Oh, crap.

  Why the hell were there suddenly so many zombies on a street that had been empty just moments ago?!

  I sprinted toward the guy ahead, barely dodging a grasping hand. "Damn it, you totally jinxed us!There's a whole zombie horde! We need to find cover—now!"

  Even as a so-called "Chosen One," I was helpless against this zombie swarm. Aside from my enhanced speed, my strength boost was laughable. 264% might sound impressive, but in reality? If I could lift 25 kilos before, now I could lift 65. Not exactly superhero material.

  As I tried not to panic, the guy beside me panted, "I'm a student from the local university. When the outbreak hit, six of us managed to take shelter in a supermarket. We need to get back there!"

  He pushed himself even harder, sprinting at a speed that would've made an Olympic runner jealous. Guess that the whole "humans unlock hidden potential in crises" thing was true after all.

  Of course, I wasn’t going full throttle. The title "Chosen One" might sound cool, but it painted a target on my back. Every other Chosen wanted to kill more of their own kind to level up their abilities. No way in hell was I revealing my edge unless absolutely necessary.

  We kept running, the guttural roars behind us getting closer. I shouted, "How much further?!"

  "Almost there—just up ahead! Hope there aren’t any zombies—"

  Before he could finish, two zombies staggered out from an alley right in front of us.

  "Oh, for God's sake..." I groaned, shooting him a glare. "You just had to say it, didn’t you?!" But I still gave him a sarcastic thumbs-up. "Great call."

  We immediately veered into another alley. But something about this place felt familiar—too familiar. It just occurred to me. "Oh, hell no..."

  I knew this alley. I grew up playing here. And I knew exactly where it led.

  The alley was a dead end. No way out.

  Cold sweat trickled down my back. My mind raced. There was a three-meter-high wall at the dead end—the back of a department store’s storage facility. That was our only way out. No time to think. I kicked into high gear and bolted straight for it.

  The guy must've noticed my sudden burst of speed because he hesitated for a split second before chasing after me like his life depended on it—which, well, it did. I hit full stride, took a few quick steps, and launched myself into the air.

  The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  Damn. I must've jumped at least two meters high.

  My hands caught the top of the wall, and I hoisted myself up. Turning around, I reached out. "Jump! Now!"

  The guy—still processing what he'd just seen—stared at me like I'd sprouted wings. "Move it or die!" I barked.

  Snapping out of it, he ran at full speed, leaped, and barely caught the edge of the wall with his fingertips. He dangled precariously, about to slip. Without thinking, I grabbed his arm and hauled him up just as a zombie lunged, swiping at his foot. It barely missed, scraping against his shoe. Gasping for breath, we wasted no time. We dropped into the yard on the other side, rolling as we hit the ground.

  Silence--

  The courtyard was eerily still, nothing but tightly shut storage units surrounding us. We sat there, panting, adrenaline still surging through our veins.

  "Holy shit... that was close," the guy wheezed, shaking his head.

  I wasn't listening. I got to my feet and started scoping the area. Then something caught my eye.

  One of the storage doors wasn’t locked.

  Cautiously, I pushed it open. The dim light revealed stacks of boxes. I stepped inside, rifling through them—spices and condiments. Useless.

  The guy had recovered by now. He nodded at me. "Rocky."

  "George," I replied, jerking a thumb at myself. "How far is that supermarket from here?"

  Rocky thought for a moment. "If we take a different route back... about 700 meters."

  "Good. Then we climb over the far wall and keep moving."

  I scaled the opposite wall and peeked over. The horde we’d escaped had moved on, their snarls now coming from the other side. I reached down. "Come on."

  This time, Rocky didn’t hesitate. He sprinted, leaped up, grabbed my wrist, and scrambled over.

  As we crouched low, making our way toward the supermarket, Rocky whispered, "Damn, dude. You jump crazy high."

  I shrugged. "Played a lot of basketball. Good conditioning."

  Total lie. I was a certified homebody. The only thing I had experienced dunking was instant noodles in boiling water.

  Rocky sighed. "Man... I regret never working out."

  I chuckled but kept my eyes scanning the area. "Something feels off. The zombies disappeared too fast.

  Did you guys check the news? Call the cops? They might be sending rescue teams."

  "No idea," Rocky admitted. He fished out his phone and dialed. To my surprise, someone actually picked up.

  "Emergency response. Survivor, report your location."

  Rocky stammered outside the address.

  "Stay inside the supermarket. Do not go outside. Rescue teams are operating in the neighboring district. Estimated arrival: sunset."

  "O-okay. Thank you!" Rocky was practically shaking with excitement.

  And that's when the corpse on the ground in front of us suddenly moved.

  I reacted instinctively. Before it could even snarl, I drove my metal pipe straight through its skull.It twitched once, then collapsed, motionless.

  Rocky exhaled sharply. "The supermarket—blue sign, right up ahead! Action!"

  He took off at full speed. He took off at full speed. I took out my crowbar and followed him, and when I got to the door, Loki tapped gently on it whispering , "Open up! It’s me!"

  Inside, hurried footsteps. The door cracked open, and a guy with glasses peered out. "Rocky? Did you find a car? Who's he—"

  Before he could finish, I slipped inside, and the door slammed shut behind us.

  We were safe for now.