A few hours later, the plan was well executed. To reinforce the barricade, cables were attached to the bottom of the shields. These cables would help keep the barricade in place in case they needed to retreat.
The only ones not fighting were the woman with her child and Claire, who was positioned behind them, securing the second-floor door.
Alan placed all his trust in this woman he barely knew, but you didn't need years of friendship to know that Claire was someone worth trusting. She was dependable, brave, and, above all, honest. Of the few people he had met after everything went to hell, Claire was one of the rare ones who still acted like her true self.
"I'm leaving you my weapon. Only shoot if you can't close this door," Alan said, handing his rifle to Claire, who clearly had solid combat knowledge. Whoever her brother was, he had definitely made sure his sister was more than capable of taking care of herself.
Alan used to think the same about his own brother. What happened to him had truly been a tragedy.
"You underestimate me..." Claire didn't say anything out loud, but she was more than confident she could fight better than most of the others. Still, she knew how important it was to secure the second door, so she kept quiet.
Alan nodded, grabbed his machete, and said, "We're ready."
Trembling, Carlos approached the door and opened it slightly using a slit in the metal drum. The small door burst open instantly, and the infected stormed in, tripping over one another.
Carlos cursed and quickly hid as best he could. "Oh God, I swear I'll go to church every day, just let this crap be over."
"Come here, you bastards, right here!" Alan and the others shouted with all their strength, boosting their adrenaline.
They had to draw the infected's attention—that was the only way to ensure the door could be closed, since Carlos was nearby.
Standing atop the barricade, Alan tightened his grip on the machete and, without waiting for a command, began slicing through the infected like they were nothing but old, rotting wood. He focused solely on their necks, hands, and heads.
Crack!
In an instant, a brutal scene unfolded in the narrow hallway, but overwhelmed by adrenaline and shock, the only thing they could do was attack the infected savagely, who in turn tried to spread their infection.
The infected pushed forward, but were held back by the barricade. Soon, the first wave was killed, and the pile of bodies slowed down those behind them. Things weren't looking good for the infected, so Alan's group held their ground.
Alan was now in a frenzy, completely unaware of his surroundings, his eyes focused only on killing. His hand was sticky with blood, but it didn't stop him—he kept slashing.
As expected, the infected who were pushed back or wounded started falling on top of each other, and one even collapsed right in front of the door, blocking the entrance. A bald man noticed it.
"Damn it! The door's blocked—there are corpses everywhere!"
Alan turned to one of the men. "You're the smallest—walk over the bodies and clear the door. Don't be afraid, they won't notice you."
As soon as he said that, Alan climbed onto a chair and began attacking even more viciously. One of the men beside him did the same, but at that moment, an infected grabbed his ankle and dragged him forward.
"Ahhhhh!"
"Don't help him—focus on what's in front of you!" Alan said coldly. There was no saving someone who'd been grabbed.
"I'm scared! I don't want to die!" said the man tasked with closing the door.
Alan frowned and looked at two strong men beside him. "Clear a path—I'll cover you with my weapon."
They were annoyed at the idea of cleaning up the door, but there was no time to argue. One of them leapt onto the pile of bodies. Several infected tried to reach him, but the blood on the floor made it difficult for them to move, giving Alan a clear shot.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Three gunshots rang out, clearing the path to the door. From his elevated position, Alan kept firing to cover the men.
"Carlos! Shut the door!"
Bang! Bang!
Alan took out two more infected who were about to enter. One of the men behind him, holding a wooden shield, rushed the infected while his partner covered his back.
"Let's go! Push forward!" Alan shouted, leaping down and attacking the infected with brutal strength. But the slick ground betrayed him—he slipped and fell backward onto the corpses.
Carlos, hiding inside the metal drum, was startled by the scene. When he saw two men standing beside him, he immediately understood what was going on.
"Shit, shit, shit!" Carlos yelled, dropping to his knees and dragging the corpse that was blocking the door.
"Let's shut it!" Carlos pushed hard on the door. The infected outside tried to force their way in, but three men were more than enough to hold them back.
Alan, meanwhile, kept shooting at the incoming infected, while the others advanced behind him to protect him from being swarmed.
"Ahhhhhh!"
A bloodcurdling scream erupted beside Alan—he turned to see a man being bitten on the ankle. Without hesitation, Alan got back up and continued slaughtering infected with his machete, ignoring everything else.
Ten minutes later, more than fifty corpses lay scattered across the floor. The men around them stared at the scene, breathing heavily.
Silence. Only silence remained.