Chapter 7

When he opened his eyes, the first thing Nathan saw was the zombie forcing its way through the gap between the sofas.

Its entire body finally came into view, and there was no doubt left: the resemblance to the zombies from movies and video games was terrifying. The tattered, blood-soaked clothes, the clumsy and erratic movements, and that face… it looked exactly like it had through the peephole, but now it was even more grotesque under the dim light of the apartment.

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Nathan swallowed hard as his mind filled with chaotic thoughts. He had talked with Jake countless times about what they would do if a zombie apocalypse ever happened. It was always a fun conversation, filled with confidence and bravado. Jake would joke that killing zombies would be easy, that all they'd need was a bat or a knife, and that would be the end of it.

But now, standing face to face with one, the reality couldn't have been more different.

Nathan had never faced anything like this before. Sure, he'd dealt with big, tough guys in fights before, but those were situations where he knew he could defend himself. This was different. The danger wasn't just in the raw strength of the creature but in what could happen if it got too close.

He couldn't afford a single mistake. Not one bite, not even a scratch. He'd read and seen enough stories to know that, while he didn't fully understand how the infection worked, any direct contact could seal his fate.

The plan was clear in his head: distract the zombie so Jake could attack it from behind. But executing it wasn't as simple as it sounded.

"Maybe if I can just…"

His thought was cut short as the zombie began to move slowly toward him.

Nathan let out a small breath of relief, almost without realizing it. At least it wasn't fast, like the sprinting zombies from some movies. That gave him a slight advantage. More time to react, more chances to make it through this unscathed.

But he couldn't let his guard down. Even moving slowly, that thing was still deadly. One bite or scratch could mean the end of everything—or at best, the loss of a limb.

He felt his hands start to sweat. The knife in his grip felt heavier, or at least it seemed that way. He tightened his hold, his muscles tensing as the creature shuffled closer and closer.

For the first time in his life, Nathan didn't act right away. He decided to wait.

He knew they were still too close to the sofas, and Jake wouldn't have enough room to position himself behind the zombie to strike. If they made a move now, the risk would be too great. He needed to back up, to gain some space.

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Nathan began to step backward as the zombie advanced. For every step the creature took toward him, he took another to create more distance, always careful to maintain a safe gap.

Slowly but steadily, the two of them moved through the narrow entryway of the apartment. The space Nathan needed for Jake to make a stealthy attack was beginning to take shape, but it still wasn't enough.

He focused all his attention on the zombie. Each step back made him even more acutely aware of the danger in front of him. He felt his muscles tightening and his breathing quickening, but he didn't waver. He had to keep going.

Just a few more steps, just a few more, he thought. But then, as he took another step back, his shoulder unexpectedly collided with the wall.

The impact startled him, breaking his concentration for a split second. That brief distraction was all the creature needed. The zombie surged forward, reaching out with its arms toward him.

There was no more room to retreat. Nathan was trapped, with nowhere left to go. Panic seized his mind as his survival instincts kicked in. Without overthinking it, he raised the knife in his right hand and drove it into the zombie's neck.

The strike wasn't lethal. The blade sank into the side of its neck, and a thin stream of blood began to spill out slowly, soaking the torn flesh. Far from stopping, the zombie became more violent, thrashing harder now that Nathan was so close.

In a desperate move, the creature lunged to bite Nathan's arm. Reacting instantly, Nathan raised his other hand and grabbed the underside of the zombie's chin, shoving it backward to keep its jaws away from his body.

The zombie flailed its arms wildly, clawing for any opportunity to close the distance. Nathan, using the wall behind him for leverage, fought with all his strength to hold it at bay. His muscles burned with exertion as he struggled against the full weight of the creature pressing against him.

The tension and fear were overwhelming. His arms trembled, and with every passing second, he felt himself losing the fight. But he couldn't give up. Not yet.

"Jake, now!" he screamed, his voice filled with desperation as he continued to hold off the zombie, avoiding its bites and clawing hands.

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Suddenly, amidst the chaos, Nathan heard hurried footsteps behind him, followed by the sound of something slicing through flesh.

A spray of blood erupted from the zombie's skull, splattering across Nathan's face and hands. Slowly, the creature's movements began to weaken until, finally, they stopped altogether.

For a moment, the zombie remained upright, held in place only by Nathan's grip on its arms. Without thinking, he shoved it to the side, letting the lifeless body collapse to the floor with a heavy thud.

Nathan slid down the wall, exhausted. His hands were trembling uncontrollably, and he could feel sweat dripping down his forehead. He gasped for air, struggling to process what had just happened.

That was harder than I thought it would be, he reflected, still reeling from the effort.

A shadow fell over him, and when he looked up, he saw Jake standing in front of him. Jake's breathing was heavy too, but he seemed to be in much better shape. At least his hands weren't covered in blood like Nathan's.

Jake extended a hand toward him with a faint smile. Nathan returned the gesture with a tired smile of his own before taking Jake's hand and pulling himself to his feet.

Now standing, Nathan turned his gaze toward the corpse lying on the floor. What was once a person now looked horrifying: torn flesh, blood everywhere, and an empty expression that seemed to serve as a grim reminder of what they had just faced.

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Blood trickled from the zombie's head, where Jake's knife was still lodged. From its neck, another red stream dripped from Nathan's knife, still buried in its side. Slowly, the two flows merged, forming a dark puddle that began to spread beneath the lifeless body.

Nathan stared at the scene with a mixture of disgust and relief. His heart still pounding, he turned his head to look at Jake.

"Is it dead?" he asked, his voice low but heavy with tension.

Jake glanced at him, unsure. His breathing was still uneven, his mind struggling to process what had just happened.

"I… don't know," he finally replied, shrugging.

Nathan shifted his gaze back to the corpse and let out a sigh.

"I guess it is. I mean, I stabbed it in the head. That should be enough for anything, right?" Jake said, trying to sound confident, though his tone betrayed his lingering doubts.

"Yeah… I guess. But it's always better to be sure."

Nathan placed his knife on the floor and, without much hesitation, pulled Jake's knife from the zombie's head. With a firm motion, he drove it back in, all the way to the hilt, piercing the skull completely.

Jake didn't say a word. He simply watched as his friend stared down at the body beneath him, as though waiting for any movement, any sign that it was still alive—or whatever it had been.

Finally, a question broke the silence.

"It didn't bite you or anything, did it?" Jake asked with concern, his body tensing unconsciously.

Nathan straightened up, turning his gaze to Jake.

"No. If you'd been a few seconds later, it probably would've scratched me or something, but you got here in time." He offered a small smile to reassure him.

Jake exhaled sharply, releasing the breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding. His muscles slowly relaxed, relieved that his friend was unharmed. If Nathan had been injured, everything would've been over.

Letting out a deep sigh, Jake turned his attention back to the zombie's lifeless body.

"So… what now?" he asked, looking for guidance.

Nathan shifted his focus first to the corpse, then to the door, which was still barricaded by the sofas. He touched one of them with his hand, as though assessing its sturdiness, and finally turned back to Jake.

"Before we do anything else, let's reinforce this. We need to make sure nothing else can get in," he said, his voice calm but resolute.

Jake nodded, understanding the logic behind the suggestion.

"And then… we make a plan?" he asked, a hint of hope in his tone.

Nathan let out a faint smile—the first since this ordeal had begun.

"Yeah. Then we make a plan."

The two friends began moving the sofas, rearranging them to cover as much space as possible and further strengthen the barricade. They worked in silence, focused on the task, each lost in their own thoughts.

As they worked, one idea settled in both of their minds: the road ahead was going to be anything but easy. Neither of them knew exactly what lay ahead, but they both understood that the real challenges were only just beginning.

The world they once knew was gone. What remained was something new, something dangerous, something terrifying.

And in this new world, where the dead roamed the earth, they would quickly learn that zombies weren't the only threat.

Because sometimes, watching out for the living could be just as important.