Led by Arnold, a group of people made their way through a door that led to a rear lounge via a dark hallway, prompting many to turn on their flashlights.
The floor was a mess; it was clear there had been an emergency when the soldiers abandoned this place. If the marks on the ground hadn't been made by the living, then they had to belong to walkers. But now, all they could do was speculate.
As they advanced, they checked the rooms on either side of the hallway. Progress was slow, and no one dared to rush in alone. The situation inside was still uncertain, and everyone preferred to explore with caution rather than be caught off guard.
From time to time, they found corpses and weapons scattered across rooms with closed doors. Rick examined them but didn't order anyone to collect the gear.
"Let's clear the area first, eliminate any walkers, and then we'll gather supplies," Rick whispered as quietly as he could.
The people with him nodded and continued moving forward. Rick's plan—and that of many others—was to reach the cafeteria and check its condition. After all, if there were any survivors, that would be the most likely place they'd take shelter. So they headed there without rushing.
There were no surprises or dangers along the way. Arnold, who led the march, remained in a constant state of tension. Even though he was a soldier, the virus naturally frightened him—it could kill with a single bite. At that moment, seeing that the base didn't seem too dangerous, he rounded a corner toward the cafeteria and began to relax.
Watching his comrades silently and efficiently deal with the few walkers they encountered, Arnold felt a growing sense of safety. He was grateful to have met Jason and reached that comfortable settlement. These people were capable—they knew how to survive.
Just as he was thinking this, his teammates finished inspecting the area, so Arnold snapped out of it and resumed leading the group.
When they reached a corner, Arnold turned and smiled at Rick as he walked.
"Captain, we just turn here, and the cafeteria is right there."
Crack!
Arnold was about to turn his head when he noticed Rick's eyes suddenly fill with terror. Rick was still walking but abruptly reached out, trying to stop him.
Arnold had already turned the corner and saw a long hallway where someone stood silently, holding a gun raised. Blood dripped from their hands, but they didn't look like a walker.
"There's a survivor!" Arnold exclaimed.
Turning around, three others joined him, all aiming at the still figure. Footsteps echoed from the far end of the hallway, but no one expected what was coming.
"Who are you? You look hurt. Come closer—we can help," Arnold said firmly.
Screeeeech!
Just as he finished speaking, a chilling roar rang out. Rapid footsteps thundered behind the figure, from the dark doorway behind them. Then, under the light, countless infected with pale faces and glowing red eyes appeared, teeth and claws bared. They weren't normal walkers—they ran, and launched themselves at the group with overwhelming speed.
Arnold froze in place as he watched them charge. The figure lifted their face, revealing blood-red eyes and a frenzied expression. At that moment, Arnold recognized the all-too-familiar stench of blood that always accompanied walkers. He realized he had walked straight into a death trap. Seeing those walkers sprinting at him left him completely paralyzed.
The horde of infected blocked any route of escape. By the time Arnold reacted, he was already surrounded. Claws and teeth tore into him, and in seconds, he felt his body being shredded apart.
His mind went blank. The excruciating pain made him scream alongside the other soldiers. As best as he could, he turned his head and looked toward Rick, who wasn't far away, and reached out a trembling hand.
As Arnold stretched out his arm, he felt the cold seep into his body. Looking down, he saw blood pouring from every part of him. Moments later, he collapsed to the ground. His vision darkened, and his body disappeared beneath the horde of ravenous, fast-moving walkers.
"Run…"
Rick's outstretched hand couldn't reach anyone. He could only watch as Arnold and three others were dragged away by the walkers. A hand sticking out from the pile of bodies kept begging for help. Agonizing screams echoed from ahead.
Everyone stared wide-eyed at the jets of blood shooting from the heap of corpses, splattering the walkers, who became even more frenzied at the scent of fresh flesh. The infected at the back continued pushing forward, and the entire horde began slowly advancing toward Rick and the others.
That's when Rick remembered the report from a few days ago—mutated walkers had attacked Jason's group on the way to Alexandria. He had been alarmed at the time, but since they hadn't encountered more afterward, he'd let it go. Now, his face turned pale.
"Fire!"
Bang, bang, bang!
The moment he shouted, a hail of bullets erupted. Rounds poured down like hail on the infected. Blood splattered everywhere, and several fell lifeless to the ground.
"Goddamn it!" Rick shouted, firing alongside the others.
"Don't stand still! Fall back and keep shooting!" Rick ordered.
Snapping out of the shock, the team realized how serious the situation was. Everyone raised their weapons and began firing nonstop.
The walkers at the front dropped quickly under the barrage. But those behind surged forward with erratic movements, attacking several soldiers and biting into their necks before they had a chance to reload.
"Aaahhhhh!"
The screams multiplied in seconds. These walkers were different—fast, violent, unpredictable.
"Run! Everyone out of here! Don't stop!" Rick yelled.
Luckily, they had already cleared the rooms on their way in. Otherwise, retreating would've been even more dangerous.
Zzzt… I need reinforcements. Mutated walkers! I repeat: anomalous walkers spotted. Requesting special extermination unit! Rick transmitted over the radio.
Then he changed his magazine and fired at a red-eyed walker devouring a teammate who had been covering him just moments before.
Bang, bang, bang, bang!
"Ahhh!"
Of the fifteen who had originally entered the cafeteria, only eight remained. Rick's group was being slowly devoured by the mutated walkers. Gunfire thundered through the corridor, deafening everyone—but no one stopped.
Zzzt… We're in position, Captain. Head toward our location.
"If we make it out of this hell…" Rick muttered as he raised his AK to cover the retreat. Just as he turned, a walker pounced on his shoulder.
"Argh…!" Rick winced, struggling to keep the red-eyed walker from biting him. All he could do was hold it back.
"Captain!" A teammate saw his condition and rushed to help.
Bang! A precise shot put down the infected attacking Rick.
"We've got to move!" the soldier who'd saved him shouted—only to be tackled by multiple walkers a second later.
"Noooo!"
Rick wanted to help, but all he could do was watch as his body was torn apart. Helpless, he fired angrily at the infected and ran toward the warehouse.
Each time a walker fell, several more tripped over the body. At a glance, it looked like more were dying from trampling than from bullets. The horde's speed slowed just slightly.