The city was dead, as much as it was alive.
Axel moved through the broken streets like a shadow. His boots crunched glass and ash with each step, but he never winced. There was no one left to hear it. No human, at least.
Buildings leaned inward like mourners. A billboard peeled under the weight of time, its colors long faded to bone-gray. A headless mannequin lay sprawled in a clothing store window—flies buzzed around the bloodstains behind it.
He tightened his grip on the crowbar slung over his shoulder.
The sky was a dirty orange, stained by smoke that never cleared. Sunset always looked like fire now.
Axel ducked under a twisted streetlamp and crossed into the wreck of what used to be a pharmacy. The glass door had been shattered long ago, but someone had boarded it up again—badly. He slid inside through a gap, careful not to disturb the hanging bits of chain still nailed into the frame.
Inside, it stank of rot, wet mold, and chemical dust. Shelves had collapsed. Syrup bottles were dried solid. The fridges were black with decay.
He moved quickly, checking drawers, stepping over collapsed shelving. He wasn't looking for much. A bottle of antibiotics, a flashlight battery. An unopened food bar, if he got lucky.
On the far wall, beneath a layer of soot, a child's drawing was still taped. Crayon lines. A smiling stick figure family. "Me, Dad, Mom" written in shaky letters.
Axel stared at it for a moment. Then he pulled it free, folded it carefully, and slipped it into his pocket.
From behind the counter, he dragged a rusted drawer open. Inside: expired painkillers, two batteries, and—miracle—a sealed, dust-covered protein bar.
He sat back on his heels, exhaled. Maybe today wouldn't kill him after all.
A noise froze him.
Scrape.
Then again.
Shuffle… drag.
He didn't turn. Not yet. His hand slid down to the knife on his hip.
The temperature felt colder suddenly. The air thicker.
A dry, raspy exhale came from the hall beyond the pharmacy's storage door.
Then another.
Then three more.
Rotwalkers.
Axel stood slowly, soundless. He rolled his shoulders, adjusted his grip on the crowbar, and turned toward the noise.
Three of them staggered into view—skin like parchment, eyes clouded with death, jaws hanging slack. One's tongue lolled from a torn mouth. Another had a bone sticking out of its arm like broken driftwood.
They hadn't seen him yet. Not clearly.
Axel didn't wait.
He moved.
Axel dashed forward and smashed the crowbar against the first walker's head. The metal sunk into its flesh and cleaved through its brain.
"Rawr!" He narrowly dodged a swipe from the second walker and stumbled slightly, catching himself he hit the walker in the back of the knee bringing it to its knees. He began swinging wilding smashing his crowbar against the walker's head until it was nothing but a soggy pile of bone and brain matter.
BAM!
Something hard struck him and sent him flying into a wall. Axel groaned as he struggled to stand. His vision blurry as the grey monstrosity limped closer to him. He didn't know if it was the concussion but he swore he saw the smugness on its rotten, flakey face. His hand began franticly searching the floor for a weapon as the walker got closer. Just as the walker stood over him, his hand caught something. Gripping it, he swung upwards and the object was stabbed through the walker's chin and protruded through the top of its skull. The light glinted off the exposed steel and Axel's eyes caught sight of a short sword.
Standing, he pulled it from the walker's chin and watched as it collapses to the ground.
"That fight was bound to attract the attention of other walker's. I should hurry." He quickly collected the few medicines and antibiotics he could find and left the pharmacy. he moved quickly and silently. Rotwalkers were blind, however their hearing was impeccable. It took a while but people eventually learned that silence was equal to survival. Looking behind him he saw the pharmacy swarming with the bastards. He sighed as he looked around remembering how it all started.
~Ten Months Ago~
The kettle screamed.
Axel rubbed his eyes, shuffled across the kitchen in mismatched socks, and clicked it off. He poured the water over instant coffee, steam curling in the quiet.
His phone buzzed—group chat. College friends arguing about some presentation. He ignored it.
The TV was on in the background. Static. A local news anchor was mumbling something about "emergency reports—isolated incidents—quarantine zones."
He didn't pay attention.
His backpack sat by the door. He had a class in two hours. Life was normal. Or close enough.
Then he noticed it.
His mom hadn't moved.
She stood over the sink, hands resting on the edge, shoulders stiff. Her long hair hung around her face like a curtain.
"Mom?"
No answer.
He walked closer, setting the mug on the table.
"You okay?"
Still nothing.
The faucet dripped steadily.
Something about her posture was wrong. Too rigid. Like her bones didn't know how to relax.
"Hey…" He gently touched her arm.
She twitched.
Then turned.
Her eyes were pale. Not glazed. Not blind. Just… wrong. Empty. Her mouth hung open, lip twitching, chin smeared with something dark. Not quite blood. Not quite not.
"Mom?" Axel stepped back. A chill gripped his spine.
She lunged.
Snapping jaws. Guttural breath. Fingers clawing at his face.
He stumbled, knocking over the trash bin. "Mom, stop—! What the hell are you doing?!"
She didn't speak. Just snarled, like an animal pushed too far.
They crashed into the table. She scratched his neck, drew blood. He shoved her, hard. She hit the counter, slumped—then came again.
He grabbed the first thing he could—a ceramic plate—and smashed it across her head.
She collapsed. Twitching. Gasping. Then still.
Axel stood over her, shaking. Breathing like he'd just sprinted miles.
Blood pooled on the tile.
He dropped the plate.
"No, no, no—" he muttered, falling to his knees. "What did I do? What the hell did I do?"
He fumbled for his phone, dialing 911.
Busy signal.
Again. Busy.
Again. Nothing.
He stood, hand pressed against his bleeding neck, and opened the front door.
And the world was already ending.
Smoke rose over the city skyline. A car crashed into a fire hydrant across the street. Someone was screaming. A man stumbled out of a nearby house, his face torn open, dragging something half-dead behind him.
A helicopter roared overhead. Then gunfire.
Axel staggered back inside, shut the door, and locked it.
His hands were trembling.
He hadn't killed his mom.
She was already gone.
But that didn't stop the guilt. Axel knelt beside her body, the ceramic shards still clutched in his bloody hands. His breaths came in jagged bursts, chest tight like the room itself was collapsing. Her eyes were still open—lifeless, but staring. Through him. Past him.
"Why didn't you say anything?" he whispered.
The silence screamed louder than anything outside.
Then—
BOOM.
A distant explosion rocked the air. Glass shivered in the window frame. Dogs barked. A siren wailed. Then another. And another. The entire city sounded like it was convulsing.
Axel stood. Moved like he was underwater. He had to do something.
911 was still jammed. Every number he called was met with silence or a flat tone. The internet was down. No updates. No maps. No warning. Just static and spammed alerts about "Unidentified violent behavior in urban zones."
He grabbed a jacket, a backpack, a small knife from the kitchen drawer. It felt like a joke. Like wearing gloves to a war.
Outside, the street was chaos.
A van rammed into a parked car and kept going, dragging metal and sparks. A woman ran barefoot across the road, blood on her nightgown, screaming for someone who didn't answer. A man tackled another in the middle of the street—biting his neck and devouring him.
Axel backed away.
A child stood near a mailbox, unmoving, jaw slack. Her skin was turning gray. Her fingers twitching. She looked up at him. Her eyes were wrong. He slammed the door shut, heart in his throat. This wasn't a riot. This wasn't drugs. This wasn't just panic.
Axel stared at his bloodied hands. Felt the sting on his neck where his mother had scratched him.
"ITS A FUCKING NIGHTMARE! IT HAS TO BE!!" He gripped his hair in terror and what he saw hit him like a sack of bricks. He turned and looked down the hall—at her body, at the wreckage. There would be no fixing this.
Only surviving it. He had to.
~Present Day~
He shook slightly. "Now's not the time to think about the past." He ran silently down the alleyway ducking and hiding as rotwalkers shuffled past. Over the last couple of months mankind experience the greatest disaster in modern history. Zombies. People dubbed it the Zombie Virus, Z-Virus for short. What's even worse is that humans proved more viscous than the walkers. Looting, killing, subjugation even raping became commonplace. No one could trust anyone even your brother would stab you in the back for a morsel of food. No one could be trusted. Safe zones were created however they protected you from the threat outside, not inside. Safe zone leaders, militaristic dictators who controlled every inch of the zone held the life of people in their hands. No electricity, the power grid was down from the moment the great Zombification started. Men and women who were militaristic and had heavy arsenals were at an advantage. President Walker bailed, no one knows where he is or if he's dead, the army has been dismantled and the emergency forces were nearly wiped out. Looking back at the city Axel hardly recognized it as it was 10 months ago.
The great New York City.