Chapter 63: The Road to the Fortieth Floor

The next morning, Zarek left the apartment alone.

Elsa, Ayesha, and Mara remained behind.

He had no intention of bringing them along on an expedition into an area where even experienced survivors had died. Their abilities had value, but that didn’t mean he needed to take them into every dangerous situation.

Besides, he wanted to see what the old man had discovered for himself.

By the time Zarek reached the upper floors, the old man was waiting with his team. Several men carried firearms, while others had packed bags containing food, water, and basic supplies.

They looked prepared for a long journey, though the weapons in their hands suggested they expected trouble long before they reached their destination.

The old man glanced at Zarek, then turned toward the stairwell.

"Everyone ready? We’re leaving."

Nobody complained. The group began moving almost immediately, with two men taking the lead and the others following behind. The old man walked near the middle, while Zarek stayed toward the back, watching how they moved.

They weren’t amateurs. The men in front checked corners before advancing, and those behind kept enough distance to avoid crowding one another.

They spoke only when necessary, and nobody wandered away from the group to investigate something on their own.

The stairwell grew darker as they climbed. Some of the emergency lights still worked, but their weak glow did little to illuminate the landings ahead.

Dust covered the steps, and old stains marked the walls. Here and there, they passed discarded bags and personal belongings left behind by people who had fled in a hurry.

The higher they went, the less the building resembled a place where anyone could live.

After several floors, one of the men at the front raised his hand. The others stopped.

Something moved beyond the landing.

A low scraping sound came from the corridor, followed by a wet shuffle. One of the armed men stepped forward cautiously and peered around the corner. He immediately pulled back.

"Mutant. Coming this way."

The creature emerged before anyone could say more. It had once been human, but its body had swollen unevenly, and dark growths covered parts of its skin. Its movements were clumsy, yet it charged as soon as it spotted them.

The leading men opened fire.

The gunshots echoed through the stairwell. The creature staggered under the bullets but kept coming, forcing the nearest man to retreat.

Another survivor moved sideways, waited for a clear angle, and fired several more rounds into its head.

The mutant collapsed against the wall.

Nobody rushed toward it. They waited until it stopped moving before approaching, and even then, they kept their distance.

"Keep moving," the old man ordered.

The group resumed the climb.

Zarek glanced at the corpse as he passed. The creature hadn’t been especially dangerous, but it had taken several bullets to put down. If they encountered too many of them, ammunition could become a problem.

He continued without commenting. The expedition wasn’t his responsibility to manage, and he had no reason to waste his attention on every small obstacle.

They encountered two more mutants over the next few floors. The first was dealt with quickly.

The second appeared from a room with its body twisted around a swollen growth, nearly catching one of the men before the others dragged him clear and finished it off.

By then, the team had become more cautious. The men at the front no longer moved as quickly, and the old man occasionally stopped to examine the surroundings before allowing them to continue.

Zarek noticed another change as well.

The walls were no longer merely stained or damaged. Thin, dark strands had begun appearing in the cracks between the concrete panels.

At first, there were only a few, easy to mistake for dried roots or cables. Farther up, they grew thicker, spreading across the corners and disappearing beneath doors.

He stopped beside one that crossed the wall at shoulder height.

The surface looked damp. Its color was darker than the surrounding growth, and faint ridges ran along its length.

"Don’t touch those," the old man warned when he noticed Zarek examining the strand. "They weren’t there the last time I came through."

Zarek glanced at him. "Then they’re spreading."

"Yes."

The old man continued up the stairs without explaining further. Zarek followed, keeping an eye on the dark strands as they grew thicker along the walls.

The next landing was almost entirely covered in vegetation. Thick strands stretched from the ceiling to the walls, some hanging low enough that the men had to duck beneath them.

Others disappeared into the stairwell above, blocking their view of the next floor.

The old man ordered everyone to stop.

He approached the nearest strand carefully, studying the space around it before pointing toward a narrow gap along the wall.

"One at a time. Keep away from the growth, and don’t let your equipment brush against it."

The first man slipped through. The others followed, taking care not to touch the dangling strands. Zarek went last, easily passing through the gap without disturbing anything.

Halfway across the landing, a thin tendril snapped toward the man ahead of him.

It moved far faster than its size suggested.

The man twisted away, but the tip caught his sleeve. He stumbled backward, shouting as the strand tightened around his arm and dragged him toward the wall.

"Cut it!"

A teammate lunged forward with a blade. The first strike barely damaged the tendril. The second severed it, and the man fell hard against the floor.

The detached piece continued writhing beside him.

Nobody waited to see whether it would recover. Two men grabbed their injured companion and pulled him away while the old man ordered the others to move back.

Zarek watched the severed strand twitch against the concrete. It wasn’t simply a root growing through the building. Whatever controlled it could react to nearby movement, and the speed of its attack made it dangerous even when it was barely visible.

The injured survivor struggled to his feet. His sleeve was torn, but the tendril hadn’t touched his bare skin.

"Can you walk?" someone asked.

"I can."

"Then keep moving."

The old man looked over the group, making sure nobody else had been caught. Once he was satisfied, he led them onward.

The next stretch was worse.

They found growth covering entire sections of the walls, with thicker tentacles running across the floors. The team had to move slowly, searching for clear paths between them.

Sometimes the old man recognized a route and guided them around an obstruction. At other times, they had to retreat and find another way.

Every obstruction slowed them down, and the old man had to keep finding paths through the spreading growth.

Then a scream came from behind them.

One of the men had stepped onto a thin strand hidden beneath the dust. It coiled around his ankle before he could pull away, and another tendril dropped from above, striking his shoulder.

He fell, clawing at the floor as the growth dragged him toward a mass of roots spreading across the wall.

His companions tried to reach him, but more strands began moving around the landing.

"Back!" the old man shouted.

For a moment, the man remained close enough that they might have saved him. Then the tentacles pulled him into the growth. His screams continued for several seconds before stopping.

Nobody moved.

One of the survivors took a step toward the wall, but the old man caught his arm and pulled him back.

"He’s gone. You go after him, and we’ll lose more people."

The man stared at him, breathing hard, but he didn’t argue.

They had come here knowing the danger. That knowledge didn’t make watching someone die any easier, but it left them with little choice except to continue or turn back empty-handed.

The old man looked toward the stairs above them.

"We’re close. Stay alert."

Zarek watched the others gather themselves before following. The dead man had been unfortunate, but his death had also revealed something useful.

The tentacles could conceal themselves beneath dust and react before a person realized they were standing on them.

He would need to watch his footing.

The group advanced more slowly after that. They checked every step and avoided the places where the growth clustered most heavily.

The old man occasionally guided them around particularly dangerous patches, relying on his previous experience to keep them moving.

Eventually, the stairwell opened onto a landing where the growth became so dense that it seemed to cover almost every available surface. Thick tentacles spread across the walls and ceiling, converging toward a corridor ahead.

The men stopped without being told.

Even the old man took a moment to study what lay before them. He had seen the growth before, but there was more of it now, and it had spread farther than he remembered.

Zarek stepped beside him.

"Fortieth floor?"

The old man nodded.

"Yes. We’re here."

Beyond the landing, something shifted among the tangled mass of roots.

A deep, muffled sound rolled through the corridor. It was too heavy to be the movement of a small mutant, and the tentacles nearest the opening began to stir in response.

Excitement stirred in Zarek as he stepped forward.

"Let’s see it."