"Run!"
With a scream of horror, the hearts of the people inside the church trembled. Everyone was shocked by what was happening and looked at each other in dismay, realizing they were under attack. They immediately understood they had to get out of there as soon as possible, and all of them followed Ennis toward a back door.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
But just as Balk, who was running at the front, was about to enter the hallway, he heard two loud bangs from both sides. A cloud of gunpowder smoke filled the air, and explosions echoed from the main door, which had been blown open.
But how could Balk let the enemy enter as they pleased? He couldn't allow them to be attacked without responding with equal force, so he raised his rifle and fired toward the church entrance.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
"Fire! Damn it, open fire!"
Balk took cover and began leading a counterattack against the attackers, but when his eyes fixed on the hospital entrance, he saw greenish lasers and black-clad figures with ballistic shields. He instantly knew this was no ordinary attack.
As soon as the lasers locked onto the people inside the church, bullets rained down, and in no time, they were being massacred. There was no comparison between offense and defense—no one could stop those entering the church.
"Damn it! Come on, shoot those bastards!"
But just when he thought they could hold out a little longer, suddenly glass shattered, and terrified screams erupted behind him.
Balk turned his head, and the pungent smell of gasoline filled his nostrils. He saw furious flames rising at the edges of the church, preventing them from escaping through the side windows or doors. In an instant, they were surrounded by fire.
With resistance proving useless, Balk and the others were distracted when a flaming bottle of gasoline flew through one of the windows. Before he could react, it crashed into a pile of debris they were about to climb, and the flames instantly lit up their figures.
Countless drops of cold sweat rolled down Balk's forehead. His legs gave out, and he collapsed to the floor, staring at the sea of flames in front of him. If he had climbed up right then, he would've been burned to death. It wasn't just the supplies that would've been lost—but his own life too.
"They're at the windows! Fire! Fire!"
Seeing that most exits were blocked, the crowd quickly retreated toward the back door while resisting the advance of the black-clad figures at the church's main entrance. The remaining Vultures who hadn't escaped through the back door fired wildly in all directions.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Boom!
Suddenly, gunfire inside the church intensified, mixed with the horrified screams of the crowd and cries of pain. Though the enemy was unknown and unidentifiable, they knew that unless they killed those at the door, they would all suffocate sooner or later.
Some bullets hit the windows, shattering the glass and eliminating potential escape routes. The broken fragments rained down onto the floor.
Click.
As the crowd fired nonstop, one by one, their weapons clicked empty—signaling that they were out of bullets.
"Stop shooting! Those bastards at the entrance are making us waste all our ammo!"
As time passed, a few clever individuals among the crowd began regaining their senses and shouted loudly to warn their companions.
But just as one of them spoke, a Molotov cocktail was thrown from above, and the blazing fire instantly engulfed nearby people in flames, silencing him.
"Help me! Help me!"
"Ahhh!!!"
Unimaginable pain surged through the minds of those being burned alive. Like frenzied walkers, they let out gut-wrenching moans, chasing their companions, begging and grabbing at them, pleading to be saved. But those companions could barely save themselves.
Trying to extinguish their friends' flames would only cause more casualties. The few remaining Vultures couldn't take it any longer—they raised their guns toward their burning companions and, as an act of mercy, ended their suffering with a few shots.
After the first Molotov was thrown, more followed, landing in the open space at the center of the church with a crackling hiss.
"Move to the sides and get out through the corner door! One side, you idiots!"
However, these survivors had wandered the city for a year, faced feral walkers, survived the initial end of the world, and witnessed incendiary bombs fall from above. But now they weren't being attacked by mere untrained survivors—everyone knew these were not civilians before the walkers roamed the streets.
Yet, as more incendiary bombs were thrown and landed near them, escape routes grew fewer. They were pushed toward the church's center, the surrounding smoke thickened, and many began to drift into a trance, forgetting even to keep shooting.
Everyone knew that if they didn't escape in the next few minutes, they would all die here today.
"Damn it!"
Cough Cough Cough!**
A bald, overweight man in the crowd cursed angrily, tossed aside his empty gun, reached into his coat, and pulled out two grenades.
He looked at the grenades, and his eyes filled with pain. Originally, these were weapons he had planned to save for later, but in this situation, there was no need to worry about attracting walkers.
With a grim expression, the man quickly surveyed the area and focused on a possible escape route—the door blocked by fire.
He pulled the pin from the grenade and hurled it toward the doorway, hoping to blast open a path.
Boom!
The grenade landed on the flaming debris pile blocking the door and exploded with a thunderous blast, sending the debris flying to both sides. Though flames still flickered, a passage had been opened!
"Follow me!"
The man rushed to the carpet that had just been placed on the ground, grabbed several blankets not yet consumed by fire, wrapped them around himself, and charged through the gap.
Those who heard him shout moments ago, inspired by his courage, looked at the sea of flames around them and followed without hesitation.
"Ah!"
Waving the blanket in his hand, the man threw it over the flaming debris and forcefully cleared a path.
Even if their feet burned or parts of their bodies were scorched, compared to death, such pain meant nothing!
He threw the blanket over the last wooden crate blocking the way, suppressing the flames temporarily. In the face of life and death, he became a quick and nimble guide.
The people behind him closely followed, and together, they made it through the flaming doorway and escaped the church.
"Keep running! Once we're out of the church, we can hide in the city—the walkers will be drawn to all the noise here."
Just as Balk focused on getting out of the burning church, firing at the enemies at the main entrance, he sensed something was wrong—everyone had suddenly stopped ahead after passing through the flames.
Balk instinctively looked forward. His weapon dropped from his hands as he stared at the dozens of people aiming various weapons at them. Nearby, Ennis was being dragged like a dog, and soon they were all loaded into a vehicle.
Under the light of the fire, a steel cable that had been kicked aside lay at Balk's feet. He slowly raised his head, looked ahead, eyes full of despair, and cursed:
"Shit!"
Removing his mask, the man said, "I'm Shane, buddy. You know, my boss has a few questions for you. That's why we caught some of your people—and that's why you're still alive."
Without another word, Shane flipped his weapon and struck Balk in the head.
Bang!
"Take these ones out of here. And that young woman too. You know what to do with the rest."
"Yes, sir!"
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Amid the terrified screams of those who had surrendered, many were mercilessly executed. Their bodies fell to the ground, bullets lodged in their heads.