As they stepped out of the pharmacy, the cool air hit Marcus's face, doing little to quell the simmering anger within him. He glanced at Ian, whose contemptuous glare felt like a physical weight. Marcus had to take deep breaths to resist the urge to punch the man.
Briggs, leading the way down the deserted street, took the point once more. Erika fell back with Marcus, who was beginning to feel the pain from his injury subside. The throbbing in his shoulder was less pronounced than before, a testament to the resilience his body had gained. This was a positive development, as he couldn't afford to show weakness now. Not when a certain someone was likely plotting against him.
"Hey," Erika said softly, concern etched on her face. "You did great back there. I know it was tough."
"Yeah, well, Ian doesn't think so," Marcus replied, struggling to maintain his composure. "What's his problem? Do I look like someone who killed his parents or something?"
"He wasn't always like this," Erika explained. "When everything fell apart, it hit us all hard. He's not handling it well, and he's taking it out on you." She paused, her tone firm. "I'm not excusing his behavior. If he crosses a line, you have every right to defend yourself."
Marcus was taken aback by Erika's last statement but nodded in response, grateful for her support.
He had survived so far, racking up nearly 90 XP from all the zombies he had killed, and he was just 10 points away from leveling up. The stakes were higher now, and he couldn’t afford to make mistakes.
As they rounded a corner, Briggs raised a hand, signaling for them to stop. The street ahead was blocked by a row of abandoned vehicles, and the muffled sounds of groaning infected echoed from somewhere beyond. "We need to find another way around," Briggs whispered, scanning the area.
Marcus's heart raced as he peered around the vehicles. A few dozen feet away, a group of zombies shuffled in their direction, their decayed bodies moving with an unsettling rhythm. "How do we get past them?" he whispered, anxiety creeping into his voice.
Briggs thought for a moment, his brow furrowing. "There’s an alleyway on the left side of this block. If we can make it there without being noticed, we can find a route around."
"And if they see us?" Ian piped up, his tone sharp. "We’ll be overrun."
Marcus glanced at him, keeping his voice calm. "We’ll be fine, we just have to stay quiet."
Briggs nodded, gesturing for them to follow him. They crept toward the alley, moving as silently as possible. The groans of the infected grew louder, and Marcus felt his pulse quicken, every step heavy with tension.
Once they reached the entrance to the alley, Briggs turned to the group. "Stay close, and whatever you do, don’t make a sound. We’ll slip through quickly."
The alley was narrow, the walls lined with debris and garbage. As they moved deeper into the shadows, Marcus kept his gun raised, his eyes scanning for any sign of danger. The distant shuffle of the infected reminded him just how close they were to losing everything.
Halfway down the alley, Marcus caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. A figure—a woman, filthy and disheveled—emerged from a doorway. Her wild eyes, matted hair, and panicked expression gave away her desperation.
"Help!" she cried, her voice sharp and trembling.
Briggs’s hand shot up, signaling for silence. "Stay back!" he ordered, but it was too late. The woman’s cry had already echoed through the alley.
"They're coming! They’ll get me!" she screamed again, frantically looking over her shoulder before rushing toward the group. "Please, you have to help me!"
Marcus instinctively stepped back as the woman grabbed at his shirt, her grip tight and frantic. The sudden movement startled her further, and her cries grew louder.
"Let her go!" Ian hissed, shoving the woman away.
"Stop!" Briggs snapped, stepping between them. "She’s going to lead them right to us!"
Suddenly, the alley fell eerily silent. The low groans of the infected had stopped, replaced by the unsettling quiet of anticipation. Marcus froze, his heart pounding as he realized what had happened. The woman’s desperate cries had drawn their attention.
For a brief, agonizing moment, nothing moved. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, the infected turned in unison. Dozens of rotting heads snapped in their direction, their lifeless eyes locking onto the group.
"Oh no..." the woman whimpered.
Marcus’s pulse quickened. In the distance, the guttural growls of the infected grew louder, a terrifying chorus that sent a chill down his spine. One by one, the infected started to move, their shambling steps quickening into a frantic, hungry charge.
"They’re coming!" Ian’s voice was laced with panic as he backed away, his eyes wide.
Marcus felt a surge of dread. His mind raced as the infected began pouring toward them from both ends of the alley.
"Run!" Briggs shouted, snapping them all out of their frozen state. "Move, now!"
With no other option, Marcus grabbed the woman’s arm, pulling her with him as the group bolted down the alley. The infected were closing in, their guttural snarls growing louder with each second. The ground seemed to vibrate with the sheer number of them, their relentless pursuit shaking Marcus to his core.
Every step felt like it could be their last, the sound of shuffling feet and snarls filling the narrow passage. Marcus didn’t dare look back—he didn’t need to. He could feel the infected gaining on them, could hear their grotesque groans growing closer and closer.
"Faster!" Briggs yelled, pushing them ahead. The alley narrowed further ahead, forcing them to squeeze between piles of debris and garbage.
“Over there!” Erika shouted, pointing to a dilapidated building with a partially open door just ahead.
Without hesitation, they veered toward it. Marcus reached the door first, yanking it open as the others rushed to follow him inside. He cast one quick glance back at the horde, now mere feet away, before he stepped through the door and pulled it shut behind them.
The room was dark, the air thick with dust and decay. As they caught their breath, the sound of clawing and scratching echoed from outside as the infected pressed against the door.
“We can’t stay here!” Marcus urged, glancing around. “They’ll find us!”
Briggs nodded, his face grim. “We need to find a way out and fast. Stay close, and whatever happens, don’t let them separate you.”
As they moved deeper into the building, Marcus couldn't shake the feeling of unease that settled over him. Every creak of the floorboards felt like a warning, every whisper of air a reminder of their precarious situation.
He glanced at the woman, who was clinging to Erika's arm, her eyes wide with terror. “You okay?” Marcus asked, hoping to reassure her.
She nodded, though her face was pale. “I just want to get out of here,” she whispered.
Marcus turned his attention back to the group, determined to keep everyone alive. Whatever had been lost in this world, he wouldn’t let it take them too.
“Let’s keep moving,” Briggs said, his voice steady. “We’ll find a way out of this.”
As they continued through the darkened hallways, the echoes of their footsteps mixed with the distant moans of the undead outside. The walls seemed to close in around them, the shadows growing heavier with each passing moment.
As Marcus stepped further into the shadows of the dilapidated building, the pain from his shoulder injuries faded into the background, a dull throb he could almost ignore. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, keeping him focused and perceptive but he knew better than to think he was out of the woods yet. “Hey,” Erika said, her voice breaking through his thoughts. “You sure you’re okay?” Her eyes were filled with concern, and he could see the faint light of worry in her expression.“Yeah, just tired,” Marcus replied, attempting a reassuring smile, though he knew it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “I can already feel the pain subsiding.”Erika nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t fully convinced. “Just take it easy, alright? We need you in one piece.”“Got it.” Marcus took a deep breath, trying to shake off the lingering tension. He thought back to the zombies they had fought, recalling how each kill had been a small victory, Just 1 or 2 more zombies and he would level up. A
The tension in the room thickened as Marcus and Briggs braced themselves against the oncoming horde. The moans of the infected echoed off the dilapidated walls, their ragged, shuffling movements closing in from every direction. The two of them slowly edged back toward the vent, each step measured and careful.But then, without warning, the zombies stopped.Their groans ceased, their decaying limbs freezing mid-step. An eerie silence fell over the room, broken only by the sound of Marcus’s own breath. He shot a confused glance at Briggs, who looked just as bewildered."What the hell?" Briggs muttered, his grip tightening on his weapon.Marcus’s instincts screamed at him that something was wrong. His eyes darted through the crowd of motionless infected as they suddenly parted, clearing a path down the center. From the darkened hallway beyond, a figure stepped into view—a zombie, but different from the rest. Its body was far less decayed, its flesh still intact and unnervingly toned. Blo
Clara could still hear the faint echoes of gunfire reverberating through the vents, a grim reminder that Marcus and Briggs were likely holding off the infected. She hadn’t known them long enough to recall their names, but the sound of shots suggested they were capable enough. It wasn’t her concern, though. The mission came first, and there were bigger things at play than just surviving this moment.As they crawled further through the vent, Clara’s mind wandered to that thing. If it was as powerful as she suspected, it might just take care of the problem for her. Marcus and Briggs would be a potential danger she couldn’t afford as their capabilities were enough to put a wedge in her plans. A chill ran through her—not from fear, but from the thrill of knowing she was on the edge of something significant. Something that could change everything. They pressed on, the cramped space of the vent closing in around them. The musty air felt heavy, thick with the scent of rust and decay. Clara's
In a different part of the world...*****The hum of anticipation filled the room, though nothing particularly exciting was happening on the surface. Rows of desks neatly arranged, students sitting with disciplined posture, and at the front, an instructor tracing diagrams on a digital board—a lecture, as routine as any other. Yet, there was an unspoken awareness beneath the surface, a quiet vigilance. Elara had felt it for weeks, and judging by the way her classmates watched the instructor’s every movement, they had sensed it too. Today, though, she tried to focus, even as her mind drifted.The instructor, a stern-faced woman in her fifties, pointed to a holographic projection of a plant shimmering in green and blue hues. "This," she began, "is the Ulvanis Serrata, a species notable for its regenerative properties. But, more importantly for our studies, its unique ability to detect and respond to high levels of radiation. Now, can anyone tell me why this might be especially useful?"E
Elara stepped out of the academy building into the muted, dusky light of the compound. The campus stretched out in all directions, a labyrinth of steel and glass buildings interwoven with walkways and vibrant green corridors. This wasn't like any city she'd seen before; her home, like the academy, was walled off from the rest of the world. To her, the endless concrete and manicured lawns, the highly secure gates, and the ever-present guards were part of normal life.She passed the central fountain, an ornate structure with figures of mythical creatures carved into the marble. They symbolized some ancient story she had once learned, but the details had faded from her mind over the years. The streets here were wide and lined with tall trees, their canopies shielding her from the wind. People strolled about, calm and purposeful, yet always alert. Residents of the compound carried themselves with a quiet intensity, a result of the years of carefully controlled living under the organizatio
The candidates were led down a sterile hallway, its white walls gleaming under cold fluorescent lights. Elara walked with the group, her mind racing. The patriarch’s words echoed in her head, but when she glanced around, everyone else appeared eerily calm. It was as if the thought of not surviving the “test” didn’t faze them at all. She wanted to ask someone if they really understood the weight of what was about to happen, but she held her tongue.At the end of the corridor, they entered a large, windowless room. Rows of sleek, metallic pods lined the walls, their surfaces polished to a mirror-like sheen, each one equipped with a small screen and an access panel. There were forty pods in total, one for each candidate. The hum of the machines filled the air, and the clinical smell of antiseptic was almost overwhelming.An elderly man in a pristine white lab coat stepped forward, his hands folded behind his back. His face was wrinkled yet composed, with an unsettlingly neutral expressio
Elara lay tense in the pod as the warmth in her veins intensified, creeping through her arms, spreading up to her shoulders, and seeping into her core. Her body felt like it was being enveloped in a strange fire—both cold and burning at once. A sharp sting flared at the base of her spine, and she clenched her fists, trying to keep her breathing steady, but the sensation was relentless.The compound had triggered a reaction at the cellular level, initiating the "adaptive response" the old man had described. Deep within her, every cell was reacting to the foreign neutral gene, which was nudging each strand of her DNA into a new configuration, unlocking dormant sections of her genetic code. Elara could almost feel her body being rewritten, as if someone were tearing her apart and piecing her back together from the inside out.A sudden, stabbing pain shot through her chest, and she gasped, her body straining against the restraints as the heat turned searing. Her muscles tightened involunt
As the sun dipped below the horizon, evening shadows stretched across the desolate streets, casting an eerie calm over the scene. Clara, Erika, and Ian carefully made their way out of the building, each step cautious, as if even the ground itself could betray them. Clara kept her grip on her compulsion spell, feeling its fraying edges; maintaining control over two people this long wasn’t easy, and it was beginning to wear on her.A burst of gunfire split the silence, distant but unmistakable. Ian’s head snapped up, a glimmer of hope lighting his face. “Think it could be Briggs?” he asked, his tone almost pleading.Erika shot him a look, harsh and skeptical. “Don’t be an idiot. We blocked the only exit. No one’s getting through there.”Ian became confused. “And why did we block the exit?"Erika’s face clouded over, and her expression wavered between confusion and irritation, as if her mind was trying to piece together a memory just out of reach. Clara felt her influence slipping, a tin