Chapter 1: The End of Normalcy

The day the world ended began like any other.

Ethan Carter trudged through the halls of Westwood High, his head down, hoping to avoid the usual torment. The weight of his body made every step feel sluggish, and the oversized hoodie he wore did little to hide his frame. He wasn't just fat—he was a target. A moving, breathing punching bag for anyone looking to boost their own social standing.

The laughter came before the shove.

"Hey, tubby, where's the earthquake?" A sharp voice sneered behind him.

Ethan barely had time to brace himself before a foot slammed into the back of his knee, sending him sprawling forward. His books scattered across the floor, and a fresh wave of chuckles echoed down the hallway. He clenched his fists, jaw tight, but he didn't fight back. He never did. That was just how things were.

"Dude, look at his face. He's gonna cry."

Ethan ignored them, pushing himself up and gathering his books with trembling hands. He'd learned a long time ago that reacting only made things worse. He just had to endure. A few more years, and he'd be free of this hell.

He never expected the world to burn before that could happen.

The first sign came during lunch.

Students' phones buzzed in unison, a shrill emergency alert breaking through the cafeteria chatter. Ethan barely paid attention—probably another flood warning or missing person report. But then a girl screamed.

He turned just in time to see a teacher collapse, seizing violently. His skin darkened, veins bulging unnaturally. A horrible, wet gurgle left his throat before he went still.

Silence.

Then, he moved again.

The teacher's head snapped up, his eyes—once dull and human—now a milky white. His mouth stretched wide in an inhuman snarl before he lunged at the nearest student.

Chaos erupted.

Screams. Blood. The wet sounds of flesh being torn.

Ethan stood frozen as the cafeteria became a slaughterhouse. Students scrambled over tables, shoving each other in blind panic. More people collapsed, convulsing violently before rising again, their movements jerky and unnatural.

Zombies.

It was impossible. It was absurd. But it was real.

A body slammed into Ethan, snapping him out of his trance. His tray crashed to the floor, and a girl—he didn't recognize her, just another face in the sea of terrified students—grabbed his arm.

"Run!" she screamed.

He did.

Ethan wasn't fast. His lungs burned, legs screaming in protest as he barreled down the hall. Around him, students were being torn apart, their cries cut short as infected swarmed them. He stumbled past the lockers, barely avoiding the outstretched arms of a former classmate whose face was half-eaten.

Adrenaline kept him moving.

The school entrance was a mass of bodies, students trampling over each other to escape. The doors had been flung open, revealing a city in chaos—fires, overturned cars, sirens wailing uselessly in the distance. The infection wasn't just in the school. It was everywhere.

Ethan had no plan. No weapon. No experience.

Just fear.

And for the first time in his life, fear made him run faster.

Faster than he ever thought possible.

Faster than the monsters behind him.