The World Is Mine For The Taking

I panted heavily as I sprinted toward the door. Just as I burst through, it slammed shut behind me, the deafening sound cutting off the relentless moans of the zombies right on my heels. The three men with me had managed to close it just in time.

We all gasped for breath, our chests heaving as we tried to steady ourselves.

"We just need to go up one more floor, and we'll be on the rooftop," the military man said, his voice strained but resolute. "We only have to endure one more floor, and then we'll survive this."

"How much time do we have left, oriental girl?" the tattooed man demanded.

"One hour before 10 P.M.," I panted, struggling to catch my breath.

"Given how things are going so far, I think we'll make it. Our timing will depend on the situation on the next floor," the military man said, his eyes darting nervously as he assessed the group. "Do you all want to take a breather now, or should we press on?"

"I think it's smarter to keep moving," the terrified man said, his voice shaky. "We can rest once we're on the rooftop."

I agreed with the plan. When the military man's gaze turned to me, I gave a firm nod.

"Alright. We'll head to the next floor now. Is everyone ready?"

We all nodded in unspoken agreement, silently acknowledging that he would take charge. It felt natural, given his extensive experience and his role as a veteran soldier. His authority was palpable, and it was clear he knew how to lead us through the chaos.

"Are you holding up alright?" the military man asked, his eyes scanning me with genuine concern.

"Yes," I said.

Your source is m-vl|em|p,yr

"You must have endured a lot to survive this apocalypse at such a young age. I'm guessing you were still in high school when it all started," he said, his voice carrying a mix of sympathy and admiration.

"...Well, I was in my third year of high school when it happened," I confessed.

"I see," the military man said, his gaze softening with a hint of sympathy. The way he looked at me was reminiscent of how a father might gaze at his daughter—tender and protective. It was a stark contrast to my own father, who was nothing more than a scumbag. I was relieved he was already among the infected.

"I bet you and my daughter would get along famously if you two ever met," he added with a wistful smile.

His expression made it seem like he was seeing his daughter in me. I couldn't relate, though. My own father was so vile that, if I had to imagine someone in that role, it would probably be this tattooed man.

"I didn't have a daughter myself, but I kind of wish I did," the terrified man said, his voice cracking with a mix of sadness and longing. "Mia didn't want one, though. She thought a child would be a hassle. And honestly, she probably didn't want a child with me because she wasn't really committed to our relationship. I mean, she was cheating on me with another man.

It's not surprising—I was just a low-salary worker with no future. Who'd want to marry someone like that if they didn't want their life to turn to shit? But if I survive this mess, I'd want to get married and have a daughter. It'd be a nice change. I wish there was a paradise far away from this hell."

"Save the sob story for later. It's getting fucking annoying," the tattooed man said sharply, his patience wearing thin. "If you want to escape this hellhole and live a different life, focus on surviving first. Stop wasting time thinking about shit that doesn't matter in this fucked-up world."

That's right. As much as the tattooed man was a complete asshole about it, he made a solid point. There was no time to dwell on "what ifs" or fantasize about idyllic scenarios in this apocalyptic nightmare. Being optimistic was fine, but being so optimistic that you ignored reality was a waste of breath. We hadn't even made it out yet. We didn't know if there was a paradise left in this world.

If there was, that would be nice, but right now, it felt like nothing more than a distant dream.

"Enough with the chatter. We need to focus on the task at hand—getting across this floor and reaching the other side."

The reason we had to navigate to the other side of the building was due to its bizarre, labyrinthine design. Each floor forced us to traverse the length of the building to reach the stairs going up. It was an odd setup, but I guess many employees didn't give a thought about the stairs thanks to the elevators. Too bad those elevators were useless now.

Although the electricity was still running, using the elevator with such unreliable power was too risky. That's why we had to cross this floor to find the next set of stairs.

"Okay," said the military man, his voice steady as he headed for the stairs. He ascended and, upon reaching the top, grabbed the door knob and turned it just enough to peer through the narrow gap. We didn't need to see more to know how many of those zombies were on this floor.

"Fuck," cursed the tattooed man, his frustration evident. "Have they turned this place into a whole damn colony?"

"Shit. What the hell? How many of these fuckers are there?" he added, his voice tinged with disbelief.

The Demon Zombies were so densely packed that they were practically climbing over each other. The first floor had none at all, and the second floor had just one massive Demon Zombie. By the third floor, their numbers began to increase slightly, with more showing up up to the fifth floor. On the sixth floor, their numbers surged dramatically, only to decrease again on the seventh.

The eighth floor was a nightmare, requiring us to use distraction tactics and navigate around them just to reach the next set of stairs. Now, on the ninth floor, the sheer volume of them was overwhelming. From where we stood, it was clear just how bad things had gotten.

"We can't fight this many..." the military man said, his voice heavy with resignation. Even he was starting to grasp the severity of our situation. "Wait. Look over there. It seems like they're only clustered in this section of the floor. The other side doesn't have nearly as many."

I hadn't noticed it at first, but now that he pointed it out, he was right. The Demon Zombies appeared to fill the building, but that was just the view from where we stood. If you looked closely, you'd see there was a significant amount of space behind the horde.

"What the fuck do we do?" the terrified man stammered, his voice quivering as he shook in his boots, clearly overwhelmed by the chaos.

"Get these bastards to move away from this section and shove them over to that part of the floor so we can find a way around them," the tattooed man ordered, his voice steady and commanding despite the situation.

"They don't look like they could even scratch our protective gear, so it should be safe to push them aside and navigate around them. We can handle this," the military man added, his tone firm and reassuring.

"Now let's go!" the military man shouted, his voice echoing with urgency.

With a collective heave, we slammed the door open with all our might, using the momentum to force the cluster of Demon Zombies back. The groaning creatures staggered, their grotesque forms momentarily disoriented by the sudden shove.

We immediately sprang into action, the air thick with the stench of decay and the screeches of the Demons. Weapons were drawn and our protective gear clattered as we engaged the horde. Each swing of our blades cut through the air with a brutal efficiency, and the sharp crack of our firearms punctuated the chaos.

The Demons, disoriented and reeling from our initial push, began to regroup, their numbers still overwhelming but their movements becoming more erratic.

Our strategy was clear: keep the pressure on them, push them back further into the corner, and create a path for us to advance. As we fought, the floor beneath us became slick with blood and the remnants of the Demons, adding a layer of treacherous footing to our struggle. With every step, we maneuvered carefully, eyes scanning for the next threat as we fought our way forward.

We finally found a slight gap and seized the opportunity, rushing through it. We made it to the other side, though there were still plenty of Demon Zombies left behind. With the way clear for now, we decided to head straight for the door.

It didn't dawn on us that the door might not open as easily as it had on the other floors. We were so accustomed to smooth progress that we didn't anticipate any problems.

"Fuck...! It won't open!" the tattooed man shouted, panic creeping into his voice.

The Demon Zombies were closing in fast. We were on the verge of being surrounded.

The military man used his body to slam into the door, shattering it. But in doing so, we lost our chance to block the horde with it.

"Head for the rooftop!" he ordered urgently.

We scrambled up the stairs, finding the door to the rooftop easily accessible. The three of us rushed toward it, but the zombies were closing in fast. If we didn't get the door shut soon, they'd be on us, turning our escape into a dead end.

It was then that...

"Eh?"

The tattooed man suddenly kicked the terrified man, who was still struggling to pass through the rooftop door and was lagging behind, right into the waiting horde of zombies. The Demons immediately swarmed over him, tearing him apart with brutal efficiency. His protective gear proved useless as they crushed his bones and shredded his flesh.

He was devoured alive, his screams echoing through the chaos. Blood gurgled from his mouth as the zombies feasted on him.

The tattooed man slammed the door shut and quickly secured it with a rusty metal bar, bending it into place to lock it firmly.

We were safe for the moment, with nothing left to worry about except waiting for the rescuer.

But my mind was struggling to process what had just happened.