At the gas station, almost simultaneously with the sharp scream, the crowd that had been arguing and jostling suddenly dispersed. A middle-aged man, around fifty years old, clutched his chest in pain and collapsed to the ground. Blood seeped through his fingers, staining his white T-shirt red and dripping onto the pavement, quickly forming a pool.
Next to him stood a young man in his twenties, his hair dyed a garish yellow. He looked panic-stricken as he stared at the middle-aged man. In his hand was a blood-stained knife.
"I… I didn't mean to… I didn't think he'd actually rush at me…"
The sight of blood gushing from the man's fingers had extinguished the young man's anger. Now, shaken to his core, his body began to tremble. "I just wanted to scare him! That's all!"
It was evident that the two had gotten into a dispute over purchasing gasoline, and in a moment of impulsive rage, the young man had stabbed the older man.
"What are you waiting for? Take him to the hospital!"
"Yeah, look at all that blood! If you don't get him medical help soon, he's going to die!"
"Young and reckless! Why bring out a knife?"
"Look at him—dyed hair, no discipline! Now he's really done it!"
The gruesome incident had shocked everyone, but soon the crowd's inherent tendency to criticize took over. The onlookers began pointing fingers and murmuring in disdain.
"Right! The hospital! We have to get him there!"
Though the young man had a delinquent appearance and often bullied students from nearby schools, he had never encountered a situation of this magnitude. Panicked by the murmurs around him, he dropped the knife and tried to lift the middle-aged man into his car for urgent medical attention.
This was his second grave mistake.
The first mistake was using the knife in the heat of the moment and stabbing the man in a vital area. The second was trying to move someone critically injured.
"Ugh!"
Just as the young man was struggling to get the injured man into his car, the older man's body convulsed violently. He suddenly vomited a large quantity of blood and collapsed onto the ground.
"Don't die on me! Please, don't die!"
Seeing the man coughing up blood and collapsing, the young man became frantic. He grabbed the older man's hand, desperately trying to pull him up.
If this man died, his life was over!
However, before he could fully process what was happening, the previously motionless middle-aged man suddenly froze. His trembling ceased, and his hand tightened with unnerving strength, yanking the young man down to the ground.
Before the young man could react, he saw a pair of bloodshot, beast-like eyes staring back at him.
The next moment, the older man opened his mouth wide and clamped down hard on the young man's neck, tearing viciously.
Squelch!
In an instant, accompanied by a sickening ripping sound, the young man's throat was torn out. Blood spurted from the wound, mixed with bubbles of air, painting the ground red. The older man swallowed the chunk of flesh he had torn away, and more blood poured from the young man's torn windpipe.
The young man tried to scream, but with his windpipe shredded, all he could do was gasp and convulse helplessly. Meanwhile, the middle-aged man took another bite, ripping away flesh from the young man's terror-stricken face, exposing the teeth beneath the skin.
"Ahhhhhh!"
"Secondary infection! It's spreading!"
"It's a zombie! Run!"
Only then did the onlookers fully grasp the horror of the situation. Screams filled the air as people fled in all directions, pushing and shoving to get away.
In their panic, some of the stronger men shoved aside weaker individuals, knocking them to the ground. Cries for help from the fallen went unanswered as others trampled over them in their desperate escape.
Moments later, the crowd dispersed, leaving those who had fallen bruised and battered.
Meanwhile, the zombie-like middle-aged man abandoned the mutilated corpse of the young man and lunged at an older woman nearby, tearing into her flesh with relentless ferocity.
The chaos worsened when the young man, now lifeless, staggered to his feet. His once-human demeanor was gone as he attacked a young woman with a broken leg, biting into her thigh.
Screams and sounds of flesh tearing echoed throughout the small gas station like a grim symphony of the apocalypse.
Bang!
Just as the zombie was about to take another bite, a blood-stained crowbar slammed into his mutilated face. The blow shattered his head like a smashed watermelon, sending gore splattering everywhere.
"Too late…"
The wielder of the crowbar, Anirudh, surveyed the scene with a heavy heart. The elderly woman was already dead, and the young woman was injured beyond saving. He sighed deeply.
Despite rushing to the scene as soon as he heard the commotion, he had been too late.
There was no time to dwell on guilt. Tightening his grip on the crowbar, Anirudh swung it again, shattering the head of the zombie attacking the older woman.
With grim determination, he turned to the injured survivors. Yet, upon seeing the black-purple hue spreading across their wounds—a clear sign of infection—he steeled himself for what had to be done.
"Sorry," he muttered before plunging the crowbar into the infected woman's skull, ending her life before the transformation could complete.
He turned to the young woman, who was sobbing in gratitude. "Thank you for saving me," she stammered, her voice trembling.
"No," Anirudh said solemnly, shaking his head. "I didn't save you. You've been infected."
The woman froze, denial giving way to despair. Moments later, she began screaming and cursing a man named Virat for abandoning her during the chaos.
Anirudh watched silently as the infection overtook her. Her eyes turned crimson, and her snarls turned feral. When she lunged at him, he ended her misery with a swift strike.
Breathing heavily, Anirudh looked at the carnage surrounding him. This small incident had already caused so much death and suffering.
For the first time, he truly understood that in this apocalyptic world, the greatest threat wasn't the zombies or the monsters—it was humanity's own flaws and instincts.