With the iron rod held across his chest in a stance for quick strikes and defense, Alto stared at the approaching pack. The dogs were testing him and didn't dare to pounce immediately. Ultimately, they were just dogs that lacked intelligence and discipline. The pack simply growled at Alto without charging. Two of the dogs even kept their tails tucked between their hind legs while they slunk backward.
Seeing their cowardice gave Alto a boost of confidence. He swung the iron rod to drive the pack away. As soon as the rod moved, most of the dogs either cowered on the ground or retreated with their tails between their legs. Only a few of the skinniest ones seemed unafraid. They were likely so starved that the desire for food had overridden their survival instincts, so they didn't fear the iron rod in his hands.
Since there were only a few of them, Alto didn't find the situation difficult. No matter how vicious they looked, they clearly had no organization or plan. He could easily pick them off one by one. With this in mind, he swung the iron rod toward the head of the lead black dog. The rod whistled through the air and met the lunging animal.
With a dull thud, the strike landed perfectly. The impact sent the black dog flying over two meters away where it tumbled into the dust. The dog whimpered twice and its back legs kicked a few times before it went still. The other dogs reacted instantly; some turned to flee while others charged with bared teeth. Alto gripped the iron rod and used it to smash, swing, and thrust. Within two minutes, several dogs lay on the ground wailing in pain. The rest were terrified and ran back with their tails between their legs while letting out low whimpers.
He hadn't expected the weapon he'd made for zombies to be used on stray dogs first. Violence instead of purchase, and injury instead of abduction. Alto wiped the iron rod on the grass and continued toward the side gate. Suddenly, the dogs that had just fled came sprinting back. They were moving faster and looking more frantic than before. Strangely, they were whimpering in terror as if they were running from something far worse.
Alto's heart sank because he knew the dogs weren't chasing him. They were fleeing from something they had encountered on the road. What could scare a dog like that? It certainly wasn't a man carrying an iron rod. He already knew the answer.
Several swaying figures appeared in the sunlight. With stiff bodies and distorted gaits, they gave off a thick stench of rot. Alto finally encountered living zombies. And there were several of them. Facing so many at once, the techniques he had practiced in his mind in the hospital room vanished. He had only one thought: RUN.
He had to be faster than the dogs. If even the dogs were afraid of zombies, a lone human had every reason to be terrified. He had imagined this scenario many times while watching movies, thinking he would be better than any protagonist. But facing the reality was different. They were monsters devoid of emotion. No, they were worse than beasts. Beasts felt fear, but zombies did not. They only knew how to move forward and eat. They wouldn't stop until their heads were pierced.
With cloudy, pupil-less eyes and bloodless skin, the zombies made mechanical, wheezing sounds as Alto bolted. The dogs ran alongside him, but their starvation-weakened bodies soon slowed them down. Alto pulled ahead and left them behind. Soon, a dog's scream echoed behind him. He looked back and saw a zombie grab a dog and tear at it. Its foul mouth clamped onto the dog's neck. Blood seeped through the zombie's teeth and dripped onto the pavement.
Other zombies swarmed the animal while their grey hands clawed and ripped at its fur. The whimpering faded into heavy breathing, and then there was silence. The dog was ripped open, and its intestines and organs were pulled out. The scent of blood mixed with the stench of rot in the summer heat. Alto's stomach churned and he gagged. He didn't stop and kept running as more zombies joined the chase.
The screams of the dogs and the smell of blood followed him on the wind. His skin crawled as he wondered how this was happening in real life. It felt surreal, but the monsters behind him were very real. He started strong, but his pace slowed because the zombies were relentless. They weren't fast, but they were steady, while Alto's speed was dropping. He was still a recovering patient and his lungs burned as he was forced into a fast walk.
He realized he had drifted from his planned route. Plans rarely survived reality, and he couldn't force his way back to his original path. The Hospital was huge and he didn't know the layout well. Some paths were blocked by zombies, and by now, twenty or thirty were following him. During the day, they hid in the shadows and waited for prey to appear. He had to find a way out. Zenith's Hospital was a massive facility, and everyone inside was either gone or turned. The only way out was through the gates or over the two-meter-high walls. He headed toward the perimeter.
The sun was high now and the air grew stifling. The little food Alto had eaten was gone, and his lips were cracked from thirst. He desperately needed to rest and eat, but he couldn't stop. He had thought finding supplies would be easy once he left the building, but that was a delusion. Surviving the chase was his only priority now.
He turned down a tree-lined path and saw rows of people standing ahead. The pressure was immediate. They were all wearing hospital gowns and standing still with a nervous energy. The noise he made drew their attention, and they all turned their heads at once. Alto saw the most horrifying sight of his life.
With grey skin and cloudy eyes, the faces that turned toward him were all covered in gruesome wounds. One had a deep, black bite mark on his cheek. Another had half her face torn away, exposing bone and crawling maggots. One zombie's eyeball hung from his socket by a thin thread of tissue while it swung against his cheek. One had no face at all, leaving only a skeletal skull with dark, hollow eye sockets. With so many hideous faces staring at him, Alto's skin crawled with goosebumps. These weren't fellow patients; they were a horde of zombies. He felt completely numb with shock.
The zombies hissed and groaned while lunging toward him. They hadn't seen fresh meat in a long time, and their violent instincts were triggered by the sight of a living human. Alto cursed under his breath and took a sharp turn. He leaped into the green belt to escape the two groups of zombies that had merged into one massive horde. The noise attracted even more stragglers.
The lush summer plants in the green belt nearly tripped him, but his experience as a physical education student saved him. His balance was better than most. If he fell here, he would quickly become a meal. His stamina was reaching its limit while the zombies stayed right behind him. Suddenly, a zombie lunged from a bush. Alto dodged, but the move slowed him down. Two zombies in hospital gowns reached him while making guttural sounds.
Alto panicked for a second but quickly regained his composure. His experience in competitive sports helped him keep a cool head. With a low crouch, he pulled the pointed iron rod from his waist. He gripped it with both hands and thrust it into a zombie's eye socket. The rod sank deep. With the sound of tearing flesh, thick, filthy fluid leaked out along the rod. This was the reality of killing a zombie.
The zombie collapsed instantly. Alto pulled the rod back and stabbed again. Because the two were so close, he didn't have time to aim perfectly and hit the second zombie in the cheek. The resistance was different, and the jolt made him stumble back. As the zombies crowded him, he stabbed again and drove the point through the eye. More thick fluid sprayed out. Alto didn't stay to fight and wiped the rod on the grass before running.
He looked up and saw the Inpatient Building. He had run in a circle and ended up back where he started. He knew he couldn't hide inside because it was full of zombies and lacked supplies. He kept going while the horde grew larger behind him. He felt cursed. If he didn't find a way out, he was dead. He thought of his parents and felt a new burst of energy. He didn't want to die before he could help them. He hoped they were safe in the countryside where there were fewer people. With the hospital wall finally in sight behind some trees, he realized he had reached the end of the road.