Click… click… click…
The strange, terrifying sound echoed through the mall, striking Brian's heart like a death sentence.
Recalling everything he'd learned at the military training base, Brian resisted the urge to grab the assault rifle slung across his backpack. He suppressed the fear rising in his chest and forced himself to remain perfectly still.
Tap… tap… tap…
Footsteps on the tiled floor behind him. Brian slowly crouched lower, inching his body forward with painstaking care, making not a single sound.
Once he'd adjusted his position, he carefully turned his head to look back. Not far away, he saw an infected creature—its head completely covered in fungal growths—moving slowly, following another set of footprints on the ground.
This was the first time Brian had ever seen a Clicker in the outside world. Aside from its grotesque head, it didn't look much different from a Stalker. It was hard to believe such terrifying strength could be hidden beneath that gaunt frame.
He glanced at the Clicker, then down at the knife in his hand, wondering if he should try to kill it.
But Brian was naturally cautious. After a long moment of hesitation, he decided it was better to avoid the Clicker for now and call for backup.
Thinking this, he looked at the Runner's corpse he'd just killed. He reached into the pockets of its clothes, but found them completely empty—nothing at all.
Cursing his bad luck, Brian reached down and pulled off the single shoe still on the corpse's foot. A foul stench immediately rose from it—so strong it nearly made him vomit.
Gritting his teeth against the nausea, he scanned the mall. The Clicker blocked his escape route. Without hesitation, he hurled the shoe toward the corner the Runner had come from, hoping to lure the Clicker away.
Clack!
The shoe arced through the air and landed heavily on the tile floor with a dull thud. In the dead silence of the building, the sound was unmistakable.
—Sss-CRACK!
The Clicker, with its hyper-sensitive hearing, reacted instantly. It let out a bone-chilling screech and began lurching toward the sound.
Brian held his breath, not daring to move, his eyes locked on the creature as it approached.
He noticed the Clicker's mobility was far worse than that of a Runner or Stalker. Though it moved quickly, it was slow and clumsy compared to the others.
Zzz… zzz…
"Captain, Norman reports—he's reached the vantage point!"
Just as Brian's full attention was on the Clicker, his radio crackled to life. It was Elton, reporting from outside.
The radio's volume was extremely low—almost inaudible. Brian had deliberately turned it down to avoid detection during stealth operations. Only he could hear it. Normal Runners or Stalkers wouldn't notice it at all.
But this time, he was facing a Clicker—one whose hearing was extraordinarily sharp. Even that faint sound was enough to catch its attention. With another shriek, it changed direction and charged straight toward Brian.
Damn it!
Brian cursed silently. He hadn't expected the Clicker to hear such a quiet signal. Seeing it turn toward him, his face paled. A wave of intense danger washed over him.
But the more dangerous the situation, the calmer he had to remain. He quickly estimated the distance. He knew he wouldn't have time to grab his rifle.
With his left hand still gripping the knife, he drew his sidearm and fired several shots at the Clicker's left leg.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Bullets flew from the muzzle, striking the Clicker's calf with precision. But they had no effect—like bullets hitting stone. They left visible holes, proving they'd hit, but caused no damage.
Seeing this, Brian's heart sank. In the past, just a few shots to a Runner's or Stalker's leg would shatter bones and cripple them.
But this Clicker didn't even flinch. It was as if its entire body had been reinforced.
Now he understood what "physically enhanced by the fungus" truly meant—not just strength, but durability.
—Sss-CRACK!
Before he could think further, the Clicker was already on him, lunging with terrifying speed.
Remembering the instructor's warning—Never engage a Clicker in close combat —Brian threw himself sideways, narrowly avoiding the attack.
As he hit the ground, he aimed again—not at the legs, but directly at the head—and emptied the rest of his magazine.
But in his haste, only two or three bullets struck the head. The fungal growths absorbed the impact, destroying only the outer layer.
The rest missed or hit the body, leaving bullet holes but no fatal damage.
—Sss-CRACK!
The blow to its head clearly hurt. The Clicker covered its head with both hands, freezing in place for a second or two.
Then, with blind fury, it screamed and charged again—its already fast speed increasing even more. Its mouth gaped open, revealing jagged, yellowed teeth, ready to tear its attacker apart.
Brian noticed something strange: the Clicker had frozen after being hit in the head. As if the fungus needed a moment to recover.
But he had no time to analyze it. He turned and ran. As he fled, he ejected the empty magazine and swiftly replaced it with a fresh one—movements smooth and practiced.
In the split second of reloading, he glanced back. To his horror, the Clicker was right behind him, almost matching his pace—maybe even slightly faster.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
While running, Brian fired backward, trying to slow the Clicker. His eyes scanned for obstacles, his mind designing escape routes, planning how to kill the monster on his tail.
—BOOM!
Just as Brian was thinking of a way to deal with the Clicker, something dropped from above, landing heavily nearby with a loud thud.
The sudden noise startled him. He turned and saw a Runner's body twitching on the floor—apparently fallen from an upper floor.
Brian immediately looked up. On the upper levels of the mall, dozens of infected figures were moving fast, letting out shrill, piercing screams.
He realized instantly: the gunshots had drawn the attention of other infected on the upper floors.
He couldn't keep running. He changed direction, leapt over a decorative platform, and sprinted toward a baseball equipment store on his left.
The Clicker followed close behind. Though its movements were clumsy, it quickly climbed over the obstacle and continued the chase.
—Crash!
Brian shoved the glass door of the store inward with force. He slipped inside, but whether from the momentum or the glass already being cracked, the door instantly shattered into a thousand pieces, clattering to the floor.
No time to worry. He grabbed a display baseball bat from the wall, heard the Clicker's footsteps closing in, and with a roar, swung the bat in a full clockwise arc.
—Aaaah!
—THUD!
The Clicker had just entered when it sensed its prey had stopped. It shrieked in excitement, ready to pounce—only to be met with a brutal swing to the face.
The force was so great it knocked the Clicker flat on its back. Part of the fungal mass on its head caved in, and it writhed on the floor, clutching its head in agony.
Seeing the Clicker down, Brian didn't hesitate. He raised the bat again and struck—again and again—bludgeoning the creature's head without mercy.
He only stopped when the Clicker no longer moved, its skull completely destroyed, unrecognizable.
—Huff… huff…
Brian dropped the bat, breathing hard. He looked at the Clicker's corpse and wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. If he'd been just a second slower, it would've been his body lying on the floor.