Jack's life from the previous couple of weeks had been... a whirlwind. Hectic, to say the very least. One day, not so long ago, his biggest concern was the meticulous task of cleaning his apartment. Every surface polished, every stray sock vanquished, every book aligned just so. Why? Because Sammy, his collage crush – an ethereal creature with a laugh that made his chest ache in the best way – was coming over for the first time. It was just for help with an assignment, a mundane reason, yet his heart hammered with the thrilling possibility. Who knew if it might become a regular thing? First, assignments, then hanging out, then… maybe something more. The innocent anticipation of a young man on the precipice of hopeful romance.
But Fate, that unpredictable, cruel bitch, had some other, far more sinister plans. The worst that usually happens to normal people when they're around their crush is that they might fumble their words, act clumsy, or do something utterly embarrassing. Jack had braced himself for that. He had hoped, desperately, that Sammy might leave before Maarg came back from his school. Maarg, his tenant's son, his best friend, was undeniably a menace in social situations. He wasn't afraid to speak his heart out, to blurt out awkward truths, even if it made the other person profoundly uncomfortable. Now, that idea – his desperate prayer for a smooth evening – failed miserably. Maarg, in his usual, blunt fashion had slammed the door in sammy's face, knocking her out and making her so furious that Her beautiful face had contorted in a mix of shock and anger, and she had stormed out, leaving Jack standing in the wreckage of his hopes. He thought he might be able to catch up to her, to at least say goodbye and apologize on Maarg's behalf. To explain, to smooth things over, to salvage any shred of dignity.
That, too, didn't go as expected. Because as he stepped out, the world changed. Nobody thought a new, virulent virus would break out, sweeping across the globe, locking everyone indoors. Chaos erupted, turning bustling streets into desolate graveyards. The only good that came with this apocalyptic twist was that Sammy, stranded and with nowhere else to go, was now living with him. They weren't sharing a room, a small mercy perhaps, but still, it gave him a profound peace of mind knowing she was there, safe under his roof, her presence a silent comfort in a world gone mad.
The next couple of days went by in a surreal, uneasy peace, an odd honeymoon period before the real nightmare began. Playing video games with Maarg, sketching in his old notebook – a fleeting return to normalcy. He even called his grandparents, his voice thick with a forced cheerfulness he didn't feel, asking them if they were alright, praying they were.
Then came the worst part. The world outside the windows began to truly unravel. People started to get infected, transforming into grotesque, shambling horrors – zombies. Nowhere was safe. The lockdown became a death sentence for those unprepared. Jack, always the protector, the steady one, found himself forced to stand up, to take action to protect everyone around him. He fought with a desperate ferocity he never knew he possessed. He fought a mutated dog, Buster, a creature twisted by The Charity into something unrecognizable, a beast that had once been a loving pet. He fought relentless hordes of zombies, their numbers seemingly endless, their hunger insatiable. He even faced an intelligent zombie and Charity itself, a terrifying anomaly that defied all previous understanding of the undead.
Jack had figured out that the Charity had been following them for some reason, They had encountered enough strange zombies to know something was not right, Jack even talked to Henry about it but even Henry, one of the best scouts The Vipers had was sure that he had ever encountered any animal turning into a zombie.
Beyond the physical battles, he bore an immense emotional burden. He had to take care of both an emotionally unstable Maarg, who had just lost his parents in front of him, forced to witness their horrific transformation, and Sammy, who was also profoundly shaken by the strange, brutal twist of the world. Jack had been the stoic pillar, absorbing their fear, offering what little comfort he could, fighting their battles even as his own soul frayed at the edges.
If that wasn't enough, if his body and mind hadn't been pushed to their absolute limits, now he was resting from the literal hell he had survived at Gunther's base. He had seen one of his comrades, Mark, a man he had come to respect, tragically lose his humanity, twisted into a monstrous weapon. And to top it all off, Maarg, his best friend, the tenant's son who once annoyed him with his bluntness, had somehow, incomprehensibly, become a superhuman. Jack had seen it with his own eyes – Maarg's impossible speed, his devastating strength.
The realization hit Jack with the force of a physical blow. He had been strong, he was strong, but next to Maarg, he felt weak. He felt vulnerable, exposed. The world had become a place where ordinary strength was no longer enough. A grim resolve settled deep within him. He knew, with an unshakeable certainty, that he needed to become stronger. He had to evolve, adapt, or risk becoming another casualty, another ghost in Maarg's nightmares.
Jack was woken from his troubled, shallow sleep by a persistent, rhythmic hammering sound. It wasn't loud, but it was insistent, a dull thudding that cut through the soothing roar of the waterfall. He groaned, rubbing his eyes, the cuts and bruises from the night before aching with renewed vigor. He pushed himself up from the worn sofa, his muscles protesting. As he looked up, blinking away the last vestiges of sleep, he found Maarg, already awake and busy with something near the overturned bookshelves. Maarg's back was to him, his shoulders hunched in concentration, the sound of metal on wood echoing softly.
"What the hell are you doing?" Jack mumbled, his voice thick with sleep and irritation.
Maarg turned, a faint, tired but undeniably content smile touching his lips, his eyes, though still shadowed by fatigue, clear and focused. "About time you woke up," he replied, a hint of his usual dry wit returning, completely unfazed by Jack's gruff awakening.