy looked at Wilfred, instantly understanding the truth when she saw his appearance. She gave a quiet nod, grabbed Anna's arm, and tried to pull her forward.
"No!"
Snapped out of her shock, Anna screamed in grief and tried to break free, determined to run back to her father.
Lucy reacted quickly, tightening her grip and refusing to let go.
Realizing she couldn't escape, Anna's anger boiled over. Her eyes blazing red, she shouted:
"Damn it! Let me go!"
But before she could finish, Lucy struck her hard on the back of the neck, knocking her unconscious. With practiced efficiency, she hoisted Anna onto her shoulder and gave Wilfred one last nod before sprinting forward.
Watching them disappear into the crowd, Wilfred turned his attention back to Brian and the others, estimating that they'd make it safely before allowing a faint smile to appear on his face.
Then, he slowly turned around.
"Ahhh!"
Those still running behind him suddenly screamed upon seeing his face — it was indistinguishable from the infected. They veered sharply to either side, avoiding him like the plague.
Without paying them any attention, Wilfred watched the infected approach. Slowly, he pulled the grenade from his pocket. Then, almost absentmindedly, he reached for his waist beneath his coat.
Tied tightly around his waist was a small rectangular canister connected to a rope. His fingers brushed against it lightly.
He smiled faintly as he whispered:
"Sorry, Brian. I stole your stuff right before leaving."
With every ounce of strength left in his body, he clenched the grenade tightly and charged headfirst into the swarm of infected.
Like a dying lion facing a pack of wolves, he showed no fear. Even knowing death was inevitable, he refused to go down without a fight.
"You damned creatures crawling across the earth... let me send you back to hell!"
As the infected closed in, Wilfred raised the grenade high, letting out a final roar. With one sharp motion, he pulled the pin.
A heartbeat later...
BOOM!
The explosion tore through the infected ranks, sending bodies flying in all directions. A burst of fire erupted from the center, spreading rapidly among the tightly packed infected.
In seconds, the snow-covered battlefield was ablaze. Amidst the freezing cold, a roaring inferno engulfed the infected, turning the land into a terrifying sea of crimson flames!