Thomas wiped the sweat from his brow and let out a slow, steady breath. The pile of mangled corpses around him reeked of decay, and the acrid stench of gunpowder still lingered in the air. He leaned against the wall, gripping the M60 tightly.
But he couldn't stay here.
He glanced at the M60, its glowing barrel a testament to the destruction it had caused. As much as he appreciated its power, it wasn't practical to carry it around for long distances, especially when stealth was paramount. With a thought, he opened his system inventory.
The M60 vanished in a blink, safely stored away. In its place, Thomas summoned his MP5. The submachine gun materialized in his hands.
He checked the magazine—30 rounds, fully loaded—and adjusted the sling over his shoulder.
Thomas knew the MP5 wouldn't have the same stopping power as the HK 416 or the M60, but it had one critical advantage: it was quieter. Not silent, but quieter. Zombies were drawn to sound, and every shot he fired might as well have been a dinner bell. If he wanted to make it out of the campus alive, he'd need to minimize the noise.
He opened the system shop and navigated to the accessories section, scrolling through the list until he found what he was looking for.
[Suppressor – 9mm]
Compatible with: MP5
Reduces weapon noise significantly, though not completely
Cost: 100 Blood Coins
[Suppressor – 5.56mm]
Compatible with: HK 416
Reduces weapon noise significantly, though not completely
Cost: 100 Blood Coins
Thomas bought both suppressors without hesitation.
[Item Purchased: Suppressor – 9mm – 100 Blood Coins]
[Item Purchased: Suppressor – 5.56mm – 100 Blood Coins]
Both suppressors materialized in his hands. He quickly attached the 9mm suppressor to the MP5, twisting it into place until it locked securely. The suppressor added a bit of length to the weapon, but it was a trade-off he was willing to accept.
Thomas knew suppressors didn't work like in the movies. They didn't make gunshots whisper-quiet. For humans, the noise would still be noticeable—more of a sharp crack than a loud bang. For zombies, with their heightened sense of hearing, it was still a risk. Unless there was a louder ambient noise to mask the shots, the suppressor would only buy him so much time before the undead homed in on him.
He glanced outside through a shattered window. The night was eerily quiet, the kind of silence that made every creak and rustle feel amplified. Rain would have been ideal, masking his movements and shots, but tonight, there was no such luck. He'd have to rely on his instincts and move carefully.
Thomas adjusted the MP5's sling, keeping the weapon close to his chest, and moved out of the gymnasium.
After five minutes of no encounter of zombies, Thomas finally reached the parking lot. He saw vehicles scattered haphazardly, some with their doors flung open, others with shattered windows. It was clear that the people who had tried to flee had been overwhelmed. The drivers and passengers, once hopeful of escape, had been turned into the very monsters they were running from.
Thomas crouched low, his MP5 ready as his eyes scanned the area. The parking lot was crawling with zombies, their slow, aimless shuffling punctuated by guttural groans. He counted at least thirty, far too many to confront head-on.
He stayed behind a sedan and thought of his next move. The zombies hadn't noticed him yet, but if he made one wrong step, the entire horde would descend on him like a tidal wave. He needed a distraction, something loud enough to draw them away but far enough to keep him out of danger.
He reached into his inventory and pulled out a grenade. He peeked over the car, gauging the distance he'd need to throw it. His eyes locked on an open area near the far end of the lot, away from his intended path.
"Here goes nothing," he muttered under his breath.
Thomas pulled the pin and lobbed the grenade with all his strength. It soared through the air in a graceful arc before landing near a group of zombies. A second later, an earth-shaking BOOM erupted, the explosion lighting up the dark lot.
The zombies immediately turned toward the sound, their groans growing louder as they shuffled and sprinted toward the source.
Thomas waited, his breath held as he watched the horde move away. One by one, the zombies left the area, their attention fully captured by the noise and chaos. When the last straggler disappeared into the distance, he exhaled in relief.
"Time to move."
He stepped out from behind the sedan, keeping his movements quiet. He moved between the vehicles, his eyes darting left and right, searching for anything that could help him escape.
Then, near the middle of the lot, he spotted a zombie slumped against the side of a pickup truck. Its head lolled to the side, a grotesque snarl frozen on its decayed face. Something shiny caught his eye—a keychain dangling from the zombie's waist, fastened to its jeans.
Thomas approached cautiously, his MP5 trained on the undead figure. He'd seen too many times how a seemingly harmless zombie could spring to life when least expected. As he got closer, he noticed the keychain bore the emblem of a Ford logo. His heart skipped a beat. Could it be?
Before taking any risks, Thomas aimed his MP5 at the zombie's head and fired a single suppressed shot.
Phfft!
The bullet pierced its skull, and the zombie slumped lifelessly to the ground. Thomas nudged the body with his boot to ensure it wasn't moving before crouching down to inspect the keychain.
It was real. The keychain belonged to a Ford Raptor, and judging by the emblem's, it was likely a new, top-of-the-line model.
Thomas's adrenaline spiked as he scanned the surrounding vehicles, hoping to spot his prize.
And then he saw it.
Parked a few rows away was a 2024 black Ford Raptor, its sleek body standing out amidst the rusting, abandoned cars. The sleek black paint reflected the faint moonlight, giving the vehicle an almost predatory appearance. It was pristine compared to the decayed and battered cars surrounding it, as if it had just rolled off the lot before the apocalypse struck. Large off-road tires, reinforced bumpers, and a roof rack equipped with floodlights made it clear this truck was built for durability and rugged terrain—exactly what Thomas needed to escape this nightmare.
But he wasn't about to let his guard down. He kept his MP5 trained on the shadows, his finger lightly resting on the trigger as he circled the truck, checking for any signs of movement nearby.
When he reached the driver's side door, and opened it with a press of the unlock button on the keyfob.
Beep-beep.
The sound of the truck's locks disengaging echoed through the still night, and Thomas tensed, his eyes darting toward the shadows. For a moment, he thought the noise might attract stragglers, but when nothing moved, he let out a small sigh of relief.
He opened the door carefully, his weapon still raised. The interior was immaculate—leather seats, a digital dashboard, and a faint scent of new car freshness that hadn't yet been replaced by the stench of decay. It was a stark contrast to the chaos outside.
"Jackpot," he muttered, climbing into the driver's seat.
He pressed the engine start button and the engine roared to life with a deep, satisfying growl, the kind that made his adrenaline spike. The truck's dashboard lit up, and he quickly scanned the fuel gauge.
"Half a tank," he noted, a small smile tugging at his lips. It wasn't full, but it was more than enough to get him out of here and far away from the campus.
The noise, however, was already stirring trouble. From the corner of his eye, he saw movement—a zombie stumbling out from behind a minivan, its lifeless eyes fixed on the Raptor. Then another. And another. The faint groans grew louder, signaling the approach of more.
"Time to go."