Harley's chest heaved with every breath as he stood at the entrance to the office building. The glass doors loomed in front of him, reflecting the chaos unfolding outside. The once-familiar sight of the office had now transformed into a barricade—a fragile line between life and death. The air was thick with the stench of sweat and fear.
A large horde of zombies had surrounded the building, pressing up against the gates and pounding on the glass. The relentless mass of undead, once nothing more than a distant nightmare, had now become a terrifying reality. And at the front lines of this nightmare were the five brave office workers—armed with nothing but emergency axes, their expressions a mixture of fear and determination.
Harley's mind raced. He knew the only way forward was through that horde. The gates were their last line of defense, and the people inside were holding it together—barely. If he didn't make his move now, they would be overrun. There was no more time for second-guessing.
He tightened his grip on the crowbar, its weight comforting in his hands. It wasn't much—just a heavy metal rod—but it was something, and for now, that was all he had. He approached the gates, feeling the oppressive weight of the situation pressing down on him. His eyes scanned the scene, the zombies' moans and groans filling the air like an unsettling chorus. The workers inside the office building had barricaded themselves behind the glass, but the situation was growing more dire with each passing minute.
The first wave of zombies surged forward, and Harley didn't hesitate. He launched himself into the fray, swinging the crowbar with all his might. The first zombie to come within range met its fate as the crowbar connected with its skull. The sickening crunch of bone reverberated through the air, but Harley didn't pause. He had to keep moving, keep fighting.
Each swing was desperate, and his strikes grew more frenzied as the horde closed in. The zombies were relentless—undeterred by pain or dismemberment. They simply kept coming, their vacant eyes fixed on him, their growls sending shivers down his spine.
Harley felt the weight of each swing in his arms, the fatigue starting to set in, but he couldn't stop. The crowd of undead closed in tighter, their hands clawing at him, trying to drag him down. But Harley fought back, each blow pushing them farther away. He had to make it through.
The office workers behind the gates were doing their best to hold their ground, but the force of the zombies was overwhelming. The wooden furniture they had used to barricade the doors was buckling, the glass rattling as the undead pressed harder against it.
Harley pressed forward, every step taking him closer to the building. He could feel the heat of the bodies surrounding him, the stench of decay and death suffocating the air. But he refused to give in. His only thought was reaching that door, getting inside, and helping those who were fighting just as desperately as he was.
With a final, powerful swing, Harley cleared a path to the gates. He rushed toward the door, throwing himself against it, slamming his shoulder into the glass. It was a weak barrier, but it was enough. The door groaned under the pressure, then cracked. He didn't wait for it to break. He pushed through the wreckage, falling into the lobby with a thud.
Inside, the scene was not what he expected. The office was not just held by five workers, but most of the employees were here, all gathered in the lobby. Some had armed themselves with whatever they could find—fire extinguishers, broken pieces of furniture, even staplers. The chaos inside mirrored the pandemonium outside, but there was a glimmer of hope in the air. They had made it inside. For now, they were safe.
As Harley pushed himself up from the floor, his eyes scanned the room. A few office workers were standing at the barricades, keeping a watchful eye on the door. Others were huddled in groups, talking in hushed voices, trying to process the madness that had taken over their lives. The sounds of the undead outside were muffled now, but the tension was still palpable.
Harley's heart skipped a beat as his gaze landed on three familiar faces among the survivors. It was his team—his responsibility—sitting in a corner, just as he had left them that morning.
Marie, a junior analyst, was sitting with her knees pulled to her chest, her face pale and gaunt. She was clutching a clipboard for some semblance of comfort, though it was obvious that her mind was elsewhere. Beside her was Jason, the tech specialist—always cool under pressure, but even he couldn't hide the fear in his eyes. And then there was Ava, the office manager, who had always been level-headed in every situation, but now, her eyes looked hollow.
Harley's chest tightened as he moved toward them. He couldn't afford to lose anyone, especially not his team. They were the reason he had fought his way through the horde.
"Hey," Harley said, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.
The trio looked up in surprise, their faces reflecting a mixture of relief and exhaustion. For a moment, no one spoke. The weight of their shared ordeal hung heavily in the air, and for a second, everything felt unreal.
"Harley," Marie said, her voice cracking. "We thought you were... we thought you were gone."
"I'm here," Harley said, trying to sound more confident than he felt. He looked around at the others in the room. "We're not safe here. We can't stay inside much longer."
Jason nodded, his hands shaking as he adjusted his glasses. "The barricades won't hold forever. We need to figure out how to get out of here before the zombies break through."
Harley surveyed the room. There was no denying the danger. The office might have provided a temporary shelter, but it wouldn't last. The horde outside wasn't going anywhere, and neither were the survivors. They would have to face the threat head-on if they wanted to survive.
"We need to make a plan," Harley said, his tone firm. "Get everyone ready. If we're going to get out of this alive, we have to work together."
Ava stood up, her posture still composed despite the fear in her eyes. "What's the plan?"
Harley scanned the office, his mind working quickly. The large windows in the conference room were high enough that they could potentially escape through them, but the hallway between the barricades and the windows was crawling with zombies. There was no way they could move through without a fight.
"We'll have to fight our way through," Harley said, setting his jaw. "I'll lead the way. We stick together, we keep moving, and we don't stop until we're outside."
Marie, Jason, and Ava exchanged looks, their faces grim but resolute. They knew what had to be done. There was no turning back now.
Harley turned back to the rest of the survivors. "Alright, listen up," he called. "We're making a break for it. We'll get through this together."
As they all geared up for the next phase of survival, Harley felt a surge of determination. The office building had been their refuge, but it was no longer safe. Their only chance at survival was to move forward—and face whatever came next.
But suddenly the vision gets blurry and fades away and Harley falls on the ground.