Date: 7/23/23
Time: 6:21 PM
The sun poured through the towering windows of Times Square, casting a warm glow over the bustling crowds below. Brayden stepped out of his dad's car, slinging his backpack over one shoulder.
"Same time, same place," his dad, Tim, called out from the driver's seat, his voice barely audible over the city's noise.
Brayden nodded, giving a quick wave as he watched the car merge into the sea of honking traffic. He scanned the busy square, his eyes darting through the throng of tourists and street performers. His friends were nowhere in sight.
Pulling out his phone, he typed a quick message into their group chat. "Where y'all at?"
Moments later, his screen lit up with a reply from Jason. "Me and Elijah are at the fountain."
Tucking the phone back into his pocket, Brayden adjusted his stride and made his way toward the fountain, weaving through the energetic chaos of the square.
Tim pulled into a local bar and parked his car. The air was heavy with the buzz of neon signs as he stepped out and made his way inside. The place reeked of stale beer and cigarette smoke, a haven for its rugged patrons. Red-faced men nursed drinks, hollered at the game on the overhead TVs, and shouted over rounds of pool. Behind the bar, the bartender dodged a string of crass comments with forced smiles.
Tim slid onto a stool at the worn bar top, his fingers drumming against the scuffed wood. His eyes swept the room, noting the chaos—boisterous laughter, clinking bottles, and raised voices. Among the commotion, his gaze settled on a teenager sitting alone in the corner. The boy couldn't have been much older than Brayden, and something about his hunched posture held Tim's attention.
Meanwhile, at the fountain, sunlight glinted off the cascading water as Jason and Elijah sat on the stone ledge, engrossed in their phones.
"You're trash at this game," Jason teased, tapping furiously at his screen.
"Bro, chill," Elijah shot back with a smirk. "Stop dick riding so hard. It's just a game."
Jason rolled his eyes. "Whatever, man." He kept playing, then suddenly paused, his brow furrowing. "Wait, where's Jay?"
Suddenly a scene opened in chaos. A teenager lay sprawled on the pavement, his face bloodied and bruised, his body motionless. Standing over him was Jay, his sneaker smeared with dirt and blood from the finishing stomp.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Jay muttered, more to himself than the unconscious boy. His chest heaved as he glared down at his handiwork.
In the distance, Jason and Elijah sprinted down the sidewalk, shoving pedestrians aside as they rushed toward the scene.
When they reached Jay, Elijah skidded to a stop, his eyes darting between the unconscious teen and Jay. "Damn, bro. What happened? What'd he do?"
Jay wiped his brow and gestured toward a handbag lying on the ground. "This idiot tried to rob an old lady."
Jason curled his lip in disgust, spitting on the unconscious teen before muttering a string of curses under his breath.
Before anyone could say more, another figure emerged from the bustling crowd—Mason. He strolled up to the group, his hands shoved casually into his pockets. "Hey, guys," Mason greeted, flashing a small smile.
Jay, Elijah, and Jason nodded in acknowledgment, but their attention shifted as Brayden appeared, weaving through the crowd toward them. He stopped just short of the group, taking in the chaotic scene with a raised brow and a half-smile.
"Well, damn," Brayden said, his tone light. "This is one hell of a first impression."
The others turned to look at him, startled at first, but quickly their faces broke into smiles. The tension in the air eased just a little as the group exchanged glances, their camaraderie intact despite the mayhem.
The group was back at their usual fountain spot, lounging on the stone edges and scattered benches, their laughter mingling with the sounds of the bustling city. Each of them clutched a melting ice cream cone, enjoying the moment.
Mason savored his strawberry-flavored cone, licking it with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Man, this is so good," he said, his voice filled with satisfaction.
Jason nodded in agreement, his SpongeBob-shaped ice cream already missing one eye. "No bullshit," he said between bites.
Brayden, however, seemed distracted. He kept glancing around the square, his head turning every so often as though searching for someone.
Jay noticed. With a knowing smirk, he nudged Brayden's shoulder with his elbow. "What's up, nigga? You waiting on some hoe or something?"
Brayden's face broke into a brief smile before fading just as quickly. "Uh… yeah, kinda," he admitted. "Remember Ry and Gabi?"
Jay took a lick of his chocolate cone before replying, his tone indifferent. "Yeah, what about them?"
Brayden hesitated, the words coming out slowly. "Well, they were supposed to come with us today. But Ry and I got into it—something about her ditching us to hang out with her friend Nia. And Gabi... well, you know Gabi. She's just Gabi."
Jay rolled his eyes, his irritation evident. "Bruh, let them bitches go. Today's about us, the guys. Forget about them."
Brayden nodded reluctantly, sighing. "You're right," he said, trying to push the thought aside.
He took a bite of his ice cream, only to freeze mid-chew, his face contorting in pain. "Ah, shit! Brain freeze!" he yelped, shaking his head furiously.
The others erupted into laughter, the moment breaking the lingering tension. Jay clapped Brayden on the back while Jason nearly dropped his ice cream from laughing so hard. For a while, nothing else mattered but their shared joy under the golden glow of the city.
Back at the bar, Tim approached the teenager sitting alone in the corner. A faint flicker of concern crossed his face as he stopped a few feet away. Behind him, a figure in a white hood sat at a nearby table, watching him intently before slipping away unnoticed.
"Hey, kid," Tim said softly. "You okay?"
The teenager didn't meet Tim's gaze, his eyes fixed on the sticky floor. He opened his mouth to respond, starting with a hesitant, "I—"
Before he could finish, three burly men stepped between Tim and the boy. The one in front—a middle-aged man with a thinning patch of hair—scowled and jabbed a finger at Tim.
"What the hell are you talking to my son for?" the man barked, his voice loud enough to draw attention.
Tim crossed his arms, unfazed. "Look, buddy, your kid looks like he doesn't even want to be here."
As he spoke, the mysterious hooded figure slipped behind the bar, unnoticed by most. The figure produced a small zip-lock bag filled with a strange, dark red liquid. Glancing around, they poured the substance into Tim's unattended beer before vanishing out the door.
The bald man stepped closer, his face red with anger. "That's my son, and you'd better worry about your own fucking kid."
The two men standing behind him—clearly his lackeys—chimed in, chanting his name. "Dexter! Dexter!"
Tim's jaw tightened. "You're seriously defending this shit? Your kid looks miserable."
Dexter sneered and shoved Tim, sending him stumbling back against the bar top. "Your son's a little queer, isn't he? A faggot! You hear me?"
Tim straightened, his face hardening with resolve. "Whose son are you calling gay?"
Dexter moved closer, chest puffed out, ready for a fight. The bartender, standing just feet away, noticed the tainted beer in Tim's hand, but before they could speak, Tim raised it to his lips and took a long sip.
The bartender froze, alarm flashing across his face, but it was too late.
Tim lowered the glass, a sharp glint in his eyes. Without hesitation, he smashed the bottle against Dexter's head, the glass shattering into a spray of jagged pieces. Dexter staggered, blood mixing with the beer dripping from his face.
The bar fell silent for a moment before chaos erupted, the sound of scuffling feet and raised voices filling the space.
Brayden, Jason, Elijah, Jay, and Mason stood by the fountain, tossing their empty ice cream wrappers into the nearby bin. Their lips and fingers were still sticky with melted remnants, but they wiped them off as best they could.
"You all set?" Elijah asked, glancing around at the group.
Everyone nodded, and Elijah grinned. "Cool. Let's hit up Dave & Buster's. It's just down the street."
They all agreed and started walking, their energy buzzing with anticipation. Mason, however, slowed his pace and came to a stop.
"Wait," he said, his voice cutting through the chatter.
Jason noticed first and turned back, the others still walking ahead. "What's up? You good?" Jason asked.
Mason didn't answer right away. Instead, he pulled a shiny quarter from his pocket and held it up. With a quick flick of his thumb, the coin spun through the air, landing with a small splash in the fountain.
Jason raised an eyebrow. "Dude, you could've used that at the arcade. Why'd you do that?"
Mason turned to him with a playful smirk. "I'm wishing us luck—so we can win big at the arcade."
Jason chuckled, shaking his head as Mason caught up with the group. "Man, you're something else," he muttered, smiling as they walked side by side toward their next adventure.
The golden sunlight bathed the city as the scene shifted back to the bar, now alive with chaos. Tim slammed one of Dexter's lackeys against the wall, his fist connecting with a sickening thud against the man's jaw. The lackey crumpled to the ground, groaning in pain.
Before Tim could catch his breath, Dexter charged from behind, locking him into a chokehold. The crowd of drunken patrons erupted in cheers, their voices a discordant roar.
"Stop it, Dad!" Dexter's son screamed, his voice breaking with panic as he watched the brutal scene unfold.
Tim struggled against the chokehold, his face turning red as his air supply dwindled. Blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, mixing with frothy spit, and his eyes turned a deep, bloodshot crimson. His breaths were ragged and wet as if each one cost him dearly.
Desperate to help, Dexter's son grabbed at his father's arm, trying to loosen the grip on Tim's neck. But before anyone could react, Tim turned his head sharply and latched onto the boy's cheek with his teeth.
A piercing scream tore through the bar as Tim's jaw clamped down, the muscles in his face rigid with inhuman force. Blood spattered across the floor as Dexter's son thrashed, trying to free himself.
"Get off him!" Dexter roared, throwing Tim to the ground. The boy stumbled back, collapsing into his father's arms, his cheek torn and mangled, a piece of flesh dangling from Tim's clenched teeth.
The bar fell silent for a moment, the gravity of the act sinking in. Dexter cradled his son, shouting for someone to call 911, his voice breaking with desperation.
But all eyes turned back to Tim, who now convulsed on the floor. His body twisted unnaturally, bones cracking like dry branches as spasms overtook him. The crowd backed away in terror, murmurs rippling through them like a wave.
Then, slowly, Tim pushed himself upright, rising without the help of his hands, his legs bearing the weight like a predator ready to pounce. Blood streamed from his nose and mouth, his face swollen and bruised, but it was his eyes that froze everyone in place—completely bloodshot, glowing with an unnatural intensity.
He growled low and guttural, a sound that sent a chill down everyone's spine. The crowd pressed back, fear mounting as Tim turned his head, scanning the room like a predator sizing up its prey.
Brayden, Jason, Elijah, Jay, and Mason strolled along the bustling New York sidewalk, weaving through the lively crowds as they made their way to Dave & Buster's. The group bantered about who would rack up the most credits at the arcade, their laughter and trash talk blending into the city's soundtrack.
Amid the chatter, Brayden's steps slowed. His eyes locked onto the back of a pink-haired girl ahead of them—a figure that looked eerily like Ry. His pace faltered, and then he stopped entirely.
Jay noticed first, his shoulders slumping in disappointment. He knew that look. "Here we go," he muttered under his breath. The others followed Jay's gaze and saw Brayden inching toward the girl.
Jay sighed and motioned for the rest of the group to keep going. "Y'all go on ahead. We'll catch up," he said.
Shrugging, the others continued down the street, their laughter fading into the distance. Jay, meanwhile, trailed behind Brayden, sticking close but getting jostled by the thickening crowd. A sharp shove sent him off course, and he lost sight of Brayden entirely.
Brayden, now just steps away from the girl, reached out and gently tapped her shoulder. "Hey, Ry—" he began, but his words faltered as the girl turned to face him.
It wasn't Ry.
The stranger's face twisted in disgust as she took in Brayden's awkward expression. Embarrassed, he stammered, "Oh, uh—sorry. I thought you were someone else."
Her friends snickered as she pushed his hand off her shoulder. "Yeah, okay," she said, rolling her eyes before walking away, her laughter ringing out behind her.
Jay finally caught up and grabbed Brayden's arm, glaring at him. "Bro, what the hell is wrong with you?"
Brayden turned, his cheeks still flushed. "Shit… sorry. I thought it was Ry."
Jay shook his head, clearly annoyed. "Nigga, you gotta tighten up. Let's go—we're already way behind the others."
Brayden nodded, muttering a quick "okay," and the two started walking again.
Before they could catch up to their friends, the person in the white hoodie darted out of nowhere, colliding with Brayden and sending both of them sprawling to the ground. A small zip-lock packet tumbled from the hooded person's pocket, landing at Brayden's feet.
Jay sighed, clearly irritated, as Brayden scrambled to his feet and reached out to help. "Hey, sorry about that," Brayden said, holding out a hand.
The hooded figure ignored him entirely, scrambling to their feet and bolting away into the crowd.
"What the hell just happened?" Brayden muttered, brushing himself off.
"Forget it," Jay snapped. "Let's keep moving."
Brayden took a step but stopped when he noticed the zip-lock packet still lying on the ground. He crouched to pick it up, inspecting the strange dark red liquid inside. Glancing back at the direction the hooded figure had run, he slipped the packet into his pocket.
"Just in case," he muttered under his breath.
Jay didn't notice, already weaving through the crowd ahead. Brayden hurried to catch up, the two disappearing into the throng of people as the city buzzed on around them.
The scene opens on a flickering light bulb, its glow casting eerie shadows across the room. In the background, blood-curdling screams echo, a chilling symphony of chaos. Suddenly, a spray of blood splatters against the bulb, painting it crimson.
The view pans downward to reveal Tim, hunched over a man pinned to a pool table. His teeth sink savagely into the man's throat, ripping it open with a gruesome squelch. Blood pours down Tim's chin as the man beneath him twitches and then goes limp.
In the background, pandemonium reigns. Several others, with the same bloodshot eyes and feral movements as Tim, attack the bar's patrons. The infected swarm like wild animals, their bites spreading the infection.
Zombies. Violent, ravenous zombies.
Screams fill the air as patrons scramble for the exits, slipping on pools of blood and chunks of torn flesh scattered across the floor. A woman crashes into a table, sending glasses and plates flying, before a zombie grabs her and drags her to the ground. Her screams are cut short as its teeth sink into her neck.
Behind the bar, the bartender crouches, trembling, clutching a kitchen knife as his only defense. His breath comes in ragged gasps, his knuckles white around the knife's handle.
The door slams open, and two security guards burst into the room. One guard barely has time to react before three zombies pounce on him, pinning him to the floor. They tear into his neck and chest, ripping flesh away with sickening efficiency. His screams echo for a moment before fading into a wet gurgle.
The second security guard freezes, horror etched across his face as he watches his partner being devoured. Snapping out of his shock, he pulls out his Beretta M9, aiming at the ravenous zombies. His hands shake as he fires, hitting several of them in the torso. The bullets rip through their flesh, but the creatures don't falter.
Then, from across the bar, a zombie locks eyes with him.
It lets out a guttural snarl before breaking into a sprint. The guard shifts his aim, firing round after round into the approaching creature. Each shot finds its mark—torso, shoulders, even the heart—but nothing stops its relentless charge.
Click. The gun's magazine is empty.
Before he can reload, the zombie is upon him. It grabs his neck with jagged nails, sinking its teeth into his flesh. The guard collapses to the floor, his screams drowned out by the sound of his own flesh tearing.
The bartender peeks out from behind the bar, his wide eyes scanning the room. Amid the carnage, he spots a narrow pathway leading to the exit. Steeling himself, he leaps over the counter and bolts for the door.
But just as freedom seems within reach, a cold, clawed hand snatches his arm.
Spinning around, the bartender swings his knife in desperation, burying it deep into the zombie's nape. The creature releases him, collapsing to the floor in spasms before going still. The bartender stares down at the motionless body, his chest heaving as the weight of what he's done sinks in.
His relief is short-lived.
From all sides, five zombies rush him, slamming him to the ground in a chaotic pile. The bartender's screams rise above the din as their teeth and nails tear into his flesh. Blood sprays across the room as they dig into his muscles, ripping apart his body with horrifying precision.
One zombie clamps its jaws around his neck, tearing through tendons and arteries. Another grabs his arm, its hands snapping bone like brittle twigs. A third zombie grips his hair, wrenching his head back with terrifying force.
With a final, sickening pull, the bartender's head is torn from his body, his lifeless eyes staring blankly at the blood-soaked bar.
The scene fades as the infected continue their carnage, leaving behind a haunting tableau of death and destruction.
Inside the buzzing atmosphere of Dave & Buster's, Jason and Elijah are locked in an intense match of Street Fighter. Their fingers fly across the buttons, eyes laser-focused on the screen. As the final round ends, Elijah emerges victorious.
Jason throws his hands up in mock frustration. "Bro, you cheated!"
Elijah smirks, leaning back with a shrug. "Cuh, how am I gonna cheat? This ain't even my machine."
Jason tries to counter but stumbles over his words, failing to come up with an excuse. Before their banter can escalate, Mason rushes over, proudly holding up a blue teddy bear, its bowtie slightly crooked but endearing.
"Look what I got!" Mason exclaims, grinning ear to ear.
Jason and Elijah clap him on the back, congratulating him. Then Mason glances around, his smile fading. "Wait, Brayden and Jay still aren't back?"
Jason shakes his head. Elijah pulls out his phone, scrolling through their group chat. A new message from Brayden, sent two minutes ago, catches his attention. As he reads it, his face tightens with worry.
Jason notices. "What's up, man? Why you lookin' like that?"
Elijah lowers his phone. "We gotta get outside. Now."
Without another word, the three of them bolt for the exit, shoving past kids and teens as they weave through the arcade chaos.
Outside, the scene shifts.
The trio spots Jay sitting in the back of a police cruiser, his face hard as stone, while Brayden stands by the officer, gesturing wildly. They rush over, Jason already asking, "Yo, what the hell's going on?"
Brayden turns, frustrated. "This cop says Jay knocked someone out with his foot or something."
"That's bull!" Elijah says, his voice rising. "We never saw that happen."
Jason adds, "Yeah, man. Jay didn't do anything."
The officer glares at the group, his hand resting on his holstered Glock. "You kids think I'm dumb? I was tailing you. Saw the whole thing after your boy stomped that kid. He's going in."
Mason frowns. "We should call Jay's parents."
Brayden pulls out his phone to make the call, but before he can dial, a commotion erupts in the distance. A crowd of people comes running, their screams piercing the air.
Jay leans toward the window of the police car. "Yo, what's going on?"
The others turn to look, and their faces pale as they see the chaos unfold.
In the distance, a swarm of figures barrels forward—zombies, their grotesque, blood-streaked faces illuminated by the streetlights. The undead tear into fleeing civilians, ripping flesh from bone as victims fall, one by one.
The officer freezes for a moment before snapping into action, pulling his Glock 17 from its holster. He takes off toward the zombies, shouting, "Stay here!"
His first shot goes wide, striking a woman's thigh as she's cornered against a building by a zombie. She collapses to the ground, clutching her leg, only for the zombie to seize her neck, tearing into her jugular. Blood sprays across the wall as her screams are abruptly silenced.
The friends stand frozen in horror, watching the nightmare unfold.
The officer reloads but is blindsided by two zombies, their bodies slamming him to the pavement. He lets out a guttural scream as their claws rip through his vest, tearing flesh from his torso. Blood pools around him as his cries fade.
Inside the cruiser, Jay starts banging on the window. "Get me the hell out of here! Break the window or something!"
Brayden nods. "I'll find something to smash it with!" He takes off, disappearing into the chaos to search for a tool.
Jason, Elijah, and Mason remain rooted in place, their eyes darting between the rampaging zombies and their fallen officer. The city around them erupts into pandemonium—screams, gunshots, and the guttural growls of the undead filling the air.
Brayden burst through the door of a nearby apartment building, his heart pounding in his chest. He scanned the dimly lit hallway, eyes quickly landing on a fire extinguisher encased in glass. Without hesitation, he ran over, took a steadying breath, and smashed his right elbow against the glass. The sound of shattering glass echoed down the hall as he grabbed the fire extinguisher and sprinted back out into the chaos.
The streets outside were madness. Zombies lurched at him from every direction, their jagged teeth snapping in the air as Brayden dodged and weaved through the nightmare unfolding around him. He leaped over fallen bodies and narrowly avoided the snapping jaws of the undead, his heart racing faster than his legs could carry him.
But then, he froze. His gaze locked onto a scene that sent a cold shiver down his spine: Gabi, pinned against a taxi by a zombie. Without thinking, he shouted her name. "Gabi!"
The words barely left his lips before he was already running toward her.
Gabi, fighting for her life, shoved the zombie off her and onto the ground. But in her desperate struggle, she tripped over the creature's outstretched leg, falling beneath the taxi. The zombie, relentless, began crawling toward her with terrifying speed.
"GET THE FUCK AWAY, YOU FUCKING FREAK!" Gabi screamed, kicking desperately at the zombie, her legs flailing to keep it at bay.
Brayden didn't hesitate. He lunged forward, grabbing the zombie by its legs and pulling it off Gabi. With a grunt, he yanked the creature away from her.
Gabi scrambled out from beneath the taxi, her breath ragged as she got to her feet. Brayden, still holding the fire extinguisher, swung it down hard onto the zombie's head. The creature's violent thrashing slowed, its limbs twitching uncontrollably before it finally went limp.
Brayden rushed over to Gabi, making sure she was okay. She looked shaken but unharmed.
"I don't know what the fuck is going on," Brayden said breathlessly, "but we gotta move. Jay's stuck!"
Gabi rolled her eyes, frustration evident in her voice. "Of course that little shit is stuck right now."
Without another word, the two of them took off, weaving through the streets and dodging zombies as they sprinted toward the police car. Their movements were a blur, narrowly avoiding the chaos around them as they pushed forward.
Inside the police car, Jay's frustration boiled over as he kicked at the door, his desperation building with every failed attempt to break free. The chaos outside raged on—zombies devouring people, blood and viscera painting the streets. Cars collided in a frantic effort to escape the nightmare unfolding around them.
"Yo, chill!" Elijah shouted at Jay from outside the car. "Brayden's coming with something soon!"
Jay, his voice cracking with panic, shot back, "LOOK AROUND YOU! I NEED TO GET OUT NOW!"
Nearby, a teenage girl, no older than them, was thrown to the ground by a zombie. Her screams pierced the air as the creature began to drag her toward it. Elijah's eyes locked on her, and without a word, he bolted toward her, rushing to her aid.
"ELIJAH!" Jason shouted, but his voice was drowned out by the chaos.
Suddenly, a zombie slammed into Mason, pinning him against the trunk of the police car. "HELP ME! JASON, HELP!" Mason's voice cracked with panic, one arm desperately pushing at the zombie's snapping jaws, the other clutching his blue teddy bear as if it could somehow save him.
Jason froze, a cold, numb sensation sweeping over him. His eyes were wide as he stared at Mason, unable to move. Jay's voice broke through his paralysis, urgent and filled with rage. "HELP HIM, JASON!"
Mason screamed again, his breath ragged, as the zombie lunged for his neck.
Just as the creature's teeth neared Mason's throat, Elijah burst through, shoving the zombie off with force and sending it sprawling to the ground.
"WE NEED TO GO NOW!" Elijah yelled, pulling Mason to his feet. The girl he'd just saved was right behind him, panting and terrified.
Jay, still kicking at the car's door, shot them an incredulous look. "Woah, woah, woah! What about me?!"
Elijah didn't miss a beat. "WE'LL COME BACK FOR YOU!"
Jason, Mason, and the girl followed Elijah as they sprinted away from the car, leaving Jay behind. Jay's face twisted in offense, watching them disappear into the chaos. The zombie Elijah had tossed off Mason slammed into the police car, growling hungrily as it locked eyes with Jay.
"Oh shit…" Jay muttered under his breath, realizing he was next.
Elijah, Jason, Mason, and the girl sprinted through the chaos, weaving through the pandemonium as zombies lunged at them from all sides. The girl stumbled, nearly snatched by another zombie, but Elijah grabbed her arm and yanked her forward, placing her in front of him.
Behind them, the sound of guttural growls grew louder as a pack of eight zombies gave chase. Heart pounding, Mason glanced back and saw the horde closing in.
"This way!" Elijah shouted, leading them into a narrow alleyway. Mason, the last to enter, slammed the wooden gate shut behind him. His hands shook as he held the gate in place, noticing the lock was busted.
"Help me hold it!" Mason yelled as the zombies slammed into the gate. Elijah and Jason rushed to his side, pressing their weight against the groaning wood.
Mason's eyes darted around the alley, searching for an escape. His stomach dropped when he saw the dead end—a brick wall at the far end of the alleyway. "IT'S A DEAD END!" he shouted, panic breaking his voice.
Elijah's head whipped around, scanning their surroundings. He spotted a rusty fire escape ladder bolted to the wall. "WE CAN CLIMB THAT!" he pointed, urgency in his voice.
The girl didn't hesitate, bolting to the ladder and climbing as fast as she could.
"Y'ALL TWO GO!" Elijah shouted. "I'LL HOLD IT!"
"No way!" Mason snapped, teeth clenched as the gate rattled under the force of the zombies. "You already saved me once. Go! I'll hold it this time!"
Elijah hesitated, his hands gripping the gate tightly, but Mason's glare told him there was no arguing. With a nod, Elijah sprinted to the ladder and began climbing.
"HURRY! MORE ARE COMING!" Elijah yelled as he ascended higher.
The pressure on the gate grew unbearable as more zombies piled against it, their combined weight bowing the wood inward.
Mason turned to Jason. "On the count of three, we both run!"
Jason's face twisted with fear, his breathing shallow. "If we both go, one of us won't make it," Jason stammered, backing away.
Before Mason could respond, Jason bolted to the ladder, his survival instinct overtaking his loyalty.
"Jason!" Mason yelled in disbelief before sprinting after him.
The gate splintered, and zombies poured into the alley just as Mason reached the ladder. Jason climbed furiously, not daring to look down. Mason grabbed the bottom rung and began his ascent, but the zombies were right behind him. One grabbed his leg, its fingers like iron.
"JASON! GRAB ME!" Mason screamed, his voice filled with desperation.
Jason looked down, sweat dripping from his brow. Their eyes met, but Jason's fear overpowered him. He turned away and continued climbing.
Mason's chest heaved in disbelief as he fought to kick the zombie off. In a last-ditch effort, he hurled his blue teddy bear at the pack. The zombies momentarily released his leg to pounce on the toy.
Freed, Mason scrambled up the ladder, his movements frantic. Halfway up, his hand grabbed a loose rung. Before he could react, the rusted metal broke away with a loud snap.
"No—!" Mason's voice was cut short as he fell, slamming onto the pavement below. The impact sent shockwaves through his body, his skull cracking against the ground.
Jason froze, hearing Mason's scream and the sickening thud of his fall. He looked down, his heart plummeting.
Below, Mason's blurred vision caught glimpses of the zombies surrounding him. Their snarls were deafening as they descended on him, clawing and tearing at his flesh. Pain erupted across his body as teeth sank into his arms and legs. He couldn't even scream—shock muted his voice.
A zombie leaned down, its jaws snapping. It clamped onto Mason's skull like a ripe fruit, the sound of bone crunching filling the air.
Jason's breath hitched as he watched in horror. His legs trembled, but he forced himself to look away, climbing faster. He reached the roof where Elijah and the girl were waiting, their faces pale and stricken.
Jason collapsed onto his back, chest rising and falling rapidly, his heart hammering in his ears. His face was pale, his body drenched in sweat.
Elijah stood nearby, hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He glanced at Jason, his eyes narrowing with concern. "Where's Mason?" he asked, his voice sharp.
Jason froze, the weight of reality crashing down on him. His throat tightened as guilt clawed at his insides. Shakily, he stood up, his body trembling as tears welled in his eyes. "He… he… didn't… he couldn't…" Jason's voice faltered, the words caught in his throat.
Elijah's face twisted in anger and grief as realization dawned. "God. GOD DAMMIT!" he yelled, his voice echoing across the rooftop.
Near the edge of the building, the girl—frail and shaken—curled into a ball, her knees tucked tightly to her chest. Elijah turned to her, softening his tone. "Hey… what's your name?"
The girl hesitated, her voice barely a whisper. "P-Penelope…"
Elijah nodded, forcing a small, kind smile. "That's a nice name."
Jason's head snapped toward Elijah, his grief boiling over into anger. "ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS?" he shouted. "We just lost Mason! There are goddamn zombies everywhere! And you're worried about some girl's name? Always thinking with your dick!"
Elijah's expression darkened, the insult striking deep. "What?" he shot back. "Yo, I'm trying to keep it together! I know what the hell's going on. Don't take your shit out on me!"
Jason's face contorted in frustration. "Whatever," he muttered, his voice dripping with disdain.
Elijah's jaw tightened, his patience fraying. "Yeah, it's always 'whatever,' isn't it?"
"Shut up!" Jason barked, storming off to a different corner of the rooftop.
Elijah sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair. The air between them thickened with tension, the weight of their loss settling over the group like a suffocating cloud.
Panning downward, zooming in on the chaos below.
A woman is hurled through a storefront window, her body torn apart by ravenous zombies. Blood splatters across shards of shattered glass. A man sprints down the street, his face contorted with terror. He barely notices the tourist bus barreling toward him until it's too late. The vehicle slams into him, sending his body hurtling through the air before the bus careens into the corner of a building.
For a moment, there's an eerie stillness. Then the bus door creaks open, and zombies pour out like a flood, their groans filling the air.
The final shot lingers on one particularly grotesque zombie, its face twisted into a feral snarl. It lunges, snapping its jaws just as we fade into black.
The End
Author: Theater Writers