"A helipad?" Eric gasped in surprise, then her face lit with delight. "Taylor, this is a remarkable discovery."
How could a regular hospital have a helipad on its rooftop? Within this dungeon, it was unquestionably linked to the path to clearance.
"What else did you uncover? Why do you believe it relates to the ninth floor?"
"As I ascended, I happened upon some people conversing at the rooftop entrance," Taylor explained. "The wind was fierce, so I caught only bits and pieces—they mentioned the ninth floor before locking the door and descending. I managed to pry open the rooftop door and slipped inside."
It had been a harrowing journey, and even recalling it quickened Taylor's heartbeat.
"After going down the stairs, I encountered a keypad-secured door beyond which passage was barred. I kept watch for a long while, but no one returned to the rooftop, so I had no choice but to retreat."
"The ninth floor…" Eric mused. It bore no distinguishing marks from other levels, merely housing ordinary patients. She'd even heard the comforting sounds of relatives reassuring families on the phone from the bathroom.
"Why would they mention the ninth floor while chatting near a keypad-locked rooftop exit? Something about the ninth floor struck me as suspicious." Taylor was convinced it held vital clues.
"I'll rest a moment, then investigate the ninth floor myself."
No sooner had Eric spoken than gunfire erupted downstairs. She sprang from the bed and rushed to the window to peer downward.
A mob of zombies had breached the building's grand entrance, pushing and shoving their way inside.
"They've destroyed the main doors. The zombies are inside," Eric said gravely, turning back.
Dennis exclaimed in alarm, "What do we do now?"
"For the moment, we're safe, but we're running short on supplies," Taylor fretted. "I don't intend to starve and then waste healing kits which cost precious points." Dennis was baffled—he hadn't even completed the dungeon and lacked any points. Catching a glance from Dennis, Taylor hesitated. Lending Dennis a healing kit now and trusting him to repay after clearing the dungeon was risky—what if Dennis didn't survive? The points would be lost.
Taylor found no shame in the practicality of his thoughts; after all, points were earned through sheer effort and sacrifice.
Eric paid no mind to the scarcity of sustenance. She knew that, given an opportunity, sneaking out to procure food was not difficult—just a matter of slipping out the window and back in, then claiming to have found supplies.
"Shall we call out and see how they intend to handle us?" Taylor suggested.
"I fear the main entrance is compromised; they'll be busy dealing with the horde outside. No one will heed our calls come evening," Eric reasoned.
Sure enough, after banging for over half an hour, swift footsteps of doctors and police echoed briefly in the corridor before fading into silence.
Click!
The entire building plunged into darkness, all lights extinguished.
"Damn!" Taylor cursed.
"Could we break the door down and escape?" Dennis proposed a new plan. "Before, you avoided using the door for fear of NPC detection, but now NPCs are overwhelmed. Surely smashing through the door grants us escape."
Taylor cast him a wry glance. "Brother, your mind's racing."
"Let's not break the door just yet; it's still our first line of defense," Eric advised, eyeing the clock. Past three in the morning, fatigue enveloped her. Breaking out now was unwise.
"Agreed. Let's rest and regroup with fresh strength at dawn."
As Eric and Taylor climbed into bed to sleep, Dennis muttered, "…Impressive—they fall asleep instantly, no less!"
Unable to sleep, hunger and exhaustion gnawed at him relentlessly. Overwhelmed, Dennis devoured the remaining bread before succumbing to a hazy slumber.
In a dreamy daze, a sudden sharp nudge on his shoulder startled him; he was about to shout when a hand muffled his mouth, accompanied by a whispered stern warning: "Don't scream!"
Recognizing Taylor's voice, Dennis fully awoke and opened his eyes.
Sunlight streamed through the window, dazzling his vision. Squinting, he saw Taylor bent near his window, his pale, grim countenance stoking Dennis's own unease.
"Awake? Stay silent," Taylor whispered, releasing his grip only after issuing the warning.
"I—" Dennis's voice was hoarse, faltering after a single word.
Anticipating his question, Taylor murmured, "There are zombies in the hallway."
Dennis's eyes widened in alarm.
By the door, Eric was pressed against it, listening intently.
She had woken at dawn, the sky still dark, her drowsiness shattered by the sound of pounding from below.
Soon, the same clamor echoed on their floor. She waited by the door, and sure enough, the rhythmic thud of footsteps approached their ward.
A bloodied head appeared at the small glass window on the door, its crimson visage smearing the pane with a thick, viscous layer of gore.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!" The head began hammering against the door, its bloodshot eyes bulging grotesquely, greedily scanning the room.
Eric, crouched beside the door, remained composed, glancing back briefly to ensure Taylor kept Dennis silent.
Dennis, hands clamped over his mouth, crouched low, not daring to make a sound.
The zombie's assault on the door lasted a few minutes before it shifted its attention to the neighboring ward.
A scream erupted from the adjacent room, agitating the zombie, which now fixated on that door, pounding it relentlessly.
Eric continued her vigil. From the end of the hallway, more footsteps approached—additional zombies had arrived, converging on the neighboring ward, determined to break through.
"Ah! Aaaaaah!" A panicked shriek tore through the air as someone in the next room lost control, their cries laced with terror.
"Grrr! Grrr!" The zombies' growls intensified. Eric heard a dull crash—the neighboring door had been breached.
"Help!"
"It's your fault for screaming! Shut the hell up!"
"Help! Hel—"
"Ah!"
Listening to the chaos next door, Dennis's face turned ashen. "Aren't we… aren't we going to help them?"
Taylor rolled his eyes. "They're NPCs. Why bother? Even if they were players, what could we do?"
"You… you…" Dennis looked between Taylor and Eric.
Eric approached Taylor and whispered, "Quietly move the beds. We need to reinforce the door."
Taylor nodded swiftly.
He could lift a bed single-handedly, as could Eric.
Just as they positioned the beds, an NPC from the neighboring ward burst into the hallway, frantically pounding on their door.
"Open up! Save me! Open the door!"
Eric recognized the face—she had spoken with him briefly the previous night while climbing through the window.
Deep gashes marred his face, one stretching from the left side of his nose down to his neck, blood gushing forth.
"Damn it, he'll draw the zombies here!" Taylor's expression darkened.
"Quick, secure the door," Eric urged.
Neither of them opened the door. After positioning the beds, they hurried back to fetch a third bed for added reinforcement.
Dennis pleaded, "Aren't we really going to open the door? He'll be devoured!"
No one had the time to respond.
Eric and Taylor worked together, stacking three beds against the door and using dismantled bed planks for additional support, hoping to fortify it further.
Meanwhile, the zombies caught up, pinning the NPC against the door and beginning to feast.
Dennis couldn't bear the sight, his pupils contracting, his mind blank. The emotions he'd suppressed since yesterday finally erupted, and he let out a scream.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Taylor roared, rushing over to clamp a hand over Dennis's mouth.
"Mmmph…"
"Idiot!" Taylor seethed. Dennis had been obedient since they met, albeit timid—but he was a newbie, and everyone started somewhere. Taylor had been willing to guide him, but now, at the most critical moment, Dennis had faltered.
Outside, the zombies reduced their prey to a bloodied skeleton, the floor awash with blood. The commotion inside the room caught their attention, and after finishing their meal, they began pounding on the door anew.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Eric sighed in resignation. "Let him go. We'll eat breakfast, rest, and prepare to evacuate."
Taylor reluctantly released Dennis, watching as Eric sat on the floor to eat bread and drink milk. He suppressed his anger, pulling out his own bread and taking a fierce bite.
After venting his emotions, Dennis regained his composure. The sight of the zombies' faces pressed against the small window, smeared with blood and gore, made his stomach churn. He rushed to the bathroom to vomit.
Taylor rolled his eyes, his disdain for Dennis now palpable.
"What do we do with him? I don't want to bring him along—he's a liability," he said to Eric.
"We'll leave through the window. If he can keep up, fine. If not, that's his problem," Eric admitted coldly. In the dungeon, everyone was responsible for themselves; no one could shoulder another's fate.
Taylor was taken aback—this girl was even more ruthless than he'd imagined.
"Fine."
When Dennis emerged from the bathroom, Eric had finished eating. She checked the door; the zombies, now more frenzied, pounded against it with renewed vigor. Cracks had formed, and the hinges were loosening, but the beds behind the door still held.
"Grab weapons," Eric said, returning to the dismantled beds to select two steel pipes, sharpening their ends for better handling. Taylor did the same, both preparing for the impending struggle. He recounted his route from the previous night: "The fourteenth floor is also quarantine wards, with zombies in some rooms… The fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth floors have sealed windows—safer." Dennis stood shamefacedly at a distance, not daring to approach until Eric began climbing out the window. He hastily grabbed a stick and followed.
"You're next, go!" Seeing this, Taylor relented, stepping aside to let Dennis go first. "I'll cover the rear. Be careful."