Ethan Cooper's eyes snapped open. He looked around, his gaze darting across the room. The cracks on the ceiling spread like black spiderwebs, the light outside the window was dim, and the air felt heavy and stagnant. He frowned slightly, sensing that something was off—no usual noises, no sound of cars on the street, no familiar chatter from the hallway.
"Power outage?" Cooper muttered to himself, reaching for his phone on the bedside table. The screen lit up, and the time displayed made him pause: it was already noon, far later than his usual waking time.
Grabbing his phone, he scrolled through his unread messages. Apart from a few work-related texts from colleagues, there was nothing urgent or unusual. No news from the outside world, no updates from home. Cooper got out of bed and walked to the window, gently pulling back the curtain.
The scene outside froze him in place—there wasn't a single person on the street. Shops that were usually bustling were shut tight. The high-rises in the distance had their windows closed, and there wasn't even a single car on the road. This once-vibrant metropolis now looked like an abandoned wasteland.
"What happened?" Cooper murmured to himself.
He carefully opened the window, hoping to get a better sense of the outside world. Yet, there wasn't even the faintest breeze. The air was dry and oppressive, as if time itself had come to a halt. He turned to look at the clock in his living room, but it was stuck at the same time, as if its battery had been drained by the eerie stillness around him.
Taking a deep breath, Cooper tried to calm himself. This unnerving silence didn't feel like a simple power outage or a routine city malfunction—it felt like something far more profound had changed.
"Maybe it's just a temporary disruption," he told himself. "Maybe the building's power system is down."
But the unease in his chest only grew stronger. Deciding to check out the hallway, Cooper threw on a jacket and stepped out of his apartment, carefully pushing the door open.
The corridor was empty, the air inside as lifeless as outside. The usually noisy hallway, filled with the sounds of neighbors moving about, doorbells ringing, and footsteps echoing, was now unnervingly quiet.
He walked to the end of the hall and cautiously peered down the stairwell, straining his eyes to spot any movement in the darkness below.
Suddenly, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Cooper's body tensed, his heart pounding. The footsteps came from downstairs, but they didn't sound normal. They were slow, heavy, and uneven, as if someone—or something—was struggling to walk.
"Who's there?" Cooper whispered, his voice barely audible, his eyes fixed on the shadows below.
Instinctively, he moved closer to the stairwell, noting the faint, flickering light from the floor below. The footsteps continued, growing louder, closer.
Holding his breath, Cooper pressed the elevator button, but the elevator didn't respond. His brow furrowed—normally, the elevator reacted immediately, but now there was nothing.
Abandoning the elevator, he decided to take the stairs. Just as he turned to descend, a figure emerged from the shadows below.
The person moved awkwardly, their steps erratic. Their clothes were tattered and filthy, their face pale, with a streak of blood staining the corner of their mouth. Their eyes were lifeless, empty sockets that seemed to devour any trace of light. Their body swayed unnaturally, as if pulled along by some invisible force.
Cooper's heart skipped a beat. In that instant, he realized the figure before him was not a normal neighbor.
The person's gaze locked onto Cooper, their mouth opening slightly to let out a low, guttural moan. The sound was eerie, like the murmur of the dead, sending chills down his spine.
Cooper stumbled backward, his instincts screaming at him to retreat. He backed away until his shoulders hit the wall. The moaning grew louder as the figure began to shuffle closer, its lifeless eyes fixed on him, void of any humanity.
Cooper's breathing quickened, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. He turned abruptly, scrambling to get back to his apartment.
Just as he was about to flee, the figure's hand shot out, grabbing his shoulder with an iron grip that froze him in place.
"Ah!" Cooper gasped, struggling to pry the cold, clammy hand off him. His blood ran cold, but survival instincts kicked in. Using all his strength, he wrenched free from the grip.
"Bang!" The door slammed shut behind him as he stumbled back into his apartment. He quickly locked the door, bolting the deadbolt in place.
Leaning against the door, Cooper panted heavily, his body trembling, his heart pounding like a drum. Pressing his ear to the door, he could still hear the low moaning on the other side.
He shut his eyes tightly, the image of that hollow face and pale hand seared into his mind. Even in the silence of his apartment, his body refused to calm down.
That wasn't human. That was a monster. A zombie—
The word flashed in Cooper's mind, icy and undeniable. Reality struck him like a blow. He forced himself to steady his breathing and walked cautiously back to the window. Pulling the curtain aside, he looked out again.
The street below remained lifeless, devoid of any movement. Yet, near the mall down the street, a few parked cars seemed to contain dark, shifting shapes.
Cooper's heart sank. Whatever was happening outside, it was clear that the world was no longer safe.