At that mont, a crushing sense of suffocation hit him.
Chris instantly realized what was happening.
Quicksand.
Once you fall in, there's no getting out. A wave of despair surged through his chest.
"Is this really it for ?"
"All my life, I've danced on the edge of death and always made it out sohow. Is this finally the end?"
He muttered to himself as flashes of his past played through his mind like a reel of mories—just like they say happens before you die.
Chris could feel it clearly—his body was still sinking.
Even with the enhanced physique of an Awakener, there were limits to what he could endure.
The suffocation was getting worse.
His brain, starved of oxygen, started to spin. Dizziness washed over him in waves.
He kept falling, deeper and deeper. His consciousness began to blur, everything turning hazy.
But then—
Suddenly, a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him upward with a powerful pull, dragging him out.
Whoosh—
Cool air rushed into his lungs. Chris gasped greedily, his chest heaving as he sucked in breath after breath.
His foggy mind began to clear.
Slowly, he opened his eyes.
Everything around him was pitch black. He couldn't see a thing—not even his own hand in front of his face. The air was damp and cold. The scene had completely changed.
"Is this... hell?"
"No. It's the Underground Ruins," ca Sean's calm, sharp voice as his face appeared in the dim light.
"Huh?" Chris blinked, startled. He reached down and touched the ground beneath him—it was cold and hard, like stone.
He glanced around and spotted Brandon and Oliver nearby, brushing sand off their clothes.
"I'm... not dead?" Chris sat up, realizing they were in so kind of corridor. Behind him was a massive pile of sand.
Sean nodded. "Yeah. You were flailing around in the sand pile. I called out to you, but you didn't respond, so I pulled you out."
"..." Chris's face twitched. He turned to look at the sand pile—it had poured in through a hole in the ceiling. It didn't even seem that deep. He suddenly felt kind of dumb.
"You pulled Brandon and Oliver out too?"
"Nope. They climbed out on their own," Sean replied.
"...Right." Chris got the picture now. He'd basically slid down through the quicksand and ended up in this Underground Ruins place.
He scanned the area, but couldn't make out much. Still, the important thing was—he was alive. He'd dodged death yet again. That realization hit him hard, and he let out a long, emotional sigh. "Man... I really just took another stroll past death's door."
"You were just flailing around in so sand," Brandon said dryly from the side.
Now that they were all safe, the tension started to ease. They began to take in their surroundings. The walls and floor were made of black stone slabs, and the corridor stretched into darkness with no end in sight.
"What the hell is this place?" Oliver asked, frowning.
"Could be a tomb?" Chris guessed.
Brandon crossed his arms and rubbed his chin. "Co on, this is a post-apocalyptic story, not a tomb-raiding one. I'm thinking it's more like so kind of ancient ruins or sothing."
"Well, at least we're not being chased by monsters anymore," Oliver said with a sigh of relief.
Even with their sharp senses, there was no way those Black-Skin Zombies could sniff them out down here.
"Don't be so sure," Brandon muttered, thinking aloud. "This could just as easily be a monster nest."
That thought sent a chill through the group. They all silently hoped that wasn't the case. But honestly, a place like this? It wouldn't be surprising if it was crawling with sothing worse.
They huddled together, discussing what to do next.
In the end, they decided to stay put.
There didn't seem to be any imdiate danger, and the pitch-black corridor ahead didn't exactly inspire confidence. None of them felt like playing explorer right now.
The Black-Skin Zombies and those giant bugs they'd run into earlier were bad enough.
If they ran into sothing even weirder down here? Yeah, no thanks.
So, they stayed where they were, hoping Ethan or Mia would find them eventually...
And just like that, the four of them slumped down against the cold stone wall, waiting in silence.
No one said another word.
The air grew still.
And in the darkness, everything fell quiet.
Grrrrrrr... Grrrrrrr...
Not long after, the sound of a growling stomach broke the silence.
Chris clutched his gut, the hunger hitting him like a punch to the ribs.
"Hey! Any of you got sothing to eat?"
"Nope," the other three shook their heads in unison.
"Okay... what about water? I'll take a sip of anything at this point," Chris asked again. He'd already been parched during the escape, and now it was getting unbearable.
But again, they all shook their heads.
"Nothing."
"My canteen got swept away in the quicksand," Sean added.
"...Seriously?" Chris stared at them, speechless. Then it hit him—there was a bigger problem here.
They'd all been relying on Ethan for food. None of them had packed much for themselves. And now? They'd been scattered by that monster attack.
He rembered Ethan saying he'd handle als for everyone. Yeah, well... good luck eating now.
"So what the hell do we do without food or water?"
"That's a real problem," Brandon said, his tone turning grim. "We can go without food for a while, but no water? We'll be dead from dehydration way before anyone finds us."
They might not even last long enough to be rescued.
Oliver's eyes glazed over as he recalled sothing. "Back when I was part of a rescue team in Rancho Cucamonga a few months ago... we found so survivors holed up in a basent. They ran out of food completely. Ended up surviving by... eating each other's shit."
"Ugh—what the hell, man?!" Chris recoiled, face twisted in disgust.
Was that supposed to be a suggestion?
But honestly, in a world like this, it wasn't even that shocking. People had done worse to survive. Nothing was off the table anymore.
"If it cos down to it, we might have to," Brandon said, dead serious.
"..." Chris fell silent. He really didn't want to go out like that.
Then Sean chid in, deadpan, "Well, I usually take big dumps. Guess you guys lucked out."
...
anwhile, back on the dusty streets of Albuquerque, the wind howled and kicked up clouds of sand.
Ethan was still out there, hunting for more zombies.
He and Jerky had just entered a dark, musty basent. Five or six zombies were lurking inside, their skin shriveled, hair falling out in clumps, faces twisted and grotesque.
As soon as they stepped in, Jerky raised his voice, rallying the room. "Listen up! Our boss is planning to regroup the city's zombies—form a real Zombie Horde. This is our shot!"
"Oh, so we're volunteering to be target practice now?"
A zombie in the corner lifted its head, voice dry and bitter. "We're already starving. Even if we band together, we're no match for the Black-Skin Zombies. All that'll do is get us killed faster. If you wanna die, go find so other suckers."
"Oh? So you're out, huh?" Jerky sneered, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Well, boss said anyone who joins gets steak. Guess that's one less mouth to feed."
"Wait, what?" The other zombies perked up, ears twitching, eyes gleaming with sudden hunger.
Just the word steak was enough to stir sothing primal.
"There's really steak?" one of them asked, voice trembling.
"Co on, that's bullshit," the corner zombie snapped. "There hasn't been a living cow in this city for months. The whole place is a desert. You ever seen a steak grow out of sand?"
Ethan looked over at him, eyes narrowing slightly. "Huh... smart one, aren't you?"
...
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