Isaac led the three survivors, but he hadn't been able to keep his composure since leaving the kitchenware store. His anxiety had him on edge the entire time, and as a result, he couldn't remember the way back. Thankfully, there was a trail of bloody footprints left by Nick, so he followed it.
But the footprints didn't lead back to their hideout—they led to the clothing department. The hideout was right next to it, yes, but it left Isaac with two choices: the left door or the right door.
"Is this it?" one of the survivors asked, noticing Isaac standing still in front of the door where the footprints ended, chin propped on his fingers in thought.
"No... um... no."
"Then where is it?" another survivor asked, confused.
"Um..."
"No…" A male survivor, desperate to survive, lunged at Isaac and grabbed him by the collar. "You're not lost, are you? YOU'RE NOT, RIGHT?!"
"Shut up! The dogs might hear us!"
"You don't know where everyone is! It's just us, and it's only a matter of FUCKIN' TIME BEFORE WE'RE FOOD!"
Isaac shoved the man off him, accidentally sending him to the ground. "It's either this door or that one, okay? We just need to carefully peek into one and then the other."
The man sat on the ground, yanking at his hair in a panic. He breathed heavily, muttering repeatedly, "I'm gonna die... I'm gonna die..."
Isaac ignored him. Looking away didn't help—both of the other survivors were frozen in place, faces pale and paralyzed with fear.
"Fucking hell…" Isaac muttered. He turned toward the left door.
Hand already on the knob, he swallowed a mouthful of saliva to steady himself. Slowly, cautiously, he twisted it and began to push the door open inch by inch.
Once the opening was wide enough, he drew a breath and peeked through.
"Oh, I'm fucked." That was his first thought.
His pupils shrank at the sight on the other side. Through sheer misfortune, he made direct eye contact with a blood-soaked, rabid hound. It bared its teeth in a savage, bloodstained grin—as if delighted to find its next prey.
"RUN!" Isaac shouted, slamming the door shut.
"Wha—"
The door burst off its hinges with a deafening **BOOM**, slamming into the man mid-sentence and knocking him flat.
The hound leapt through with feral energy, pouncing on the man and tearing into him. One bite—and his skull was torn off like paper.
"Oh shit," the female survivor gasped, far more composed than the others. She sprinted just behind Isaac, both of them running like hell, their legs driven by pure adrenaline.
The man on the floor—the one who had repeated "I'm gonna die"—was now truly cornered. No escape. No chance.
"ARHHHHHHHH—"
An agonizing scream echoed behind them, then silence.
Below their feet, bloody footprints painted across the tiles…
—
**Clink. Clank. Clink.**
The sound of metal clashing drew attention from elsewhere. Two hounds snapped their heads toward the noise and bounded toward its source—an ice cream store.
The back door was already open.
They leapt over the counter and into the storage room, then through another open door that led into the service corridor behind the store.
"Alright, they're here," Nick muttered, standing just behind the doorway. He stepped back quickly as the hounds came into view.
**Grrrrrr…**
They growled, then lunged through the door with violent barks.
The first one hit the corridor wall hard due to the momentum of its leap. Nick struck fast, stabbing it clean in the neck. The middle-aged woman's husband on the team attacked as well, flanking from the other side. Two blades, one target.
The hound shrieked in pain—but it didn't go down. With wild, frantic movements, it turned and clamped its jaws around Nick's arm.
"ARGH!" Nick collapsed, his right arm buried in the beast's maw.
With a powerful kick, the hound flung the middle-aged man away.
"I'll get it off you!" Samantha rushed in, her face full of panic as she saw her father on the ground, elbow deep in the hound's mouth.
She stabbed the hound in the head, again and again, until it finally collapsed.
All the while, the teenage girl stood frozen, too shocked to move. She had completely underestimated the situation.
Before they could catch their breath, the second hound burst through the door and instantly bit off the middle-aged man's head with a sickening crunch.
"NOOO!" the middle-aged woman screamed, swinging her kitchen knife wildly. But her slashes were desperate and off-mark.
The hound responded with a brutal kick to her face, knocking her out cold as it continued feeding.
"No... no..." the teenage girl whimpered, staring in horror.
**Thump. Thump.**
Two bodies hit the floor, one atop the other, husband and wife.
The hound raised its head from the gore, blood-red eyes glowing. It growled menacingly at its next targets—Nick and Samantha.
Samantha didn't have time to react. The hound was already charging in a frenzy. She flinched and covered her head, too stunned to move.
Just as the hound reached them, Nick grabbed the knife the unconscious woman had dropped and, with his left hand, drove it straight into the beast's throat.
The hound fell dead on top of them, blood gushing from the wound, splattering Nick's face and covering Samantha in red.
"Puh... puh!" Nick spat out blood that splashed into his mouth, then slumped back, checking the hound's glowing eyes. Gone.
"Ah fuck…" he groaned. His right arm was gone—everything below the bicep had been chewed off—but that wasn't his first concern.
"You okay back there?" he rasped.
Samantha, trembling, nodded. She had dropped her knife in shock. Tears streamed down her cheeks—tears of guilt. This ambush had been her idea. She'd wanted to lure the hounds into the corridor so the fight wouldn't draw attention of other hounds—but it had cost them two people and her father's arm.
"Hey, it's not your fault," Nick said, trying to console her. "I underestimated them."
"I'm sorry..." she whispered.
"It's alright..." Nick turned to the teenage girl, who'd remained idle the entire time. "Hey... go get him... in the washrooms across..." But his voice was too weak. She didn't hear.
"Dad, you're... you're losing too much blood." Samantha dropped to her knees, tore a strip from her pajama top, and began wrapping it around the wound.
"That won't stop the bleeding, Sam."
"It's better than nothing."
"Aw man…" Nick rested his head back against the wall as Samantha worked. "I fucked up bad…"