Alan never complained about saving people. He had originally become a soldier to fight against the injustices of the world, but the harsh reality was that he only served the interests of his own country.
But now, saving lives in a country he had sworn to protect, Alan felt that even if he died, it would have been worth trying. Because he knew perfectly well that he was fighting for his country, his people, and the uncertain future that awaited the survivors.
Argh!
The growls of the infected—those Alan had labeled as "runners"—echoed as they struggled to climb the stairs. They were slower, but they were definitely coming up.
That's why Alan got ready. As soon as he caught his breath, he ran toward what looked like some pipes and tied a rope he had brought with him.
Then, he turned on a speaker and blasted loud rock music. No explanation was needed—once the sound spread throughout the area, all the runners that had been hiding came rushing out and headed toward the building where Alan was preparing to descend.
"The street with the trucks should be clear of runners by now. It's time." Alan grabbed his pistol and aimed at the stairs, where the moment a runner peeked his head out, a bullet struck and killed him instantly.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
The gunfire had barely started when, less than five minutes later, Alan turned off the speaker. The shots had alerted other runners, who would naturally head toward this area to try to kill him.
"One more minute, and I'm out..." Alan muttered, watching the seconds tick away on his watch.
As planned, Alan would run toward the area where the truck was waiting, hoping to meet up with Claire's van, which was supposed to pick him up.
However, things can always change, and Alan had no idea how things were going for the others while he was fighting to get out alive.
Argh!
There were infected of both types Alan had encountered—runners and stalkers—and they were now entering the building, trying to cut off his escape.
What the stalkers didn't know was that Alan had his exit plan ready to go, and it would serve him well the moment he decided to make a move.
Alan's hands were shaking now—the adrenaline pumping through his body was greater than anything he'd felt in any war.
Just when he was about to leave the building, he spotted a black dot in the sky approaching at high speed.
"A helicopter?" Alan asked himself, a bad feeling settling in.
This wasn't good.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Immediately, Alan grabbed his radio, tuned it to the military's frequency, and said:
"Apache One, Apache One, this is Captain Alan Rogers, Special Forces, Team Six. Distraction mission active, civilians present in adjacent zone. Approximate coordinates: 29.4241 North, 98.4936 West. Requesting immediate delay of strike. I need five minutes to evacuate. I repeat, allied unit still in target zone. Respond."
"Zz…"
There was a long silence. Just as Alan was about to switch frequencies, a robotic voice came through the radio:
"Zz... Copy that, Captain Rogers. Strike delayed for five minutes. We're glad you're still alive."
"Zz... Me too."
Alan quickly rappelled down the building using the rope, hearing the helicopter wiping out the infected that had been drawn to the building.
The gunfire was unmistakable—it was from the fearsome Apache. It made him wonder if several military bases were still operational.
As soon as he hit the street, Alan ran with all his strength without looking back.
An Apache strike is devastating—far more destructive than most people can imagine, especially if the helicopter is fully equipped.
Alan wasn't worried about being extracted—it was impossible for anyone to pick him up in this city, especially with the chaos he had just unleashed.
That's why he focused only on running and hoping he was out of the blast zone.
At the same time, from the other street, Alan saw a van speeding toward him, and he shouted:
"Don't stop! They're about to bomb this area!"
Claire, in the driver's seat, didn't ask anything. She floored the accelerator. A few hundred meters ahead, they met up with the truck that was plowing through vehicles in its path.
Moments later, the helicopter opened fire on all the infected in the building.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Without a doubt, the attack wiped out hundreds—possibly thousands—of infected.
"Are those the military?"
"Bomber squads. Let's get out of the city now," said Alan, who finally managed to catch his breath.