"Medical ethanol." There was also a symbol indicating it was 95 percent, and the fire extinguisher hanging on the wall let me breathe a little easier.
I grabbed the cart beside me and dashed over. I hauled three boxes of alcohol onto it, then turned and wheeled it back out. I also grabbed a pack of medical cotton and set the fire extinguisher within reach.
At that moment, the Iron Gate was still being battered nonstop. The zombies' frenzied roars from behind it sent a chill down my spine!
Now... it was a race against time!
I slit open every bottle of alcohol with a fruit knife, then tore open the cotton...
"Bang!" The upper-right corner of the Iron Gate frame had already torn away from the wall, leaving a gap wide enough for a hand to fit through.
I stared at the gap and snarled at the Iron Gate.
"Burn, you bastards!"
That was right... I was planning to burn the zombies to death. With my abilities, there was no way I could fight more than a dozen of them at once. I'd have to run even from two or three in this cramped hallway, let alone more than a dozen. That was enough to tear me apart.
I hurriedly stuffed cotton into the necks of the alcohol bottles. There were nearly ninety bottles in all, and I lit every one except the one I held in my hand and another I'd tied to the mop with a bandage.
The cotton stuffed into the bottles was soaked through, burning with blue flames.
The Iron Gate was warping more and more. By the time I'd finished everything, both corners of the gate had torn away from the walls, leaving only the middle section. The mop was starting to give under the weight, too, creaking as if it were about to snap.
I backed up more than ten meters and pulled the cart over. It held three whole boxes of burning alcohol.
And the Iron Gate, before my eyes, was slowly... bit by bit... being... battered open!!
"Bang!!"
With a sharp crack, the alcohol bottle hanging from the mop fell when the mop broke. Then came a loud "Smash!" as the bottle shattered on the floor. At the same time, a horde of snarling zombies burst through the Iron Gate like a surging tide!
"Whoosh!" I lit the alcohol bottle in my hand, then kicked the cart in front of me with all my strength!
"Creak, creak... crash!!"
The cart shot forward, but after covering some distance, it lost its balance and toppled to the floor. At the same time, the zombies all turned their eyes toward me!
But then... the very next second!
"Boom!!!"
A scorching blaze erupted in an instant, and a wave of heat crashed over me. I had to retreat several meters before I could open my eyes. But the zombies... didn't care about the wall of heat and flames! They charged straight at me in a frenzy!
"This is exactly what I've been waiting for!"
I gave a low shout, timed the moment the zombies charged into the fire, and hurled the alcohol bottle in my hand at the ceiling!
Chapter 12: First Encounter with Survivors
"Crash!!"
The burning bottle hit the ceiling. When it shattered, a large splash of clear liquid rained down on the zombies charging toward me.
The next second!
"Boom!!"
Every zombie rushing toward me burst into flames. The alcohol intensified the fire, and the burning zombies still tried to charge forward. But perhaps they couldn't withstand the heat. By the time they came charging out of the flames, which rose nearly three or four meters and licked the ceiling, they could no longer make those disgusting sounds.
"Gah... gah..."
That might have been the only sound they could make.
Before long, the horde had burned to blackened husks. One by one, they fell to the floor, twitched weakly, and then went still.
"Thump, thump, thump~"
At the same time, some zombies fell onto alcohol bottles that hadn't shattered, and the flames leaped even higher. The heat grew more intense, too.
The fire had been burning for nearly a minute, and it still showed no sign of dying down. Part of the ceiling had started to catch fire, too. I snatched up the fire extinguisher beside me. After making sure none of the zombies were still moving, I pulled the safety pin and sprayed the alcohol-fueled blaze!
"Hissssss~~~"
I held down the handle and sprayed with all my strength. By the time the flames were nearly extinguished, the dozen or so zombies had all turned into roasted corpses, reeking of burned meat. It was revolting.
Pinching my nose, I carefully checked them with the fruit knife. Whenever I found one still groaning, I stepped in and finished it off.
Then I checked again, and only after I was sure none of the zombies could move did I finally let out a long breath.
"Whew... that scared the hell out of me. Good thing I ran fast, or I'd have ended up as someone else's... zombie chow."
I patted my chest, and felt an astonishing bounce under my hand. The corner of my mouth twitched, and I awkwardly lowered my hand...
"Maybe... I should make a couple more Molotovs. It looks like zombies aren't very resistant to high temperatures."
I got right to it.
I searched the storeroom carefully, found a roll of bandages and some medical cotton, and used them to make two more Molotovs with a couple of bottles of alcohol. Once they were ready, I left the floor and continued downstairs.
That last commotion had sent me straight back to the ninth floor. The zombies should all be cleared out now, right?
But... why had the zombies gathered on the sixth floor?
Was something inside attracting them?
My head was full of questions.
When I reached the sixth floor, I found three zombie corpses at the turn of the fire escape. It was obvious they hadn't died of natural causes, though I didn't even know if zombies could die naturally...
But the three bodies were interesting.
Two of them were clearly old corpses, their skin a much darker shade of gray. But the third... wasn't a zombie!
"Could this... be a survivor who made it through one wave of trouble?"
I walked over and examined the body closely.
He was a grown man with two guns in his hands. Most importantly, he wore protective gear—the bulletproof kind. He looked like SWAT. Zombies had bitten him to pieces, but his fatal wound was definitely to the head.
Judging from the small hole in his right temple and the spatter of dried blood on the wall to the left of the body, he'd shot himself with his right hand. After he died, the zombies had eaten some of the flesh from his body.
I checked and found that both the pistol in his right hand and the shotgun slung over him were out of ammunition. I couldn't say for sure what had happened, but the most logical explanation was...
"He came in from outside... then ran out of ammo and killed himself rather than turn into one of those monsters? But why..."
I looked up at the Iron Gate behind the body.
"Why didn't he go inside the sixth floor? If he'd gone in, could he have had a chance to survive?"
Something was off... The man was leaning against the door. It was obvious he hadn't simply chosen not to go in. It was more like...
"Was he protecting someone?"
I rubbed my chin, now completely free of stubble, and pictured the scene in my mind.
A group... or maybe just a few people, had been forced to rush into the hospital for some reason. But on the way, they'd used up all their ammunition fighting off the huge numbers of zombies.
Underestimating the zombies, they couldn't escape or keep going upstairs. Then, for some reason, the man had acted as a decoy. After ending his own life with his last bullet, he'd collapsed here.
I set aside my imagined scenario. My desire to see living people still drove me to reach for the sixth-floor Iron Gate.
"Rattle..."
"Is something blocking the gate from the other side?" I frowned and stopped pushing. Instead, I went over, moved the corpse that was sitting against the Iron Gate aside, and laid him down carefully despite the stench that made me hold my breath.
This man had chosen death rather than becoming one of those things. He was a real man. He deserved respect.
Before you continue