Dark Apocalypse

Episode 7

What should I do? How do I face the zombies?!



What kind of face was that! Adam had never imagined how terrifying it would be to encounter such a thing in reality. Though it had seemed harmless enough when seen in movies, why did the shift from screen to reality leave him trembling?

Perhaps it was because, deep in his subconscious, he knew that what lay before his eyes wasn't makeup or cinematic trickery. It was a real, flesh-devouring zombie.

The creature, still clad in a prison guard's uniform, turned its mutilated face towards him. Half of its skin had peeled away, exposing rotting black-and-red flesh, and a jagged row of white teeth glistened, smeared with bloody scraps of its last meal. One eye had dislodged from its socket, dangling by a thin thread of tissue, while the other bulged grotesquely. The entire visage was a nightmare come to life.

Being fixed by such a gaze would rattle anyone's nerves, especially after witnessing the gruesome scene of cannibalistic horror. Adam was already grateful that his legs hadn't given out beneath him, let alone summoned the strength to flee.

He desperately wished it were all a dream, or at least a scene from a film set, where everything was fabricated and safe. But the sharp pain he felt when he pinched his arm earlier was proof enough. This was no dream; it was brutally, terrifyingly real.

The ravaged cityscape beyond had extinguished any lingering hope that this was a film shoot. This wasn't a scene from some Hollywood zombie flick—this was the unthinkable come true. Zombies, in his homeland! Even the strictest censorship laws could not have prepared him for this reality.

"Is this why the city has become a wasteland of flames and ruin?" he whispered, voice quivering.

Years ago, Adam had enjoyed watching zombie movies, endlessly replaying them. But facing the horror in person was something else entirely. The fear was palpable, suffocating.

"Don't be afraid... don't panic... stay calm," he whispered to himself. "Zombies have poor eyesight. They rely on sound to hunt... if I stay quiet, they won't notice me..."

He forced himself into a fragile semblance of composure, recalling bits of wisdom gleaned from those movies. Panic would only worsen his predicament. He needed clarity, a plan.

Yet no matter how much he tried, his fear was overwhelming. He stood frozen, terrified even to move, lest any sound draw the horde's attention.

Thump-thump, thump-thump...

His heart pounded so loudly that he feared it might give him away. If only he could will his heart to stop, he thought, for surely the zombies would hear its thunderous beat!

Of course, this was a paranoid illusion. The sound of his heart, while frantic, wasn't loud enough to be heard from such a distance. The zombies were nearly a hundred meters away, far beyond the reach of even the keenest senses.

And he was still atop the watchtower, several meters off the ground.

Eventually, the zombie, having glanced briefly in his direction, returned to its ghastly feast, continuing to tear apart the once-beloved, now-devoured prison guard, who had once captivated the entire facility.

Ironically, many had dreamed of "devouring" that beautiful woman, but never like this.

"Alright, it's just like in the movies..." Adam exhaled shakily. Yet, even with this minor relief, confusion still reigned in his mind. How had the world descended into such chaos? How had zombies emerged, turning the city into a wasteland?

His thoughts were a whirlwind, threatening to overwhelm him.

One thing, however, became clear: he needed to escape.

Yes, escape! The watchtower provided temporary safety, but it wouldn't last. He had to leave, to find other survivors.

"There have to be others. It's impossible that everyone's dead or turned into zombies! There must be survivors somewhere!" He clung to that hope, forcing himself to believe it, refusing to accept that he might be the last living person.

Silently, he began his descent, careful not to make any noise. Step by step, he tiptoed down from the tower, mindful of every move. The slightest noise could be his undoing, and he was painstakingly cautious.

Once at the base, Adam peered out cautiously. From the top of the tower, he had been able to see the c*****e in the prison yard. Down below, his view was blocked by a corner and a wall.

The absence of the ghastly scene should have comforted him, but instead, it made him even more tense. To escape, he would need to cross that very yard. Only then could he reach the other side, navigate a series of barriers, and finally leave the prison.

There was no other way out, or at least none that Adam knew of. Perhaps there were other exits, but he dared not risk searching for them, fearing he would stumble upon another zombie and have no chance of survival.

"What do I do..." he muttered in despair.

Five or six zombies were active in the yard, and that was excluding the possibility that any of the motionless bodies scattered around would reanimate. The yard was littered with corpses, easily a hundred or more. If even a fraction of them turned...

Adam couldn't bear to imagine it.

Even without additional threats, just those five or six zombies were an insurmountable obstacle. He couldn't possibly fight his way through. Being bitten meant certain death, or worse, transformation.

Then there was one other way out: jumping over the wall from the watchtower. But the idea was daunting. The drop was at least ten meters onto solid concrete, and the wall was lined with razor wire designed to prevent escapes.

Was crossing the yard his only option?

"How could I possibly fend off zombies? If they bite me, I'm done for!" His mind was trapped in turmoil.

"Perhaps... I can help you with your predicament..." a sudden voice whispered in his mind.