Author's Leave Request
July 18th. Clear skies.
At last, I’m about to arrive at the hospital. My safe house is only five streets away from the hospital. Before the zombie outbreak, it would have taken half an hour to get there. Now, it has taken a full ten days.
Zombies roaming the streets, those that have evolved and developed intelligence, those that have disguised themselves as humans…all of them were obstacles. The armed squad has already turned into zombies. Only the doctor and I remain.
Along the way, we were even dragged into a conflict between two groups of survivors. I can’t understand it. Why still fight for power in a situation like this? Why not learn from me and write novels instead?
Fortunately, I kept my wits about me. I grabbed the doctor and fled before their shootout attracted the zombies. After that disaster, I wonder how many of them survived.
This is no longer my concern. Right now, the most important thing is to reach the hospital and uncover the secret behind the zombies.
It’s so strange. Previously, I had fled the hospital in such haste that I didn’t notice anything unusual. Now that I look at it again, the place really feels unnervingly strange.
There isn’t even an iron fence enclosing the hospital; otherwise, I wouldn’t have escaped so easily. This makes no sense.
Moreover, not a single zombie has approached the hospital, as though something terrifying lurked within.
Both the doctor and I sensed something amiss. We’ve decided to spend the night in a building across the hospital, watch for any movements, and discuss our next steps.
Strange. Am I seeing things? Someone just left the hospital, yet the wandering zombies showed no reaction at all.
It seems I’ll be in for a sleepless night. I probably won’t be able to write my novel tonight.
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