The dormitory building at the terminal had been completely consumed by the raging flames. The fire, which had started on the first floor, climbed uncontrollably along the hallways and windows, spreading throughout the building through the gaps in the doors.
The desperation in such a situation was unbearably intense—not only did you struggle to breathe, but the heat from the fire was unbearably close. Experiencing a similar scenario would be suffocating. In the best-case scenario, one would wet their body with water and cloths, but this was not something the people in the terminal thought of.
Although people had done their best to block the cracks in the doors, the thick, penetrating smoke slowly filled the rooms. Some could no longer endure the suffocating smoke and began opening windows to try to breathe fresh air. This did nothing to make them feel safer; all it did was intensify the fire.
Fire is curious, almost like a wood-burning oven: when you supply air, the flames grow stronger and the fire becomes more violent. This was exactly what was happening.
The air not only provided sufficient oxygen but also sucked the flames upward.
The third floor, which could have held out longer, soon began burning faster. Gareth and the others, still hiding in the room, had only managed to cover their noses and mouths with a piece of cloth.
The temperature on the third floor was already staggering, and the turbulent waves of heat and thick smoke increasingly affected the remaining people.
If we don't leave now, we'll die anyway!
Gareth was extremely anxious, cursing internally, staring at the open space outside, waiting for others to run first. Only when a large group escaped together would they even have a chance of survival.
At this moment, Gareth was not thinking much about the life or death of others; even the woman beside him was merely an accessory, disposable at any time.
But one thing they shared was extreme anxiety, and at that moment, there were agonizing pains in many parts of their bodies. Gareth's eyes scanned every corner of the room. Enduring the pain, he turned his head and said: "I'm going to wet two blankets!"
He quickly spread the two blankets on the floor, then loosened his belt and urinated directly onto them.
He poured the little water left in the room onto the blankets, then looked at the woman still standing beside him.
"Quick, if you can, do it fast!"
The woman also understood that the most important thing now was survival. She loosened her belt without hesitation and crouched down.
Gareth looked at the half-wet blanket. Obviously, this was far too little. Looking at the fire outside the window, it would definitely not be enough to safely escape.
A severe look appeared on his face, and he casually picked up a wooden ornament from the window. After testing its weight and finding it satisfactory, he turned to the woman beside him and swung his arm repeatedly.
Bang!
The object in his hand collided violently with the back of the woman's neck, and she fell directly onto the mattress with a pained groan.
But Gareth didn't care. He drew a knife from his waist, approached the woman, and grabbed her by the hair to lift her head.
The sharp blade sliced through her neck, leaving a gruesome wound. Blood gushed instantly from her carotid artery, soaking the blanket completely.
Gareth moved her head like it was a bucket of water. Once the bleeding stopped, he threw her body aside and impatiently wrapped the blood-soaked blanket around himself.
With the blanket insulating him, Gareth breathed more comfortably. Although the air he inhaled was still hot and the smoke slightly uncomfortable, his body felt much better. He no longer looked at the woman on the floor. He continued approaching the window without blinking, observing the movement outside.
If his guess was correct, soon someone wouldn't be able to resist jumping.
As if in response, several people began leaping from the windows, and more than a dozen figures soon appeared in the square, jumping one after another.
At that moment, everyone shared the same idea and seized the opportunity to escape together, leaving survival to chance.
The windows on the third floor broke, and ropes made from curtains were thrown down one by one. Then a dozen figures slid along the ropes.
At this moment, these people were pushing their potential to the extreme to escape—they had done it.
At the same time the people jumped, gunfire erupted. They scattered in all directions. Several had already jumped beyond the fence, only to desperately realize that people were not just in the yard but also in the forest.
Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!
Before these people could react, they didn't understand how such a strong group was killing them like this.
Gareth had originally wanted to run as a group, but the intense gunfire in the yard startled him immediately, and only then did he realize that there were so many people on the other side.
What should I do?
Running out like that would lead only to death. He couldn't die like this—he wanted to live.
Gareth finally began to feel death closing in, trying desperately to calm himself, but he couldn't. At that moment, he couldn't avoid imagining the scene of being shot.
The more he thought about it, the more fear flooded his body. His eyes were dazed, still recalling the faces of survivors begging for mercy before dying.
As soon as these images appeared in his mind, he imagined that this was how everyone who had died under his orders felt.
In his confusion, he didn't notice that the woman, dead for only three minutes behind him, was slowly rising from the floor.
She still had a healthy appearance but had completely lost her previous expression. A pair of dead eyes reflected in her lifeless face as she moved toward Gareth.
She opened her mouth to let out a low growl, but her throat, slashed earlier, could produce no sound.
She staggered toward the figure at the window, stepping barefoot on the floor without a sound, and Gareth didn't notice the danger behind him at all, still staring outside, stunned.
Dazed and feeling as if his body were being embraced, Gareth slowly turned his head and saw the face of the woman he had just killed. A smile appeared on Gareth's face. He wanted to reach out to touch her, but then he remembered his current situation.
His eyes widened, every hair on his body standing on end, the weapon in his hand poised to stab the living dead woman before him.
But the woman gave him no chance. She opened her mouth and bit directly into his nose. With Gareth's screams of pain, a chunk of flesh and skin was torn off.
Gareth let out the loudest scream of his life and then lashed out with his dagger at the woman's face like a madman.
Slash! Slash! Slash!
The dagger in his hand didn't stop, as if venting, exhausting the last strength of his body, and then it fell to the floor with a metallic clatter.
"Haha…"
Lying over the woman's body, Gareth, unable to endure the situation any longer, laughed bitterly as tears streamed down his face. He was going to die—he was about to die!
"I don't want to die!"
"No, I don't want to become a walker!"
Gareth simply knelt in the room, repeating those words over and over in his mouth.
"I don't want to die, I don't want to become a walker."
"I don't want to die, I don't want to become a walker."
…
At that moment, the terminal had been destroyed!
Everyone burned in the flames of hell, dying in the worst way imaginable.