Surviving The Undead

Chapter 3

I thought it was over after I left those three men behind me. But I was wrong about that.

They weren’t just random scavengers as I thought. Not even close to it.

As I rode down the cracked highway on my bike, a noise buzzed in my ear—gunfire, shouting. It was a faint one, but it was there. I slowed down and pulled over, crouching near a broken fence as I peered ahead to see what was happening through there.

There was a gas station about two blocks away. At least ten men guarded it. Some had makeshift weapons, others carried rifles tightly in their hands. They wore the same red armbands as the three I encountered earlier.

Gang members.

I stayed low and watched them for a while. It all started making sense to me. The three I’d fought must’ve been part of a larger group. A gang that had taken control of this area after the outbreak occurred.

They weren’t just surviving. They were ruling the place.

I overheard a conversation between two of them while hiding behind an old van.

“They caught some guy trying to take water again,” one said.

“Idiots never learn. This stuff belongs to us now. The world's changed, and people better accept that,” the other answered, and laughed out loud.

My jaw clenched. These guys weren’t helping anyone. They were hoarding supplies and acting like kings. Blocking survivors from even taking food that belonged to them.

But it wasn’t my fight. Not now.

I turned back and took another route, heading south towards my parents’ place. I knew now why those three came at me so aggressively. They were protecting what they thought was theirs.

Still, I wasn’t too bothered about that.

I’d already stored ninety-nine percent of my supplies in my spatial space. Only a few canned goods and some water bottles were in the backpack they saw. I didn’t want trouble over something that small.

But they did.

About twenty minutes after I left the gas station area, I heard the rumble of an engine behind me. I glanced into my mirror and cursed.

It was them. Not again!

The three I’d fought earlier were back—and this time, they brought reinforcements. Two more jeeps trailed behind, speeding straight toward me. They must’ve reported me and regrouped fast.

Slowing down, I pretended to struggle with my bike. As I came to a stop near the abandoned parking lot, I jumped off and raised my hands, acting like I was surrendering to them.

“Drop the bag immediately ,” one of them shouted at me, getting out of the jeep with a pipe in hand. “And no tricks this time.”

I nodded slowly. “Fine. I don’t want problems.” I murmured.

I reached for the backpack, acting reluctant. I held it out halfway.

That’s when I saw it.

One of them, behind the others, sneaking to my left, ready to strike me from the side with a metal rod.

I moved.

In a blink, I summoned two spatial blades.

The one sneaking up didn’t even see it coming. My blade shot straight through his skull. He collapsed instantly.

The others froze. Their eyes widened.

“You bastard!” one of them screamed under his breath, charging towards me.

Too late.

I spun, slashing across his neck with a clean strike. Blood sprayed around. He gurgled and dropped.

The last one turned to run, but I wasn’t letting him go. I summoned a third blade and hurled it like a spear.

Direct hit. Back of the head. He dropped face-first.

Silence returned. And everywhere became calm again.

I stood still there, breathing hard. My heart was pounding heavily, but I didn’t shake this time. I was getting used to it already. The power. The speed. The precision. I’d been training every night since that first awakening.

And now, I am better. Faster. Deadlier.

This world didn’t allow hesitation. If I had paused even for a second, I’d be dead.

I looked over at the vehicle the men had arrived in—a dark green off-road jeep with lifted tires and reinforced bumpers. I walked over and opened the door.

The engine was still warm. The keys were inside.

“Thank you for the gift,” I muttered with a smile.

I climbed in, shut the door, and brought the engine back to life.

The engine purred like a beast instantly. It was powerful, smooth, and fully modified for rough terrain. The dashboard was fitted with extra lights, a GPS tracker, even a small monitor that seemed to connect to an external camera.

I checked the back—rifles, toolkits, rope, fuel barrels. Jackpot.

Much better than the old motorcycle.

I drove down the road with a small smile plastered on my face. For the first time since this nightmare began, I felt like I had a chance to do something. Maybe I could reach my parents in time.

I checked the fuel gauge—half full.

Enough to get me closer, but not all the way.

I needed more.

So I made a quick detour to the nearest gas station I’d marked earlier on my phone. It was on the outskirts of the gang’s territory—less guarded, hopefully.

When I arrived, the place looked quiet. I parked a little distance away and crept up on foot.

No signs of life.

I moved fast, broke the window, and climbed in. Inside, I found several barrels of fuel and empty canisters. I used a hose to siphon the gas and filled the jeep's tank to full. Then I loaded four extra barrels into the back.

I found a few boxes of energy bars, water bottles, and a first-aid kit. I shoved most into my space and left just a few in the visible compartments.

As I walked out, I noticed the wind had picked up. Clouds were forming fast, dark and heavy. A storm was coming.

I got into the jeep and drove off just as the first drops of rain hit the windshield.

With this vehicle, full fuel, and my power growing every day, I was ready to reach my parents.

But deep down, I knew this world had more waiting for me.

More danger.

More blood.

And more choices I’d have to make.