Inside the dorm, the situation wasn't exactly safe—but it was better than outside. There were still zombies roaming the halls, but far fewer. The trio cut through the stragglers with grim efficiency, clearing a path to the stairwell. Without stopping, they charged upward, boots thudding against the concrete steps, until they reached the fourth floor.
That's when Ethan finally collapsed.
He dropped to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, chest heaving, blood soaking through his shredded clothes.
"Henry, get him into a room—now! I'll hold the stairs," Chris barked, already turning to face the stairwell.
"Got it."
Henry slipped under Ethan's arm and half-dragged, half-carried him into the nearest dorm room. Once inside, he eased him down onto the floor and took a sharp breath.
Ethan was a mess.
