I looked at the person next to me in panic. Now that the fog had cleared, I realized it was a boy.

He looked around 17-18 years old. I remembered the building I had seen before the 'attack'. I looked around for it. There!
It wasn't that far away anymore.

I took a deep breath and coughed again. I got up slowly and wanted to carry the person, but it was too heavy for me. He was still unconscious. I looked around for a solution and discovered a wheelbarrow.

With quick steps, I walked in the direction where the wheelbarrow was. I picked it up and straightened it up. It was still whole, but rusted.

The fog was gone, but the cold was still there. The wheelbarrow was also very cold. I pulled my sleeves over my hands and pushed the wheelbarrow over to the boy.

I pulled him onto the wheelbarrow with full force and frantically pushed it toward the old building. It was hard to keep the wheelbarrow upright, and I was afraid it would tip over.

Unexpectedly I heard a low voice but kept walking. That voice mumbled quietly something again. This time I stopped and tried to understand what the voice was trying to say and where the voice was coming from.

'Help'
Whispered the voice. I was shocked to learn that the voice came from the boy lying on the wheelbarrow.

I grabbed the handles of the wheelbarrow again, this time pushing it faster. We were almost at the building.

The entrance to the building didn't look very inviting, but I had no other choice. The door looked very old, and the wood was damp, adding that the door handle was rusty.

The windows were smashed, and red traces could be seen everywhere.

Wait ... is that blood?