Chapter 6

Minutes passed, and both friends remained seated on the couches, motionless, their gazes distant, unsure of what to do or where to even begin.

They had never imagined that something like what was happening now could ever occur in real life.

It was simply unthinkable that, overnight, the entire city could descend into chaos. Everyone had taken for granted that the normalcy they enjoyed would last forever. But the world is not kind to complacency. And the moment they lost that normalcy, they found themselves swept into a whirlwind of confusion and uncertainty that now consumed them.

The lack of plans, answers, and—above all—hope, was starting to weigh heavily on their spirits. The brutal and crushing reality was beginning to settle in their minds: they weren't ready for this.

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Nathan could feel his anxiety growing with every pound against the door. His mind tried to come up with logical ideas, some kind of plan to get them out of this situation, but every thought was interrupted by the relentless sound of the impacts. Bang… bang… bang.

He looked up at Jake, hoping to find something—maybe a spark of determination, a sign that his friend had a plan. But what he saw only deepened his frustration.

Jake was in worse shape than he was. His breathing was rapid and shallow, his legs trembling and shaking uncontrollably, while his hands rubbed over his thighs in a compulsive, repetitive motion. He looked like he was on the verge of a full-blown panic attack.

Nathan closed his eyes in frustration, pressing a hand to his forehead. Damn it, this isn't good… how do I pull him out of this? His mind scrambled for a solution, but before he could think of anything, a horrifying sound shattered the tense atmosphere.

The splintering crack of wood echoed through the apartment, followed by the metallic clatter of screws and hinges hitting the floor.

Nathan snapped out of his daze instantly. His body reacted before his mind could process, and in the blink of an eye, he was at the door. When he saw what had happened, his face turned pale, and a wave of terror washed over him.

The upper hinges of the door had snapped. A massive crack ran across the wood, and the screws that once held the frame together were scattered across the floor.

Shit. The word echoed in his mind as a cold shiver ran down his spine.

Another pounding blow made him flinch and step back instinctively. The sound of the wood groaning under the pressure was louder now, a constant reminder that the door wasn't going to hold much longer. That thing won't stop, he thought grimly, and the fear coursing through him forced him into action.

Without thinking, he bolted back to the living room. Jake was still frozen in place, consumed by his panic, and Nathan didn't hesitate to shove him hard.

"Snap out of it, damn it!" he yelled, his voice a mix of desperation and urgency.

Jake stared at him, dazed, struggling to process what was happening. Before he could say anything, Nathan pointed to the couch.

"Move!" he barked, already grabbing hold of one end of the couch with all his strength. "Help me get it to the door, now!"

Despite his dazed state, Jake stood up. His movements were clumsy, but something in Nathan's tone snapped him partially out of his paralysis. He joined his friend, and together they pushed the couch across the room, positioning it in front of the door.

Nathan wasted no time. As soon as they had the first couch in place, he sprinted toward the second one. His breathing was heavy, the fear still pounding in his chest, but his body moved like a machine fueled purely by adrenaline.

"Jake, hurry!" he shouted, struggling to lift the second couch.

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After placing both couches against the door as Nathan had instructed, Jake finally broke the silence.

"What's going on? Why did we move the couches?" he asked, still panting from the effort.

Nathan took a deep breath before responding.

"That thing… it managed to break part of the door."

Jake didn't say anything, but understanding flashed across his face. He swallowed hard, glancing toward the entryway as if silently willing the furniture they'd just moved to be enough to stop whatever was trying to get in.

"Do you think… that'll hold it off?" he asked, his voice uncertain.

Nathan straightened up, squaring his shoulders as he tried to project a confidence he didn't truly feel.

"I don't know," he admitted, staring intently at the door, "but if it doesn't… we will."

Jake raised an eyebrow, a flicker of confusion crossing his expression.

"Are you saying…?" he left the question hanging.

Nathan nodded firmly, picking up the two knives they had left on the table earlier.

"Yeah. I have no idea what we're supposed to do," he said, handing one of the knives to Jake, "but what I do know is that I'm not dying here. No matter what."

For a moment, Jake seemed hesitant. The anxiety still weighed heavily on his mind, but as he looked into Nathan's determined eyes, something inside him shifted. A faint smile tugged at the corners of his lips, as though his best friend had just reminded him what they were made of.

"You've always been the one to take action when things get tough, you know that?" Jake said as he took the knife.

Nathan smiled back, a glimmer of camaraderie in his gaze.

"And you've always been the stubborn giant who followed me into every crazy idea."

Jake chuckled softly, relaxing just slightly, though his focus quickly returned to the door.

"So, what's the plan?" he asked, his tone more serious now.

"Like we always do. Just like in the bar fights," Nathan replied with a shrug.

Jake let out a brief laugh.

"You mean the ones you started?"

Nathan gave a crooked grin.

"Exactly. And anyway, no one can take a knife to the chest and keep going."

Jake studied him for a moment, his expression turning somber.

"Bro…"

Nathan turned to him.

"Yeah?"

Jake tightened his grip on the knife and glanced toward the door, now barricaded by the couches.

"I don't think that thing is human anymore."

Nathan frowned, confusion evident on his face.

"What do you mean?"

Jake sighed, as though debating whether or not to say it out loud.

"It's just… any normal person would've died from those wounds. But that thing is still standing there, pounding on the door like it's nothing. I don't think it's… a regular person."

Nathan stared at him, trying to process what his friend was implying. Finally, something clicked in his mind.

"You're saying it's a… zombie?"

Jake nodded slowly.

"I know it sounds crazy, but it's the only thing that makes sense."

Nathan pressed his lips together, unsure of what to think.

"I don't know… but I guess it could be true."

Jake pointed toward the door with his knife.

"Think about it, man. They attack with bites, they're insanely aggressive, and that thing didn't go down despite its injuries. It all points to one thing."

Nathan nodded slowly, letting Jake's words settle in his mind.

"So… it'll only stop if we go for its…?" He left the question unfinished, but Jake raised a hand, urging him to complete it.

"Its head," Nathan finished, his tone filled with disbelief.

It was absurd, almost impossible to believe. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense. He had seen one of those things bite someone during his friend's livestream. As ridiculous as the idea of zombies existing in real life seemed, it was the closest explanation to what they were dealing with.

"So, if we're up against a zombie… how do we handle it?" Nathan asked at last, turning to Jake.

Jake took a deep breath, as if steeling himself.

"We've seen enough shows, movies, and video games about this, bro. First rule: don't let it bite you—"

Before he could finish his sentence, a loud, bone-chilling crack echoed from the door, cutting him off.

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Nathan's head snapped toward the door as another crack echoed through the apartment. Another hinge had given way, and the screws clattered to the floor, bouncing with a metallic sound that seemed to reverberate endlessly. Each impact quickened his heartbeat, like a macabre clock counting down the time they had left. But the pounding didn't stop.

"The door's not going to hold much longer, Jake," Nathan said, stepping back while keeping his eyes locked on the weak point of the barricade.

Jake nodded, though his expression was tight, almost frozen by the situation.

"I know… but maybe we could put on thick clothes or tie magazines to our arms to—" His voice cut off as a new, louder crack rang out.

Nathan shook his head, his eyes focused on the sofas trembling with each hit.

"There's no time." He moved toward the barricade and positioned himself in front of it, gripping the knife tightly in his hand.

"If it really is a zombie, it's going to go after the first thing it sees."

He adopted a stance he had seen countless times in movies, leaning his body slightly forward.

"When it comes for me," he continued with determination, "you'll attack it from behind. You have to drive the knife straight into its head."

Jake looked at him nervously, his voice trembling.

"Are you sure?"

Nathan turned to his friend and gave him a small, calm smile, one filled with meaning.

"I'd trust you with my life, always."

Jake swallowed hard and nodded, adjusting his grip on the knife as his eyes darted between Nathan and the barricade.

Without waiting for a reply, Nathan stepped closer. His hands were trembling, but his gaze was locked on the zombie's arms, which were now reaching through the edges of the sofa, moving erratically as if searching for a way through.

Nathan's heart pounded wildly in his chest, his breathing rapid and uneven, but he couldn't afford to hesitate. Then he saw it: the zombie had pushed the sofas just far enough to create a small gap between them.

Nathan shot a quick glance at Jake. His friend was ready, though his hands were still shaking. Nathan closed his eyes for a brief moment, trying to silence the chaos in his mind.

For a second, memories flooded him. He thought about how he'd lived his life up until now. He'd always been a little reckless, almost fearless. People called him crazy or impulsive, and maybe they were right. But for him, acting before thinking had always been his way of beating fear, of not getting stuck in the constant overthinking that paralyzed him.

He took a deep breath. This time he knew it was different. This wasn't a bar fight he'd started or a drunken argument at a party. His life—and Jake's—hung by a thread.

He began counting in his head, a rhythm to keep himself focused.

One, two, three… Each number marked a heartbeat, a breath.

Four, five… They would only have one chance. He couldn't afford to miss.

Six, seven… He couldn't let himself get bitten or scratched.

Eight, nine… It was now or never.

When he reached ten, he opened his eyes.

Only one thought remained clear in his mind:

I'm going to live.