Bryan made his way to his parents' room and opened the closet. Sure enough, there was a black box inside. But he wasn't surprised—he'd discovered it within days of arriving in this world.
Every guy fantasizes about handling a real gun at some point, and he was no exception. Since he'd never touched actual firearms before, he'd spent his free time after school watching instructional videos online.
He assembled the pistol with practiced ease. Given America's gun culture and the current outbreak, he knew he'd be needing this sooner or later.
Back in his room, the TV cast flickering light across the space. The channel had switched to news coverage.
A female reporter stood outside a quarantine perimeter, blazing buildings visible behind her.
"What we initially reported as riots now appears to be connected to the nationwide epidemic. Sources indicate that infected individuals are exhibiting increasingly violent behavior—"
A SWAT officer suddenly sprinted past her toward three colleagues behind the barricade.
"Everyone pull back! There's a gas leak!"
The reporter spun toward the camera to relay this breaking development—
But the officer turned back, pointing at the cameraman, pushing through the barricade toward her. "Ma'am, get out of there NOW—"
BOOM!
The explosion lit up the screen for a split second before the feed cut to static.
Almost simultaneously, a massive blast shook the neighborhood outside. Crimson flames shot skyward, briefly turning night into day.
"Holy shit!"
Bryan stood frozen, the enormity of the situation finally hitting him. Ever since learning about the outbreak's escalation, something about all this had felt eerily familiar—like scenes from every apocalypse movie and game he'd ever experienced. Now he knew exactly what kind of world he'd landed in.
"Please tell me I'm not this unlucky."
No time to dwell on it. He grabbed a backpack from the closet and raced downstairs. Dogs were barking everywhere. Police sirens wailed past the house. The disaster was reaching critical mass.
Ignoring the chaos outside, he made for the kitchen and yanked open the fridge. Canned goods, vegetables—he stuffed everything into his pack without discrimination.
Then the storage room. A display case on the wall held a hunting knife—one of his "father's" prized collectibles, supposedly quite valuable.
Bryan grabbed a nearby ashtray and smashed the glass without hesitation, retrieving the blade. In the apocalypse, food and weapons were everything.
Yelp!
The neighborhood dogs had been barking nonstop, but suddenly one cry cut off sharply, replaced by a pitiful whimper.
Bryan's attention snapped toward the sound. It was close. Very close.
Sarah's house!
Abandoning his scavenging, he shouldered the loaded pack, grabbed a flashlight in his left hand and the pistol in his right, then burst through the back door.
He'd only known Sarah for a month, but she was the first friend he'd made here. The least he could do was warn them.
"Cooper, stop! STOP!"
"You son of a—THUD"
The moment he stepped into the yard, he heard the commotion from Sarah's backyard—voices, then the heavy sound of impact.
What the hell?
He vaulted the low fence separating their properties and froze at what he saw.
Two boards of the back fence had been smashed through. Cooper—the neighbor—had Joel pinned to the ground. His eyes were bloodshot, mouth gaping wide as he lunged for Joel's throat.
Joel had his hands around Cooper's neck, barely holding him back. He'd been ready to give up hope when Bryan appeared.
Straining against the infected man, Joel roared at the stunned boy.
"He's gone crazy! Don't just stand there—get him off me!"
"R-right!"
The shout snapped Bryan out of his daze. Despite holding a gun and knife, he'd never killed anyone before. He couldn't bring himself to use lethal force. Instead, he grabbed a nearby flowerpot and brought it crashing down on Cooper's skull.
CRACK!
Dirt and ceramic shards exploded everywhere. The blow staggered Cooper, disrupting his attack. He clutched his head, reeling.
Joel seized the opening, snatching up a crowbar that had fallen beside him. He swung upward with everything he had, sending Cooper sprawling.
Then he was on his feet, boot planted on Cooper's chest, crowbar raised. He brought it down on the man's head. Once. Twice. Three times.
Blood sprayed across Joel's face and clothes. He kept swinging mechanically, over and over, until the infected man finally stopped moving. Only then did he pause, staring at the corpse as if unable to believe what he'd done.
Bryan turned away and vomited in the corner.
No matter how many zombie movies he'd watched, how many horror games he'd played—nothing prepared him for witnessing real violence. Real death.
"RAAAAGH!"
As if things weren't bad enough, a snarling face suddenly appeared at the gap in the broken fence. Jimmy—Cooper's housemate—was trying to force his way through, jaws snapping, eyes wild with mindless hunger.
A protruding board had snagged on his waist, temporarily blocking his entry.
"Jimmy?"
Both men recognized him instantly.
"Move! Get inside!"
Joel recovered first. He called out to Bryan, then sprinted for the house.
Bryan didn't need to be told twice. He followed close behind, and within seconds they were through the back door.
"Dad?"
"Bryan?"
The moment they burst inside, a voice called out. Sarah stood nearby, eyes wide with confusion and fear.
Joel slammed the glass door shut, rushed to a nearby table, and yanked open a drawer. He pulled out a gun case and began assembling his own weapon.
"Stay back from the door. Both of you."
"Dad, you're scaring me. What's happening?"
Sarah had never seen her father like this. Her voice trembled.
"Sarah, we need to leave. I'll explain later."
Bryan could see she was terrified. He wanted to tell her everything, but the image of Jimmy stuck in that fence flashed through his mind. They had to move.
"We need to go—"
BANG!
BANG!
The sliding glass door shuddered under a heavy impact. A split second later, the front door did the same.
Jimmy had broken through—that was expected. But the assault on the front door came from nowhere.
Caught between two threats, Bryan felt ice crawl down his spine. He watched Joel finish assembling his gun and train it on the back door, where Jimmy's silhouette thrashed against the glass.
Taking a deep breath, Bryan stepped in front of Sarah, raised his own pistol toward the front entrance, and placed himself between her and whatever was about to come through.
"Stay calm. Stay calm."
His hands wouldn't stop shaking. In his previous life, he'd been nothing but an office drone. This kind of situation was so far beyond his experience it might as well be another planet. But he also knew that in a crisis like this, hesitation meant death.
CRASH!
The front door exploded inward just as glass shattered behind them. A red-eyed infected lunged through the entrance, shrieking, and launched itself at him.
As the creature's twisted face filled his vision, something strange happened. The fear drained away. He felt energy surge through his body—something alien, something powerful.
His pupils contracted. The trembling stopped. In one fluid motion, he raised the pistol, aimed at the infected's head, and pulled the trigger.
"DIE!"
BANG!