Cooper took a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. A flurry of thoughts flashed through his mind, but one word stood out: action.
He knew that if he didn't go out to find food now, the only thing waiting for him was endless despair. He checked all the windows and doors in his apartment to make sure they were securely locked. Outside, the hallway was pitch black, with dim yellow lights flickering sporadically, as if warning him of the lurking danger.
Pushing open the door to his apartment once again, Cooper stepped into the hallway, doing his best to move silently. Every step was cautious, as though he were walking a tightrope over a bottomless pit. One misstep, and he could fall into a deadly abyss. The hallway was as still as death. He crept forward like a ghost, his heart pounding louder and louder, the sound of his blood rushing echoing in his ears.
Cooper stopped in his tracks, holding his breath, straining to hear any sound. Nothing. Absolute silence. Yet he could feel a chilling sensation on his back, as if something unseen was watching him, following his every move. Tension gripped him, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. He muttered to himself, "Stay calm."
He approached the stairwell door, his fingers brushing against the cold metal handle. A faint creak sounded as he turned it, as if the door itself was trying to warn him: You've already been noticed. Cooper held his breath and quickly pushed the door open.
The stench hit him instantly—a putrid, nauseating smell unique to zombies. His heart raced, fear nearly overtaking him. He froze, pressing himself into the darkness, unwilling to make the slightest move. Flattening himself against the wall, he scanned the area with sharp focus, but the darkness revealed nothing.
Seconds ticked by. Still nothing.
Cooper's heart began to steady, but the unease lingered. It felt as though the air around him had solidified. Every cautious move he made felt like a ticking time bomb, ready to detonate at any second.
He slipped through the door into the stairwell, using the dim light of his phone to locate the vending machine. Inside, he spotted some food and a few unopened bottles of water. Relief washed over him, and he reached out to grab one.
Thud. Thud. Footsteps.
Cooper froze in place, his mind momentarily blank. The sound wasn't loud, but in the suffocating silence, it was deafening. Zombie footsteps—heavy, slow, yet deliberate.
Gripping his baseball bat tightly, he felt his heart pound against his ribcage, threatening to burst. The footsteps grew closer, clearer, each one accompanied by a suffocating sense of dread. Cooper instinctively backed into the corner, crouching low and keeping silent. His breath quickened, his eyes locked onto the door, ears tracking the irregular shuffle of feet. One thought consumed his mind: "Don't let it find me."
His body tensed like a drawn bow, ready to snap. But then, the footsteps stopped. Silence. Cooper held his breath, not daring to make a sound.
Seconds felt like hours. The world around him seemed to return to its eerie calm, as though nothing had happened. Cooper let out a slow, quiet sigh, shifting slightly from his hiding spot. He pressed his head against the doorframe, cautiously peering outside.
The hallway was still empty.
He carefully pushed the stairwell door open and slipped inside, closing it quietly behind him. Though his heartbeat had returned to a normal pace, the fear inside him only grew stronger. Was that really a zombie? If so, why did it suddenly stop? Did it notice something?
The thought made his skin crawl. The footsteps had been a chilling reminder: he wasn't alone. Zombies could appear at any moment, bringing with them a deadly threat.
Grabbing a bottle of water, he twisted off the cap and took a long gulp. The cold liquid slid down his throat, offering a fleeting sense of relief. But he knew better than to let his guard down.
A faint noise behind him made him whirl around. It sounded like something brushing against an object—quiet but deliberate. His grip on the baseball bat tightened, his breath hitching as fear surged through him again. The sound seemed to come from the far corner of the storeroom. Something in the shadows was moving, waiting for him to make a mistake.
Cooper forced himself to stay calm. He moved toward the corner, every step feeling like a march toward death.
Holding his breath, he focused on the darkness ahead, slowly raising the bat. His eyes strained to catch any movement, but everything remained still.
Then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a faint silhouette. It was a zombie—thin, frail, but unmistakably dangerous. It emerged from the shadows, its hollow eyes fixed on him.
Cooper's heart clenched, cold sweat dripping down his forehead. His hands gripped the bat so tightly his knuckles turned white, his body coiled like a spring, ready to strike.
The zombie shuffled forward, its movements awkward and mechanical, like a broken puppet. Its pale, rotting flesh hung loosely from its bones, and its bloated, empty eyes glistened faintly in the dim light. Its mouth twisted open, revealing jagged, decayed teeth, and the stench of death filled the air. Cooper nearly gagged.
His body froze, his mind blank. One thought echoed in his head: "It sees me."
Driven by some primal instinct, the zombie's focus sharpened as it turned fully toward him. Its lips twitched, letting out a guttural moan—a haunting, endless wail from the depths of death. The sound was maddening, clawing at Cooper's nerves.
The zombie took a step closer. Then another. Each step was deliberate, heavy, and unrelenting. The air felt suffocating, as if time itself had slowed. Cooper's heart pounded in sync with its approach.
No. I can't panic!
He tightened his grip on the bat, his heartbeat thundering in his ears. There was no time to hesitate. The zombie was coming straight for him.
Scanning the room quickly, Cooper's eyes landed on a small, cluttered doorway in the corner of the stairwell. Without thinking, he bolted for it, shoving aside debris and forcing the door open.
The sound of the door creaking made his stomach drop. Behind him, the zombie's steps paused. Cooper turned his head, locking eyes with the creature. It hadn't stopped following him.
"Move! Move!" His mind screamed as he slipped inside the storage space, using every ounce of strength to wedge himself behind the door. The cramped room was filled with clutter, and he pressed himself into the tight space, holding his breath as the footsteps outside resumed.
The zombie's groans grew louder, its movements faster and more erratic. It was hunting now, its primal instincts fully awakened.
Cooper's legs trembled. Sweat dripped down his face as he clutched the bat tightly. Outside, the zombie's heavy breaths mingled with its growls, growing louder and closer.
Then, suddenly, the noises stopped.
Cooper's eyes snapped shut, his entire body still. He didn't dare make a sound.
Seconds crawled by like hours. Every breath felt like it could give him away.
Finally, the zombie let out a low, guttural growl and began to shuffle away. Cooper remained frozen, only opening his eyes once the footsteps faded into the distance.
Slumping against the wall, he exhaled deeply, his body trembling from exhaustion. His heart felt like it might explode from his chest.