A lot had changed since the dawn of the outbreak. The virus—the one ripped from an asteroid and unleashed onto the world—was airborne. It spread like wildfire, sinking its teeth into humanity. But some people got lucky.

  Type A blood rejected it, made you immune to the air strain. That didn’t mean you were safe—oh no. A single bite, just one lousy scratch, and you were done. Three years. That’s how long I’ve survived in this hellhole. Three years of running, hiding, killing. Three years of watching the world rot.

  I was supposed to go to college. I had dreams, pns—maybe a girlfriend. But nope, the freaking zombie apocalypse had to drop in like a nuke to my future. And speaking of nukes—turns out, when the government panics and starts dropping them on infected zones, things get worse. Because now? Now we don’t just have zombies.

  We have Dozers—the ones who were juiced up on steroids or Who-knows-what before they turned. These guys can punch through concrete like it’s cardboard. Then there are the Deaders—if they stub their toe, they drop dead. If you get killed by one of those, you might as well have tripped into an open grave yourself.

  And don’t even get me started on the Einsteins. They’re smart. Not human smart, but just enough to be terrifying. They don’t talk much—just one lousy word, over and over again:

  "Infect."

  Then there are the Mergers. Those poor bastards got caught in the nuclear bst while touching something, and the radiation fused them together. Some are harmless—like a guy stuck to his pet dog. Others? Try fighting a zombie welded to the front of a car, using its corpse-limbs as extra weapons.

  And finally, we have the Norms—your everyday, shuffling, brain-hungry freaks. They’re the least of my worries.

  Because right now, I’m running for my life.

  From a zombified goril.

  I vault over a rusted car hood, my boots skidding across shattered gss as a four-hundred-pound undead nightmare barrels toward me.

  “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!” I shout, nearly tripping as the thing lets out a deep, guttural roar.

  The virus didn’t just stop at humans. It infected primates too. And this thing? This rotting mass of muscle and death used to be a goril—maybe from some zoo or government b. Now, it was a juggernaut of decay, half its face peeled back to expose yellowed teeth, its milky-white eyes locked onto me with a single, primal instinct:

  Kill.

  I sm my back against an abandoned delivery truck, yanking my arm up. My wrist-rigged crossbow hums with tension—the best piece of gear I ever built. A six-shot rotating mechanism, silent, deadly, and perfect for not attracting a horde.

  I fire.

  The first bolt thunks into the goril’s shoulder. No reaction.

  I fire again.

  This one punches through its throat, but instead of dying, the thing just snarls—like it’s annoyed.

  “Oh, COME ON!” I shout, rolling out of the way as a massive hand smashes into the truck, sending rusted metal flying.

  I sprint down an alley, my heart hammering. I need to be smart about this. If I can get high ground, I might have a shot at—

  SLAM.

  I hit a dead end.

  A concrete wall looms ahead, too high to climb. Behind me, the ground shudders as the goril stomps forward, exhaling a thick, wet growl.

  “Alright, big guy, let’s talk about this,” I say, slowly raising my hands. “I’m Nate. I don’t know what your name used to be, but I bet it was something cool, huh? Maybe... Titan? Kong? Buddy?”

  The goril snorts, its fyed nostrils twitching.

  “Look, man, I get it. You got turned, and now everything sucks. But come on, you don’t have to eat me. Maybe we can—”

  It lunges.

  I dive just in time, rolling under its swinging arm. My st two bolts are already loaded, and as I hit the ground, I fire both into its leg.

  The goril stumbles, roaring in frustration.

  I don’t stick around.

  I unch myself onto a dumpster, grab the edge of a hanging fire escape, and pull myself up just as the beast sms into the wall below.

  The metal shakes violently, but I keep moving—scaling up, hand over hand, until I reach the rooftop. I throw myself over the ledge, panting hard.

  Below, the goril lets out a final, frustrated growl before lumbering off, its massive form disappearing into the ruins.

  I take a deep breath, staring up at the sky.

  Three years. Three years in this nightmare.

  And somehow, I’m still here.

  For now.