"Ah! Help!"
A single scream tore through the afternoon calm of downtown Boston—and the world cracked.
From a crowded open‑air market, several figures lurched into the street. They didn’t stumble helplessly. They charged—shoulders low, jaws snapping. The first pedestrians they hit didn’t even have time to react before teeth closed on flesh.
More screams.
People shoved, ran, collided with traffic. Someone fell. Someone else was dragged down. Blood hit glass.
Those bitten spasmed, stiffened—then, within seconds, their eyes went feral. Skin flushed, veins standing, mouths splitting wide as they whirled and attacked whoever was nearest.
"ROAR! ROAR!"
Animal throats. No human hesitation.
Screams, crunching metal, children crying, horns blaring, shattering windows—
In moments, the street dissolved into raw chaos.
—--
Several blocks away, atop a three‑story shopping complex, more than a dozen Samsara players watched the carnage from above. Most gripped machetes
Black Sword Shusui. One of the Twenty‑One Great Blades.
"Zombies are out," Solis said evenly. "Rooftop access secure?"
"Sealed," someone replied. "We jammed the stairwell—need an excavator to move it."
Solis nodded, then pointed. "Make noise. Draw them in."
His plan: lure the infected, pile them below, pick them off from height.
He was about to learn just how fast World War Z scaled aggression.
—---
Back in the CDC, muffled screams filtered down the corridors. Dr. David went pale. "God... what’s happening out there?"
"You can step outside and check," Fenric said, smiling through sweat.
He looked terrible—face flushed, hair dulling and shedding in thin strands. Fever rising hard. The KBN infection was taking hold exactly as described: rapid systemic response, immune system surging into open combat.
Perfect.
"Doctor, you’re free," Fenric said, turning for the door.
The relief on David’s face was immediate. He scrambled to his feet and hurried toward the exit—family on his mind, no doubt.
He had nearly reached the corridor when Fenric stepped back in.
David froze. He’s come to kill me!
Blood drained from his face.
Fenric held up the empty hand that wasn’t gripping the pistol. "Relax. I forgot something. You stock performance enhancers? Stimulants? Give me anything that boosts strength and endurance."
David sagged with relief. "Yes, yes—this way."
He led Fenric to a controlled pharmacy shelf and produced two vials.
"This is a steroid—drives protein synthesis, accelerates muscle growth."
"This one’s erythropoietin—stimulates red blood cell production; improves oxygen transport, stamina."
"Side effects are severe," the doctor added quickly. "Please use carefully."
Fenric accepted both. I injected a lethal virus. You think I care about side effects?
"Thanks. You’re a good doctor," he said lightly. "Good luck."
This time, he left for real.
Not long after, Dr. David staggered out of the CDC lobby and into hell.
Blood streaked the pavement. Limbs lay in gutters. Glass glittered under the red light. Thirty meters away, a figure crouched over a corpse, tearing meat with its teeth.
David choked. "Oh God..."
He never saw the blur to his left.
A woman—face slashed, eyes rabid—exploded from behind a wrecked car, sank her teeth into his shoulder, and slammed him to the asphalt.
Fenric’s parting words echoed in his head:
"That’s really unfortunate. They won’t be your family much longer."
God, it seemed, did not bless David.