Unreal reality

Trigger warning: this chapter contains violence. Reader discretion advised.

**Bam!**

"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!"

Screams erupted as the projector flickered, the scene on the screen shifting chaotically. Some final-year students standing near the front recoiled in shock as a zombie lunged at its target, crashing into an airborne camera. The sudden jolt sent the footage spiraling, shaking the image violently.

Ella's hand instinctively clutched her chest, feeling the rapid thump of her heart. It was too surreal. Zombies? She might as well believe that the president had traveled to outer space and married an alien—this couldn't be real.

But the horror didn't end there.

The camera adjusted, panning across the desolate remains of what was once a thriving city. Walls smeared with dried blood. Homes with shattered windows and doors hanging off their hinges. Destroyed buildings. Abandoned cars littering the streets, some with decomposing corpses slumped inside, others with brainless zombies wandering aimlessly, their eyes rolled back.

The lens continued its journey until it halted at an abandoned play area—a yellow and blue-themed playground. Swings swayed idly in the wind, slides stood still and untouched, yet no signs of life stirred within the eerie stillness.

A collective sigh of relief passed through the students.

Then came the sound.

A soft whimper.

The camera shifted, searching for the source. And there she was.

A little girl—five years old—curled inside a yellow slide, her small body tucked into itself.

Ella's breath hitched. "How did she get in there?" she whispered, the question slipping out unconsciously. The slide was narrow, too tight for easy access. Did she crawl inside out of fear? Where were her parents? A storm of questions filled the minds of the onlookers, even the professors—who had intended to desensitize students with this live feed—now visibly disturbed.

"Can we contact the rescue team? Where's the nearest unit?" one professor urgently whispered to a colleague, covering the microphone.

Before those questions could even be addressed, a sound shattered the tense silence.

A snarl.

Then another.

Low, guttural noises rippled through the air. The camera turned slightly, capturing movement at the entrance of the play area—a small, rusted green gate creaked open.

A figure emerged.

A pale-skinned creature limped forward, its veins black and blue, engorged and bulging around its sunken eyes. Its mouth hung open, drool mixed with a thick, tar-like substance dripping from its lips. Its head tilted unnaturally to the side, its neck bent at an unnatural angle. Worse, it dragged one leg—lodged deep inside a broken sewage pipe.

A wave of dread settled over the students.

The girl.

Ella stopped breathing as the zombie moved deeper into the playground, its hollow gaze fixated on the yellow slide. Her pulse thundered in her ears.

A student's voice broke through the tense air. "Hey, kid! Get out of there!"

Samuel. Ella recognized him. He sat in the back left row of the lecture hall. His voice was hoarse, desperate.

But the girl didn't react.

"Come on, get out!" he called again, louder this time.

Still, nothing.

Ella clenched her fists. The audio function on these cameras was disabled. She wanted to scream, to warn the child, but it would be pointless. Worse, she couldn't afford to show emotion in front of her fellow medical students.

Please, let it change direction. Please.

The silent prayer echoed in her heart.

A sudden crash rang from the right.

The zombie stopped. Turned its head toward the noise. Growled.

Even the little girl paused her whimpering.

A long silence followed.

Then—nothing.

The distraction had passed. The girl resumed crying, her small voice breaking as she stuttered, "M-Mommy."

The zombie's head snapped back toward her.

And then more arrived.

Like moths to a flame, the undead poured into the play area. It was as if the previous noise had summoned them to a grotesque feast.

The first zombie—now seemingly in a rush—yanked at the pipe dragging behind it and maneuvered through the swings and obstacle courses, pushing toward the yellow slide.

Ella's stomach twisted.

The little girl was still oblivious to the danger closing in.

The zombie reached up, clawing at the slide, its filthy fingers gripping the plastic as it tried to yank her out.

Then someone gasped.

"Is that… a hearing aid?"

Ella's gaze sharpened. A small, curved device rested around the girl's ear.

Oh, God.

She hadn't heard them. Not the calls. Not the snarls.

"How far is the rescue team?" the professor on stage demanded, panic leaking into her voice. "This area was supposed to be empty!"

"Twenty-five minutes out," another answered.

"In twenty-five minutes, that child will be dead!"

The moment the words left her lips, it was as if they had sealed the child's fate.

The zombie finally got hold of her.

But it didn't go for her throat.

Screams erupted—both from the little girl and the horrified audience—as the monster yanked her tiny body forward and—

Tore her eye straight from its socket.

Blood sprayed, staining her pink top and leggings.

Ella's entire body trembled. She wanted to shut her eyes, to block out the horrific sight, but she couldn't.

The zombie went in again.

This time, it latched onto her leg.

"Turn it off. Turn it off now!" Professor Zane barked, his voice a sharp command.

The screen went black.

Ella stared at the empty wall where the projection had been moments ago.

But the damage was done.

The image was burned into her mind—the little girl in her pink top, leggings, and tiny yellow shoes with flower designs.

Except now, she would always see her with one eye missing.