"Where is it?"
"Bottom floors. I don't keep my hoard near where we hide. Too obvious." I reply.
They exchange looks. They think I'm scared. That I'm just a cornered rat showing them the way to my nest.
God, I'm gonna enjoy this.
The building creaks as we move. The paint's peeling from the walls, the air tastes like dried piss, and something's definitely dead in the vents. But the real party's one floor down.
See, I spent the last two days clearing out this building—floor by floor as I work on protecting my friends and meeting up with the system's requirements.
Took out most of the rotters with a pipe and my last nerve. But the third floor? I have not really been there and I know it has quite a lot of zombies, alright.
Oh, I always know what I'm doing because I always like to have an ace up my sleeve.
We hit the fourth floor landing. The air here is heavier and more quieter.
Torres tightens her grip on my arm. "How much farther?"
"Just one more down."
