Cooper gripped the baseball bat tightly. The cold, solid wood pressed against his fingers, grounding him for what was about to come. Standing in the corner of his apartment, he took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Fear and panic? Not helpful. Right now, he needed resolve.
"If I let it stay out there, I'm done for," he muttered, clenching his jaw.
Cooper knew he wasn't the type to go head-to-head with a zombie. He wasn't a soldier or a hero. But if he didn't deal with this thing now, when more showed up, he'd be finished. His grip on the bat tightened. Enough hesitation. He had one job: Kill it. It's the only way I make it out of this.
He crept toward the door, every nerve in his body on edge. When he got there, he took one last deep breath and twisted the handle. The door opened with a faint creak.
The zombie outside didn't react right away. It stayed crouched, still as a statue, completely unaware the door had moved. Cooper felt his heart slam against his ribcage, each beat echoing in his ears.
Then it moved.
The zombie slowly turned its head toward the door, those empty, dead eyes locking onto him. Its jaw shifted, and a low, raspy growl escaped its throat, like it had just realized dinner was served. Cooper froze. The thing was staring him down, unblinking, like a predator sizing up its prey.
In that moment, time stopped.
Cooper raised the bat, aiming straight for the zombie's head. He wasn't going to give it a chance. The zombie's arm twitched as it reached for him, its bony fingers curling like claws. The smell hit him then—rotten meat, sickly sweet and overwhelming. Cooper almost gagged but held it together.
He swung.
THWACK!
The bat smashed into the zombie's skull with a sickening crunch. The creature let out a guttural groan, its head caving in as blood splattered everywhere. Cooper didn't stop. He swung again, harder this time, putting everything he had into the blow. The zombie twitched one last time before collapsing in a heap. Its lifeless eyes stared blankly at nothing, all traces of movement gone.
Breathing heavily, Cooper stood over the corpse. His hands trembled as the adrenaline wore off, and reality hit him like a truck. The bat was sticky with blood and chunks of flesh, the red goo dripping onto the floor. He fought the urge to throw up.
"I'm alive…" he whispered, his voice shaky. He couldn't believe it. He'd actually killed the thing. But he knew better than to celebrate. This wasn't over—not by a long shot.
After a moment, he forced himself to move. He locked the door and leaned back against it, sliding down until he was sitting on the floor. The bat was still clutched in his hands, the blood on it drying and crusting over. His heartbeat was slowing down, but his mind was racing.
"This is just the start," he muttered, looking toward the gray, lifeless sky outside his window.
The hallway at night was a whole different beast. The dim, flickering lights cast long, eerie shadows, making every corner look like it was hiding something. The air was thick, heavy, and silent—too silent, like the whole building was holding its breath.
Cooper knew he couldn't stay locked up in his apartment forever. He needed supplies. Food. Water. Without them, he wouldn't last long. Death wouldn't come with a bang; it'd be slow and cruel.
He listened at the door, straining to catch any sounds in the hallway. Nothing. Just faint creaks and the distant whistle of wind. He took a deep breath. This was it.
He grabbed the bat, checked his makeshift bag, and made sure he had everything he needed. Then, he quietly opened the door.
The hallway was as cold and creepy as ever. The weak, yellowish lights barely lit a few feet in front of him. Beyond that, it was shadows and uncertainty.
Step by step, Cooper crept down the hall. His heartbeat felt louder with every move he made, like his body was warning him to turn back. But he couldn't. Not now. Not ever.
At every corner, he stopped to listen, his ears straining for the slightest noise. The silence was deafening, broken only by his own muffled footsteps. He hated it. It was like the building itself was watching him, waiting for him to slip up.
Eventually, he reached the far end of the hall. Around the corner, he knew there was a vending machine. If it still had food or water, it'd be worth the risk.
But as he peeked around the corner, a sound froze him in place.
It was a low, guttural moan, heavy and unnatural. The smell followed—a wave of decay and rot that made his stomach churn. Cooper's body went rigid. He stayed perfectly still, barely daring to breathe.
At the end of the hall, he saw it. A zombie.
Its back was turned, hunched over like it was searching for something on the ground. Its clothes were torn to shreds, exposing rotting flesh and bones. The sight alone made his skin crawl.
Cooper's heart pounded in his chest. He was only a few meters away. Any sound, any wrong move, and it'd be game over.
The zombie sniffed the floor, growling softly like a feral animal. It didn't seem to notice him. Not yet.
Cooper took a slow step back, his breath shallow. He moved like a shadow, careful not to make a sound. The zombie kept searching, oblivious.
When he made it back around the corner, he leaned against the wall, letting out a shaky breath. His hands were sweaty, his nerves shot. But he knew one thing—this was his chance to retreat.
Without hesitation, he slipped back toward his apartment. Every step felt like it stretched an eternity, but finally, he reached his door. He locked it behind him and collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving.
That zombie. That smell. That sound. It wouldn't leave his head.
Sitting there in the silence of his apartment, Cooper stared at the bloodied bat in his hands. His lips curled into a bitter smile.
"What the hell am I so afraid of?" he whispered.