Rush for Life

Nowadays in America, a biohazard outbreak has exploded—countless people live in panic as the T-virus runs rampant.

Out of 200 million humans, fewer than 20 million remain. Many band together to build defense bases. Some are still under government control, while others, out of the government's reach, have essentially become private property run by warlords, powerful families, and major drug lords.

Regardless of whether the bases are government-run or privately owned, many people inside feel hopeless about the future. They drown their sorrows in drugs, chasing pleasure and clinging to hope. Naturally, this has spawned special forces tasked with capturing mutated zombies and seizing evolutionary crystals: the Zombie Chasers!

These Zombie Chasers kill zombies to obtain evolutionary crystals, which they then sell to upper-echelon organizations to manufacture a cutting-edge drug called "Hallucination." This pricey drug, used in just tiny doses, makes people forget about zombies entirely as they enjoy a full day of blissful hallucinations

"And the other type, though, is the deepest secret!" Wolf murmured as he glanced at the girl before him, suddenly feeling a surge of desire rise within him.

"You can't tell me?" Christina tilted her body slightly, clearly frustrated that her enormous meant that no man would ever look her in the face while talking.

"Oh, hehe, the other one is still under research by our organization—a drug that hasn't yet broken through. Word is that using these zombies' evolutionary crystals, they're trying to develop a formula that gives humans super-strong muscles! But so far they haven't succeeded—every death row inmate used as a test subject ended up dying from an unbelievably terrifying power," Captain Tiger whispered to Christina.

"Is it really that terrifying?" Christina gasped in surprise.

Before Wolf could answer, a horde of panicked zombies burst into a building in the distance and disappeared!

John ran with every ounce of strength he had while being chased relentlessly by five fully armed humans—anyone would be terrified in that situation!

He fled into a building—but not the one he was hiding in. John wasn't stupid enough to rush into his own home with his enemies and get caught red-handed.

But the most urgent thing now was to shake off these humans clinging to him like parasites—humans who wouldn't stop until they killed him!

The building had over seventy floors, and John desperately climbed the stairs as the rapid footsteps continued to echo below. With his slow pace, he just couldn't match the fast, fully armed humans.

"Damn it, this zombie can do this hole day! Aren't zombies supposed to just mindlessly swarm when they detect human movement? Why are they so scared of dying?" Wolf wondered uneasily as the occasional zombies bursting out on different floors continued to cause trouble for his team.

Fortunately, after reaching the 30th floor, no more zombies suddenly appeared, so the squad focused and quickened their pace.

John felt he couldn't hold on much longer. Running any higher was a dead end—he had no choice but to figure out a way to escape!

Glancing at the floor indicator, he was on the 54th floor, and the rapid footsteps below kept coming.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto a glass window—a short distance away was the roof of another building! The vertical drop was roughly twenty meters. If he jumped, even if he managed to land on the other building's roof, he'd likely be shattered to pieces!

There was no time to waste—he had to try it, even if it meant risking his life! John leaped up and smashed the fire alarm device mounted on the wall (the one used in case of fire), breaking it with a punch. He then tied the long fire hose tightly around himself, not even checking if the other end was secure, and charged headlong.

"Crash!" The window shattered cleanly, and amazingly, John's tough, calloused arms weren't even cut by the broken glass. He then heard the whistling wind as the roof of the other building rapidly approached in his view!

"Damn, that zombie jumped down! He's on the 54th floor—does he not fear death?!" yelled a man with a long scar on his face as he charged forward.

Everyone gathered at the window and saw that the daredevil zombie had safely landed on the roof of another building. Turning its bloodshot eyes toward each person as if trying to memorize every face, it seemed determined to avenge the pursuit!

A chill ran down everyone's spine as they watched the zombie hobble toward the safe passage. Wolf bellowed, "Christina, take him out!"

Without a moment's hesitation, Christina raised her gun like lightning, aimed precisely, calculated the necessary data in an instant, and fired a thunderous headshot.

The zombie seemed to have an extra set of eyes at the back of its head— it charged forward, ducked, and raised its arm to block the headshot with a steel-strong limb. Using the force of the impact, it tumbled to the ground and disappeared from sight.

"Damn it, Christina, what the hell are you doing?!" Wolf roared, his face twisted in fury, as a group of people hurriedly rushed downstairs to chase John.

The wind lifted Christina's golden hair. As this stunning woman watched John's escape route, she became extremely curious about the first zombie to ever escape her shot.

…

John felt as if his innards were about to burst. Falling from a building over twenty meters high—even with the fire hose cushioning the fall—was a kind of drop that ordinary people would never dare try.

Every bone in his body ached as if it were about to break apart—especially the arm hit by the sniper rifle, burning with searing pain. When he looked down, he saw a huge blood gash on his steel-hard arm, with dark blood intermittently oozing out.

John's mind grew hazy. At that moment, he had only one thought: "Go home—I have to go home. Even if I die, I want to die at home, and I won't let those damn humans who covet my body catch me." Even if he had to die—cough, cough!—a chunk of black blood spat from his mouth snapped him out of his wild thoughts.

Struggling to move toward home, John didn't care about having multiple hideouts anymore. He headed straight for home, completely oblivious to the fact that a horde of humans, storming down from the building like a whirlwind, were frantically searching for him.

Normally, a 48-story staircase is nothing more than an everyday obstacle, but now, as a severely injured John trudged along, it felt like he had returned to his very first arrival here. Slowly, trembling and struggling, he took each step.

"Damn it—I'm clearly human, yet I've eaten people, and now I'm being hunted and killed by humans… What the hell am I?" John thought these things to himself, and couldn't help but feel a deep sorrow.

Finally, panting heavily, he reached the familiar door. Behind that door lay a soft, incredibly comfortable sofa—and perhaps a warm, cozy place that could protect him. Shouldn't that place be called home?

He opened the door and collapsed onto the floor—John could no longer get up.