The street erupted in chaos. Sirens screamed in the distance, but they were already too late. People screamed, phones out, capturing what they thought was some drug-fueled assault. Aiden knew better.
He didn't hesitate.
One clean slash. The infected dropped at his feet, its skull caved in from the force of the blow. Blood splattered across his hoodie, but Aiden didn't flinch. His eyes scanned the area. Three more coming. Runners. Early stage. Fast, dumb, and hungry.
He moved.
Aiden sprinted across the pavement, weaving through panicked civilians. He ducked under a fallen sign and charged at the next target. The blade swung. A gurgled shriek. Two down.
The third leaped towards him, arms flailing.
He pivoted. Grabbed its wrist. Spun behind it. Cracked its skull against a streetlamp.
"Too early," he muttered, catching his breath. "You were supposed to show up in August."
People started filming again, screaming at each other to run. Someone yelled about bath salts. Another vomited in the corner. No one understood this was Day Zero.
But Aiden did.
He yanked a napkin from his hoodie pocket and wiped the blood off his blade. Sirens grew louder. Time to vanish.
He returned to the apartment before the news hit. Bloodied, panting, his heart finally slowing.
He locked the doors, drew the blackout curtains, and dropped his blade in the disinfectant bath he'd prepped three days ago.
Then he turned on the TV.
News anchors argued about a "violent attacker" downtown. No mention of the infection. No quarantines. No alerts.
"Still covering it up," he murmured, heading into the kitchen.
He took a protein bar from his stockpile and chewed without tasting. His mind was elsewhere. This changed everything. If the virus was mutating faster, if it was spreading sooner, he had less time. Months shaved off.
He moved to the whiteboard on his wall. His plan—step-by-step, color-coded, calculated to the day. He erased three entire sections. Rewrote new dates. New supply points. New fallback options.
"Accelerated timeline," he said aloud, pacing. "Test batch already lost. Containment failed. Phase two is coming in less than thirty days."
His hand stopped over one name on the board.
Camp Zero
A safe zone he hadn't built yet. A place where survivors could gather. Where he could train them. Feed them. Protect them.
He stared at the name. Then crossed it out.
Too ambitious. He'd need something smaller.
"Start with ten. Train five. Arm three. Trust one."
The next morning, the streets were quiet. Too quiet. Media outlets had shifted to vague reports about unrest. Hospitals weren't releasing numbers. And yet, every few blocks, Aiden spotted signs.
Barricaded doors. Missing persons posters. Trash is piling up. Police cruisers were parked and empty.
At the corner of 7th and Monroe, he saw his first cluster.
Four infected. Wandering. Hungry. Not attacking yet.
He crouched behind a mailbox and observed.
These weren't mindless. Not yet. Early-stage infection retained some cognition. They moved like drunk toddlers, confused and twitchy. But once they smelled blood, they turned.
Aiden rose.
He could walk away.
But better to practice now.
He stepped into the open. And whistled.
All four turned to him.
"Come on," he whispered. "Let's dance."
Eight minutes later, he stood over their twitching corpses.
His arms were slick with sweat. Not blood.
"Four more down," he whispered. "Need to keep tally and test my stamina."
He looked up. On the rooftop across the street, a girl stood frozen, eyes wide. She held a kitchen knife in her trembling hands.
Aiden stared back.
"Get inside," he called.
She didn't move.
Another infected rounded the corner.
"Sh*t."
Aiden vaulted a fire escape and raced across the rooftop toward her.
She didn't scream until the zombie reached her.
Then she did.
And Aiden was already there.
The blade found its mark.
Her scream stopped.
So did the zombie.
She collapsed to her knees.
"Y-you saved me," she gasped.
Aiden offered a hand.
"I hope you're not the screaming type. We don't have time for that."
"W-who are you?"
He smiled grimly.
"Someone who has already died. Now get up. We have work to do."