Sitting alone behind a wooden counter, blood pooling beneath me, I gripped my nearly empty gun, steeling myself for what lay ahead.
The air outside was alive with horror—the guttural moans of the undead and the anguished screams of the living. Every sound clawed at my sanity, each scream a reminder of how quickly the world had descended into chaos.
I held my breath, trying not to make a sound, willing myself to disappear into the shadows. My heart thundered in my chest, loud enough to betray me.
But to my despair, I felt a presence behind me. Cold, rotting fingers grabbed at my shoulder, and before I could react, teeth tore into my neck. The pain was indescribable—sharp, burning, and all-consuming. Fear overwhelmed me, more profound and primal than I had ever known.
"AGHHH!" My scream shattered the silence, a desperate, futile plea for salvation.
As the void of darkness crept over me, my strength faded. My fingers trembled, the gun slipping from my grasp, clattering uselessly to the ground.
"No... I can't die yet. This isn't how it ends."
My mind screamed in protest, a torrent of regret surging through me. I want to live. If only I could go back… I would save them. I would save her.
A grim thought surfaced, unbidden. Maybe it's better this way. Maybe it's better to end it on my terms.
With trembling hands, I raised the gun to my temple. The cold metal pressed against my skin, and my finger tightened on the trigger.
The bang was deafening.
And then…
I opened my eyes.
Confused, I blinked against the soft morning light streaming into the room. I was alive. No pain, no zombies. Just the quiet hum of normalcy.
Looking to my side, I saw a framed picture of my sister. It was from ten years ago, before everything fell apart. My breath hitched, my mind reeling.
"No…"
I stumbled out of bed, adrenaline coursing through me. My legs carried me downstairs, panic rising with every step. To my shock, I found her there, sitting on the couch, watching TV like nothing had happened.
"Brother, you're finally up! I made some food. It's on the table," she said cheerfully, glancing back at me.
Her voice hit me like a sledgehammer. Tears blurred my vision, spilling down my cheeks as I ran to her. I pulled her into a hug, holding her tightly, afraid to let go.
I had failed her once. I had let her die. But now, by some miracle, I had another chance. Today was the day it all began—the day the apocalypse consumed the world.
Ten hours. I had ten hours before everything fell apart.
"Big brother? What's wrong?" Her worried voice pulled me back to the present.
I released her, determination hardening my resolve. "Stay here. Lock the doors. Don't open them for anyone, no matter what. Do you understand?"
She hesitated, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What's going on?"
"Just do as I say," I insisted, grabbing my bag. Without wasting another moment, I stepped outside.
The supermarket was my first stop. I swept the shelves clean, grabbing every canned good I could find. Cans of beans, soup, and fruit piled into my cart. The total came to $3,567.86. I handed over the cash without hesitation, ignoring the cashier's raised eyebrows. Money was meaningless in a world that would soon collapse.
Next, I rushed to an arms dealer two kilometers away. The walk felt surreal, as if I were moving through a dream. The streets were peaceful, people going about their lives, blissfully unaware of the horror waiting just hours away.
At the dealership, I purchased an AR-15, a Glock, a sniper rifle, and enough ammunition to supply a small army. The total came to $45,896.90, but I didn't care. No price was too high for survival.
In the apocalypse, preparation was the key to staying alive.
Returning home, I knocked on the door, my heart pounding until my sister opened it. Relief flooded me at the sight of her safe and unharmed.
"Are you crazy?! Why are you buying all this? Mom and Dad won't send money until next month!" she exclaimed, bewildered as she took in the arsenal of weapons and mountain of canned food.
Her frustration felt almost comforting, a reminder of the sibling banter we used to share. But there was no time for nostalgia.
A sudden crash outside shattered the moment.
Car alarms blared, screams pierced the air, and the streets erupted into chaos.
It had begun.
I looked out the window, my sister trembling beside me. The first wave of the undead was already swarming, their grotesque forms staggering toward the sounds of panic. Then came the loud banging on our door.
Gripping my Glock, I stepped forward.
"What are you doing?!" my sister cried, panic rising in her voice.
Ignoring her protests, I unlocked the door. The creature outside was the same one that had taken her from me before.
As the door swung open, the zombie lunged. Its decaying hands clawed at me, its teeth snapping hungrily. I kicked it back, sending it sprawling onto the ground. Without hesitation, I raised my gun and fired.
Blood and brain matter splattered across the porch, the stench of death overwhelming.
My sister screamed, horrified.
"W-what did you do? You killed him!" she cried, her hands covering her mouth.
"It wasn't a person," I said coldly, reloading the gun. "It was a monster."
Looking out the window, I saw the horde closing in, drawn by the noise of the gunshot.
"Oh fuck," I muttered, yanking the curtains closed.
"Shh. Don't make a sound," I whispered, locking the door and barricading it with furniture.
My sister stared at me, wide-eyed, her fear palpable. "What's happening? What's going on?"
"The world's ending," I said simply, checking the safety on my guns.
For a moment, she was silent, trying to process my words. Then, her expression hardened. "What do we do?"
I looked at her, pride swelling despite the dire circumstances. She was scared, but she was ready to fight.
"We survive," I said.
The hours that followed were a blur of preparation. We boarded up the windows, distributed weapons, and set traps near the entrances. Every sound outside made us flinch, every distant scream a reminder of the danger creeping closer.
Night fell, shrouding the city in darkness. The undead swarmed in greater numbers, their groans echoing through the empty streets.
Sitting in the dimly lit living room, my sister clutched a bat tightly in her hands. Her knuckles were white, her face pale but determined.
"We'll make it through this," I promised, my voice steady.
She nodded, her eyes meeting mine.
I wouldn't fail her again.
This time, I would protect her. No matter what.
Character Features:
Alan: Black hair slightly brown, brown eyes, white but slightly tanner. (20 years old.) (187 cm height and 67 kg.)
Alice: Brown hair, brown eyes, white. (17 years old.) (154 cm height and 48 kg.)