Two gunshots echoed through the aging neighborhood, shattering the eerie silence. The zombies, already in a frenzy, surged toward the source of the noise. Vincent had fired the shots from the edge of the rooftop, the sound dispersing in all directions. While the undead were drawn to noise, they lacked the cognitive ability to navigate complex paths. Unless the route was straightforward—like a stairwell—they’d simply swarm aimlessly. Thanks to the closed shutters and reinforced barriers on the ground floor—some sealed before the outbreak, others by Brook and his men—the horde couldn’t easily breach the building.

  The gunfire had intensified the chaos. Zombies poured into the building Vincent and the group had just escaped, their guttural roars echoing through the streets. The rooftop was now a death trap, with zombies tumbling over the edge in a macabre cascade, piling up in the narrow alley below. The sheer weight of the horde created a grotesque mound of bodies, nearly half a story high. And as more zombies pressed forward, the living began climbing over the dead, inching closer to the rooftop.

  If Vincent kept this up, the alley would soon be filled to the brim, creating a gruesome ladder for the undead to reach the rooftop. Alternatively, the pile might grow high enough for the zombies to smash through a lower-floor window, triggering a chain reaction that would flood the building. But Vincent wasn’t interested in playing zombie exterminator. The undead were endless, and the risks far outweighed the rewards.

  After firing the shots, Vincent and the group took a moment to watch the surreal spectacle of zombies plummeting to their second deaths. But there was no time to celebrate their narrow escape from starvation. Vincent quickly led the group north across the rooftops.

  This building was massive, stretching forty meters wide and nearly a hundred meters long. At the northern edge, they found another ladder, already in place. They added the two ladders they’d brought, creating a stable bridge to the next rooftop. One by one, they crossed, leaving the chaos behind.

  After traversing several rooftops, they reached the northernmost building on the street. Below them was a crossroad, still teeming with zombies, though not as densely packed as the previous location. The group paused, catching their breath and scanning their surroundings.

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  “How did Brook and his men get out of here?” Robby wondered aloud, his eyes narrowing as he studied the area. “Do you think they’re still in this building?”

  Vincent shook his head. “Would you set up an escape route like this? One that doesn’t even get you off the street?”

  Robby conceded the point. Brook wasn’t a fool. There had to be another way.

  Vincent leaned against the waist-high concrete barrier, gazing down at the streets below. “Brook wasn’t stupid. If we didn’t do it this way, neither would he. There’s got to be something else.” He turned to the group. “Take a break. We’re not in a rush. Jason, come here. Let me check your injuries.”

  Jason’s arms were scraped and bruised from his daring leap, but the wounds weren’t serious. Vincent cleaned and bandaged them, ensuring they were protected from infection. In this world, even a drop of zombie blood could be fatal.

  The rooftop was smaller than the previous ones, about two to three hundred square meters, but its solid concrete barriers offered better protection. The group rested, some sitting, others standing, as Vincent tended to Christine’s wound in a secluded spot behind the rooftop access shed. When they emerged, Christine’s cheeks were flushed, and Manny shot her a curious look before pulling her aside for a whispered conversation.

  Meanwhile, Robby had been scouting the perimeter. He called Vincent over to the eastern edge of the rooftop, where a narrow alley stretched below. “Look there,” Robby said, pointing to a cluster of cars and zombies. “See that manhole cover? It’s partially hidden, but it’s there.”

  Vincent squinted, following Robby’s gaze. The alley was a dead end, blocked by a wall about twenty meters in. A few cars were piled near the entrance, their positions too deliberate to be accidental. “Those cars were pushed there,” Robby explained. “Probably by Brook and his men. They used them to block the zombies from wandering into the alley.”

  Vincent nodded, piecing it together. “So, Brook’s escape route was through the sewer. They lured the zombies in, then slipped into the manhole and sealed it behind them. The zombies inside now must’ve been left behind when Brook’s group made their escape.”

  Robby stared at Vincent, impressed. “You figured all that out just from what I said?”

  Vincent smirked. “Don’t flatter me. You’re the one who spotted the details. You’ve got a sharp eye—no wonder you made it out of the war alive.”

  Vincent knew he wasn’t the only smart one in the group. Sometimes, his decisiveness overshadowed others’ contributions, but he respected their skills. He clapped Robby on the shoulder before turning to address the group.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” Vincent called out, clapping his hands to get their attention. “Let’s figure out how to get out of here.”