Chapitre 10: Problems, Part 2
The clicker lunged at them with a piercing scream, his movements erratic and desperate. Mel, hands shaking, raised his pistol and fired. The first bullet struck the infected's body, causing him to stumble but not stopping him.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Mel gasped, taking a step back as he tried to line up another shot.
The infected's scream echoed throughout the building, a macabre call that drew a cacophony of sounds from the shadows. Dozens of guttural grunts and the unmistakable echo of hurried footsteps filled the air. It was as if every corner of the building had been jolted awake, and now, the entire place was seething with movement.
"We're in fucking shit," Elliot muttered, his eyes locked on the shadows that were beginning to move beyond the clicker. "Let's get out of here, Mel!"
Without waiting for a response, he kicked out with all his might at the staggering infected. His boot landed squarely on the clicker's chest, sending him flying backwards. The infected's body crashed into a wall and fell to the ground, giving them barely a split second to escape.
Elliot grabbed Mel's hand, pulling her along as she gasped for air, her eyes darting frantically in all directions. Her desperation was palpable, but Elliot had no time to comfort her.
They ran out of the apartment, into the main hallway of the building. The sound of footsteps was growing deafening, and it wasn't long before they saw several infected turning the corner. They scampered toward them with clumsy but quick movements, their screams and roars echoing in the closed hallway. Worse yet, other clickers emerged from the fallen doors and gaps in the walls, twisting their deformed heads as if sensing fear in the air.
"Tell me we have a plan B," Mel shouted, her voice bordering on panic as she continued to run after Elliot.
"Does praying count?" he replied, shooting her a quick glance before tugging on her arm harder, guiding her towards another apartment.
The hallway seemed endless, but at last they came to a door that was still partially standing. Elliot pushed Mel inside first, then followed her and slammed the door shut. The noise drew the attention of the infected, who were now rushing towards them like an unstoppable wave of rotting flesh and hellish screams.
"Help me with this!" Elliot shouted as he ran towards a heavy shelf filled with dust-covered books and knickknacks.
Mel didn't need him to repeat it. She dropped her gun to the floor for a second and joined Elliot, pushing the piece of furniture with all her might. Her legs were shaking, and her breathing was a mess, but she managed to coordinate with him.
The shelf creaked and slowly slid to block the door just as the infected began to violently pound on it. The sound of fists and bodies slamming into the wood echoed throughout the room, accompanied by the incessant grunts that filtered through the cracks.
Elliot took a few steps back, watching the shelf shake under the impacts. "This isn't going to last long," he hissed, his voice low but heavy with tension.
Mel, still panting, picked up his gun from the floor with shaking hands. "What do we do now?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the door that continued to shake under the blows.
Elliot quickly looked around the room, looking for anything that could help them. The light from his flashlight illuminated mold-covered walls, broken furniture, and a large window at the back that looked out onto another building. It was a dangerous drop, but not impossible.
"The window!" he exclaimed, pointing at it with his finger as he already began to move towards it.
"Are you crazy? Are we going to jump?" Mel replied, but his tone no longer had the same force.
"Do you have a better idea?" Elliot replied, looking over his shoulder. "Because if it's to stay here and wait for them to tear us apart, then I hear you."
Mel pursed his lips, but ended up nodding. "Okay, but… how are we going to cross?"
Elliot reached the window and looked out. The gap between the two buildings was considerable, but not impossible. There was a steel beam partially connecting the two sides, though it was rusted and looked like it was on the verge of collapsing.
"Over there," Elliot said, pointing at the beam. "It's our only option."
Mel peered out, her eyes widening at the precarious structure. "Great. Perfect. A fucking masterpiece of post-apocalyptic engineering," she muttered, but she was already moving toward the window.
Behind them, the door creaked dangerously. One of the hinges popped off, and the shelf tilted slightly under the pressure.
"No time to complain, Mel. Come on, get up first!"
Mel complied, climbing onto the windowsill as Elliot helped her keep her balance. Her breathing was erratic, but she managed to position herself on the beam, inching forward as the cold wind whipped at her.
Elliot watched her for a moment before turning back toward the door. The infected were seconds away from entering. He gulped and climbed onto the sill, keeping his eyes on Mel, who was already halfway to the other side.
"Just keep moving, gorgeous," he muttered to himself, as he placed one foot on the beam.
At that moment, the door behind him gave way, and a wave of infected burst into the room. Elliot felt his heart race as he gritted his teeth and moved forward as fast as he dared.
The infected began to throw themselves against the broken window, some falling into the void while others managed to grab onto the edges. Elliot didn't look back; he couldn't afford to.
"Elliot, hurry!" Mel shouted from the other side, her eyes filled with panic as she watched him stagger onto the beam.
With one last effort, Elliot made one final leap, landing awkwardly next to Mel. They both fell to the ground, rolling a few feet before coming to a stop.
Panting, Elliot pulled himself up enough to look back. The infected were falling one after another from the window, their bodies crashing onto the asphalt below with a thud.
"That was too close," he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Mel, still catching her breath, looked at him with a mix of relief and exasperation. "Next time, let's plan better, shall we?"
Elliot let out a dry laugh as he helped her up. "Planning? In this world, that's a damn luxury."
Mel, shaken and shaking, dropped her weight against Elliot, resting her forehead against his chest. Her breathing was ragged, and he could feel her body still shaking from the shock. Her hands searched for some anchor point, weakly clinging to the sides of his jacket.
"Let's get out of here, shall we?" she murmured, her voice cracked, almost a whisper, but laden with urgency.
Elliot let out a long sigh, relieved that they were both alive but aware that they didn't have much time. "I agree," he replied, running a hand down her back in an instinctive, almost protective gesture. "But let's move quickly."
They both stood up, regaining some composure. The room, though small, seemed to have mostly escaped the deterioration affecting the rest of the building. Spores weren't present, which was a small miracle, but they still decided to keep their masks on. Neither wanted to take any more risks than necessary.
"First, let's see if there's anything useful here," Elliot said, his tone low but firm. He pulled his flashlight out of his backpack and began quickly exploring, illuminating the dusty corners of the apartment. The air was heavy with the smell of old wood and damp, but at least it didn't smell like death.
Mel followed him, her nervous eyes scanning the room as she kept her pistol ready in her hands. "Do you think we'll find anything?" she asked, her voice steadier now, though still marked by exhaustion.
Elliot let out a low, almost humorless laugh. "I hope so, because with what's coming after us, I'd rather be armed to the teeth."
After a few minutes of quick searching, Elliot picked up something that had been half hidden under a pile of rubble. It was an old, splintered, but still solid baseball bat. He inspected it carefully, weighing it in his hands. It wasn't a perfect weapon, but it would do.
"This might come in handy," he commented as he wrapped a piece of old rope around the handle to improve his grip. Then, he secured it to the side of his backpack with some makeshift straps.
Mel, who had been checking out an empty closet, turned to him with an expression of both curiosity and approval. "It's not much, but I think you could crack an infected's skull with that," she said, a trace of her usual humor returning to her voice.
Elliot gave her a wry smile as he adjusted his backpack on his shoulders. "I hope so, because I'm not excited about trying it on a clicker. Come on, time to get going."
They both headed toward a back door that seemed to lead to another section of the building. Elliot pushed it carefully, holding fast to the idea that every move had to be calculated. The hinge creaked, but not enough to give them away. Beyond was a narrow, dark hallway, shadows dancing under the intermittent glow of his flashlight.
"Stay close," Elliot murmured as he moved forward, his bat ready for any eventuality.
Mel nodded, her breathing still heavy, but much more restrained now. Though the fear was still present, there was something about Elliot's presence that gave her a sense of security she couldn't ignore.
-x.X.x-
Elliot moved in a crouch, each step precisely measured as the flashlight in his hand cast a faint halo of light over the infected staggering in the middle of the garden. At a glance, it was apparent that he had been recently turned; his skin still retained a human tone, though it was streaked with black veins and mushroom sprouts that were beginning to break through. It didn't matter. In this world, compassion was a luxury reserved for the dead.
With a swift, silent movement, Elliot lunged at the infected, his knife tracing a lethal arc before burying itself deep into the monster's neck. The infected let out a muffled, almost human sound before collapsing like a sack of potatoes onto the wet grass-covered ground. Elliot held the body for a moment longer, making sure it wouldn't rise again, before unceremoniously dropping it.
The scene was an eerie contrast to the neighborhood around them. They had escaped the infected-filled buildings just over an hour ago and had been walking silently through the town ever since, dodging threats and moving with the caution of predators stalking their prey. When they finally reached the neighborhood Abby had indicated, it felt as if they had crossed an invisible barrier into another world.
Here, time had stopped. The houses, though covered in a patina of moss and vines, were mostly intact. Unbroken windows, full roofs, bolted doors. Everything was a silent testament to a life that had ended abruptly, frozen in the moment of collapse.
"It's clear," Elliot muttered, looking back at Mel, who remained crouched behind a rusting car. His voice was low, controlled, but clear enough for her to hear.
Mel emerged from cover, her pistol still ready in her hands as her eyes scanned the area. "Good," she said, letting out a light sigh. His shoulders relaxed just a little as he looked at the nearest house, a two-story structure with peeling paint and curtains still hanging from the windows. "Let's see if we can find anything useful."
Elliot nodded and the two of them headed into the house. The front door, though locked, gave way with a long creak as Elliot pushed carefully. The interior was shrouded in a heavy silence, the air heavy with a smell of dust, old wood, and something else, a mix he always associated with the decay of time. Every corner seemed frozen in the past: family photos on the walls, furniture that hadn't been touched in decades, even a pair of children's slippers forgotten by the stairs.
The first thing they did was secure the house. They had learned the hard way that any space could hide a threat. Elliot took the lead, moving with the knife in one hand and the flashlight in the other. His steps were soft, barely a whisper on the floorboards. He checked each room, making sure they were empty, while Mel covered any blind spots.
The first floor was clear. The kitchen, dining room, and a small living room showed no signs of recent activity. They climbed to the second floor just as cautiously, checking every bedroom and bathroom. They found only dust and neglect, no trace of infected or survivors.
When they finally cleared the house, they both allowed themselves a brief moment of relaxation. Elliot immediately went to block the entrances, pushing furniture against the doors and closing the windows. He also drew the curtains, darkening the interior. They didn't want to risk anything seeing them from the outside.
Mel, meanwhile, began searching the kitchen. She opened the cabinets one by one, her fingers searching through the dishes and utensils for anything useful. Her gun rested on the counter, within easy reach, but there didn't seem to be any danger at the moment.
"How's it going in there?" Elliot asked from the living room, where he was securing the last window.
"Dust and cockroaches," Mel replied, her voice laced with a tone of resignation and mild annoyance. "But I found a couple of cans of food in the pantry. I don't know if they're good, but it's something."
Elliot poked his head around the door, watching her as she pulled out the cans. "What do we have?" she asked with a crooked smile.
"Green beans and something I think is chicken soup… or at least it was twenty years ago," she replied, holding up one of the cans and eyeing it suspiciously.
"Perfect," Elliot said, walking over to her and dropping his backpack on the counter. "We could make a feast out of that." His tone was sarcastic, but the sparkle in his eyes said he was in a good mood.
"Yeah, right. And for dessert we have dust," Mel joked, setting the cans aside before leaning down to check the lower cabinets. Elliot couldn't help but let his gaze briefly wander to Mel's backside as she bent down.
"Focus, champ," he muttered to himself, looking away quickly as he adjusted the straps of his backpack.
The silence of the house was almost eerie, but it also offered a strange comfort. For the first time in hours, they didn't hear the growls or footsteps of the infected. They could take a few minutes to breathe, to plan their next move.
"I think we should stay here for a while," Elliot finally said, leaning against the door frame. "It's safe, at least for now. We could search the nearby houses more tomorrow."
Mel nodded from where she stood, pulling a rusty kitchen knife out of one of the drawers. "Yeah, but let's stay alert. This place is way too quiet, and that's never a good sign."
"Easy, Mel," Elliot replied with a sly grin. "I've got you covered."
Mel rolled her eyes, but the small smile on her lips betrayed her attempt to remain serious. "You better," she said, holding up her gun again. "Because if anything surprises us, you'll be the first to face it."
Elliot chuckled softly, leaning down to pick up the bat he'd secured to his backpack. "Always at your service, gorgeous."
End Of Chapter 10
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone