Luke's heart pounded as he quickened his pace, drawn by the escalating sounds of chaos. As he turned a corner, a sudden scene unfolded before him. A young girl, perhaps in her early twenties, sprinted frantically down the street, her wide eyes filled with terror.
Her blonde hair was disheveled, strands clinging to her sweat-streaked face. She glanced over her shoulder, her breath coming in ragged gasps, as if sheer panic fueled her every step.
Her foot caught on a jagged piece of rubble, sending her sprawling onto the asphalt. She landed hard, her palms scraping against the rough surface, leaving smears of blood in their wake. She tried to push herself up, her face contorted in pain and fear, but her movements were clumsy, desperate.
"Help! Please, someone help me!" she screamed, her voice breaking with desperation.
Luke watched, frozen in place, as the girl's eyes locked onto his. Her expression was a haunting blend of hope and despair, obviously pleading for his help. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out, just a silent cry of pain that echoed through the empty street.
Luke felt a little bit overwhelmed in the situation at hand. "The hell, is she okay?" he muttered, walking at a fast pace towards her as he searched for his phone on his bag. "At last, somebody is here..."
As she struggled to her feet, her torn shirt slipped off one shoulder, exposing a bare breast. Her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and fear, but she had no time to fix her clothing.
Suddenly from out of nowhere, some slow, some fast, relentless undead's closed in. Their decaying bodies moved with a stiff, jerky gait, eyes empty but locked onto their prey. One of them, a particularly awful figure with its lower jaw hanging loosely, reached her first. Its bloodied fingers dug into her flesh, dragging her back as she screamed.
The sound tore through Luke, a raw, primal scream that shook him to his core. He could see every detail clearly: the way the girl's eyes widened in horror, her lips trembling as she struggled helplessly. The infected's teeth sank into her shoulder, tearing through skin and muscle. Blood sprayed out, a red arc against the dull gray of the street.
Luke's stomach churned as he watched the grotesque feast unfold. The girl's body jerked violently as more of the undead descended upon her, their mouths tearing into her flesh with brutal efficiency. Her screams turned to gurgles, her eyes rolling back as the life drained from her.
"Please... no... no..." she whimpered, her voice fading as the undead overpowered her.
The infecteds' hands, slick with blood, plunged into her abdomen, pulling out entrails and viscera. Luke's breath came in shallow gasps, his vision narrowing as he took in the horrifying sight. The girl's once vibrant eyes dulled, her body convulsing one final time before going limp.
He couldn't tear his gaze away from the carnage. The sounds of tearing flesh and gnawing teeth filled the air, mingling with the girl's fading cries. Luke felt a cold, paralyzing fear grip him, rooting him to the spot as the gruesome sight played out before him. He could see every twitch, every spasm, as the undead devoured her, leaving nothing but a bloodied, hollow shell.
With a turn of the century, Luke bolted without a single step back. It was only a few seconds later did the unmistakable sounds of pursuit—moans, shuffling feet, and occasional growls—echoed behind him.
Risking a glance over his shoulder, he saw 'zombies' emerging from side streets and alleyways, joining the chase. Among them was a small, short figure—a child that was infected, its mouth smeared with fresh blood and flesh.
"Oh shit, oh shit," Luke gasped, pushing himself to run faster.
He burst through the door of his building, slamming it shut behind him. His breath came in ragged gasps as he struggled to catch his breath. He barely had time to lock the glass door before it shook violently—another 'zombie' that came out of the alleyways had slammed into it, the impact cracking the glass.
"No, no, no!" Luke screamed, backing away. He could see the undead's face pressed against the glass, its dead eyes staring at him hungrily, blood dripping from its mouth.
Without wasting another second, he sprinted up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He could hear the glass door shattering behind him, followed by the heavy footsteps of the undead entering the building.
He reached his floor, his heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst out of his chest. But as he rounded the corner to his apartment, he stopped dead in his tracks. At the far end of the hallway stood another infected, its head jerking towards him at the sound of his approach.
"Oh fuck," Luke whispered, paralyzed by fear. He was trapped, a group of them was behind him and a 'zombie' in front of him. He could see its rotting face, its eyes empty sockets, its mouth opening in a low, guttural moan.
Luke's mind raced. He had to move, had to get back to his apartment. Summoning every ounce of courage, he turned and bolted down the hallway. The 'zombie' at the end of the hall began to shuffle towards him, arms outstretched.
Just as Luke reached his apartment door, his hand shaking violently with adrenaline, the undead at the far end of the hallway lunged at him. Its cold, clammy hands grasped his shoulder, spinning him around with surprising force. Luke stumbled backward, crashing into the opposite wall, the impact sending a shockwave of pain through his body.
He could feel the undead's fetid breath on his face, its gnashing teeth inches from his throat. With a surge of survival instinct, Luke twisted and rolled away making the infected hit the wall in his place, narrowly escaping its grasp. His shoulder burned with agony where the creature's nails had dug into his flesh.
Heart racing, Luke scrambled to his feet, ignoring the pain. The infected hissed angrily, its milky eyes fixed on him with predatory intent. Luke's hands fumbled with the keys, his fingers slick with sweat as he desperately tried to fit the key into the lock.
"Come on, come on," he muttered through gritted teeth, the sound of the approaching horror driving him to frantic haste.
Fortunately, the key clicked into place, and Luke threw open the door, stumbling inside and slamming it shut behind him just as the undead lunged again, its fingers scraping against the wooden frame.
Luke leaned against the door, chest heaving with exertion and fear. He could hear the infected outside, scratching and pounding with relentless determination. Miraculously, the door held—it was old and sturdy, a testament to its construction.
As he caught his breath, Luke's mind raced, trying to make sense of the chaos around him. Every decision, every move he made had to be precise. He had managed to evade the 'zombies' so far by sheer luck and quick thinking, rolling away from danger just in time to avoid becoming another victim.
"Jesus, how did this happen?" Luke whispered hoarsely, his mind struggling to process the brutal reality of the situation. "Zombies... real fucking zombies."
The weight of the horror he had witnessed settled over him like a suffocating blanket. The world he once knew, filled with familiar streets and friendly faces, had become a nightmare landscape of death and despair. Luke staggered backward, his body and mind reeling from the trauma of the past few minutes.
As the sounds of the undead filled the air, Luke knew he was far from safe. But for now, he had managed to find a brief respite from the relentless pursuit outside. How long it would last, he had no way of knowing.
...
Inside Luke's apartment building, the atmosphere was tense and subdued. The lobby, normally a welcoming entrance, had become a battleground. Infecteds' clustered at the entrance, their relentless moans reverberating through the air. Some pressed against the glass doors with their hands, their dead eyes fixed hungrily on any movement inside.
Meanwhile, scattered survivors huddled in their respective apartments, their faces etched with fear and weariness. They peered cautiously through windows, occasionally glimpsing the chaotic scene unfolding outside. The distant explosions and a few gunfire served as a constant reminder of the peril surrounding them.
In one apartment, a family crouched together, children clinging to their parents as they watched the horror through a crack in the curtains. The father held a baseball bat tightly, ready to defend his loved ones if the undead breached their door.
Across the hall, an elderly woman sat in a worn armchair by the window, her hands trembling as she clutched a rosary. Her gaze was fixed on the street below, where survivors would occasionally scramble for safety amidst the smoke and flames. She whispered prayers under her breath, seeking solace in faith amidst the chaos.
In another apartment, a young man stood by the window, his face pale and drawn. He gripped a hunting rifle with trembling hands, his eyes darting nervously between the approaching undead and the small cache of supplies he had hastily gathered. His mind raced with thoughts of survival, calculating the dwindling chances of escape.
Throughout the building, a sense of isolation hung heavy in the air. The survivors remained silent, communicating through fleeting glances and shared anxiety. Each knew that their fate depended on the strength of their barricades and the resolve to endure the nightmarish onslaught outside.
Inside his own apartment, Luke remained unconscious in the bathroom, unaware of the tense vigil being kept by his neighbors. The wound on his shoulder remained untouched, a stark reminder of the peril he faced once he regained consciousness.
As the day wore on, the survivors braced themselves for the long hours ahead, clinging to the fragile hope that dawn would bring a reprieve from the relentless tide of the undead. But for now, they remained vigilant, their lives intertwined in a desperate struggle for survival against an enemy that showed no mercy.
...
Word count: 1688