Force of Command

As Carter glanced at Victor's bitten hand, he witnessed something unbelievable—the wound, torn open by a zombie's bite, began to heal itself. Skin mended, muscles knitted back together, and in seconds, there was no trace of the bite. Carter's breath caught in his throat, his mind racing. How could this be? His disbelief was written across his face, unable to tear his eyes away from the now unblemished skin.

Before he could voice the shock threatening to explode from him, Victor's commanding voice snapped him out of his stupor. "What are you standing there for? We need to move, now! They'll be on us any second!" Victor barked, already moving again with urgency.

Carter stammered, his voice unsteady, "Y-Yes, boss. Let's go."

With quickened steps, they marched towards the exit, the thudding of their footsteps drowned out by the chaotic groans of the undead. The helicopter waited for them, the only lifeline in the hell that the world had become.

As they hurried through the corridors, Carter couldn't help but glance at Victor again, and with a hesitant voice, he asked the question gnawing at him since the moment he saw that wound close. "Boss… did you take Strain A1Y1?"

Victor's feet came to a dead stop, his body tense. The cold silence stretched, making Carter's heart pound in his chest.

"Boss, we have to go! They're coming!" Carter urged, panic rising in his voice as the distant growls of zombies grew louder, their monstrous forms stumbling down the halls toward them.

Victor turned slowly to face him, his eyes dark and unreadable. But before either could say another word, Carter yanked him forward. "No time to talk! Move!"

They sprinted toward the helicopter landing pad, their path littered with debris from the outbreak. Behind them, the former officials, once powerful men in pristine suits, now reduced to blood-soaked horrors, stumbled after them. Rotting flesh hung loosely from broken limbs, their eyes wild with hunger. Some had their jaws hanging unnaturally from their faces, others missing arms or legs, but they moved relentlessly, the stench of decay filling the air.

The zombies pressed forward, broken bodies dragging across the floor, splattering blood and gore as they pursued the living. Carter could feel their desperation at his back, could smell the rot that clung to their very existence.

As they burst onto the rooftop, the helicopter blades were already spinning, and the door swung open, ready to take them away from this nightmare. Carter couldn't shake the tremor in his hands as they reached safety, but his eyes kept returning to Victor's arm.

"That strain," Carter whispered under his breath, "what have we done?"

But there was no time for answers. The infected were relentless, and the horror they'd unleashed was only just beginning.

As they approached the helicopter, both Victor and Carter rushed to get inside. Victor wasted no time, slamming the door behind him and yelling at the pilot, "Go, go, go! Move it, you bastard! They're coming fast!"

The pilot glanced back at the building, his face paling at the sight of the horde—dozens of zombies pouring out like a flood of death. His hands trembled as he quickly ignited the engine, heart racing as the rot-infested creatures swarmed toward them. In seconds, the helicopter lifted off, escaping the nightmare below.

Victor peered out of the window, watching the zombies stumble and collapse in piles, their hands reaching helplessly toward the sky. A twisted grin spread across his face, and he burst into laughter. "Look at them! Pathetic! They can't even reach us now!" His laugh was sharp, almost manic, echoing through the cabin.

As his laughter died down, Victor pulled out a sleek black briefcase from beneath his seat, snapping it open with a metallic click. Inside, rows of vials gleamed under the dim light. Carter's eyes widened in disbelief as Victor retrieved a syringe.

"You're taking the shot again?" Carter's voice trembled with concern, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the seat. "That stuff is dangerous! You know if the higher-ups find out you've been using it, they'll kill you without a second thought!"

Victor ignored the warning, his eyes narrowing as he filled the syringe. "Who's going to tell them?" he sneered, holding the needle up to the light, checking the dose. "You?" His voice was cold, filled with the promise of violence. "If you even think about crossing me, Carter, I'll rip your heart out and feed it to the dogs."

Carter swallowed hard, his throat dry. He could feel the weight of Victor's threat hanging in the air, the promise of death lingering in his boss's eyes. He quickly shook his head. "No, boss. I'd never—"

Before he could finish, Victor plunged the needle into his arm, injecting the serum with a hiss of breath. His body tensed, veins bulging for a moment as the powerful drug coursed through his bloodstream. His eyes fluttered shut, and a deep sigh escaped his lips, as though the shot brought him some twisted form of relief.

Victor opened his eyes, his dark grin returning. "That's what I thought," he growled, casting a predatory glance at Carter. "No one is going to stop me. Not even them. Especially not you."

Carter's heart pounded in his chest, the weight of Victor's words pressing down on him. "You're serious about this… about killing the boss?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper, but the question hung heavy between them.

Victor's smile grew darker, more menacing. He leaned forward, locking eyes with Carter. "Dead serious. That old fool is living on borrowed time. And when I'm through with him, I'll take everything he built." His voice was a low snarl, filled with raw ambition.

The tension in the helicopter was suffocating, the air thick with the promise of betrayal and bloodshed. Carter's mind raced, but he knew better than to question Victor further. He was trapped in this game, a pawn in a far bigger play for power.

Victor turned his gaze toward the front of the helicopter, his eyes sharp as he barked an order at the pilot. "Get us to the base. I need to have a chat with the boss."

The pilot nodded, hands gripping the controls as the chopper sped toward its destination. Below them, the once-peaceful world had devolved into chaos, and the man responsible for much of it was sitting right there, a chilling smile still plastered on his face.

Victor leaned back in his seat, a dark gleam in his eyes. "Soon," he whispered to himself, "very soon, the real game will begin."