Chapter 3

As evening fell, dark clouds loomed over the city, and thunder roared.

Tom ultimately didn't dare leave the "bomb" at home.

The suffocating fear drove him to push open the back door of the clinic under the cover of night.

He slammed his daughter, who was wrapped up tightly, onto the cold operating table.

Dr. Henry frowned and ripped off the sour-smelling blanket.

The chief surgeon, whom I had personally promoted, slammed his flashlight down onto the floor tiles the moment his gaze fell on the girl's blackened ankle.

"Zombie bite marks! Are you fucking insane?!"

Henry staggered back three steps as if electrocuted, then whirled around and smashed the red alarm on the wall.

"Don't press it! Please, please don't press it!"

Tom pounced on him like a desperate wild beast.

He clung tightly to Henry's leg, his tears and snot smearing onto the doctor's pristine white coat.

Once the alarm sounds, the quarantine team can seal off the entire block within three minutes.

But Henry's finger stopped abruptly three centimeters above the red button.

"She just got scratched by a branch... Henry, she's only seven!"

Tom slammed his head against the marble floor with a loud thud, and blood flowed freely.

"Cut it off! He'll live if you cut off his leg! Aren't you the best doctor?!"

Henry's principles crumbled little by little amid Tom's wailing.

He trembled as he released the alarm, turned and walked toward the sterilizer, pulling out the heavy bone saw.

"Just this once. Hold her down tightly and don't let her make a sound."

The rotting leg was thrown into the incinerator.

Henry wiped the cold sweat from his brow and forced a weak smile at Tom: "The fever should break and I should be fine."

Tom felt like he had been granted a pardon. He hugged the lifeless body tightly and plunged into the torrential rain outside.

In the early hours of the morning, the girl who had her leg amputated was clinging to her mother Martha's neck, biting her like a wild dog!

Martha's throat was ripped off, and she couldn't even scream; all that could be heard was the desperate gurgling of air leaking from her trachea.

Tom was sprayed with blood and tumbled off the bed.

He didn't even dare to look back at his wife. He slammed open the wooden door with his hands and feet and rushed into the muddy street.

"Help! Help me—"

The gale and thunderstorm acted like an impenetrable wall, silencing his screams in the puddle.

Endless fear lashed at him, causing him to run wildly for over 500 meters down this desolate street.

Finally, a wooden door, glowing with an orange light, was pushed open.

Neighbor Luke peeked out, rubbing his sleepy eyes.

"Tom? What's wrong with you in the middle of the night...?"

Before he could finish speaking, a twisted black shadow lunged out from the rain behind Tom!

That was Martha, who had already turned into a zombie. With a nauseating roar, she tackled Luke directly into the muddy water.

"No--!"

Luke's wife, Beth, let out a heart-wrenching scream.

Instead of helping her husband, she suddenly stepped back and slammed her hands against the door, locking it with a loud "click".

Outside the door, Luke's jawbone was ripped apart by Martha, and his blood mingled with the rainwater to form a red river.

I floated in mid-air, watching as this once peaceful street in the West District was completely overrun in just twenty minutes.

The bitten person scrambled to their feet with astonishing speed, roaring as they pounced on the next unfortunate soul who pushed open the door to check.

A dozen zombies launched a bloody rampage in the rainy night.

Fortunately, most people in the slums are used to keeping their doors and windows closed, so the infection did not engulf the entire city like a plague.

If my patrol law were still in effect, the three sentries at the street corner would have opened fire five minutes ago!

But now, only when the zombies began frantically pounding on the door did the piercing gunshots finally tear through the night sky.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Dense tongues of fire spewed through the rain, and large-caliber bullets precisely ripped open the skulls of the zombies.

Patrol leader Rolf, leading a squad of fully armed soldiers, advanced expressionlessly, stepping over the scattered limbs and black blood.

The newly appointed mayor, Carles, also arrived at the scene.

He kicked over a headless corpse that was still convulsing, then turned and roared hysterically at Rolf.

"This is what you call good public security?! A dozen zombies are having a party in the city! What the hell are you doing?!"

Rolf coldly wiped the blood from his face, looking at Kares as if he were looking at a dead man.

"Mayor, you'll have to ask those security inspectors who 'enjoy their freedom'."

He tilted his head slightly, and two soldiers immediately dragged the limp Tom out and slammed him heavily into the puddle.

Carles grabbed Tom by the hair, pulled out his sidearm, and pressed it firmly against Tom's forehead.

"Speak! Who put this thing in here?!"

Tom trembled like a leaky bellows, but he didn't hesitate for even a second.

"It's Henry! Dr. Henry from the clinic!"

Tom screamed, his fingernails digging deep, bloody gashes into the mud. "He took my money and helped my daughter with the disguise! He did it all!"