In this fucked-up world, the dead were running the show now.

  As they muscled through the “traffic jam,” Melk froze dead and waved Kevin down. Kevin ducked behind an SUV in one slick move. He peeked under it and clocked some feet dragging closer.

  The scrape of boots on asphalt cut through the still air, like some bastard hauling mangled legs along.

  Kevin’s hair stood up straight. He’d watched these “walkers” on TV plenty, no doubt, but facing one for real was a whole other beast. Panic smashed him, hands shaking as he fought to keep his breath steady.

  Kevin had binged every episode of The Zombie World—those plots were burned in his skull. A bio-virus had trashed the States, maybe the whole planet, wiping out most of humanity. The kicker? Plenty of the dead didn’t stay down. They came back.

  The show’s lead, Rikk, was a small-town cop. He woke up in a hospital to a world gone to shit. He got out, scrapped for survival, and finally linked up with his family again. On the way, he snagged a crew of survivors, always rolling, always hunting for a safe spot. A bunch died off, but new blood kept popping up. It was a nonstop grind, packed with brutal twists, the kinda show that glued you to the screen.

  And now, somehow, Kevin was stuck with this asshole—Melk. He’d been a real prick on the show—a grizzled ex-soldier and a rude bastard who treated folks like trash. The crew even ditched him, handcuffed up on a rooftop with walkers all over, and he still clawed through. Melk was tough as nails, the kinda guy who hacked off his own damn hand to keep moving.

  Kevin couldn’t stand assholes like Melk. Catching him on screen was one thing, but dealing with him up close? That was a next-level shit-show. Still, he had to give props—Omnispace had paired them, and like it or not, Melk had yanked him outta a tight spot. Maybe that bastard wasn’t a total wash. The guy damn sure knew how to scrap—no way he’d have lasted solo this long otherwise. Kevin figured he might as well swipe a trick or two from the jerk while he could.

  Kevin’s thoughts drifted as he clocked the dark, rotting feet of a walker shuffling his way. His breath snagged, legs locked stiff.

  “Hey, jerk, slide under the car!” a rough voice hissed.

  Kevin dropped his eyes and saw Melk flat on his gut, glaring up from under the SUV. He could damn near hear Melk muttering curses under his breath. Kevin got it—Melk was dead right: one slip or a sound, and they’d be walker bait. Gulping hard, he wedged himself under the rig next to Melk.

  Melk snagged Kevin’s collar and growled, “Pay attention, dumbass. Space out like that again, and you’re walker bait, got it? I’m only hauling your ass outta this ‘cause I don’t want your fuck-up dragging more creeps our way, you hear?”

  Kevin didn’t mouth off. His throat clamped shut, and he jerked a quick nod, too freaked to yap.

  The walker looped around the SUV, and more nasty, bloated feet popped up in the distance.

  Low, guttural moans rolled through the dead air as a pack of walkers shuffled past. Their shoes scraped the pavement, dragging on like a swarm of brain-dead roaches, leaving nothing but a hollow silence behind.

  Melk went still, spitting on the dirt, his eyes raking the scene like a hunter sizing up a kill. Kevin tracked Melk’s gaze and saw him scoping the roof of a bus nearby—clearly plotting their next move if shit went south.

  That’s what splits a rookie from a pro, Kevin figured. While he was losing his mind, Melk was already mapping their next play.

  Melk caught Kevin eyeballing the place and let out a low, gritty laugh. “What’re you scoping, kid?”

  “Uh, escape paths, maybe. We could scramble up to the roof and hop over to the next building,” Kevin muttered.

  Melk huffed. “You’d be toast ten times before you hit the roof. Chomped to shit.”

  Kevin flicked an annoyed glance. “Okay, so what’s your move then?”

  Melk cracked a sly, crooked grin. “Keeping an eye on crows, dumbass. Crows.”

  “Crows?” Kevin scrunched his face. “Why crows?”

  “Crows munch on dead stuff, but walkers scare ‘em off. If walkers are around, no crows. So…” Melk trailed off.

  Kevin’s eyes popped wide. “If crows are hanging out, there’s not a ton of walkers! We should haul ass that way.”

  Melk grinned, all sly and smug. “And there’s a Playboy poster on that bus’s back window. Bet that chick on it would make one hell of a walker.”

  Kevin gaped, jaw slack. Even with death breathing down their necks, Melk’s fucked-up humor didn’t miss a damn beat.

  They stayed low, holding their breath, ‘til the pack of walkers dragged on by. Kevin let out a shaky breath, the knot in his shoulders easing up. In a few minutes, these rotting bastards would be gone.

  But there’s always a damn but.

  A car door busted open, and some dude stumbled out, yelling at the walker latched onto him, “You bastard, back the fuck off!”

  “Shit!” Melk jammed his knife into the dirt.

  Kevin’s heart kicked into overdrive. What the hell’s going down? Was Omnispace pulling this crap?

  The guy staggered their way, walkers hot on his ass.

  A corpse, sprawled dead by the car a second ago, twitched up and sank its teeth into the guy’s calf as he bolted past. The dude howled, flailing and kicking at the thing, desperate to shake it loose.

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  Kevin swallowed hard. Even a rookie like him could tell this poor bastard was done for.

  The guy crashed to the dirt, dust exploding around him. He screamed, clutching his leg, but it was a lost damn cause. The walker pounced, tearing into his flesh like a rabid dog.

  Kevin let out a shaky breath. The dude was a good seventy feet off. They could probably haul ass now. But guilt smashed him like a brick. This guy was still human, same as him. That thing ripping him up? Barely a shred of human left.

  Kevin was just a regular schmuck, stuck watching, useless as the walker shredded the guy. But somehow, the dude bashed the walker’s skull in and dragged himself up. Bloody and busted, he limped on, still fighting to get clear.

  Kevin’s chest clamped tight as the guy’s wild, panicked eyes locked on him.

  “Help! Somebody!” the dude hollered.

  “Damn it!” Kevin muttered under his breath. This bastard was toast, and now he was trying to drag them into his shit-show.

  The walkers were already onto Kevin and Melk. Hiding was fucked now.

  Kevin scrambled out from under the SUV and bolted toward where he’d spotted the crows.

  Shots popped off behind him. Kevin spun around and saw Melk jogging his way, face hard as rock, gripping a Bushmaster Arm Pistol.

  Back there, the bitten guy hit the dirt, blood spraying from a bullet hole as walkers swarmed him. They tore into him, ripping his throat wide open. He couldn’t scream—just gurgled as blood bubbled outta his mouth.

  Kevin barely caught a wet “hehe” from the guy’s wrecked throat. He couldn’t tell if the dude was begging, losing it, or just getting off on dragging two more dumbasses down with him.

  Didn’t matter now. The walkers had their asses pegged.

  Melk’s shot had tossed the walkers a fresh meal, pulling most of their heat. But a handful didn’t get a bite and started shambling toward the two still breathing.

  Kevin bolted after Melk.

  Years of zombie shows and games had hammered one thing into him: get surrounded by walkers, and you’re fucked. Didn’t matter if you fought like Bruce Lee or packed a rocket launcher—you were toast.

  No damn way Kevin was turning into walker chow. Not today.

  Here’s the kicker: Kevin was a total book nerd. Hot shit on paper, pure trash in the field. Walkers were slow as hell, but Kevin wasn’t exactly Usain Bolt. Sure, his stats got a bump from the trial—Agility hit a “whopping” 4 points—but walkers weren’t far behind, probably at 3 or 4 too.

  It was a race where the slow bastard got chomped.

  Melk whipped around, and a cold jolt knifed through Kevin.

  He was scared shitless this hard-ass might pull the same dirty trick he’d done on the bitten dude—plug Kevin and ditch him as walker bait while he peeled out.

  Melk raised the Bushmaster, barrel locked on Kevin, who was sucking wind like a busted engine.

  “I just landed in this damn world, and I’m already walker chow? What kinda shitty luck is this?” Kevin groaned.

  “BANG!” The shot cracked the thick silence.

  Kevin slammed his eyes shut as a walker lunging at him froze mid-jump, its head busting open like a smashed melon. Flesh, blood, and brain chunks splattered over him. He gagged, but it was do or die, so he gritted his teeth and kept hauling ass.

  Melk popped off shot after shot—seven rounds, seven heads smashed open. Kevin gaped at Melk’s scary-good aim.

  But the shots dragged in more walkers, boxing them in from every damn side. Kevin watched, gut sinking, as the gap ahead clogged up with walkers—not a huge mob, but enough to fuck them if they tripped or got snagged.

  “Catch it!” Melk barked, chucking the Bushmaster at Kevin.

  Kevin shot his hands out, but they slipped, and he dove to the dirt to snag it.

  “You damn idiot! I’m hotwiring this ride. It’s now or never! Tonight we’re either crashing out or walker chow! Cover me! You even know how to work that thing?!” Melk snarled, ripping open the door of a slick red sports car and hopping in.

  “How do I flip the safety off?” Kevin spat, feeling like a total dope—a 21st-century kid clueless on the basics.

  “It’s already off, you dumbass! Don’t aim at me! Shoot the damn walkers! Lower it—this thing kicks hard, and the barrel jumps when you fire. Go, shoot!” Melk roared.

  Kevin had never touched a gun before. The Bushmaster weighed a damn ton in his hands, and he scrambled to dredge up shooting tips from movies.

  Lining up the closest walker, he gritted his teeth and yanked the trigger.

  The sharp bang froze the walkers for a split second, their heads snapping toward the noise. But the one he’d aimed at? Still standing, not a scratch. The bullet smashed a car window, and the alarm screeched through the chaos.

  “Nice one, genius!” Melk barked, cracking a gritty laugh. “You’re trying to get us screwed, huh?”

  “Zip it!” Kevin clamped the Bushmaster tighter, a spark of grit flaring in his chest.

  The kick from his last shot had rattled his wrist, but instead of lining it up clean, he swung the gun at the closest walker and yanked the trigger again.

  The kickback tore through the meat by his thumb, blood pooling as his wrist swelled up and stung like hell. Pain ripped up his arm, but quitting wasn’t an option.

  Then Omnispace’s icy, robotic voice sounded in his mind: “Worldhopper 4444 has eliminated 1 regular walker. Weapon is borrowed; reward adjusted accordingly. Reward: 1 survival point. Review battle log for more information. Title Walker Hunter unlocked, progress 1/100. For title details, query Omnispace. Submit a query mentally; response provided upon clearance.”

  Kevin didn’t have a damn second to think. Clenching his jaw, he lined up another walker and let it rip.

  He knew his stats sucked, so aiming for headshots was a dumbass move. Showing off would just get him smoked. The Bushmaster had enough kick that nailing the bastard anywhere was fine, especially with regular walkers.

  He aimed for the body but tagged the head anyway, its skull busting open like cheap glass, brains splattering everywhere.

  Kevin tuned out the pain and kept blasting. A wild shot smashed another car window—who gave a shit about the owner or insurance now?

  In under a minute, Kevin popped off thirty rounds with the Bushmaster. His hands were bloody, his arms numb as hell, but he’d dropped 17 walkers and snagged 17 survival points.

  Outta a walker’s corpse, a white key flashed in, zipped into Kevin’s chest, and bam—gone. What the hell was that thing? He didn’t have a second to figure it out.

  The walkers kept piling up, crowding them like a damn endless flood, stacking one on top of another. Kevin’s hit rate was over fifty percent—not ‘cause he had skills, but ‘cause they were practically in his face. Long as he kept it low, damn near every shot landed.

  “I’m cooked! This shit over yet?” Kevin hollered, voice shaking with panic.

  All of a sudden, the car’s engine roared to life, a loud blast ripping through the chaos. Kevin dove in fast. The Porsche screamed forward like a beast, smashing walkers and tossing bodies as it burned down the road.