The gunsmoke drifted out of the medical room slowly, but the stench lingered. Blood, mildew, and the raw fishgut reek of snake scales hung in the air like something physical, something that clung to skin and clothes and refused to leave.
The giant snake's carcass sprawled across the center of the room, its massive body taking up nearly half the space. Even dead, the sight of it made the chest tighten. Rebecca knelt beside Richard, her fingertips pressed lightly against his pulse point. She barely dared to breathe. Her eyes never left his face, watching the color drain from it shade by shade.
Ryan leaned against the doorframe and gazed down the corridor. No pacing, no white-knuckled tension. He just stood there, calm and still.
"Ryan..." Rebecca's voice came out small, barely louder than a breath. "Jill will make it back okay, won't she?"
"She will." His tone was even, steady in a way that settled something in her chest without her understanding why. "She knows the dangers here better than either of us."
Rebecca nodded, but her fingertips wouldn't stop trembling. Richard's breathing grew shallower with each passing minute. The purple-blue discoloration under his skin kept creeping higher, spreading like ink through wet paper. Every second they waited felt like a wire being stretched to its breaking point.
"He's getting worse..." Her voice tightened.
"Hold on a little longer," Ryan said quietly. "Once the serum gets here, he'll stabilize."
Silence pressed down on the floor like a physical weight. Even the hiss of air through the vents sounded painfully sharp.
Then, from somewhere around the corridor's bend, a faint sound crept toward them.
Not footsteps. Claws on tile. A skittering, rapid scrape, laced with the frantic energy of something feral.
Rebecca went white. She shrank closer to Richard and wrapped her fingers around the pistol at her hip, knuckles bleaching.
"What is that?" The words were barely a whisper.
Ryan's gaze hardened. He shifted forward half a step, silent, filling the doorway completely. His voice dropped low.
"Stay inside. Don't move."
"...Okay."
She held her breath. Even her heartbeat felt too loud.
Three gaunt shapes came tearing around the corner.
Zombie dogs. Hunched low, patches of fur sloughed away to reveal the dark red rot of exposed muscle underneath. Milky, dead eyes locked onto the scent of blood pouring from the room. They dropped their bodies lower, stalking forward step by deliberate step.
The air pulled taut like a bowstring.
Rebecca clapped a hand over her mouth and swallowed the scream before it escaped.
That kind of speed, that explosive power. If one of them connected, there'd be no fighting back.
The lead dog coiled and launched itself at him.
Ryan's wrist snapped up. He squeezed the trigger.
Four shots cracked out in rapid succession. Rounds tore down the corridor. One sparked off the wall; another punched into the floor and kicked up debris. The dogs stumbled under the barrage, rhythm shattered, legs folding beneath them. They hit the ground twitching, then went still.
Clean. Fast. No wasted motion.
Rebecca stood frozen, staring at the doorway, then stealing a glance at Ryan. She couldn't hide the shock in her eyes.
He looked down at the bodies by his feet, nudged one aside with his boot, and spoke as casually as if he'd shooed away a stray cat.
"All clear. Just a few dogs."
"That was terrifying..." Rebecca murmured.
"Th-thank you..." She caught herself and managed a shaky whisper of gratitude.
"Just stay sharp." He didn't turn around.
But the gunfire's echo hadn't finished dying before new sounds bled in from the opposite end of the corridor. Heavy. Dragging. Mechanical. One plodding footfall after another, grinding closer.
Zombies.
Twisted, rotting silhouettes lurched out of the shadows, and the stench of decay rolled ahead of them like a wave.
Rebecca's pulse spiked again. Her small hands squeezed the pistol until her knuckles went bone-white.
"More of them..."
Ryan stepped out of the medical room. He wasn't tall, wasn't broad, but he planted himself in the corridor like a wall.
The dim overhead lights stretched his shadow long across the floor. Nothing dramatic about the way he stood. No bravado. And yet something about the sight of him there made it impossible to believe anything would get past.
The zombies shambled closer, throats rattling with wet, guttural groans.
He raised his weapon and opened fire.
Two shots. A pause. One more. Two more.
Some dropped with a single round. Others needed two or three before they finally stopped moving. They came in a lurching wave, and not one of them closed the distance.
He stood in the center of that corridor, quiet and methodical, and kept every last threat on the other side of the doorway.
Rebecca sat in the room behind him, watching that silhouette. Not the biggest frame, not the strongest build, but solid in a way that had nothing to do with size.
Ryan put down the last zombie, rolled his wrist once to shake out the stiffness, and walked back inside.
The moment he stepped through the door, the sharp rhythm of familiar footsteps echoed from the far end of the hall.
He looked up.
Jill emerged from the shadows, a blue vial of serum clutched tight in her hand. Her breathing was quick but controlled, her stride steady. No fresh wounds. Nothing chasing her.
"I'm back." Her voice was clipped, all business.
Rebecca shot to her feet, eyes bright. "Jill! You made it!"
"The route was mostly clear." Jill crossed the room in quick strides and knelt beside Richard. "How is he?"
"Hanging on, but barely."
Jill crouched down without another word. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency as she found the vein and pushed the serum into his bloodstream.
Everyone held their breath.
Seconds passed. Ten. Twenty. Thirty.
The bruised purple faded from Richard's lips, slowly at first, then steadily. The deep furrow between his brows softened. His pulse, so faint it had nearly vanished under Rebecca's fingertips, began to even out, beat by fragile beat.
"It's working..." Rebecca pressed her hand to her mouth, voice trembling. "Oh, thank God..."
Jill let out a long breath, and the tension she'd been carrying since she left the room finally drained from her shoulders. She turned to Ryan. Something genuine flickered in her eyes, something past professional courtesy.
"Thanks. For holding down the fort."
"Don't mention it." He shook his head slightly.
Their eyes met for a moment. Nothing more needed saying.
He turned back toward the corridor. The lights were dim. The silence was total, and somehow worse for it.