It has been twelve days since the world went to shit.
I can’t even remember what my life used to be before all this. Only faint glimmers remain.
I can only hope you’re safe... though with each passing day, it diminishes.
This will be the final letter I’m writing to you, my love, for now I’m tired.
We need to move on and hope for the best... till our last breath.
Victor sighed, putting the pen down. The light from a candle flickered across his face, revealing the tired eyes.
This was the twelfth letter he wrote for his wife, knowing no one other than him would ever read them.
At fifty years old, his hair had grayed out, with little fight left in him.
Just days ago, he was looking forward to retiring, and now he was leading a small survivor camp.
He had been shopping at the mall to prepare a surprise for his wife when the apocalypse arrived. He, along with others, got trapped inside the mall.
Together, they barely managed to fend off the zombies. But not without losses.
What started as a crowd of over a hundred survivors had now turned into a small group of twenty-three.
Not even they would have survived this long if they hadn’t raided a nearby gun store.
However, it wasn’t a smooth operation.
Victor shook his head, not wanting to remember the horror of stumbling upon a headless.
Moments ago, they felt invincible with guns in their hands.
Moments later, most of them were dead.
It took most of the resources they found in the store to take the headless down.
What was supposed to be a moment of glory tainted their memories as their biggest failure.
At least we got food and water.
With weapons, food, and water, their survivor camp was safer than most. Perhaps only the naval base was safer than their establishment.
The group was planning to leave for the base after raiding the gun store.
But after losing all of their morale, none of them dared to venture out. Now, they were stuck.
Victor hoped the soldiers would stumble upon them on a patrol. It was their only hope to leave.
However, with each passing day, the possibility of anyone looking for survivors dwindled.
With a last sigh, Victor got up to make the last round of the day.
People were checking the doors to see if they were properly barricaded. Some were arranging their beds.
Even after what happened, they had finally returned to a semblance of normalcy.
Things were peaceful, but not for long.
A sudden gunshot pierced the silence.
"Who is it?" Victor asked, his face turned grim.
He had given explicit instructions that no one was to use their guns after sunset.
The zombie got stronger after dusk, and Victor didn’t want to attract any attention from them.
Yet someone fired a bullet.
"Everyone, grab your weapons!" he yelled.
Since the bullet had been fired, there was no point in not using them anymore. The zombies would attack them regardless.
People hurriedly took positions, manning every place the undead could break through.
Meanwhile, Victor and a select few headed downstairs to see who had fired the gun. Only for their jaws to drop in shock.
The ground floor was full of holes. Not a single person responsible for guarding the floor was there. It was like the holes had swallowed them up.
As for the gunshot, Victor could only assume someone reacted on instinct to fend off whatever had dug the holes.
"Tell everyone to stay upstairs. No one is allowed on the ground floor until we figure out what’s going on—"
He had barely expressed his thoughts when the ground shook. People instinctively rushed upstairs, but the ground kept shaking.
Thunderous footsteps.
Something was heading their way.
Everyone rushed to the windows to see what was happening.
They weren’t hoping for good news, but they didn’t expect to see a hulking giant charging straight at them.
"What in the world is that thing...?" someone whispered.
No one had an answer.
The only irregular zombies they had seen were the headless and the sprinters. It was the first time they had seen such a monstrous undead.
Even in the dark, they could see the zombie’s bulging two-and-a-half metre figure.
It was made of pure muscle.
The light from the moon behind the creature made it difficult for them to make out much.
"We can look at it as much as we like after it’s dead," Victor said. "Fire away now!"
The survivors nodded and unleashed the full brunt of their gunfire on the zombie.
Most of the bullets hit the creature’s body, yet it didn’t slow down.
The bullets that had put countless undead to eternal rest seemed to have no effect on the one before them. Even the headless wasn’t as tough as this one.
"W-Why isn’t it going down?!" a young man with shaky hands asked.
"Wait... that thing is wearing something!"
"What?" Victor asked.
"Everyone stop shooting!" the guy from before said, taking aim himself.
The bullet hit the zombie’s chest, and a little spark appeared. It was like the bullets were hitting a sheet of metal, and not rotten flesh.
"That thing has armor on," Victor mumbled in disbelief. "Everyone, aim for the head!"
Unfortunately, that was easier said than done.
Unlike its hulking figure, the zombie had a small head. Coupled with the darkness and the creature’s speed, they were having a difficult time hitting headshots.
They didn’t get many chances either, as a minute later, the zombie was too close to be hit by them.
They rushed downstairs to keep trying, but it was too late. The hulking zombie smashed through the wall like a tank.
Dust and debris were shot everywhere. A few unlucky ones got hit by the exploding concrete blocks in the head.
Perhaps they were the lucky ones, as they didn’t have to witness what happened next.
The holes Victor saw before...
Dozens of strange monsters jumped out of them.