Because I was diagnosed with a terminal illness, my wife urged me to give up treatment and leave all my assets to our son. Even my eight-year-old, Kevin, had absorbed it all, asking me more than once, “Dad, when are you going to kick the bucket? Mom says I can’t get my inheritance until you’re gone!” Later, when I went back to the hospital for a follow-up, a zombie outbreak hit. To save themselves, Brenda and Kevin tried to trick me into a horde of zombies. But when Brenda learned I carried a precious zombie serum, she righteously demanded my blood. “We’re family! It’s your duty to save me!” I slammed the door, trapping her in a room swarming with zombies. “Sorry, I don’t know you.” 1 All the way from the hotel to the hospital, Brenda and Kevin were fuming. Once we got there, they plopped down on the waiting room bench. They wouldn’t stop muttering. “Typical, burning through our money. I told you it’s a lost cause, but no, you just *had* to come to this fancy hospital. It’s a money pit!” “Mom, you promised that house would be put in my name. Dad won’t go back on his word, right?” My heart felt utterly cold. I dragged my body, still battling a low fever, into the long registration line. My nose felt warm, and then a nosebleed started again. I quickly cupped my hand over it, my eyes searching for the restroom. It was the weekend, and the first-floor lobby was packed, stretching as far as the eye could see. The anxious questions of patients and their families, the shouts of doctors and nurses clearing paths, the constant calling of numbers over the loudspeaker – it all blended into a chaotic mess that made my head pound. People were pressed so close, even breathing felt difficult. It was like I was inhaling everyone else’s exhaled carbon dioxide. Amidst the noise, a piercing scream caught everyone’s attention. But it lasted only a few seconds. After all, in a hospital, screams and cries were nothing out of the ordinary. People murmured and speculated, sighing at fate’s cruel twists. I thought of the stark, sharp words “LEUKEMIA” on my test results and let out a bitter laugh. My body had always been so healthy, and I’d kept up a regular exercise routine for years. Anyone who knew me, colleagues or friends, always praised how fit I was. How could I suddenly get leukemia? I don’t know how long I’d been waiting; my nosebleed had already stopped. Finally, it was my turn. Just as I was about to hand my ID through the window, a nurse suddenly ran in from the side, anxiously whispering something to the nurse at the counter. That nurse gave me a “one moment” gesture, stood up, and left. I muttered about my bad luck. Soon, impatient grumbling started behind me. People in line couldn’t wait; many moved to other lines to re-queue. I hated to give up on the progress I’d made, so I stayed put, waiting. But quickly, I realized something was off. This was the biggest hospital in the city, with ample medical staff and resources. So, what kind of emergency would pull even a registration nurse away? I waited ten minutes. She still hadn’t come back. After thinking it over, I decided to head to the restroom first to wash the blood off my face. I didn’t notice. The moment I stepped into the restroom, the lobby erupted in a chorus of roars and screams. 2 Before I even left the restroom, I caught a strong whiff of blood. Even for a hospital, this intense smell was completely abnormal. I pressed my ear closer to the restroom door, listening carefully. The noise outside seemed even louder than before. But mixed in with the chaos were some unnatural sounds. They were a bit like drunken retching, yet far more terrifying, almost inhuman. For some reason, a chill ran down my spine. If Brenda and Kevin knew, they’d probably mock me for being a coward, call me neurotic. But I trusted my gut feeling. I carefully pulled the door open a crack and peeked out. Outside the door, almost everyone was scrambling to escape. Some rushed towards the main entrance, others towards the stairs. Every face was contorted in terror, like they were running for their lives. But the door blocked my view of the entire lobby. I moved as quietly as possible, pushing the crack wider, then squeezing out sideways. When I finally saw what was happening in the lobby, I immediately raised my hand and bit down hard on the web of my thumb to keep from screaming. People scattered like headless chickens. The main entrance was already a dense pile of bodies, pushing relentlessly forward. The people at the very front were pressed tightly against the glass, no longer moving. Yet, more kept surging towards the exit. The information desk had been overrun. Dozens of people were huddled inside, cowering, and others kept clambering over the counter. Looking towards the direction people were fleeing, I saw a few figures in hospital gowns, covered in blood, limping slowly. Their limbs twitched uncontrollably, bending at angles no human body should. Those chilling growls were coming from their mouths. An elderly man, unsteady on his feet, was knocked to the ground by the stampeding crowd. I watched, horrified, as a man staggered over to the old man and bit into his neck. Blood erupted instantly. The others—or whatever those creatures were, no longer human—instantly became frenzied, moving with shocking agility to swarm the old man. Within ten seconds, the old man was torn beyond recognition, a bloody mess. Then, that gruesome, mangled pile of flesh on the ground twitched, stood up, and joined the horde of wandering creatures. Clearly, everyone had witnessed the tragedy. The crowd fell silent for two seconds. Then, someone, I don’t know who, was the first to snap out of it and screamed. “Z-Zombies! Run! There are really zombies!” I never thought scenes I’d only seen in novels and movies would actually happen in real life. Snapping back to reality, I frantically searched for a suitable hiding spot. The restroom and the main entrance were diagonally opposite. Plus, the main entrance was completely blocked by bodies. Escaping the hospital was impossible. The stairs were right next to the restroom. Now, going upstairs seemed like the best option to find a way to survive. I tiptoed, trying to make no sound, and took two steps at a time up the stairs. Soon, I realized I was wrong. The second floor seemed even worse. Blood, like it had been splattered everywhere, already formed a thin, sticky layer on the corridor floor. Several doctors in white coats were already victims, roaring incessantly in the hallway, searching for their next target. Despite my caution, a few zombies spotted me. They lurched towards me, blood-filled mouths gaping beyond recognition, quickly attracting the attention of other zombies in the corridor. The hospital corridor was a long loop, and zombies were closing in on me from both directions. Down on the stairs, first-floor zombies were also starting to search for living people upstairs. I shuffled my trembling legs, backing up continuously. Until my back hit the hard wall. There was nowhere left to go. The zombie on my left was just two steps away, reaching out with a hand missing two fingers. I let out a bitter laugh, closing my eyes in resignation. Suddenly, something hard jabbed my lower back. It felt like a doorknob. By sheer reflex, I pressed the handle, twisted, ducked inside the room, and locked the door. A zombie rushed past, its putrid stench brushing against my clothes. After the close call, I gasped for air. I quickly patted myself down. No wounds. I finally relaxed, sinking to the floor. Thank god, I was still alive. 3 I leaned against the wall and rested for a bit, slowly regaining my composure. Shaking, I immediately pulled out my phone and dialed 91
Before it could even connect, police sirens wailed from outside the window. My eyes lit up. I rushed to the window. Only one police car was parked downstairs. Three officers, fully geared up, quickly got out. But they weren’t here to rescue us. They swiftly pulled down the fire shutters over the main entrance and the perimeter fence. While cutting off the zombies’ escape route, they also cut off my chance to escape the hospital. The police car’s loudspeaker blared, repeating: “Survivors inside the hospital, please remain calm. Find enclosed spaces to protect yourselves and wait patiently for military rescue.” The loudspeaker’s sound agitated the first-floor zombies. They repeatedly slammed their bodies against the glass, creating terrifying thuds. After three repetitions, the police car sped away. My rekindled hope shattered again. I felt a wave of despair. I pulled out my phone, mechanically dialing 911 again and again. But it was always a busy signal. I don’t know how many times I dialed until my arm ached, and the phone slipped from my grasp. Without food or water, trapped in this small consultation room, no bigger than ten square meters, I wondered if I’d live to see rescue. My phone suddenly rang. I tensed up and quickly answered. But it wasn’t the police. It was Brenda’s voice. “Where are you? Are you okay? Kevin and I are so worried about you. He keeps asking for his dad.” She handed the phone to Kevin. “Dad, come find us! I’m scared!” For some reason, both their voices were muffled and low, like they were in a very small space. A flicker of suspicion sparked in my mind. When Brenda first learned I had leukemia, she’d repeatedly urged me to just give up treatment and not waste money. Even my eight-year-old, Kevin, had absorbed it all, asking me more than once, “Dad, when are you going to kick the bucket? Mom says I can’t get my inheritance until you’re gone!” After several such instances, my heart had grown cold. Before coming to the hospital, I had already made up my mind: no matter the follow-up results, I was divorcing her. I’d rather take my assets to the grave than let those ungrateful leeches get a single cent. How could two people who so eagerly wished for my death suddenly care about my safety? I kept my guard up, not answering directly, but instead asked: “Where are you guys? Are you okay? You haven’t been bitten, have you?” “No, no! Luckily, I hid fast. The moment I realized something was wrong, I ducked away. We’re in the first-floor restroom now. There’s a small window here. Come find us, we can climb out together!” I replied, feigning surprise: “Really? That’s great! I’m coming right now.” Two minutes later, I whispered impatiently: “I’m here. Where are you?” Brenda sounded excited: “You’re sure you’re here, right?” I snapped, annoyed: “Of course! What are you doing? Hurry up!” “Good, that’s great!” Before she could finish, a ridiculously loud, obnoxious tune blared from the bathroom. It was Kevin’s smartwatch. Brenda and I had even picked that ringtone together. The music echoed through the entire building, enraging the zombie horde. They roared and surged towards the first-floor corner. Amidst the roars, Brenda’s voice turned manic: “Alex, you’re going to die anyway. Just make yourself useful to us!” Maybe my heart was already numb. Hearing her words, I felt no ripple of emotion, only amusement at her stupidity. Thanks to her, the second-floor corridor was now empty. Stepping out, I looked down. Two figures, one large and one small, dashed from the janitor’s closet near the stairs towards the main entrance, only to be blocked by the heavy fire shutter. Seeing this, I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. The call hadn’t hung up yet. Brenda’s furious curses and screams came through the line. “Oops, I forgot to tell you guys, the main entrance is completely blocked. No way out now.”
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