My 100th Rebirth a day before the Apocalypse novel Chapter 92

"Is everyone ready?" Tristan asked from the front, his hand resting on the doorknob without turning it just yet. He glanced back at the group, noting the determination etched on their faces.

Everyone nodded in unison, drawing deep breaths and tightening their grip on their weapons. Positioned at the center were the Patriarch, Mr. and Mrs. Winters, and those tasked with carrying the stretchers.

After a final check, Tristan drew a deep breath, steeling himself before twisting the doorknob of the emergency exit leading to the upper floors. The real problem now lay ahead: the zombies lurking in the emergency exit. With their ascent, the challenge doubled; if they engaged in combat, pushing forward would become even more difficult with the risk of additional zombies descending from above.

A stampede could crush them, and falling zombies posed yet another threat, among countless other possibilities.

The reason why they are thinking of this as an issue was because there were a few doors of the emergency exit from the upper floor that had been compromised and were now wide open or jammed.

As the zombies descended, those at the vanguard would face the immense weight of the undead pressing against them, yet they would have to forge ahead. With no time to spare, Tristan acted swiftly, flinging the door open. As it swung wide, a group of zombies standing in the fire exit fixed their hungry gaze upon them, then lunged forward like ravenous wolves.

Tristan and the others at the vanguard wasted no time deliberating; they let their actions speak for them. During their earlier meeting, Vulture had emphasized that the crystal core must have formed by now. If feasible, they should extract it from the zombies’ heads, as it was as valuable as water and food.

With the emergency exit still relatively clear, Tristan took the lead, guiding the group swiftly. As he moved, his other hand deftly and precisely extracted the crystal cores from the zombies he killed. He aimed for maximum efficiency, unwilling to linger any longer than necessary, ensuring he didn’t miss a beat in collecting the cores.

The others followed suit, though not as efficiently as Tristan, their pace was still brisk. However, in the confined space of the emergency exit with minimal ventilation, the overpowering stench of rotting corpses became unbearable, even for Tristan. They all felt nauseated, their stomachs churning at the thought that their last meal might soon be expelled from their bodies.

Even individuals like Tristan, who had witnessed all manner of gore and disgusting sights, couldn’t help but gag occasionally as the putrid stench assaulted his nostrils with each impaled zombie. The guttural growls and roars of the defeated zombies reverberated in the confined space, echoing ominously and drawing more undead towards them.

Despite the overwhelming circumstances, they had no choice but to press onward and ascend.

Despite only reaching the third-floor exit, they had already killed more than two dozen zombies. Their progress was hindered by the inability to move the bodies of the undead they had just slain, causing the corpses to pile up on the floor. This clutter occasionally causes someone to lose their balance or stumble, posing a significant danger.

If such an accident were to occur during combat with zombies, a fatal bite would likely ensue sooner or later.