Apocalypse: King of Zombies

In the other room…

”Sean, don’t you think Ethan’s gotten a hell of a lot stronger lately?” Skinny Pete whispered.

Sean nodded, frowning. ”Yeah, I’ve noticed. His strength is off the charts now.”

”What the hell happened?” Big Mike muttered, his face dark. ”Back at the start, sure, the guy was tough, but if it came down to a fight, the three of us could’ve taken him. Now? I’m not so sure we’d win even if we all jumped him at once.”

”If I had to guess,” Sean said, thoughtful, ”it’s probably because of that red crystal he dug out of that zombie’s skull.”

Skinny Pete and Big Mike exchanged a look, then nodded slowly.

”Now that you mention it… yeah. He started getting stronger right after he ate that thing.”

”But how the hell did he even know it was in there?” Big Mike asked, baffled. ”And more importantly, why would he eat it? That’s insane.”

”That’s what I can’t figure out,” Sean said. ”There’s something off about those two. Did you notice? They both got scratched, but neither of them turned.”

”And when we were clearing out zombies this afternoon,” he added, lowering his voice, ”Ethan moved like he already knew where the infected were hiding. Every time, he had a plan before we even saw them.”

”I noticed that too,” Skinny Pete said. ”I was gonna ask, but figured I’d keep my mouth shut.”

”Yeah,” Big Mike muttered. ”They’re freaks. So what now? We still sticking with them?”

Sean was quiet for a moment, then said, ”Until we leave the dorm building, yeah. Being around them gives us better odds.”

”Fair.”

”But we need to get our hands on one of those crystals ourselves,” Sean added. ”I’m not planning to stay under his boot forever.”

”Don’t worry, Sean,” Skinny Pete said. ”We’ll help you get one.”

...

Sixth floor stairwell…

Ethan peered down the hallway, frowning.

The rooftop fight earlier had drawn some of the sixth-floor zombies upstairs, but there were still over a dozen left wandering the corridor. And right in the middle of them was the mutated zombie.

That was the problem.

He was confident he could take the mutated one in a one-on-one fight. But with a dozen others swarming around? No chance.

He turned to Chris. ”The mutated one’s in the middle of that pack—the tall one in black. Think you can lure it out? Maybe into one of the dorm rooms?”

Chris leaned out just enough to get a look, then pulled back and nodded slowly. ”I can try.”

”Be careful,” Ethan said. ”If it doesn’t work, forget it. And remember—using your ability drains your mental energy. If you start feeling dizzy, pull back immediately. If you push too far, your invisibility will drop.”

He reached into his pocket and handed Chris a handful of small stones—his go-to for zombie bait. He always kept a stash on him.

”I got it, Ethan. Don’t worry.” Chris took the stones, then vanished into thin air.

Under Ethan’s True Sight, Chris’s outline shimmered faintly as he crept forward, careful and silent. He stopped about seventeen feet from the cluster of zombies.

They kept shambling aimlessly, unaware of his presence.

Chris let out a quiet breath, then flicked a stone into a nearby dorm room.

The clatter echoed, and two zombies immediately turned and charged into the room.

It worked.

Chris repeated the trick, tossing more stones in different directions. One by one, he peeled off seven or eight of the undead, drawing them away from the group.

Now the mutated zombie stood exposed.

Chris backed up a few steps and tossed a stone directly at its feet.

The creature looked down at the stone, then slowly raised its head, scanning the hallway. It didn’t move.

Smarter than the others. That much was clear.

Chris didn’t give up. He kept backing away, tossing stones as he went.

Finally, the mutated zombie’s curiosity got the better of it. It started to follow—but so did the two regular zombies flanking it.

Chris grimaced. This wasn’t what he wanted. He was trying to lure one, not three.

He tried again and again, but those two zombies stuck to the mutated one like shadows. Wherever it went, they followed.

With no other choice, Chris shot a helpless look toward Ethan in the distance.

Ethan saw the problem and gave him a subtle hand signal—bring them in. Then he turned and slipped around the stairwell landing, out of sight.

With the green light, Chris carefully led the trio forward, stone by stone, drawing them all the way to the bend in the stairwell.

Ethan crouched in the shadows, steel tube gripped tight, ready to strike.

The moment the three zombies rounded the corner, he lunged. The steel tube shot forward and rammed straight through the skull of one of the regular zombies. It dropped instantly, crumpling to the floor with a wet thud.

Ethan hadn’t gone for the mutated one on purpose. He knew he couldn’t take it down in a single blow—and if he tried and failed, they’d be swarmed by all three. Better to thin the herd first.

The other two zombies reacted instantly. They lunged at him, the mutated one moving with terrifying speed.

Ethan yanked the steel tube free and swung it in a wide arc, slamming both attackers. The regular zombie was knocked clean off its feet, tumbling down the stairs. The mutated one staggered back a step—just one—then launched itself forward again.

Ethan thrust the steel tube straight at its head. The tip struck true, punching into its skull—but not through. The metal rod jammed halfway in, stuck.

This thing was tougher than the others. Stronger. Faster. Its skull was like reinforced bone.

Ethan had expected that. He didn’t panic. He yanked the tube free and smashed it across the zombie’s chest, forcing it back again.

Down the stairs, the zombie that had fallen was already scrambling to its feet. It charged back up—only to be intercepted by Chris, who suddenly shimmered into view, steel tube in hand.

The stairwell exploded into chaos.

It was tight, cramped, and the steel tubes were awkward to swing in such a narrow space. But the zombies weren’t exactly tactical geniuses—they just lunged, again and again. That gave Ethan and Chris the edge. As long as they kept their distance, the zombies couldn’t get close.

Ethan pressed the mutated zombie hard, driving it back with blow after blow. He jabbed at its head again and again, each strike chipping away at bone.

Finally, after the seventh—maybe eighth—stab, there was a sickening crack. The steel tube punched through. The mutated zombie froze, then collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

Across the stairwell, Chris had just finished his own fight—his steel tube had severed the last zombie’s neck clean through.

Then came the sound they’d been dreading: a chorus of guttural snarls rising from below.

The noise had drawn the rest of the sixth-floor horde.

Ethan didn’t waste a second. He dropped to one knee, shoved his hand into the mutated zombie’s skull, and fished around. A moment later, his fingers closed around something smooth and hard.

He pulled out a blood-slick red crystal.

”Move!”

They bolted up the stairs, sprinting two steps at a time. Before the other zombies could reach the landing, Ethan and Chris had already slipped back into the dorm and slammed the door shut behind them.

...