The sounds of hundreds of zombies echoed outside, a relentless cacophony that seemed to reverberate through the walls. Inside, Alice was trembling, her fear so palpable it nearly brought me to my knees.
Her wide eyes darted around the room, her small frame pressed against the corner as though she could disappear into the shadows. No words could describe the terror etched into her face.
I knelt in front of her, gripping her shoulders gently but firmly. "Alice," I said, my voice steady despite the chaos outside. "I want you to hide under the bed. I'll check if any of the other floors are safe. Got it?"
Her lips quivered as she nodded. Calling her by her name seemed to anchor her, giving her a fragile thread of courage. Without another word, she scrambled to her room, locking the door behind her. I heard the sound of heavy objects being dragged, as she fortified her space just as I had taught her.
Satisfied she was safe for now, I turned toward the door leading out of our apartment. Grabbing a roll of duct tape and my Glock, now equipped with a silencer, I prepared myself for what was to come.
The hallway was dimly lit, the flickering bulbs casting eerie shadows. Each step I took was deliberate and quiet. My gun was raised, my finger poised over the trigger. I couldn't afford to waste ammo—not when every bullet could mean the difference between life and death.
We lived on the third floor, and I knew the second floor was likely crawling with the undead. There was no point in heading down. Instead, I climbed the stairs to the fourth floor, careful to avoid any creaky steps.
"R-ata-rata..."
The guttural growl of a zombie stopped me in my tracks. Above me, I could hear its raspy breaths and the shuffling of its decayed feet. From the sound of it, the zombie was small. A child.
My grip on the Glock tightened. My stomach churned.
"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. "I really don't want to do this... but you're infected. I'm sorry."
Taking aim, I squeezed the trigger. The silencer muted the shot, but the impact was clear. The child-sized zombie crumpled to the ground, its lifeless body splayed out at an unnatural angle.
I swallowed hard, fighting back the wave of guilt that threatened to overwhelm me. No matter how many of these things I killed, I couldn't forget that they were once human. They were once alive.
But this wasn't a time for pity. It was survival.
I continued down the hallway, stopping in front of Room 17. It belonged to my close neighbors. I knew what I would find inside—death. Their fates had been sealed long before the apocalypse had begun.
Pushing the door open slowly, I winced at the sound of creaking wood. The apartment was eerily silent, the air thick with the stench of decay.
"RAHHHH!"
A zombie lunged at me from the shadows, its bloodied face twisted in rage. It was my neighbor. Or at least, it had been.
Without hesitation, I fired three shots into its head. The creature collapsed in a heap, its body convulsing briefly before going still.
I exhaled shakily, stepping over the corpse. The sight was heartbreaking, but I couldn't afford to dwell on it. Some fates couldn't be changed, no matter how much I wanted to. My priority was clear: Alice.
As I turned to leave, a sharp ringing cut through the air. My heart sank.
The bell trap I'd set before leaving our apartment had been triggered.
I rushed downstairs, my boots pounding against the steps. Reaching the third floor, I saw six zombies clawing at the door to our apartment. Their grotesque faces were pressed against the wood, their nails scratching deep grooves into the surface.
Holstering my Glock, I pulled the AR-15 from the holder strapped to my back. Taking aim, I fired controlled bursts, the loud gunshots echoing through the hallway. The zombies fell one by one, their bodies crumpling into lifeless heaps.
But the noise had attracted more attention. I could hear the approaching groans of the horde, their footsteps growing louder with each passing second.
"Fuck," I hissed, retreating behind a nearby corner. My mind raced. I hadn't planned for this. If they reached the door, Alice would be trapped. If they found me, I'd be dead.
Looking around desperately, my eyes landed on a rock lying near the wall. It wasn't much, but it was enough.
I positioned myself carefully, ensuring none of the zombies could see me. Gripping the rock tightly, I threw it with all my strength. It smashed against the far wall, the sound reverberating through the hallway.
The zombies turned immediately, drawn to the noise. As they shuffled toward the sound, I pulled a grenade from my vest.
Pulling the pin, I waited for the perfect moment before tossing it into the group.
BOOM!
The explosion was deafening. Blood and body parts splattered across the walls and floor, the once-menacing horde reduced to a gory mess.
I waited, crouched behind my cover, listening intently for any signs of movement. The silence that followed was unnerving.
Slowly, I emerged from my hiding spot.
But before I could catch my breath, I felt a presence behind me.
"SHIT!"
A zombie tackled me to the ground, its rotting weight pinning me down. Its foul breath assaulted my senses as it snapped its jaws inches from my face.
With a desperate yell, I punched it as hard as I could. My knuckles throbbed, but it barely flinched. Reaching for my combat knife, I blocked its teeth just as they lunged for my throat.
The zombie clawed at my face, its nails slicing into my skin. Pain flared, and I screamed in rage.
"YOU FUCKING COCKSUCKER!"
Summoning all my strength, I kicked it in the stomach, forcing it off me. With one swift motion, I threw my knife, embedding it in its skull.
The creature fell back, momentarily stunned. Seizing the opportunity, I pulled out my Glock and fired.
Three shots to the head.
It was finally dead.
Breathing heavily, I retrieved my knife and wiped it clean on my sleeve. My face stung from the scratches, but I couldn't afford to stop.
I continued my sweep of the building, marking each cleared area with duct tape and a bell trap. By the time I finished, the entire apartment was silent. No sign of life—or death—remained.
Returning to the apartment, I knocked on Alice's door.
"ALICE?! ARE YOU OKAY?" I called, panic setting in when there was no response.
Kicking the door open, I rushed inside. My heart stopped when I saw her motionless on the bed.
But then, she stirred.
"Alan?" she murmured sleepily, rubbing her eyes.
I let out a breath I hadn't realized I was holding.
"Why did you kick the door down?" she asked, her voice laced with confusion.
"It's nothing," I said, relief washing over me. "I'm just glad you're okay."
Two weeks passed. Our supplies dwindled, and the looming threat of starvation forced my hand.
"Big brother, I want to come with you," Alice said one morning as I prepared to leave for the supermarket.
Her words caught me off guard. "You can't. It's too dangerous."
"I can't stay here doing nothing while you risk your life for us," she argued, her voice firm despite the fear in her eyes.
Her determination was undeniable.
"If that's what you want," I relented, placing a hand on her shoulder. "But promise me you'll stay by my side. No matter what."
She nodded, her resolve unwavering.
Together, we stepped out into the apocalyptic world, ready to face whatever horrors awaited us.