Brooklyn, New York – Oak Street North Intersection.

  The roar of a sports car engine grew louder, cutting through the eerie silence of the abandoned streets. Thousands of zombies, drawn by the noise, began to converge, their guttural groans filling the air like a macabre symphony. The undead horde was alive with movement, a sea of decaying bodies surging toward the source of the sound.

  Moments later, a sleek yellow Chevrolet Camaro with black racing stripes tore through the intersection. The car, famously known as the "people's sports car" in the States and immortalized as Bumblebee in the *Transformers* movies, was a blur of speed and power. Behind the wheel was Robbie, the gang's sharpshooter, pushing the car to its limits. With a top speed of 250 kilometers per hour, the Camaro was his best shot at outrunning the nightmare closing in around him.

  *Bang! Bang! Bang!*

  After crossing the intersection, Robbie slammed on the brakes, sending the car into a controlled skid. The tires screeched as the Camaro spun sideways, coming to a halt in the middle of the road. Robbie popped open the sunroof, stood up, and fired several shots into the air. The unsuppressed gunshots echoed through the surrounding blocks, a deliberate act to draw even more zombies. He ducked back inside, closed the sunroof, and slammed the accelerator, rocketing the car eastward at breakneck speed.

  Using gunfire to lure zombies was a high-stakes gamble. The noise would attract them from all directions, creating a tightening noose around him. But Robbie had no choice. Time was running out, and every second counted. The Camaro, while fast, was ill-suited for the post-apocalyptic terrain. Its low clearance made it vulnerable to the debris and corpses littering the streets. A single misstep could send the car flipping, leaving him at the mercy of the horde.

  Robbie had chosen the Camaro over more practical vehicles like SUVs or sedans for one reason: speed. If there had been an Aston Martin in the parking lot, he would have taken it without hesitation. Every minute saved increased the slim chance of saving his brother, Dog.

  The Camaro raced down the street, zombies swarming behind it. The car's speed was both a blessing and a curse. While it outpaced the zombies, the low chassis made every bump and corpse a potential disaster. The car shuddered violently, threatening to fall apart as Robbie white-knuckled the steering wheel.

  After barreling down another block, Robbie slammed the brakes again, executing a sharp drift to a stop in the middle of an intersection. He popped back out of the sunroof, dual-wielding pistols. His marksmanship was on full display as he picked off zombies with precise headshots. After emptying multiple magazines, he ducked back inside, reloading with practiced efficiency.

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  The continuous gunfire drew zombies from nearby streets, including Elm Street, just a block away. The horde closed in, surrounding the Camaro. Their gnarled hands pounded on the car's body, their blood-red eyes filled with frenzied hunger. The windshield cracked under the assault, moments from shattering.

  Robbie remained calm, his focus unwavering as he reloaded. He knew the gunfire had done its job, drawing most of the zombies from Elm Street. The car's windows were now under siege, and the windshield finally gave way, a zombie crashing through and landing in the passenger seat. Robbie didn't flinch. He fired a single shot, blowing the zombie's head off, then glanced at his arm. His earlier wounds had scabbed over, and though splattered with zombie blood, he felt confident he wasn't infected.

  Suddenly, the car jolted violently as it ran over several zombie corpses. The impact sent the Camaro airborne for a brief moment before it crashed back down, shattering all the windows. Robbie gritted his teeth, maintaining control as he accelerated. With one hand on the wheel, he used the other to fire at zombies ahead, ensuring they didn't crash through the broken windshield.

  The situation was deteriorating faster than Robbie had anticipated. He cursed under his breath as he navigated the debris-strewn streets, dodging abandoned cars while scanning the buildings for landmarks. Soon, he swerved into a narrow alley, barely wide enough for the Camaro. Zombies continued their relentless pursuit.

  The alley was a gamble. If an abandoned vehicle blocked the path, Robbie would be forced to abandon the car. But he had no choice—this was the fastest route to Elm Street. The Camaro was already battered, its lights and mirrors shattered, its body dented and smeared with gore.

  Robbie's expression hardened as he spotted a small delivery truck parked against the wall ahead. The gap beside it was just wide enough for the Camaro, but it would require precision driving. Any misstep could send the car careening into the truck, flipping it.

  In a daring move, Robbie accelerated and opened the driver's side door. The Camaro scraped past the truck, the door tearing off with a loud crash. Robbie quickly gathered his weapons and ammunition, then, in a heart-stopping maneuver, leaped from the moving car.

  The Camaro was still speeding when Robbie jumped, tucking and rolling to absorb the impact. He came up with only minor scrapes, his training evident in his controlled landing. He holstered his pistols, slung the ammo bag over his shoulder, and sprinted toward a nearby wall.

  The alley was lined with the backs of old buildings, some with rear doors too far to reach in time. Robbie ran at the wall, using his momentum to launch himself upward. He grabbed the edge of a second-floor window, punched through the glass, and hauled himself inside.

  He landed hard on the cold floor of an empty room, gasping for breath. The sound of zombies outside grew louder, but Robbie knew the Camaro's final act would buy him time.

  *Boom!*

  The car, now driverless, crashed into a corner of the alley, sparks flying as it scraped along the wall. It flipped, landing with a deafening crash before exploding in a fiery blast.

  Robbie lay still, listening. The explosion would drown out any noise he had made. For now, he was safe—but the real challenge lay ahead.