Chaos.
That was all Deejay Vergara could see from the window of his 28th-floor condo unit.
Below, the world was unraveling.
People screamed as they ran through the streets, tripping over one another in blind panic. Behind them, creatures that were once human sprinted with unnatural speed, chasing down every moving target with relentless hunger. It took only fifteen seconds—fifteen terrifying seconds—for someone to turn after being bitten.
Deejay stared in disbelief. Just yesterday, everything had been normal. The streets had been filled with honking cars and sidewalk vendors. Today, it looked like a war zone.
Zombies—real, full-on, flesh-eating zombies—were overtaking Manila.
He pressed his forehead against the glass, watching the madness unfold below. An older woman—his neighbor from two floors down—was sprinting faster than he'd ever seen her move before. And that was the horrifying part. He had seen her struggle to walk, hunched and slow, dragging her feet with each step. Now, she bolted like an athlete, eyes glazed over, mouth wide open, chasing a teenager who screamed for help.
Deejay's stomach turned.
He backed away from the window, rubbing his face with both hands. His heart pounded hard against his chest, his mind trying to process the impossible. It was the kind of scene he'd only seen in games or movies, not real life.
"Come on, man, this has to be a prank. A really fucked up prank," he muttered to himself.
At twenty-four, Deejay Vergara was one of the top FPS streamers in the country. Hell, even globally. Teams competed just for the chance to sign him. He'd just finalized a massive streaming contract yesterday—one that could've set him up for life.
And now life itself was falling apart.
The irony didn't escape him.
He walked over to his PC, the same battle station he'd poured hundreds of hours into, now feeling useless in the face of a world crumbling outside. The chat was still alive—blinking, scrolling, buzzing with messages from his international audience.
"Yo DJ, is that real??"
"Dude, we're seeing zombie news in France too??"
"This has to be viral marketing or some shit."
"No way, this is everywhere."
His hand hovered over the keyboard, but he didn't type anything back.
He turned away from the screen and tried to calm his breathing. His condo, thankfully, was stocked. Yesterday had been his usual monthly grocery run. Water, canned food, rice, energy bars, even the odd snacks he liked to eat during long streams. At least he wouldn't starve—yet.
But for how long would it last?
He'd seen enough zombie movies to know how this kind of scenario played out. At first, it was panic. Then came the collapse—power outages, no water, no food, no help. And the worst part was, these weren't the slow, shuffling corpses from old movies.
These ones ran. They moved fast—too fast.
Deejay shook his head, trying to push away the rising dread. He needed to check in with his family.
He grabbed his phone from the desk and immediately dialed his parents in Visayas. It rang. Once. Twice. Then silence. No answer.
"Sh*t…" he whispered, then tried again—this time calling his younger sister who was still in college.
Nothing.
The line was dead.
He gritted his teeth. Flights between Manila and Visayas usually took less than an hour. But now? The airports were probably shut down. Roads likely blocked. Travel wasn't just difficult—it was impossible.
He stood still for a moment, trying to quiet his mind. Freaking out wouldn't help.
"Okay… food's stocked, doors are locked, I'm high up. I'm good. For now."
The building was tall—his condo was the top floor—and as far as he could tell, the elevators had stopped working. It would take a horde a while to make it all the way up here, if they could even get in.
Still, he knew it was only a matter of time.
He walked to the kitchen and double-checked the cabinets. Everything was sealed tight. Water gallons were stacked near the fridge. He'd need to ration, but it was enough to last for a week or two if he didn't go overboard.
A soft, eerie quiet filled the space, broken only by the occasional scream from below.
Then, with a deep breath, he went back to his chair and sat down. His fingers drummed against the desk while his eyes flicked toward the chat again. More panic. More confusion. It seemed like this wasn't just a Manila thing.
It was global.
The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.
There was no safe place.
He leaned back and exhaled slowly, trying to push the tension out of his chest. He needed to think, to plan, to—
DING!
A soft chime echoed through the room.
Then something impossible happened.
A glowing blue screen appeared in front of his eyes—suspended in the air.
He froze.
The screen pulsed gently, flickering with what looked like text and… data?
His eyes widened.
"What the hell is this...?"