"Don't let go, don't let go..."
Lyon gripped the cloth strip tightly, his body suspended in mid-air, his eyes fixed on the fabric, but his fingers were losing strength, trembling as his hands struggled to hold onto the fragile lifeline.
The surroundings were silent; the empty street was deserted. In the distance, the wind rustled leaves, creating a faint rustling sound. It felt as if the entire world was awaiting an inevitable conclusion.
Yet, fear spread through him, his chest heaving violently, as if a beast was about to break free from within him.
He suddenly remembered the college girl who lived two stories below, and a spark of hope flickered in his heart. She was a quiet, petite girl, and their last meeting was a month ago. Returning from the supermarket, she had shyly asked to trade a bottle of water for one of his instant noodles, saying it reminded her of her childhood.
He had given her two packs of noodles instead, refusing the water. She blushed and softly thanked him. That simple, peaceful moment now felt so distant.
His life was now in her hands, and he stubbornly believed she would help him.
"Save me! Please!"
Instead of climbing up, he slid down further to close the girl's window. He knew the sudden movement could break the rope, but he had no choice, clinging to his last hope.
One meter... half a meter... ten centimeters.
He was almost there.
If only she would open the window and reach out, he might survive. Struggling with all his might, he extended his arm toward the ledge.
The tearing sound of the cloth grew louder and sharper, and a tear had already appeared.
Fear consumed him as dizziness washed over like waves, his body swaying uncontrollably. Miraculously, he managed to grab the window ledge, and the sound of ripping stopped momentarily. He tried to balance his toes on the smooth wall and lifted his head with difficulty.
A white dress appeared, and two limp arms hung by her sides, showing no sign of movement. His heart sank. With everyone locked inside their homes, human nature was changing. He wasn't sure if this was still the shy college girl, but he had to try.
"God, save me! I beg you!" he cried desperately.
His face was flushed red with effort, but the girl remained motionless, standing there indifferently. His heart grew cold.
Was humanity really turning to stone in these trying times?
Struggling, he used all his strength to hook his right arm onto the narrow ledge and looked up at her with pleading eyes.
What he saw froze his blood: a face pale to near transparency, shriveled eyes like rotting fruit cores soaked in stagnant water, and two eerie streams of black liquid trailing down her cheeks, dripping from her tongue.
His mind exploded—this wasn't a living person. It was a corpse—a long-dead hanging corpse!
A hoarse scream tore from his throat, breaking the silence. Everything spun wildly before his eyes, the gray sky and garbage bins blending into a blur. His grip slipped—the cloth tore with a sharp snap, ending his hold on life.
In the next moment, his body crashed against the cold iron surface, shattering the street's silence. Bright red blood spread, staining the empty concrete.
---
Suddenly, a short scream broke the silence. The volunteers gasped, their necks stretched as if gripped by an invisible hand, unable to make a sound. After a heavy thud, the apartment returned to eerie silence, as if nothing had happened.
The volunteers stood stiffly, like clay statues. The quarantine zone felt like an uninhabited wasteland; despite the accident, there wasn't a single cry from the other side. Time seemed to freeze until Lincoln, his face pale, whispered,"We need to go!"
His words shattered an invisible barrier. Several volunteers bolted like frightened rabbits, their footsteps chaotic and hurried. They didn't stop until they had run a mile, gasping for breath as they collapsed one by one on a concrete barrier, looking disheveled.
Mo Wen, carrying a heavy backpack, sat down and pulled out a bottle of water. He was about to take a sip when he noticed Hai Ying's pale face and trembling lips. He handed the bottle to her silently,"Drink some water."
"Thanks." Hai Ying accepted the bottle, her voice hoarse, her hands shaking so much she couldn't open the cap.
Mo Wen glanced at her and helped twist the cap open. Then he looked up, his throat dry, and asked,"Anyone else need water?"
Some people pulled out their own water bottles, drinking deeply to dilute their fear; others silently took Mo Wen's bottle, their terror evident on their faces.
Jerry looked particularly tense, glancing around nervously, his voice anxious,"That person...can he survive?"
"No need to ask. Falling from that height, the chances are almost zero," Joe answered quietly, his voice heavy with suppressed emotion.
"Why would a young person be so desperate?" Sima frowned, seemingly talking to himself,"Why didn't he try to contact the community? Jumping down is too extreme."
"Didn't you notice?" Jerry frowned, his tone frustrated,"The place where he fell—why was it dead silent, not even a dog's bark? There were no community staff, just eerie silence." His voice dropped, fear creeping into his eyes,"Could it be... everyone there has turned into zombies?"
"Don't talk nonsense!" Tanaka's tone was harsh, clearly not wanting such speculation to spread among the group, though his trembling voice revealed his true thoughts.
The oppressive atmosphere had taken root. Everyone remained silent, though they didn't respond to Jerry's comment, the doubt in their eyes was undeniable.
After a moment, Sima sighed deeply, a touch of self-mockery in his tone,"I took this high-paying job thinking the manager forgave my mistake. Now it seems... it was a big joke."
His words added weight to the already tense atmosphere.
Even the always optimistic Joe's expression darkened,"My girlfriend has been getting close to my boss. I just wanted to save money to buy a ring and win her back. She seems like a different person, saying she doesn't need anything..."
His words felt like an invisible hook, grabbing everyone's deepest fears. Silence fell over the group, only broken by the distant cawing of crows, like an ominous omen.