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🕑 Added 2025-05-12 08:24:28 +0000 UTCStay Alive
Chapter 17 - I'm Just Alan Rogers
Alan prepared himself, his hands gripping his assault rifle, while he also readied a second magazine to be prepared and avoid delays in combat.
It had certainly been a long time—one in which Alan hadn’t found himself in such a desperate situation. He remembered his brother and wondered, “Was Steven ever in a situation like this too?”
Having lost everything, there was nothing left but to fight for others. That was why Alan acted this way—impulsively, and above all, without thinking.
Argh!
The infected were approaching, their footsteps echoing in the hallways. Alan, holding his breath, aimed at a favorable spot on the stairs, and when he saw the first infected, he didn’t hesitate to open fire.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The first bullets struck the infected in the head, taking them down instantly. The stairway walls were splattered with blood, and the favorable position Alan hadn’t counted on turned out to be useful—the infected bodies themselves became a barricade.
Arghhh!
With precision, Alan eliminated four infected in front of him. The bullets that pierced their heads also hit those behind them.
At that moment, Alan, who was deeply focused, was catching his breath after running earlier. It seemed that using a long-range weapon he was familiar with was much more effective for killing infected.
That’s why Alan stepped back several times while continuing to shoot. Without turning around, he kept eliminating infected, fully taking advantage of his position.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
After firing the last round from his magazine, Alan skillfully reloaded his rifle.
Argh!
The infected looked like people but acted like rabid animals. In Alan’s mind, there was only one thing—they or him. There was no middle ground, so he had to kill to survive.
Just as Alan focused on exterminating all the infected, a woman appeared at the top of the stairs, her hair messy and wild.
“They’re coming! More infected! You won’t be able to kill them all. There’s a place where they can’t get in—come on!”
Alan looked up in surprise at the woman’s head peeking from the top of the stairs.
“Hurry up!” she kept shouting.
Alan’s hearing was a bit distorted after firing dozens of rounds in an enclosed hallway. It would’ve been fine if the shockwave from the bombing hadn’t hit him directly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Without turning his head, Alan asked, “Is there anyone else who can help me? I need someone to carry my gear to your apartment. We won’t survive without what I’m carrying.”
When the woman heard Alan’s words and saw the infected just meters from him, she peeked down several times and shouted, “Wait, I’ll be right there!”
Alan couldn’t clearly hear what she said—he only saw her disappear.
But there was no time to worry about her, not when infected were charging at him like a tidal wave.
Alan didn’t move from his position. He didn’t retreat. If he did, he was sure he’d die. For a former special forces soldier, patience was one of the greatest virtues. And that’s what Alan did—stay patient and never lose his composure.
Argh!
The infected were getting closer—they were too fast, and Alan was losing precious seconds every time he changed magazines. It had been a while since he could even tell how many he had killed or how many were still coming.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
But the increasing number of infected on the stairs gave Alan a chance to retreat, although not too far, since his backpacks weren’t far behind and needed to be recovered.
Alan used this opportunity to move up another half-flight of stairs. By now, he had lost all hope for the two women. His mind was filled with blood and focused only on how to kill more infected. That was the only thought etched deep into his mind in recent days. These infected had destroyed his home, killed his brother, and murdered countless survivors.
What Alan wanted most now was to kill mercilessly—he would leave no infected alive.
Alan watched the infected rushing toward him, having passed the pile of corpses, and once again pulled the trigger on his rifle.
Dozens of bullets hit their targets without missing a beat, because Alan never missed a headshot. Not even once.
Seeing the infected fall before him, Alan reached for another magazine from his vest. At that moment, he became worried. He only had half his magazines left, and there were no signs that the infected would stop coming.
Alan was about to run upstairs and abandon his bags. But just as he turned around, he saw two women running toward him.
Before Alan could process what was happening, the two women each grabbed one of his bags and started dragging them upstairs.
“Don’t drop the bags,” Alan warned after watching them struggle up the stairs.
One of the women, with short hair, hurried to help Alan take off his backpack. While saying something, she rushed up the stairs in two steps with the bag in hand. The other woman, with long hair, grabbed Alan’s axe and helped drag him upward.
Only then did Alan realize he hadn’t clearly heard what the short-haired woman had said—just a few words like “they’re coming,” “there are too many,” and “we’ll die.”
Alan, who had an injured knee, let one of the women support him while he kept shooting at the infected climbing the stairs.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“I can’t hear you, but I’ll follow you,” Alan said as he changed his magazine again. “Don’t be afraid—they won’t catch us.”
When they finally reached the floor where the survivors were taking refuge, the infected were only half a flight behind—about fifteen steps.
Alan wanted to keep shooting, but due to the woman’s shouting, he had no choice but to turn around and run into the apartment where a man was waiting.
“Come on, don’t fall behind!”
“Help me, damn it!” shouted one of the women, barely managing to carry the bag Alan always kept with him.
“Hurry!”
Alan entered the apartment, and as soon as he did, he saw everyone rushing to the windows, where there were emergency escape ladders.
“Is it safe?” Alan asked, aiming at the door in case the infected broke through.
“It’s safe down to the storage room. If we stay here, they’ll find us,” the woman said, and then everyone exited the apartment using the emergency stairs.
The infected, who had been pounding on the door, soon broke it down. However, none of the people they were following remained in the area.
Arghhh!
Outside, Alan looked up. His previously heightened senses were now overtaken by exhaustion, and he couldn’t help but breathe heavily after surviving such a catastrophe.
