Dark Apocalypse

Episode 16

Survivors



"Not done yet, huh?" In a narrow alley, a shadowed figure kicked away an encroaching zombie, then drove the long weapon backward into the chest of another leaping from behind. A sharp *crack*—the weapon snapped in two.

More zombies loomed closer, crowding into the alley that spanned barely three or four meters wide. If both ends were blocked, without wings to fly away, there would be no escape.

Kicking away the nearest zombie with force, the figure broke into a sprint, dodging those in his path with agility. Though a horde pursued him from behind, fortunately, only two or three obstructed his way ahead.

Weaponless now, he pulled a revolver from his pocket. Despite loading it, he refrained from firing, relying instead on nimbleness to evade the sluggish undead, saving the bullets for dire necessity.

He dashed into a winding alley that stretched ahead, the twists and turns imbued with the charm of old Jiangnan towns.

This shadowy figure was none other than Adam, newly escaped from prison. But why, one might ask, was he being hunted by a swarm of the undead?

Life rarely goes as smoothly as one hopes. To be honest, even Adam had been surprised by how well things had gone since he awoke in this chaotic world. Though he had faced peril more than once, he had always managed to scrape through, earning himself a hefty number of points along the way.

After leaving the office building, Adam had planned to cross to the department store using the rooftops of a few crashed trucks. Zombies, dense as they were on the streets below, couldn't climb. The truck roofs, standing four or five meters high, promised safety. He just needed to leap carefully from one to the next and enter the department store through a second-floor window.

But plans seldom unfold as imagined. As he jumped from one truck roof to the next, the one ahead exploded without warning.

Though Adam was several meters away from the blast, the shockwave hurled him off balance, sending him tumbling to the ground. The impact, coupled with the blast's force, nearly incapacitated him. If not for sheer survival instinct driving him on, he might have become zombie fodder then and there.

Thankfully, his protective combat gear saved him from serious injury, though his right leg ached fiercely. The explosion's noise drew the zombies' attention, and many shambled toward the source, granting Adam a brief window of relative safety.

Ignoring the pain in his leg, he forced himself to his feet and ran—away from the horde, with no time to waste. At least a hundred zombies surrounded him, and the explosion would surely attract even more, perhaps triggering a chain reaction.

Just as he fled, he glimpsed wave after wave of zombies swarming toward the sound. The once quieter alley now teemed with the undead, numbering in the thousands. He had no time to dwell on it; he ran for his life.

Trapped between two masses of zombies, escape seemed impossible unless he could transform into a terminator or superhuman. Seeing no other choice, Adam ducked into an alleyway leading to a cluster of old buildings. Whether it ended in escape or a dead end, he had no option.

So, he ran and fought, his lungs burning, his heart straining beyond its limits. His limbs screamed for rest, his body nearing collapse.

Yet he had to keep moving, to fight for survival. With each block and chase, he knew he had pushed himself to the brink. Finally, his trusty steel rod snapped under pressure. All that remained to protect him was the revolver he had picked up in prison, with only twelve bullets left.

He dared not fire it, fearing his aim might betray him or that the gunshots would lure even more zombies.

"Twelve bullets... Better save the last one for myself," he thought grimly, gripping the gun tight. If it came to the worst, he'd end his life on his terms rather than becoming one of the mindless undead.

Exhaustion overwhelmed him. Every step felt heavier; the explosion had left him battered. He had fought and fled without pause, his stamina spent.

Would he collapse the next second, unable to continue? If so, he'd have no choice but to pull the trigger, ending it all.

Suddenly, three paths appeared before him in the alley, an unexpected blessing. Without hesitation, he veered left, hoping to throw off the horde, or at least split them.

"Hah... Huff... Hah... Huff..." His ragged breathing echoed in his ears, his throat raw and lungs aflame, his chest aching from overexertion.

"Keep going! You can't die here!" He urged himself on, unwilling to give up. To have survived this long was a miracle, but he craved more. Miracles upon miracles.

Then, as if some capricious god had heard his prayer, the alley ended—yet despair loomed. Footsteps, rapid and erratic, approached from the front. Was there another swarm of zombies?

But then, voices. Human voices.

"Hurry! Once we're on the boat, we'll be safe!"

Survivors! Other living humans! Adam, on the verge of collapse, found a surge of hope. He pushed forward, his pace quickening, and saw them—dozens of people in varied attire, scrambling in panic.