Adrian woke to the taste of blood in his mouth.
His teeth had cut into his cheek during the night, grinding against some half-remembered nightmare. The lounge was still dark, the only light bleeding through the cracked blinds—pale, predawn gray. His body ached from the upgrades, muscles still knitting themselves tighter, denser. The System hummed in his skull like a second pulse.
» SYSTEM STATUS: STABLE
» USER CONDITION: IMPROVED
» PHYSICAL REINFORCEMENT COMPLETE: STR 3.2 → 3.4
He sat up, rolling his shoulders. The IV stand lay across his lap, its metal cold against his thighs. His bitten arm throbbed, but the black veins had receded slightly—the antibiotics were working.
Then he saw the marks.
Clawed grooves scored the conference table he'd used to barricade the door. Not the ragged gouges of Walkers, but something sharper. Deliberate. And small.
Adrian crouched, running a finger along one groove. The wood was splintered inward—whatever made these had been trying to get in.
» ANALYSIS: TOOTH MARKS (PARTIAL)
» SIZE ESTIMATE: CHILD/ADOLESCENT
» WARNING: UNKNOWN HOSTILE ENTITY DETECTED
His grip tightened on the IV stand.
Kids?
No. Walkers didn't discriminate by age. But the idea of something alive—something smart enough to test his barricade—sent a cold prickle down his spine.
The System flickered, as if hesitating.
» RECOMMENDED ACTION: EXPEDITE RESOURCE ACQUISITION
Adrian exhaled sharply. No shit.
The third floor was eerily silent.
Adrian moved like a shadow, his bare feet avoiding broken glass and dried bloodstains. The hospital's power had fully died overnight, leaving only the pale dawn to guide him.
His first stop: the nurse's station.
The counter was littered with abandoned charts, a coffee mug overturned, its contents long dried into a black stain. A pair of scissors lay near a stack of files—blunt, but better than nothing. He pocketed them.
Then he saw it.
A journal, half-buried under a patient's chart. The cover was smeared with blood, but the writing inside was legible:
"Day 12. They're saying Atlanta's the only safe zone left. Military's walled off the city, but the roads are clogged with abandoned cars. If you're reading this—head east. Avoid interstates. They're watching them."
Adrian's pulse jumped.
» NEW OBJECTIVE DETECTED
» LOCATE ATLANTA REFUGEE CAMP (EST. 32 MILES SE)
» REWARD: ALLY SYNERGY BOOST | SUPPLY ACCESS
He tore out the page, folding it into his pocket. A goal. Something beyond just surviving.
The next room was a physical therapy clinic, its equipment toppled and broken. A Walker in a hospital gown lurched between parallel bars, its legs dragging uselessly behind it.
Adrian didn't hesitate.
He grabbed a weighted resistance band from the floor, swinging it like a whip. The metal clip at the end cracked against the Walker's temple, staggering it. Before it could recover, Adrian drove the IV stand through its eye.
» IMPROVISED WEAPON MASTERY: LVL 1 → LVL 2
» BLUNT WEAPON XP: +14
But the noise had drawn others.
Two more Walkers shambled from the back room—one missing an arm, the other with its jaw hanging by a tendon.
Adrian backed toward the parallel bars, assessing.
Think.
He kicked the nearest bar, sending it clattering to the floor. The first Walker tripped, sprawling face-first. Adrian brought the IV stand down on its skull, then turned—
—just as the second Walker lunged.
He sidestepped, letting momentum carry it into a therapy mirror. The glass shattered, shards embedding in its face. Adrian finished it with a brutal stomp to the back of its skull.
» ENVIRONMENTAL EXPLOITATION RECOGNIZED
» TACTICAL THINKING: +0.2 INT
Breathing hard, he scanned the room.
Weapons. I need something better.
Then he saw it.
A fire axe, mounted on the wall behind a shattered glass case.
Adrian smirked.
Jackpot.
As he moved toward the axe, something crunched underfoot.
A child's shoe.
Small. Scuffed.
And freshly bloodied.
Adrian's stomach tightened.
The System pulsed a warning:
» BIOLOGICAL TRACE DETECTED
» DNA ANALYSIS: HUMAN (ABNORMAL METABOLIC READINGS)
Not a Walker. Something else.
A sound from the hallway—a skittering, like nails on tile.
Adrian grabbed the axe, spinning just as a shadow darted past the door.
Too fast. Too alive.
» WARNING: UNKNOWN ENTITY TRACKING USER
He didn't wait.
Time to go.
The last room on the floor was a staff locker room.
Adrian pried open lockers, scavenging:
A backpack (sturdy, with bloodstains he chose to ignore).
A utility knife (better than scissors).
A clean set of scrubs (finally, clothes that weren't a hospital gown).
Then, in the final locker
A patient chart.
The name made his breath catch.
GRIMES, RICK
ADMISSION DATE: 10/31/2010
CONDITION: GSW (COMA)
LOCATION: ICU, 4TH FLOOR
Adrian's fingers tightened on the paper.
Rick's here.
And if the timeline held…
He's still alive.
Adrian stuffed the chart into his backpack.
Time to move.
As he stepped into the hallway, a whisper of movement came from above.
The ceiling vents.
Something was watching.
Adrian gripped the axe tighter and tried a few test swings, feeling the weight of the blade cut through the air. His muscles tensed as he adjusted his stance, the rough wooden handle pressing into his palms.
The first swing was hesitant—testing balance, testing control. The second came stronger, smoother, the steel humming as it arced downward. By the third, he could almost imagine the bite of the edge into wood—or something else.
PHYSICAL REINFORCEMENT STR 3.4 → 3.5
The hunt was on.