Taking a deep breath, Kael Voss kicked open the bedroom door. A low growl followed—a gust of decay from the depths of hell itself. A female corpse burst out, reeking of death.
Kael didn't panic. He stepped back a few paces, positioned himself in the middle of the living room, gripped the cutlass tightly with both hands, and stood on high alert, eyes locked on the approaching corpse.
"Ah!"
In the next moment, Kael seized the opportunity, let out a shout, and swung his blade horizontally. The cutlass lodged itself into the female corpse's clavicle. Feeling the blade stuck, Kael instinctively yanked it back in an attempt to free it.
To his dismay, the motion dragged the corpse with it. Its claws stretched toward him, and a wave of rot stung his nostrils. If he hadn't thrown his head back just in time, its talons would've torn into his face.
There was no time to hesitate. While leaning back, Kael delivered a forceful kick to the corpse's chest, freeing the blade in the process. In one fluid motion, he reversed his grip and drove the cutlass downward in a brutal stab.
The blade struck with immense force, plunging straight into the zombie's skull. The creature dropped dead, utterly lifeless.
Kael collapsed onto the sofa, sprawled and breathing heavily, only now realizing his forehead and back were drenched in sweat. Though it had been nearly six months since the outbreak began, this was the first time he had faced a zombie entirely on his own.
Back at the beginning of the apocalypse, he'd immediately organized a shelter. Surrounded by trusted comrades, the base had grown steadily under their collective efforts.
But that success had bred complacency. He had started believing he was invincible, overlooking how much of that strength came from others rather than himself.
Being betrayed had exposed his many weaknesses. Until now, Kael had prioritized leadership and logistics, believing those were the most vital skills in a post-apocalyptic world—while neglecting his own combat capabilities.
He had forgotten that, in this new world, only raw physical power could truly command respect and loyalty. A leader who couldn't fight was just waiting to be replaced by the next ambitious upstart.
After a while, Kael hauled the female zombie's corpse to the window and tossed it out. He stood, scanned the flat one last time, wiped the blade clean with a torn rag, gathered whatever supplies he could find into his backpack, and opened the front door.
The stairwell was eerily quiet. Kael ascended the stairs cautiously. Strangely, he didn't encounter a single zombie. When he finally reached the rooftop, the desolate city stretched out before him.
Standing atop the building, he scanned the surroundings. He was fairly sure he wasn't far from his old supply depot. Even if Sylvan Viper and the others had exiled him, they wouldn't have risked dumping him too far away—not with the city swarming with the dead.
Judging by the distance, he estimated the shelter was five or six blocks away. Under normal circumstances, it would be a half-hour drive at most.
But in the apocalypse, thirty minutes might as well be a lifetime.
Cars were practically useless now—revving an engine would attract half the undead population in the city. It was suicidal.
Besides, most roads were blocked by wrecks and debris. Sometimes, traveling on foot was faster than trying to drive.
Back at the warehouse shelter, they mostly used bicycles—quiet, fast, and safe.
As Kael looked over the rooftops, he tried to chart a relatively safe route to travel under the cover of night. He'd need to move quickly and quietly to avoid the hordes.
Just then, a flash of light appeared from the top of a distant high-rise. Kael's eyes narrowed.
Firelight.
Zombies didn't start fires. That had to be people. Survivors.
Even in the ruins of Britain's densest cities, there had to be pockets of humanity left. If even 10% of a city's population had survived, that would still mean hundreds of thousands were out there, clinging to life.
"Better to find allies—there's strength in numbers. Better than going it alone."
Kael studied the light for a few more minutes, silently calculating a route through alleyways and side streets to reach that building.
Then, he turned back down the stairs. Before anything else, he'd need to scavenge more supplies to survive the next few days—especially while waiting for Lyra Solis to drop off the provisions she'd promised.
…
On the 30th floor of the tower, Kael approached an already-open door. He avoided locked units—those might contain zombies—and he wasn't in the mood for unnecessary risks.
He pushed the security door wide open and crept inside with his blade drawn. He left the door ajar, just in case. If there were more than three zombies inside, he wanted a quick exit route.
Up this high, the groans of the dead in the street couldn't reach him. Inside, it was unnervingly quiet.
After checking all the rooms, he confirmed there were no "residents." Only then did he close the steel door and head into the kitchen.
Power had long since failed, but the gas line still had a trace of pressure. Since barely surviving the last attack, he'd noticed his strength increasing—and his appetite with it.
Seeing the gas cylinder, Kael decided to cook something. But the fuel ran out before he could even boil a pot of water.
With a sigh, he grabbed two old books, smashed apart a couple of drawers, and built a makeshift fire in the living room. In the kitchen, he found a packet of noodles and a few unspoiled eggs.
Smoke curled through the air as he squinted through red, stinging eyes. He boiled the noodles, cracked in the eggs, and wolfed the meal down before sinking into the sofa. On the coffee table was a pack of cigarettes.
Lighting one up, he exhaled slowly, savoring the rare moment of peace.
Squatting in someone else's flat would've been considered breaking and entering in the old world. But now, it was just survival.
Once the smoke cleared, Kael resumed scavenging the flat. He found a backpack, a flashlight, a pair of binoculars, and a coil of nylon rope as thick as his thumb.
He shoved everything into the pack without hesitation. As for food and water, he only took a small amount—enough to stay mobile in case he had to fight or flee.
Back in the stairwell, Kael made his way down to the ground floor, checking any open flats on the way. Supplies were scarce, though. He didn't find much.
Finally, he reached the main entrance. Through the steel grille of the intercom gate, he saw three or four dozen zombies shambling about the open courtyard outside.
From the rooftop earlier, Kael had realized that reaching that high-rise six or seven blocks away wouldn't be possible on foot—not with that many zombies. He needed a vehicle.
Driving in the city was risky, sure, but in the right situation—like punching through a light blockade—a car could still save your life.
A row of seventeen or eighteen civilian vehicles was parked along the southern wall of the courtyard. The problem was: where would he find keys?
That was a tougher nut to crack.
Just then, a chorus of growls echoed down the corridor. Seven or eight zombies wandered past the intercom gate.
Kael's eyes lit up. One of the undead had a remote key fob dangling from its belt.
Thinking quickly, Kael coughed twice, drawing the zombies' attention. They turned with guttural snarls, skeletal teeth bared, and lumbered toward him, crowding around the gate.
Their grotesque faces were mere inches away. Even with the barrier between them, Kael's skin crawled.
Steeling himself, he slipped his blade through the grille and drove it through the skull of the first zombie.
Suppressing his revulsion, he repeated the process until all seven were down. Clean, efficient, and—most importantly—quiet. The other undead, still wandering further off, didn't notice a thing.
Gently easing the gate open, Kael reached down and yanked the key fob from the corpse's belt. He bolted toward the row of cars, hitting the unlock button.
Beep-beep!
A black SUV flashed its headlights.
The sound stirred the nearby zombies. But before they could shamble over, Kael had already leapt into the vehicle, jammed the key into the ignition, and gunned the engine.
The SUV roared to life.
With one sharp turn, Kael barreled through the gates and sped out into the apocalyptic city.