Chapter 3: Chapter 3 - Cruelty in Apocalypse

Moments later, a shrill siren blared from the school, filling the air with a piercing sound that caught every zombie’s attention. Instantly, the horde shifted, staggering toward the sound like predators drawn to fresh prey.

Meanwhile, inside a locked study room in the school, several students huddled, their faces pale as they heard the radio blaring outside.

“Who turned on that radio?!” one of them whispered, his voice trembling. “All the zombies are heading this way!”

A heavyset man with a greasy appearance, whom the students called “Uncle Sam,” grunted, gripping a crowbar as he glared at them. He had been using the school as a temporary hideout, intending to use the students to create an escape route when the coast was clear. But now, with the zombie horde closing in, his plan was in jeopardy.

“If I ever find out who started that radio, I’ll make them pay!” he muttered.

As more zombies poured onto the campus, Uncle Sam’s anxiety grew. Desperately, he turned to the students. “Any of you know where the school’s main power switch is?”

A thin, nervous-looking boy raised a hand. “I know… It’s by the security room.”

“Good. You’ll go there and turn it off,” Sam ordered, moving aside a makeshift barricade at a back window. “You can jump from here. The back is clear.”

The boy hesitated, visibly scared, but Sam’s glare was firm. “For everyone’s safety,” he said with a threatening tone.

The other students, some of whom had been reluctant to send him, began to whisper words of encouragement mixed with guilt, urging him to go. “We’ll pull you up once you get it done, okay?”

Tears glistened in the boy’s eyes as he reluctantly agreed. “Fine… I’ll go.”

He took a deep breath and jumped out of the window, making his way to the security room.

__________

“Good work, Ego! Most of the zombies have moved off,” Zack said, pleased as he watched the dwindling number of zombies around the transport truck.

Unaware of the terrified students inside the school, Zack continued his mission, focused only on his survival. After all, this was the end of the world. He had to make hard choices, and he knew full well that his life took priority over anyone else’s safety.

The broadcast continued, reaching over the zombie-filled pedestrian street. Soon, there were fewer than ten zombies left.

“It’s time to move!” Zack muttered, gripping the wheel tighter as he pressed down on the gas, steering his vehicle onto the street.

“Roar!” One of the zombies noticed him and, with a guttural cry, charged at the car.

Instead of slowing down, Zack floored the accelerator, ramming into the zombie with a powerful thud. The creature hit the hood, clinging for a moment before its legs caught under the wheels. A gruesome series of crunches followed as the vehicle rolled over it, leaving behind a mangled mess.

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“Sir, the cash transport truck is ahead on the right. There are a lot of zombies around it. I recommend using Molotov cocktails,” Ego, his AI companion, advised.

Zack followed Ego’ direction and spotted the black armored truck, surrounded by six or seven zombies. Parking discreetly on the side, he opened his backpack, grabbed a Molotov cocktail, and slid out of the vehicle quietly.

Using nearby cars as cover, Zack crouched and approached the armored truck step by step. The radio’s background noise masked his movement. Once he was ten meters away, he paused, ducking behind a black SUV. Carefully, he pulled out the homemade Molotov cocktail from his backpack, lit the rag at the mouth of the bottle, and threw it toward the zombies.

BOOM!

The bottle shattered, instantly igniting three or four zombies in a burst of flames. The burning zombies stumbled and roared, spreading the fire to others nearby. The stench of charred flesh filled the air as one by one, the zombies fell to the ground.

Just as Zack was about to throw another Molotov, he noticed a zombie heading in his direction, dressed in what appeared to be the remnants of an escort uniform.

“Perfect timing,” he muttered, lowering the cocktail and drawing his nail gun, waiting for the zombie to get closer. The nail gun’s air pressure was weak, so he needed the zombie within three meters for a guaranteed hit.

When the zombie was close enough, Zack leaned out from behind the SUV and fired twice. The first nail lodged in the zombie’s forehead but didn’t penetrate fully. The second hit the eye socket, dropping the creature instantly.

“Well, that’s one less problem,” he remarked, tossing the nail gun aside. With his nail bat ready, he approached the transport truck. Only one more zombie stood between him and the truck, its back to him, unaware due to the loud radio. Zack crept forward, but just then, the campus broadcast cut out, leaving a jarring silence.

The zombie immediately turned around, locking its gaze on Zack. “Roar!” it shrieked, charging straight at him.

With no time to question why the broadcast had stopped, Zack sidestepped, swinging his nail bat with full force. The impact sent the zombie sprawling, and before it could recover, he delivered a crushing blow to its head.

Unfortunately, the zombie’s roar had attracted the attention of nearby zombies. Seeing them turn, Zack called out, “Ego, what happened?”

“Sir, the radio’s power supply is out. There could be other survivors on campus,” Ego replied.

“Whatever. Time to leave!” Zack pulled a fertilizer bomb from his bag, lit the fuse, and lobbed it into the approaching horde before sprinting to the cash truck. Ignoring the explosion behind him, he quickly searched the fallen zombie for keys, unlocked the truck, and climbed inside.

BOOM!

The fertilizer bomb went off, shredding the zombies into a spray of blood and flesh. Still, a few staggered toward the armored truck, clawing and biting at the vehicle, though their attacks were useless against its bulletproof plating.

“The hell this zombie, he think he have armor-piercing teeth?” Zack sneered, jamming the key into the ignition. The truck roared to life, and he pressed down on the gas. Zombies blocking his path were crushed under the massive wheels, reduced to nothing more than a bloody smear on the road.

Two zombies clung to the windows but were quickly flung off as the truck picked up speed.

“Not bad, right, Ego?” Zack said, a hint of relief in his voice now that he was in motion.

“Yes, sir, the operation was a success, although with minor complications. By the way, sir, the records show there’s over two million in cash in this truck’s compartment.”

“Cash? What good is cash in this apocalypse?” Zack scoffed, glancing over to see a shotgun on the passenger seat with several boxes of ammunition. “Now, this is useful.”

As he passed the school area, the loud rumble of the truck engine attracted more zombies, and the noise alerted survivors hiding inside. Several students peeked out of windows, frantically waving and shouting for help.

“A vehicle! It’s a rescue!” they cried excitedly, pushing desks and chairs out of the way to get to the windows.