The gunfire started as a single burst, sharp and controlled, but it quickly became a storm of sound. Xinyi felt it through the floor, the vibration of boots pounding against concrete, the heavy thud of something large slamming against the outer walls. The infected were here, and they were not coming quietly.
Xie Yan was already at the door, his body taut with tension as he cracked it open a fraction to look out. His gaze swept the corridor beyond, then snapped back to Xinyi, his eyes dark with warning.
"They're at the gate," he said, voice low, but steady. "It won't hold long."
Xinyi rose to her feet, heart racing, mind already turning over options. This was happening faster than it should have. The story had shifted again. Her presence, her choices, maybe even Zhao Ming's unexpected survival — it was all speeding up the collapse.
"Do we stay or run?" she asked, crossing to stand beside Xie Yan. Outside the room, soldiers were shouting orders, boots pounded past, the smell of gunpowder thickening in the air. The sounds of the infected were louder now too, snarling, inhuman cries that sent shivers down her spine.
Xie Yan didn't answer right away. He was watching, calculating, the same way he had back on the street. She knew he was weighing their odds, measuring the danger.
"If the gate goes down, this place is a tomb," he said finally. "But running blind into the city could be worse. We need information."
And as if summoned by his words, Zhao Ming appeared at the end of the hall, striding toward them with a grim expression. His uniform was smeared with dirt now, his sleeves rolled up, a pistol in one hand. He looked every bit the soldier in charge, but Xinyi didn't trust him for a second.
"You two," he barked, gesturing for them to follow. "If you want to live, move. Now."
Xinyi and Xie Yan exchanged a look. Neither spoke, but the decision was made in an instant. They followed.
Zhao Ming led them through the compound at a near run. The air was filled with smoke now, the taste of ash dry on their tongues. They passed soldiers manning barricades, some firing through hastily cut gaps, others dragging the wounded out of the line of fire. The infected were visible at the far end of the yard, clawing at the fence, their numbers growing as more were drawn by the noise. The outer gate was buckling under the weight of them, metal groaning, the hinges threatening to snap.
Zhao Ming skidded to a stop at a secondary barrier, this one made of heavy trucks parked bumper to bumper, reinforced with sandbags and sheets of scrap metal. It was their last line of defense, and it was clear even to Xinyi's untrained eye that it would not hold long.
"I need fighters," Zhao Ming said without looking at them. His eyes were locked on the battle beyond. "If you're not going to fight, stay out of the way. But if you can shoot, grab a weapon. We don't have time for anything else."
Xinyi didn't hesitate. She touched the jade bangle, drawing out a small but lethal-looking pistol she had tucked into her space during her supply run. It felt cold and heavy in her hand, but she forced herself to grip it firmly. She wasn't going to die here. Not like this.
Xie Yan was already moving, grabbing a rifle from a nearby crate, checking the magazine with practiced ease. He positioned himself at the barricade, nodding to one of the soldiers who made room for him. Xinyi took a place beside him, heart pounding so loud she thought it might drown out everything else.
The infected reached the inner fence at last. The first wave hit it like a tide, bodies piling up against the metal, clawing, biting, forcing their way through sheer mass. The soldiers fired into the crowd, bullets tearing into flesh, but still they came, relentless, mindless, hungry.
Xinyi aimed, fired, tried not to flinch as the gun kicked back against her palms. She aimed again, focusing on the ones that came closest, those that might break through the weakest points of the barricade. She felt Xie Yan beside her, steady and silent, his shots precise, his presence a strange comfort in the storm.
The gate broke with a sound like thunder, the infected pouring through in a wave of teeth and blood. The barricade shook under their weight. Xinyi could smell them now, the reek of decay and rot mixing with the smoke and the heat of spent gunpowder.
"Fall back!" Zhao Ming shouted, pulling soldiers away from the breaking line. "To the central building!"
Xinyi's muscles burned, but she didn't stop firing until Xie Yan grabbed her arm, dragging her back as the defense collapsed. They ran, the infected crashing through behind them, gunfire crackling, screams rising as men fell beneath the swarm.
They reached the central building just as the doors slammed shut behind the last group. The infected hit the barricaded doors, pounding, clawing, the noise deafening. Inside, the survivors caught their breath, faces pale, eyes wide with terror.
Zhao Ming paced, breathing hard, eyes wild. His plan had failed. The outpost was lost.
"We can't stay here," Xinyi said, her voice harsh with exhaustion. "They'll break through. It's only a matter of time."
Xie Yan nodded. "We need an exit. A route out that's not blocked."
Zhao Ming looked at them both, and for the first time, Xinyi saw real fear in his eyes. But then it was gone, replaced by that cold calculation again.
"There is one way," he said slowly. "But it's risky. We'll have to go through the lower levels. There's an old service tunnel. It leads out of the compound, into the city outskirts. But it's not secure. Could be more of them down there."
"We'll take it," Xinyi said before Xie Yan could answer. She didn't care about the risk. Staying here meant death.
Zhao Ming gave a sharp nod and led the way. They moved quickly, down narrow stairwells that stank of mold and rust, the walls closing in around them. The sounds of the infected grew fainter as they descended, but the sense of danger only deepened. The tunnel was dark, the air damp and cold, the lights flickering.
They reached the tunnel entrance, a heavy metal door streaked with old blood. Zhao Ming hesitated, then pushed it open, the hinges creaking loud in the stillness.
Beyond was darkness. A tunnel stretching into shadow, the air thick with the promise of danger.
And then a noise echoed from the depths ahead. A low, guttural growl that froze them in place.
Something was waiting in the dark.