One door opened. I don’t know why. The building hadn’t caught fire. It wasn’t possible with just clothes. There was shouting. Blood spurted in the lobby. A prey dressed in armor impaled another prey that was wearing normal clothes. Then the armored prey pressed against the door, slamming it. But the corpse of an other was blocking the way; the door didn’t close. The others pressed forward into the gap, the second door pushing open as well. A stick stabbed into an other’s head, killing it. It collapsed. But all that did was allow more others to approach.

“Shut the door!”

“I can’t! The body’s in the way!”

“Stay calm. Stand your ground. Aim for their eyes and stab. We’ve done this hundreds of times.”

There was one armored prey right next to the door. Stabbing every other that entered, forming a small pile of corpses in front of it. The others couldn’t get past, dying before they could climb over the dead. Were the prey really this strong? Unlike the first time in the metal hunk, these prey aren’t even letting the others inside. Their weapons are longer, pointy sticks instead of blunt sticks.

“Josh, help me push these corpses away.”

I don’t know why the door opened. But if it closes again, it’s over. At least a quarter of the others died. The fewer others there are, the faster they die. The next fifty others to die will die even faster than the first fifty. But how do I stop the prey from closing the door? One prey pushes the dead bodies, the other prey stabs, stopping the others from approaching. A third prey presses against the door, making sure it doesn’t budge. One of those three must be stopped. And only I can do it.

The arrow shooter. I have ten arrows. If I hit at my usual rate, two of them will land. Hitting the prey behind the door is pointless. Only a portion of its head is showing. But it’s covered with a dome. The prey with the long stick is wearing armor, the thick, black, green clothes. It has a dome too. But the glass portion is up. Its face is a tempting target. But the last prey, it isn’t wearing armor. Its clothes don’t even cover ever portion of skin. It doesn’t have a dome either. I’ll shoot that one.

“Watch out!”


I missed. The prey jumped away, out of sight. Even if it didn’t jump, the arrow wouldn’t have hit. It glanced off the door, entering the building, not giving me a chance to retrieve it. The prey with the open dome lowered its visor, shielding its face. The unarmored prey didn’t show any signs of coming back. For now, the door stopped closing.

“Was that an arrow!?”

“I told you guys there was an infected with a bow! It shot Pat while we were hiding in the trees.”

A bow? Is that what the arrow shooter is called? How unintuitive. Shooting the armored prey, it won’t be as effective as shooting the unarmored prey. Should I wait? If I force the prey back, the others can get in. But I have limited arrows. What if I fail? Not only will I lose the time spent on ropes and spikes, I’ll use up all my arrows too. I’ve never tried to make more. I think I could; if prey can make them, I can too. Alright, I’ll force the prey back.

“Bern! What are you doing!?”

The prey retreated when I raised my bow. It hid behind the second door which was pressed shut. The prey behind the door retreated too, its dome no longer showing. An other went in. But it was stabbed in the head by a pointy stick, the weapon coming from out of my view. The prey gave up on moving the bodies to close the door. But they’re still killing the others that go inside. And they moved into positions to avoid my arrows. Does it matter if the door is open if the others die instantly upon entry? The last time, there was a prey up on top of the metal hunk. There’s no easy prey to target now. And after stabbing through one of the holes in the wall, I don’t think any other prey will fall for the same trick. The wound wasn’t deep enough to kill it either. It was pointless.

“Hey! Hey! It’s catching fire!”

What’s catching fire? Not the walls. Not the doors. But the other that just died at the door had its clothes on fire. And the flames were spreading to the dead others’ clothes. But it’s pointless if the building doesn’t burn.

“Shit! Put it out!”

“With what?”

“I don’t know; piss on it or something!”

Why do the prey sound so flustered? It isn’t enough to burn the building down. They have a way to control fire, keeping it indoors. Maybe they’re afraid of their skin melting, their fingernails falling off if they touch it? I see. They can’t push the bodies away if the bodies are on fire. But they couldn’t push them away in fear of being hit by my arrows anyway. Nothing’s changed.

“The door’s getting uncomfortably hot. I don’t know how long you guys want me to hold this for, but you better put out that fire or I’m letting go.”

“Stop being a bitch; it’s not even hot.”

“Then switch with me!”

Prey don’t like touching fire either. Makes sense. Fingernails are useful. The others are still trying to get inside, still dying. There isn’t even anymore room. The pile of dead bodies is almost head high. I don’t think the others could get past even if they weren’t being stabbed. I can’t move more than one dead other at a time. There’s no way an other can push aside six or seven. The pointy sticks coming out of the holes in the walls slowed down. But that doesn’t matter. Another five others are dead. But I don’t think a single prey has died. One prey did stab another. I’m not sure why. It seemed like the prey that was stabbed wanted to open the door, wanted to let the others in. How strange. Should I leave? I’m not in any danger at this moment. Alright. When there are only twenty others or so left alive, I’ll escape from this place. I can’t hurt the prey. But they also can’t hurt me.


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