After twenty minutes,
They finally left the church. Well—"left" wasn't exactly the right word. With the doors already smashed in when the zombies broke through.
Well, before they left, Luke recycled the Lickers corpses and he got 800 SP, so now he had a neat round total of 1000 SP.
Soon, the group found themselves moving through a cemetery. Moonlight stretched long, crooked shadows across the gravestones, some leaning at odd angles as if even the dead underneath had tried to escape.
The cold night wind rustled through the grass, carrying with it a damp, earthy smell that mixed uncomfortably with the faint stench of decay.
"Ummm… guys, is it fine to walk through a cemetery at night?" asked Terri, her voice low as she hugged herself and looked nervously at the graves around them.
"You scared of ghosts?" Luke asked, tilting his head at her. "I mean, the streets are roamed by things way worse than ghosts. So you've only got this way… or, if you really want, you can try that way." He casually pointed toward a darker alley, where distant screeches echoed like nails on a chalkboard.
Terri thought about it, shivering at the sound. Well, it was better to walk through a cemetery than face those things.
"So, do you know the things that attacked us in the church?" asked Jill, her tone sharp but curious.
"Yes those," Luke said, raising a finger like a teacher about to explain, "are the bio-weapons of the Umbrella Corporation. Made from the cells of the T-Virus. A dangerous thing—fast, unpredictable, and, sadly, a perfect weapon. Courtesy of your truly wonderful Umbrella."
Jill's jaw tightened. "Do those bastards have nothing better to do than create monsters and bring about this type of apocalypse?"
Luke shrugged casually. "Well, how can I know how psychopaths think? But I can say this—99% of Umbrella's higher-ups are complete lunatics. Psychopaths, egomaniacs, self-centered to the extreme."
Except the Alicia Marcus—she was the only one even remotely normal among the sea of maniacs. The rest of Umbrella's top brass? Psychopaths dressed in expensive suits, every single one of them thinking they're smarter than the world.
And then there's Isaacs… easily the most messed-up of the lot. He's the genius who came up with the brilliant idea of wiping out humanity entirely and letting Umbrella rule what's left. That's not strategy, that's pure insanity.
So yeah—Umbrella isn't a corporation, it's a collection of power-hungry psychopaths. I mean, what kind of people even sit in a boardroom, sip their overpriced wine, and agree with a straight face to a plan that wipes out seven billion people?
And for the reason? Oh, it's genius—global warming, food shortages, overpopulation. You know, the usual buzzwords. Their solution? Not renewable energy, not farming tech, not birth control.
Nope. Just erase humanity and crown themselves rulers of the ashes. Real forward-thinking, those guys.
"Yeah, Umbrella is really a messed-up corporation who won't think about others except their own benefits," said Alice, her tone sharp with disgust.
Luke nodded in agreement. "Yep, Umbrella's nothing but a rotten organization," he said flatly. His hand moved in a subtle gesture, like swatting an invisible fly.
At the same time, deep below in the soil, stone spikes burst upward one after another—crack, crack, crack!—piercing the corpses buried in the cemetery's underground.
Bones shattered, muffled thuds echoed beneath their feet, and then silence followed. The dead that would have clawed their way out later never got the chance. Luke made sure of it.
Peyton, trailing a little behind, suddenly staggered. His legs wobbled, and he slumped down heavily on a grave marker, clutching his thigh.
Alice's sharp eyes flickered down instantly—and then she saw it. The bite mark.
Her face hardened, and there was no hesitation in her movements. In one smooth motion, she drew her pistol and aimed it straight at Peyton's head.
Jill reacted just as fast. Her own gun came up, barrel leveled at Alice. "What the hell are you doing?" she snapped, her voice low but deadly serious.
"He's infected," Alice said flatly, not a tremor in her tone. Her finger curled just slightly on the trigger. "Sooner or later he'll become one of them. Better to take care of it now before he rips someone's throat out." Her eyes didn't waver for a second—cold, focused, merciless.
She knew the truth: unless the antivirus was administered quickly—and they didn't have that luxury—there was no saving someone bitten.
The transformation was inevitable. The virus didn't forgive, it didn't wait, and it sure as hell didn't bargain. Killing wasn't cruelty.
It was the only mercy left. Better to let them die as themselves, as human, rather than become a mindless monster gnawing on the faces of the people they once called friends.
"Alice is right. You're doomed to die," Luke said suddenly, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife. He stood beside Peyton and gave his shoulder a firm pat, almost like a doctor breaking bad news to a patient. His sigh carried more pity than malice.
Without an antivirus, Peyton's clock was already ticking. Three hours, maybe four. After that, there would be nothing left but hunger and rage.
"And ladies," Luke added, straightening up and stepping smoothly between the two women.
"You can lower your guns. No one's killing anyone right now." His gaze flickered between Jill and Alice with calm authority. "If he turns, we'll deal with it. Until then, let him die as a man, not as a target."
Jill's grip on her gun stayed rock steady. She glared at Alice. "If he turns," Jill said firmly, "I'll be the one to take care of him. Until then, no one touches him."
Alice lowered her gun.
"Okay," she said evenly, "but you should all understand—the process is inevitable. He'll lose his mind piece by piece, and when that happens, he won't be him anymore. He'll only want to bite, to spread it."