[Scene 1 – Present Day – Rooftops of the City]
The city doesn't smell like death anymore.
It is death.
I crouch low on the edge of a cracked rooftop, scanning the street below through the cracked lens of my binoculars. Six roam the intersection. Three are slow — hunched over, skin sagging, eyes darting like they're looking for something they forgot. Level Ones. I don't waste ammo on them anymore unless they're in my way.
The other three? Different story. Their heads jerk in quick snaps, nostrils flaring, eyes wild and sunken. Level Fours. Flesh-Devourers. The worst of them all. They don't stop until they've bitten, torn, and swallowed. Doesn't matter if you blow their legs off — they'll crawl until they reach you.
I've been out here long enough to know the difference. You have to know the difference.
Level Ones… still have something left in them. They'll look at you, like they recognize you, before the hunger wins.
Level Twos… move fast and hunt in packs. Ambush specialists.
Level Threes… bigger, mutated, smell you from two blocks away.
Level Fours? They're nightmares with teeth.
And they're evolving.
[Scene 2 – Flashback – Day 1 of the Outbreak]
It started with the screaming.
I was in my apartment, brushing my teeth. Thought it was just another fight outside. Then I heard the glass shatter. A woman's voice, high and broken, begging. Then a sound I can't forget — flesh tearing.
By the time I looked out my window, the street was chaos. People running in every direction, some covered in blood. The first one I saw up close was my neighbor, Mr. Harris. Sixty-two years old. Kind man. Always gave me apples from his garden.
He looked up at me from the sidewalk, face smeared red, jaw working like he was chewing gum. Only it wasn't gum. It was a piece of someone's cheek.
That was the first time I saw a Level One. Slow. Confused. Still human enough to make you hesitate.
The hesitation almost got me killed.
[Scene 3 – Flashback – The First Kill]
Three hours later, the military was in the streets. Guns. Trucks. Orders to evacuate.
I didn't listen. Something about the way the soldiers were shouting told me they weren't in control.
When I finally left the building, I had a kitchen knife in my hand and my backpack over my shoulder. That's when a Level Two found me.
I didn't even know it was a "Level Two" back then — just thought it was a person running toward me. Then it screamed, dropped to all fours, and sprinted.
I didn't have time to think. I stabbed it in the neck, missed the artery, and it slammed into me. Warm blood sprayed across my face. The smell — iron and rot — burned into my memory. I drove the knife into its skull. The twitching stopped.
I threw up right there in the street.
[Scene 4 – Present Day – Rules of Survival]
That was two years ago. I've killed hundreds since then. Some up close. Some from a distance.
But the rules have never changed:
Always aim for the head.
Never get surrounded.
If you see a Level Four — run.
I sling my rifle across my back and move to the fire escape. There's something I need to check — something I saw two nights ago.
[Scene 5 – Present Day – The Unnatural Group]
I move down an alley, keeping my steps light. The city's quieter now. Most of the population is either dead or infected.
That's when I hear it — a sound that doesn't belong. Not the moan of hunger. Not the quick scrape of claws on pavement.
It's… organized footsteps.
I peek around the corner. My heart stops.
Four zombies.
One from each level.
I sensed that by their style of walking.
Moving together.
They never do that. Levels don't mix.
But these… these are moving like they're following something. And then I see it — in the middle of them is a Level Four, but it's looking at me. Not with hunger. Not with rage.
Just… staring.
It tilts its head.
And smiles lightly.