Sean crept down the stairs, every step slow and deliberate, like the floor might betray him with a creak. He kept his eyes locked on the corner ahead, half-expecting a zombie to lurch out at any second.

Luring zombies was a high-risk job—everyone knew that. But Sean had shot his mouth off earlier, and now he had no choice but to swallow his pride and deal with it.

He reached the landing and peeked around the corner. Nothing. Relief started to bloom in his chest—until he saw them.

Two pairs of blood-red eyes stared straight up at him from the shadows below.

"Shit—!"

He spun on his heel and bolted back up the stairs.

Behind him, the zombies let out guttural howls and gave chase, their footsteps pounding up the stairwell.

Sean burst through the rooftop door, panting. Ethan was already there, waiting.

"How many?" Ethan asked, all business.

"Two!"

"Goddammit, I said one at a time!"

"Like I planned this?" Sean snapped. "They came as a package deal!"

Ethan didn't waste time arguing. "Same plan—Skinny Pete and Big Mike, pin one with the ladder. We take the other."

They moved fast. This wasn't their first rodeo, and it showed.

The moment the zombies burst through the door, the ladder slammed into one of them, pinning it against the wall. The second one barely had time to register what was happening before a metal pipe cracked across its skull—again and again, each blow aimed squarely at the head.

The zombie roared and lunged at the trio who'd attacked it.

They didn't run far—just enough to draw it toward the edge of the rooftop. Ethan stepped in, pipe ready, engaging it head-on. Sean and Chris grabbed the folding chair Big Mike had hauled up earlier and rammed it into the zombie with everything they had.

No more kicking. Not after last time. Too risky.

The folding chair proved its worth. With a sickening crunch, it slammed into the zombie's chest, sending it toppling backward over the edge.

One down.

The second zombie was still pinned. The group worked together, using the ladder like a battering ram, and shoved it off the rooftop too.

Clean. Efficient. The whole thing was over in barely a minute.

Ethan turned to Sean, extending a hand. "Good teamwork."

There was history between them—some bad blood, a few sharp words—but when it came down to it, Sean and his crew hadn't held back. They'd fought like their lives depended on it, because they did.

Ethan respected that.

Truth was, there wasn't any real grudge between them. Just some trash talk that had gotten out of hand. And with the world the way it was now, they couldn't afford to let that kind of thing fester.

Sean hesitated for half a second, then took Ethan's hand and shook it firmly.

He got the message. Loud and clear. This wasn't the time for ego. Ethan had made the first move, and Sean wasn't about to play hard to get.

"Yeah, good teamwork," Sean said. "But, uh… can we maybe take turns on zombie duty? That shit's seriously dangerous."

"No problem. I'll go next," Ethan said without missing a beat.

Truth was, he'd planned to do it from the start. With his ability to see through walls, he could spot zombies before they got too close—keep things safer for everyone. But Sean had insisted on proving himself, so Ethan had let him.

Now, seeing how easily Ethan agreed, Sean couldn't help but reevaluate him. He didn't want to admit it, but the guy had a bigger-picture mindset than he did. And that mattered.

After a short break, Ethan grabbed a few loose stones and headed back downstairs to lure the next zombie.

At the stairwell landing, he activated True Sight—his name for the special ability that let him see things others couldn't. The name fit. With a quick sweep, he confirmed the coast was clear before cautiously descending.

Near the seventh floor, he triggered True Sight again and scanned both sides of the hallway.

To the left, two zombies were shambling around inside a dorm room. To the right, the room was empty. Both dorms looked like they'd been ransacked—drawers overturned, mattresses half-off the frames, clothes scattered like confetti.

In the hallway itself, three zombies loitered dangerously close to the stairwell on the left. Another one stood just as close on the right. If Ethan walked out now, all four would spot him instantly.

He paused, then flicked a pebble toward the right side of the hall and ducked back behind the corner.

The clatter drew some attention. The three on the left glanced over but quickly lost interest. The one on the right, though, wandered over to investigate, tilting its head at the stone like it was trying to remember what it was.

Ethan tossed another pebble, this one landing just below the stairs.

The curious zombie followed, shuffling closer, still staring at the ground.

"Hey," Ethan whispered, poking his head out.

The moment the zombie saw him, its eyes lit up with feral excitement. It let out a snarl and charged.

Ethan turned and sprinted back upstairs, the zombie hot on his heels.

Back on the rooftop, the others were already in position.

"How many?" Sean called out.

"One," Ethan replied.

"Perfect."

Seconds later, the zombie burst through the door—only to get smacked sideways by a ladder swung like a baseball bat. The impact launched it ten feet across the rooftop, where it skidded to a stop near the edge.

It barely had time to get up before the ladder came crashing in again, this time sending it clean over the side.

The poor bastard never even got a good look at who hit it.

Down on the first floor, in one of the dorm rooms, three teenage boys huddled together, watching in horror as yet another zombie plummeted past their window.

"These zombies are really committed," one of them muttered.

"Yeah, well, they don't feel pain. What's a little fall to them?"

"Great. Now we've got to worry about zombies dropping from the sky. How the hell are we supposed to get out of here?"

"Honestly? Just staying alive is a win. We've still got some bread left. If we ration it, we can last two more days. Maybe rescue shows up by then."

"Yeah… maybe."

Back on the rooftop—

"My turn," Sean said, already heading for the stairs. He wasn't the type to dodge responsibility when it was his.

"I'll go," Ethan cut in.

Sean paused. Ethan's tone was firm.

"There are three zombies right by the stairwell. You can't see them. If you go down blind, you'll walk straight into a trap."

Sean studied him for a moment, then nodded. "Alright."

He wasn't about to argue. Luring zombies was dangerous enough without walking into an ambush.

Ethan headed back down, repeating the same routine—stone in hand, True Sight active.

But this time, things didn't go as planned.

The three zombies didn't split up. No matter how many times he tried, they stuck together like a pack of drunk triplets. Ethan's jaw tightened. He was running out of patience—and stones.

Finally, he sighed, muttered a curse, and stepped into view.

The moment they saw him, all three zombies shrieked and charged.

Ethan turned and bolted, the trio thundering after him.

"Three incoming!" he shouted as he hit the rooftop.

"Three?!" Sean yelped. "What the hell?!"

"Same plan!" Ethan barked. "Skinny Pete, Big Mike—ladder one! Sean, Chris—chair the second! I'll handle the last one!"

The rooftop exploded into motion.

The first zombie through the door got slammed by the ladder, pinned against the wall. The second one barely made it two steps before Sean and Chris rammed it with the folding chair, pinning it hard.

Ethan led the third one toward the edge of the roof. He didn't hesitate—just raised the metal pipe and brought it down with everything he had.

Thunk.

The blow landed square on the zombie's skull. Dark, syrupy blood sprayed out as the pipe vibrated in Ethan's hands, the shock numbing his arms.

But it worked. The zombie staggered, its movements sluggish now.

Ethan's eyes lit up. He raised the pipe again and slammed it down, harder this time.

He couldn't count on backup—Chris and the others were tied up. And there was no time to drag this one to the edge.

So he'd kill it right here.

...

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