Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

It was just another school day at Fairfield High, or so everyone thought. Students were rushing to class, gossiping and laughing as usual. But for Ben, it was just another day of trying to blend in and stay out of the spotlight.

As he hurried down the hallway, he was too focused on avoiding eye contact with his classmates to notice the slightly ajar locker in his path.BANG!

Ben collided with the locker door, sending a loud clang echoing through the hall.

"Hey, watch where you're going, nerd!" a jock called out, elbowing his friends and snickering.

Embarrassed, Ben mumbled an apology and closed the locker door, only to see a smear of blood on his hand. He wiped it off on his jeans, unaware of the tiny cut on his palm and the droplets of blood that had already seeped into the wound.

The bell rang, signaling the start of class.In the midst of all the chaos, Ben starts to feel strange. His vision blurs, and he clutches the edge of a nearby desk for support. Suddenly, he hears a voice in his head, a calm, steady voice that seems to come from nowhere.

"Welcome to the Zombie Apocalypse System, Ben. This is your guide to surviving the undead hordes."

Ben freezes, unsure if he's dreaming or hallucinating. The voice continues."You've been exposed to the Z-virus, the very same virus that's about to turn your classmates into flesh-eating zombies. But don't worry, Ben. You're not like them. You're special. You're what we call a Z-Biter, a human with immunity to the Z-virus who gains enhanced physical abilities and the ability to control certain zombies."

Yeah

"You'll have to adapt quickly, Ben. Your classmates are going to start transforming soon, and you'll need to outrun, outwit, and outfight them if you want to survive. Don't worry, I'll help you. Just trust your instincts and follow my instructions. Oh, and don't let them bite you. You're immune to the virus, but their teeth are still sharp."With that, the voice falls silent, leaving Ben to his own thoughts and the growing dread in his stomach.Meanwhile, the rest of the class is oblivious to the coming storm. The teacher drones on about Shakespeare, the jocks and cheerleaders exchange notes and giggles, and everyone seems content in their little bubble of normalcy.

But Ben knows that won't last for long. He can feel it in his bones, the subtle changes in the air, the way the shadows seem to lengthen and darken at the edges of his vision.

And then he hears the first scream...Ben stares wide-eyed as the screams grow louder and more frantic. He watches as the students around him start to change, their eyes rolling back in their heads, their skin turning pale and clammy.

He feels a flicker of panic in his chest, but quickly squashes it down. After all, what does he care if a bunch of jocks and cheerleaders get turned into zombies? They'd never given him the time of day when they were alive, and he doubts they'll be much more interesting as the undead.

Yeah

As the classroom descends into chaos, Ben takes a deep breath and tries to focus. He's not a hero, and he's not about to play the knight in shining armor. But if he wants to get out of this alive, he's going to need to move fast.

He scans the room, looking for the nearest exit. There's a window, but it's too high up to climb through, and the door is blocked by a horde of bloodthirsty classmates.

"Think, Ben, think!" the voice in his head prods.This tale unfolds in the bustling city of Vancouver, Canada, a once vibrant and bustling metropolis that's now a playground for the undead. The outbreak started small, in a secret government lab hidden deep beneath the city, but quickly spiraled out of control. Now, the streets are littered with abandoned cars, fallen skyscrapers, and the shuffling corpses of former friends and neighbors.

Fairfield High, Ben's school, was once one of the city's most prestigious institutions. But now it's a tomb, a maze of corridors and classrooms overrun by the infected.

Ben stares at the horde of undead students that block the exit, his heart pounding in his chest. There's no way out, he realizes with a sinking feeling. Not unless he can thin the herd a bit.

He slips his hand into his backpack, searching for something—anything—that could give him an advantage. His fingers close around a familiar object, and he pulls it out with a smirk.

It's his trusty slingshot, the same one he used to terrorize the neighborhood squirrels when he was younger.He inches closer to the window, keeping an eye on the undead students as he loads a pebble into the slingshot. He takes aim, carefully sighting the weakest point of the glass, and lets fly.

PING!

The pebble shatters the window, and the sound of the breaking glass draws the attention of the horde. They turn as one, their blood-caked teeth bared, and shuffle towards the window with a unified moan.

"Gotcha," Ben mutters under his breath.In a flash, he's at the window, vaulting over the desk and squeezing through the broken glass. He lands outside on the pavement, the asphalt scorching hot against his palms.

He doesn't have a second to lose. The horde is already spilling out of the broken window, the first of them almost on top of him.

Ben leaps to his feet and starts running, his feet pounding the pavement as he makes his escape.

He can hear the undead behind him, their guttural moans growing closer, their feet dragging along the ground.Ben darts through the alleyways, ducking and weaving through the narrow passages as he tries to shake the horde. But the undead are relentless, their numbers swelling as more and more of them stumble out of nearby buildings, drawn by the sound of his frantic footsteps.

He can feel their hunger radiating off them, their desperation to feed on his flesh.

Just when he thinks he's about to be overrun, he spots an abandoned car in the middle of the street, its door hanging open.

It's a long shot, but it's his only chance.He catches glimpses of former classmates in the horde, their faces twisted into feral snarls, their eyes dead and lifeless. But he doesn't recognize them—not really. They're just the walking dead now, hungry and dangerous and devoid of any humanity.

He tries not to think about who they were before, or how they became this way. He knows that if he wants to survive, he can't let himself hesitate, not for a second.

So he keeps running, until he reaches the car and slides into the driver's seat. The keys are still in the ignition."Of course there are keys in the ignition," Ben mutters to himself, shaking his head. "Because what zombie apocalypse would be complete without the convenient discovery of keys in abandoned cars? Maybe next I'll find a cache of guns and ammo just lying around!"

He turns the key, and the engine roars to life. The gas tank is almost empty, but it'll have to do.

"Looks like someone was in a hurry to escape the undead hordes," he quips, glancing around at the empty fast food wrappers and half-drunk energy drinks littering the floorboards.The Zombie Apocalypse System, activated by Ben's blood exposure to the virus, continues to be his silent guide. As he throws the car into gear and peels out of the alleyway, it chimes in with its wry sense of humor.

"Congratulations, Ben! You've successfully evaded the first wave of the undead. Level up! You've unlocked the 'Wheelman' perk, which grants a +10 bonus to your driving skill. But don't get too cocky—those zombies might be brainless, but they're persistent!"

Ben snorts. "Thanks for the encouragement, ZAS.The streets are a maze of overturned cars, abandoned barricades, and the occasional hungry zombie. Ben swerves and dodges his way through the chaos, the car fishtailing as he narrowly avoids a cluster of shambling corpses.

"Nice driving, kid," the ZAS commends. "You might just make it out of this alive after all."

"Gee, thanks," Ben grunts, slamming his foot down on the accelerator. "I feel so reassured now."

But just as he thinks he's in the clear, a motorcycle suddenly veers into his path.