Zane gritted his teeth. Chloe's apartment building was a generic block of gray bricks with nothing important to distinguish it, but now it was the most important place on the planet.
"Just one more block!"
Zane forced his body to squeeze the last of its strength for one final effort. He wasted no time. He dodged a zombie that was stuck in the debris of a flipped bus and reached the side entrance. The doors were broken and the lobby seemed to have been vandalized.
He ran up the stairs, two steps at a time. He didn't use the elevator; it was a death trap in the apocalypse. Chloe's apartment was on the third floor. He reached her door, panting, his hands covered in infected blood.
"Knock! Knock!"
He pounded with the handle of the machete. "Chloe! Liam! It's me, Zane! Open up! The things are here!"
Silence.
Zane pounded again, this time with all his strength. "Damn it! I know you're here! Open up now!"
The silence inside was absolute; not even a murmur could be heard.
The panic he had managed to control during the assault returned to him, along with the exhaustion.
Zane fell to his knees, hitting the floor. Had he arrived late? Had they ignored his warning and stayed at the cinema? Or worse, were they caught on the way?
"No, not again," Zane muttered. Liam's guilt and his regret for Chloe filled him.
Recovering a bit of courage, he turned around and ran down the three flights of stairs in a controlled fall. He couldn't wait. He had to go back to the street. If they were still outside, the One-Man Army needed to find them.
Upon exiting, the scene was worse. The noise of screams and gunfire had drawn closer. There were more infected, and they seemed to be moving in the direction of the cinema.
Zane crouched down, preparing to run back into hell, but then he saw them.
Half a block away, a good sprint's distance, Chloe and Liam were coming.
Chloe was almost carrying Liam, who was stumbling. Liam's arm was dangling awkwardly, and he was using Chloe as support while they desperately panted, trying to flee.
"Shit. Liam is hurt."
Behind them came a horde. Dozens of zombies, moving slowly but ceaselessly, drawing in more with their groans.
"CHLOE! LIAM! OVER HERE!" Zane screamed with all his might, raising his two machetes over his head so they could see him.
Chloe saw him first. Her face, covered in sweat and tears, lit up with desperate hope.
"ZANE!" she yelled.
Liam lifted his head and smiled weakly. His white T-shirt was torn and stained with dried blood, but it didn't look like a fresh zombie bite, more like scrapes.
The horde was seconds away from reaching them.
"Run toward me! Run and get inside that building! NOW!" Zane shouted, positioning himself between the horde and his friends.
Chloe, with superhuman effort, pulled Liam, and they both sped up.
Zane stood firm against the zombies. In the future, he had faced gigantic monsters. These things were slow, but countless. Even without his abilities, he still had the experience.
"I'll show them why my nickname was the One-Man Army."
The first ten zombies lunged at him.
Zane moved like the wind. He used the left machete to deflect an attack and the right to slice the attacker's throat. The thick, dark fluid splattered onto the improvised metal plates on his chest.
Swish-Shlack! The sound of machetes splitting skulls echoed in the street.
Two fell. Three more surrounded him. A blow with his steel-plated forearm to a zombie's face made it stumble. Zane decapitated it before it hit the ground.
"GET INSIDE! DON'T STOP! LET ME FINISH THESE THINGS!" Zane screamed over the noise of the massacre.
Chloe didn't stop, nearly dragging Liam. The relief of having arrived turned into horror as she watched Zane fight.
Zane's fury was blind. The guilt of his failed death channeled into every swing. He had to buy them time; he didn't want to lose his beloved friends.
Six zombies fell almost simultaneously, their heads rolling on the pavement. But there were many more, and exhaustion was starting to take its toll on his inexperienced body.
"Damn it! Why didn't you exercise, you lazy bastard," he scolded himself, feeling his body burn with pain from the overexertion.
Zane focused on a zombie in a basketball jersey that was moving a little faster than the others. In that fraction of a second of distraction, it was a mistake.
A zombie, coming from the side of a car, lunged at him.
CRUNCH!
The infected sank its teeth into his right forearm.
But he didn't feel the pain of perforation. Only the pressure. The zombie's jaw hit directly against the steel plate secured with duct tape beneath his skin. The makeshift armor worked.
With a roar of pure rage, Zane didn't pull his arm away. He lifted it, with the zombie still uselessly biting down. He hoisted it into the air and smashed it against the corner of a parked car.
SMASH!
The zombie's rotten skull exploded in a cloud of black fluids and bone. The headless body dropped.
Zane spun toward the entrance. Chloe, who had seen the entire sequence—the attack, the steel defense, and the brutality of the impact—was petrified in the doorway.
Astonishment covered her dirty face. She didn't see the friend she had known who was kind and a little shy; she saw a warrior. She saw the raw, ruthless virility of a man who could fight death and win.
"RUN! DON'T STOP! GET INSIDE!" Zane yelled.
Liam, despite being injured, reacted. He pulled Chloe, and they both went through the door, running up to Chloe's apartment.
Zane sighed. Alone. But it worked.
The horde was furious at the blood of their fallen. Zane channeled his last reserves. The left machete sliced an attacker's leg. The right, mercilessly, decapitated him.
A final burst of adrenaline. Three more. Four more. One by one, the One-Man Army cleared the street.
When the last one fell, Zane staggered, leaning against the building wall, gasping. Silence returned, broken only by distant groans.
He ran up to Chloe's apartment door. He didn't dare knock, he just started yelling. "It's me, Zane! I'm okay! Open up! I'm done!"
The sound of the lock opening was heard. A sliver of light appeared in the doorway, and Zane stumbled inside, collapsing onto the dirty floor, completely exhausted.