Our collective first thought was to start shooting the zombies or, at the very least, cut the rope, but as we watched the still only semi-capable undead lazily crawling up the rope we came to the realization that it was slowing them down significantly.

+Shoe

“Down the stairs then, yeah?” I asked as I pulled on a shoe that I’d taken off of one of the ventilated zombies that I’d left in the stairwell to the roof, “I mean, we aren’t exactly brimming with other options.”

“I still don’t like it.” Cara replied coolly, ignoring Stan’s pacing as best as she could, “It may be our only option, but at the same time I don’t think that it’s going to turn out well.”

“We don’t have to like it,” I said before getting to my feet, “but, as you said, it’s our only option.”

“And what if we get rushed?” Stan practically blurted out, snapping our attention to him, “Seriously, what happens if we’re going through the building and we get rushed? My gun’s next to useless in close-quarters, and I can almost guarantee that all of us being bunched up together means we’re gonna end up accidently shooting each other.”

“Maybe if you don’t aim.” Cara mocked before turning back to me, “Look, if you think this is the only way, then-”

“I know it’s the only way.” I replied confidently, “But, at the same time, Stan’s right.”

“Thank you.” Stan added almost genuinely, his distraction with impending doom somewhat detracting from his gratefulness.

“Alright, why don’t we try just letting me go?” I asked, almost immediately regretting it as I did so.

It was a tactic I’d done before, forced myself into this state of near-complete focus and brutality and used that to clear out entire structures solo, but that was back when the absolute worst thing that could happen was losing the game.

I wasn’t about to renege on my suggestion though, that would’ve just made me look like an absolute chicken-shit.

“Are you sure?” Stan asked before Cara could, earning him a semi-sharp look from her, “I mean, you know that that could end… poorly, right?”

I wanted to say something about ‘poorly’ being a crappy synonym for ‘you could die’, but decided against it given our present company and… well, we’d already seen that we’d definitely be finished off should we decide to blab.

So, with a little smile, I simply said “Yeah, I know, but at least we’ll be doing something, eh?”

Cara, surprisingly, seemed far more concerned than Stan did for my safety, but she also appeared to know that there was no way she was going to convince me not to do it, “Just be careful, alright? I’ll make sure dickless over here doesn’t get gnawed on.”

“Sounds good,” I said as I came to a realization and pulled my crowbar off my back, “oh, and here.”

-Crowbar

Not going to lie, I laughed a little as Stan struggled to catch the metal rod I’d cast in his direction, but I was quick to recompose myself, “Figure you’ll need it more than me,” I said before pulling my AR-15 off my back and turning toward the blood-covered stairwell, “wish me luck.”

“Pfft, like you’re gonna need it.” Cara scoffed unconvincingly, “Seriously though, be careful.”

“Where’s the fun in that?”

With that I was gone, descending down the stairs as quickly as I possibly could while narrowly avoiding the corpses, wishing that I’d just done the smart thing and told Cara to avoid the hospital.

Ah well, c'est la vie.