“Go find a thick coat to wrap yourself in, and tuck the hem into your pants like I did.” Brian Carter's face remained gloomy, but the hand that had just struck Grace Thompson was now hidden behind his back, as he carefully savored the wonderful sensation from that brief moment.

As a healthy, energetic 25-year-old man alone in a room with a pretty, well-shaped young woman—especially in an environment full of danger where survival itself was difficult—his physical desires were naturally even stronger. However, Brian Carter had excellent self-control; the moment he realized his actions were out of line, he forcibly suppressed his urges and restrained himself.

After wrapping Grace Thompson in a red leather jacket, the two of them stepped over two corpses one after the other and made their way to the fifth floor. As they passed the bodies, Grace Thompson paused slightly, but quickly caught up with Brian Carter.

The gray-white cement and white walls of the stairwell were especially bright under the blazing sun. The once pure white walls were now covered in black and red bloodstains, emitting a rotten stench. All the blood had been completely dried by the high temperature, leaving only some hard, dried clots.

The stairwell was silent. The doors of the two apartments on the fifth floor were tightly shut, and the entrances were clean, making it seem relatively safe for now.

Chapter Five

Brian Carter walked in front, tiptoeing to avoid making any noise. His right hand, gloved, gripped a watermelon knife as long as his forearm. The steel blade reflected a dazzling light off the stairwell wall. Brian Carter could feel his palm inside the glove was already drenched in sweat, partly from nerves and partly from the heat—especially since he was wearing airtight rubber gloves, so the sweat couldn't evaporate.

The two of them made it down from the fifth floor without incident, arriving at the heavy iron door between the fourth and fifth floors. The thick iron door completely separated the stairwell between the two floors, with even the gaps in the handrails and stairs blocked by iron bars as thick as a thumb.

Brian Carter checked the lock on the iron door and, confirming it was locked, finally let out a quiet sigh of relief. He knew at least the fifth and sixth floors were safe for now. With this door as a barrier, zombies from below the fifth floor definitely couldn't get in. Having fought zombies in close combat before, he understood their general destructive power.

He turned and nodded at Grace Thompson, signaling her to unlock the door, while he himself held the watermelon knife at the ready, guarding against anything behind the door. This was something the two of them had quickly discussed before leaving earlier. The key was also given to Grace Thompson just now.

A soft “click” echoed sharply in the silent stairwell. Brian Carter's heart tightened, and he raised the watermelon knife slightly.

Grace Thompson slowly pushed the iron door open a crack. The girl’s eyes were wide, her hands trembling, her body bent in a bow, ready to turn and run at any moment. Brian Carter, behind her, could clearly see the fine beads of sweat on her milky-white skin.

The corner of his mouth curled up, and with his free left hand, he quietly pinched Grace Thompson's jeans-clad butt. The tight, elastic, and wonderful sensation instantly put Brian Carter in a good mood. He could feel Grace Thompson's whole body tense up, like a compressed spring about to snap free.

After groping the girl's butt a few more times with his left hand, Brian Carter finally withdrew his hand and softly told the now mortified and furious Grace Thompson to step aside.

The iron door was pushed fully open, and there was nothing outside.

Brian Carter frowned, sensing something was off. It was far too quiet around them—so quiet it was unsettling. He felt goosebumps rise on his skin. As a mage, his stronger-than-average mental strength also gave him a heightened sense of danger. This premonition was subtle and fleeting, but it was enough to put Brian Carter on alert.

There was indeed nothing outside the iron door. The two of them quietly stepped out, only to find that the door to one of the apartments on the fourth floor was wide open, with a large pool of blood on the ground at the entrance. Brian Carter's heart tightened. He looked around—the stairwell below the fourth floor was empty, so they could ignore it for now. That meant the only threat was from the apartment with the open door.

Brian Carter placed his left hand on the stair railing, raising the watermelon knife slightly. He cautiously approached the fourth-floor doorway. Peering into the open security door, he saw the corpse of a fat man lying on his back in the middle of the living room. His abdomen had been completely hollowed out, with organs scattered everywhere. A length of intestine, already yellow-green, was stretched out straight, reaching all the way to the doormat at the security door.

Brian Carter crouched down to examine the bloodstains at the entrance.

The blood, which should have been bright red, had been dried by the heat, turning into dark red clots. Several green-headed flies buzzed as they crawled over it.

It must have been spilled before yesterday, and it was fresh, uninfected blood.

Brian Carter made his judgment. Comparing the specks of blood on the intestine at the door, he found the colors didn’t quite match. The fat man’s blood was black with a hint of red, while the blood at the entrance was dark red.

“Not good!” Brian Carter instantly became alert, sprang up, and tried to retreat. But he was still a step too slow.

“Snap!” The length of intestine on the ground suddenly coiled around Brian Carter's neck like a living thing.

“Ah!” came Grace Thompson's terrified scream from behind.

Brian Carter didn’t need to look to know the woman must be panic-stricken and pale.

The intestine wrapped several times tightly around Brian Carter's neck. He grabbed a section of it with his left hand and, with his right hand, slashed hard at the intestine with the watermelon knife.