Chapter 22: Buzzkill
With the mysterious voice's guidance, Ian managed to slip out of the library unnoticed.
He wasn't exactly sure how it happened. One moment he was stepping over the window's edge—then the next, he was already sprinting away from the building. It was like something else had taken over, moving his body for him, completing the near-impossible task of climbing down without falling.
But Ian didn't dwell on it too long. He chalked it up to the voice.
He already knew it wasn't his own. It didn't sound like him. He had no clue what it wanted or why it had chosen him. But for now, its goals aligned with his.
And that was enough.
For now.
Once I'm strong enough, I'll deal with it.
With that thought in mind, Ian ran, eyes scanning his surroundings—searching for anything he could use as a weapon. Luck was on his side. Near an overturned bike, he spotted a sports bag.
He tore it open and grinned. Inside, a baseball bat. He gave it a few practice swings. It felt solid and heavy. Enough to crack some skulls.
Armed and emboldened, Ian pressed on, heart pounding, eager for his first kill.
As luck would have it, he soon found a target.
A lone zombie shuffled down the street, its clothes tattered, its skin mottled with dried blood. Ian's breath hitched. His grip on the bat faltered. He took an unconscious step back.
You can do this. He tried to find his bearings. But the zombie wouldn't give him that much time. It lunged toward him—eyes burning with hunger and madness.
Startled, Ian swung his bat at its head. He missed. The bat slammed into its shoulder with a dull thud.
The zombie reeled but didn't fall. Instead, it shrieked and attacked with more ferocity.
Ian barely dodged, stumbling to the side. He turned, gritted his teeth, and swung again with everything he had. This time the bat struck its temple. The zombie staggered.
He hit it again. And again.
Finally, it collapsed. But it wasn't dead. It clawed at the ground, trying to get back on its feet.
"Die! Die! Fucking die already," he cursed, slamming the bat into its skull over and over. Why was it so hard? Jay and the others made it look easy.
Stop. It's dead. The voice cut through and put a stop to his frenzy.
Ian froze, chest heaving. He stared down at the ruined face beneath him. Then, he broke into raucous laughter.
"I did it," he breathed. "I knew I could do it."
Tch. Useless.
Ian ignored the voice's contempt. He wiped the blood from his cheek, gripped his bat tighter, and marched on—eyes gleaming with confidence and bloodlust as he looked for his next opponent.
It didn't take long for him to run into another one. The next zombie put up more of a fight, but he won again. His grin grew wider as he watched it die under his bat.
He wandered the street, lucky enough to only meet lone zombies. He killed them one after the other.
By his seventh kill, bruised and panting, the level-up hit like a victory bell.
He grinned as warmth surged through his body. His entire body cheered, some of his fatigue faded away, and his aches eased.
That's enough. You should return now.
"No. I'm fine. I'll level up a few more times first." He brushed it off and pulled up his stats.
Let's see how well you fare.
He used his points—savoring the feeling of getting stronger, faster, and tougher.
Then he moved on, looking for more zombies. But this time, he ran into three at once.
Ian froze and his pulse spiked. Still, he didn't back away.
"I can handle this," he muttered. "I'm stronger now."
Not that they would've given him the chance—they were already on him.
The first zombie lunged. He met it with a clean swing, sending it to the ground. He twisted and ducked under the second.
But the third got ahold of his arm and bit him.
"Shit!" He yanked free and kicked it back, but in the chaos, his bat slipped from his grasp and clattered across the pavement.
He stared at it. Then at the two zombies bearing down on him. And at the third that was already getting up.
He froze, unsure about what to do.
Run, fool.
This time he listened, and without hesitation, he ran back the way he came.
Luckily, he had put some points in agility—just enough to stay ahead of the three zombies chasing him. He figured he'd be safe; the path back was clear. He'd already killed everything on the way in.
But his luck was about to run dry.
As he sprinted across the open plaza, something stirred at the edge of the forest. A low, angry buzz cut through the air. Ian looked up.
One of the chitinous wasps, the same kind Jay's group had encountered, hovered in place.
As it spotted him, the buzzing grew louder. Then, a dozen more burst from the treeline behind it, swarming like drones.
At the sight, Ian's heart plummeted.
He didn't look back. Didn't dare to stop. He ran toward the library with everything he had.
***
Meanwhile, inside the library, the atmosphere was tense. A few moments after Ian slipped out, Hendrick had gone to look for him only to find him missing. Barreling downstairs, he looked left and right but still found no signs of him.
He was heading straight for the front doors when Damian intercepted him.
"Hey! What's going on?"
"Ian's missing."
"Huh? What do you mean he's missing?" Damian blinked, confused. "He was upstairs, wasn't he?"
"I don't know. I found a window open. He probably climbed down," Hendrick answered, running his hand through his hair.
"Climbed… down? Is he insane?"
"Look, man, I don't know what's going on. But I need to look for him." Hendrick said, eyes locked on the door.
"Hold up. No way." Damian stepped in front of him. "Do you even know where to look? He could be anywhere."
"Please."
"No." A cold voice came from behind them. It was Alex.
"But it is dangerous out there," Hendrick pleaded.
"I don't care. If you go out now, don't come back."
"What?" Hendrick turned, stunned.
"He made his choice," Alex continued. "And by doing that, he already endangered everyone here. I won't let you double it down."
Hendrick stood frozen, fists clenched, head bowed.
"Told you that guy was trouble," Louisa whispered from the side.
"I don't get why he'd do something so reckless," Sylvi murmured. She understood Alex's decision. Jay and Lexie were gone, and it was better to avoid moving around too much, lest they attract something they couldn't deal with. Still, she felt bad for Hendrick.
"He's not stupid," Louisa replied. "He knows he pissed off Jay, and he's trying to find a way for himself."
"Just made things worse."
Meanwhile, Alex and Damian were off to the side, whispering.
"What do you think?" Damian asked.
"I don't like it." Alex scanned the room. "He climbed down from a second-floor window without being seen. You think that's normal?"
"You think someone helped him?"
Alex frowned. "Maybe. Or maybe there's more to him than we thought."
He paused, then looked at Hendrick again.
"Keep an eye on him. Once Jay and Lexie get back, we'll decide what to do."
Damian nodded. "All right."
Alex closed his eyes and put this matter in the back of his mind.
But it was far from over. A few moments later, a shout rang out from the second floor. Then a girl—the same one Angela soothed before leaving—ran down the stairs, breath ragged.
"Ian! He's coming back! He…"
Damian stood up and rushed toward her. "Where?"
"From the plaza. He's almost at the door."
BANG. BANG.
A heavy knock shook the entrance. Urgent.
"Please let him in," Hendrick said, turning to Alex, eyes pleading.
Alex hesitated for just a second, then gave a nod.
Damian, Hendrick, and Oscar rushed to the barricade, shoved furniture aside and opened the door. The moment the gap was wide enough, Ian burst through, shouting, "Close the door!"
They slammed it shut just as a massive wasp slammed into the other side. Its stinger punched through the gap and nearly skewered Oscar. Shocked, they quickly stepped away from the door.
"The fuck was that?" Damian snapped, looking at Ian furiously. He looked ready to throw him back outside. "You brought those things here?!"
He whirled toward the girl. "And you. Why didn't you tell us?!"
"You… you didn't give me time…" she murmured, shrinking back.
At the same time, Alex was looking at everything with a frown, wondering what he forgot. Then his face went white, and his voice boomed. "The windows? DID YOU CLOSE THE DAMN WINDOWS?"
A heavy silence fell upon the room.
"No," the girl whispered.
"Shit!" Damian cursed and bolted for the stairs. It was too late.
A deep, resonant buzzing echoed through the building, resounding in everyone's ears like a death knell. A sign that they were now trapped inside with a monster that could make easy work of any one of them.
The first one descended to the main floor, its wings cutting the air with a high-pitched screech, its sharp mandibles gleaming under the dim light. Then another. And another.
Within seconds, the only thing they could hear was the incessant droning sound. Then came panic.
Screams tore through the building as survivors scrambled, tripping over each other, diving behind tables, shelves, or anything that might shield them.
Still, some people managed to remain cool-headed.
Damian raised his axe and charged a wasp that dove for a survivor. He swung hard, but the creature twisted midair, dodged with ease, and came straight for him. He rolled away, narrowly avoiding its stinger.
Beside him, Oscar picked Alex's wrench, and Hendrick picked a chair, swinging it at the wasps. But the wasps were too fast. Their attacks missed more often than they landed. And when they did, they barely did any damage.
Ian clenched his fists. He wanted to help. To fight. But his feet moved without his will.
What are you doing to me? He roared as his body betrayed him, and he ran to hide like a coward.
I still have use for you.
Alex wasn't to be left behind. Ignoring the pain from the brusque movement and the blood oozing from his wound, he picked up his gun and opened fire.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
One wasp exploded midair. Another crashed to the floor as a bullet tore its wing. But three more turned toward him. They fired their stingers without hesitation.
Alex shoved Chloe behind a table and dove after her. A stinger buried itself in the wood inches from his thigh. Gritting his teeth, he flipped the table and returned fire, holding them off as best he could.
Across, the room, Louisa and Sylvi were running for cover when a wasp swooped down.
Its stinger fired. Straight at Louisa. Without thinking, Sylvi pushed her out of the way. The stinger slammed into her and pierced her chest.
"SYLVI!" Louisa screamed, catching her friend as she crumpled. Hot blood spilled from the wound like a faucet, soaking her clothes and pooling on the ground.
"Run, i…diot…" Sylvi wheezed, leaking from the corner of her mouth.
"No, no… stay with me!" Louisa pressed both hands to the wound. "Please… just hold on…"
"Sh...it…" Sylvi coughed, vision blurring. "R…u…run."
Time slowed down. Sylvi watched as the wasp moved closer. All its movement suddenly growing clear in her eyes. Is this how I die? But she isn't safe.