The wailing of the undead grew louder as they pressed into the alley, their rotting hands scraping against the walls, their decayed throats gurgling hungrily. Shao didn't hesitate—he grabbed a discarded cloth, wrapped his hand, and smashed the nearby low window. The sound of shattering glass was drowned out by the approaching groans.
"Quick!" he hissed.
Yunfeng didn't need to be told twice. He hoisted himself up, glass crunching under his boots, and tumbled inside.
The room was pitch dark. The only light came from the flickering orange glow outside, the remnants of the chopper burning. Yunfeng caught his breath, his pulse pounding in his ears.
Shao landed beside him, grimacing as he quickly brushed the stray glass shards from his sleeves.
A loud scream echoed from outside, followed by a rapid burst of gunfire.
Yunfeng flinched. He clenched his fists, his flames itching to come out, but he forced them down. He wasn't stupid—if he lit up, the zombies would see them immediately.
