Chapter 1

After finishing his meal at the diner, Ethan bid farewell to Tucker and headed towards his car. Tomorrow was set to be a crucial day for him, a day when he would need to take action. He couldn't help but feel a pang of sympathy for the diner's patrons, as their pleasant evening had been disrupted by the arrival of Blades' gang and the grim news that the undead would soon encroach on their territory.

"Hey?"

Ethan turned to see Monica slowly approaching him, her smile appearing somewhat fragile. "Would you mind giving a girl a ride home?"

"Sure." Ethan nodded, offering a warm smile as he opened the door to his sleek BMW M2, gesturing for her to get in. "Hop on in."

"You're a peach," Monica remarked with a playful grin as she settled into the passenger seat, her eyes wandering to the luxurious interior. "I've never seen a car like this before."

"I did say it's brand new," Ethan replied, choosing not to mention that this car had arrived from an alternate future along with his assortment of weapons and gadgets.

Starting the engine, Monica suddenly lets out a coquettish moan, her intentions clearly meant to tease and arouse the IMF Agent. Ethan however maintained his polite smile and simply focused on getting his hands on the wheel, "Ooh, it sounds very sexy. But does it sounds better than me when you're fucking my brains out and pulling my hair?"

Ethan chuckled, not the least bit fazed by Monica's suggestive behavior. "What about that date? I haven't even taken you out to dinner yet."

Monica's laughter filled the car. "My, you're quite presumptuous, you know. I seem to remember I only gave you a wink and a smile."

"Call it instinct. I had a feeling you'd already said yes in your mind." Ethan flashed her a charming grin.

Monica laughed again, however she turned her gaze to the window to hide her cheeks flushing slightly. "You're not a mind reader, but you might be right."

Before Ethan could change the subject and ask for Monica's address to take her home, a piercing, blood curdling scream shattered the moment.

"Stay inside," Ethan instructed Monica, opening the car door and stepping out to investigate. What he found was a nightmarish scene: the diner was now under attack by the undead. The owner was fending off ghouls with a frying pan, and Tucker was struggling to keep a ghoul from biting one of the patrons. They had arrived earlier than expected, but Ethan wasn't fazed by this and didn't let it affect him.

Swiftly, he drew his gun and dispatched every ghoul he could see surrounding outside the diner, ensuring each one received a headshot. He then continues onto his way inside the diner but it's confined space forced him to holster his Heckler & Koch USP and made him switch onto his bowie knife, which he used with remarkable skill to eliminate several more ghouls. He reached Tucker just in time to deliver a lethal stab to the ghoul's head that Tucker was restraining and then flung his knife at the last remaining ghoul, which the diner's owner was bravely battling.

"Jesus, what did you say you do for a living again?" Tucker asked, stunned by Ethan's exceptional combat skills and marksmanship.

"Spec ops unit from the looks of it. You're no ordinary soldier, I can tell. However, that doesn't really matter. At the end of the day, you saved my life." The owner chimed in, eyeing Ethan with a sense of gratitude. "Thank you. This wasn't supposed to happen until tomorrow. Damn, that just means they overran the military's defenses earlier than we expected."

"Oh, shit. We need to start getting the fuck outta here," Tucker declared, urgency in his voice.

"No need to say that outloud." The owner said as he started packing his belongings, tools, and supplies, readying for evacuation, "I hope my brother is safe at the news station. That's where I'm headed at. He might knew a safe haven nearby, but who knows? I'm still going out there to get him."

"Thanks by the way, Ethan." Tucker said, turning to Ethan. "Things could've gone really bad if it weren't for you."

"And that's twice now you've come to our rescue," The owner added with a grateful smile. "Hopefully, we'll cross paths again."

"You all take care of yourselves and stay safe." Ethan addressed everyone within the diner with a resolute expression, "Don't make too much noise and keep a low profile."

Once the immediate threat was neutralized, Ethan returned to his car to find Monica, who was now visibly shaken by the horrors she had witnessed. The dead had now arrived, and it appears they are here to stay whether they like it or not.

"Can I stay at your place, please?" Monica pleaded, her eyes slowly tearing up, her voice no longer sultry and flirtatious but rather a weak, frail whimper, "I don't want to be alone right now. I don't wanna die."

Without a word, Ethan simply took her hand and held it gently, offering her comfort. He looked into her eyes, his expression resolute, and assured her, "It's alright, it's okay. You'll be fine. I'll make sure of that."

~~~

The journey back home was nothing short of chaos. The streets were riddled with riots, people battling each other, whether living or undead, and it's even further punctuated by the ceaseless cacophony of screams and gunshots that reverberated through the urban canyons. Despite the valiant efforts of the military and law enforcement to maintain some semblance of order, panic and anarchy had completely devoured the entire state. Ethan navigated through the labyrinth of chaos, steering clear of the most tumultuous areas. His desire to help and make a difference was strong, but he had a responsibility to Monica, and it was currently not the time for solo heroics.

Upon reaching Ethan's house, they rushed inside, locking every door and window, barricading themselves against the impending madness outside. Monica, still breathless from the ordeal, found a moment to share her thoughts as she sank onto the couch. "Fuck, it's all slowly falling apart. I wonder if this is the end of the world. If it is, I've made the right choice coming with you. Your house seems pretty secure, unlike mine which is just a total dump."

Meanwhile Ethan began to change his clothes, swapping casual attire for tactical combat gear, Monica's attention wavered between concern for the unfolding catastrophe and the distraction of the man before her. Her gaze lingered on his bare chest for a moment, but her infatuation was quickly overshadowed by the realization of the gravity of their situation.

"You're not considering going back out there, are you?" Monica's voice trembled with anxiety as she watched Ethan equip himself with combat gear.

Ethan looked at her, his face a mask of determination as he continued preparing, putting on a helmet with night vision goggles attached to it. "I have to. There are people out there who might need help."

"What?! Are you crazy?! You might die out there, Ethan!" Monica couldn't contain her worry, approaching the IMF Agent.

"I might but I won't let that happen. I can promise you that." Ethan assured her, the weight of responsibility heavy on his shoulders.

"I can't believe you, you're leaving me here in your house so you can go out there and play hero?!" Monica's fear escalated as Ethan left the room and went to a cabinet, revealing a G36 Assault Rifle. She followed him, her panic evident. "I don't wanna be alone here, Ethan. What if they come here?"

Ethan tried to comfort her, leading her to understand the measures he had taken. "You'll be safe. The doors and windows are reinforced. They can withstand even bullets. There's enough food in the kitchen, and there are weapons in the cabinet behind me if things go wrong. Besides, you've seen what I'm capable of, I don't go down that easily."

Reluctantly, Monica nodded, her fear subsiding for a moment. Ethan approached her with reassurance, placing a tender hand on her shoulder. "Everything's going to be alright, Monica. I swear on my life I'll make it back."

With a final glance, Ethan conveyed both his concern and determination, reflecting the gravity of their situation and his unwavering resolve, he leaves Monica to her own. He headed for the door, his hand on the doorknob, but before leaving, he imparted one last piece of advice. "Remember, don't open the door for anyone except me. If someone comes asking for you, don't answer. Turn off the lights to avoid drawing unwanted attention."

With those parting words, Ethan stepped out into the chaos and entered to his car, making his way into the city.

~~~

Navigating the city by car had become an eerie and disheartening experience. The streets, once bustling with life, were now filled with chaos and despair. While law enforcement units and the military were doing their best to maintain order, the situation was dire. For Ethan, every moment brought a tense encounter with the undead, and he used his vehicle as a weapon to combat the ghouls, demonstrating his exceptional driving skills. His car became a well-choreographed instrument of death as he deftly maneuvered it to strike the undead with speed and precision. The authorities welcomed his assistance, and they continued their relentless battle against the encroaching threat.

While traversing the city in search of survivors, Ethan ensured his car's lights blazed brightly, a beacon of hope amidst the surrounding darkness. His horn occasionally blared, a desperate call for attention. Yet, the response was consistently bleak – empty, lifeless eyes gazing hungrily back at him, a stark reminder of the grim reality.

"Damn it," Ethan muttered quietly under his breath, the weight of the situation pressing on him. The haunting absence of living souls throughout the city tested his resolve. He was on the brink of giving up his search for survivors.

However, after a seemingly endless hours of traversing the desolate urban landscape, Ethan's determination was finally rewarded. He finally found living survivors.

In the dimly lit underground passageway, a young blonde-haired woman and a man in a plain, bloodied shirt called out in relief, "Hello! In here!"

Ethan wasted no time, skillfully maneuvering his car to their location. Stepping out of the vehicle, he asked, "Is everyone alright?"

"We're fine," the man in the bloodied shirt replied. "Can you please help us?"

"Of course, I've been searching for survivors throughout the city for hours," Ethan said with a reassuring smile. "I'm glad my efforts weren't in vain. Please, come on in."

The blonde-haired woman then suddenly called out to the shadows within the passageway, and in moments, two more individuals emerged. One was a pregnant Russian woman with auburn hair, and the other was a bald African American man with a horseshoe mustache similar to Blades.

Ethan extended a friendly hand and introduced himself, lowering his guard to ease their suspicions, "It's alright, folks. You can trust me. I'm Ethan."

The man in the bloodied shirt nodded and said, "I'm Michael."

"I'm Ana," added the blonde-haired woman.

"And I'm Andre," the African American man introduced himself, gesturing toward the auburn-haired Russian woman beside him. "This is my wife, Luda."

Ethan was genuinely pleased to have made this encounter and connection, he greeted them with warmth, happy that their encounter had turned out to be a small glimmer of hope in these dark times.

~~~

The drive back home was uncomfortably silent. The survivors Ethan had picked up mostly kept to themselves, their faces etched with shock and horror as they took in the state of the city.

Upon their arrival at Ethan's house, he had to raise his voice to ensure that Monica heard and let her know he was back. With the door now open, Ethan, the survivors, and Monica entered the house, seeking refuge from the world outside.

Michael couldn't help but admire the architectural style of Ethan's home as he commented, "Nice house." The Prairie-style design was a comforting contrast to the chaos outside.

Ana's gratitude was sincere as she spoke, "Thank you for helping us. We wouldn't have lasted long without you."

Ethan humbly waved off their compliments and expressions of gratitude. "It's no problem. With the world falling apart, it's better that we unite and start working together. Besides, I can't just stand by and let people die on my watch."

"You're a good man, Ethan," Michael noted, his smile acknowledging the rarity of such compassion in these trying times. "It's been a while since we've seen good people like you. I'm glad they still exist."

Ethan simply shrugged off the compliment before walking towards the kitchen, trailed by a concerned and surprised Monica. "I suppose you guys must be tired and hungry," Ethan said, glancing at the survivors before turning to Monica and whispered, "Can you please keep them company for now? I'll be cooking."

Monica immediately shook her head as she grabs Ethan's hand. "No," she said firmly. "Let me cook. You keep them company. I'm not exactly the best people person. I may be a waitress but I'm not cut out for something like this."

Ethan nodded, understanding Monica's apprehension, and agreed, "Alright."

With that out of the way, Ethan proceeded to guide the survivors to the cozy dining area, where they could talk and await the meal Monica was preparing.

"Say, are you some sort of cop or something? Some part of a SWAT Unit?" Andre inquired, his curiosity piqued by Ethan's confident demeanor, coupled with the gun and armor he carried. "Judging by the way you move and walk around with that gun and armor, I'd be surprised if you aren't."

Ethan, taking a seat at the head of the table, considered Andre's question. He contemplated his past, one that had him serve as a US Army Ranger in the 75th Ranger Regiment, embroiled in a multitude of Military Black Operations carried out by the CIA's Special Activities Division. Eventually, he responded, his tone tinged with a sense of duty, "I was in the Army. Saving people's lives is still a part of me."

"No shit. Not exactly surprised. But still, that's pretty impressive. Even when you're off the service, you're stilll fighting for the greater good." Michael admitted, his tone tinged with a sense of understanding and respect. He promptly took a seat at the table, and the other survivors followed suit, each seeking refuge and solace in the warmth of Ethan's home.

Ana, her gaze filled with curiosity, leaned in a little closer. "Did you fought in 'Nam?"

"Fought a war that cost many lives on both sides," Ethan responded truthfully while also deftly deflecting her question. While he hadn't served in Vietnam, he couldn't deny the scars of his own combat experiences, notably in the Gulf War during Operation Desert Storm. The memories were etched deeply, a reminder of the harsh reality of warfare, "What about you? What do you do?"

"I'm just a nurse, nothing special compared to you," Ana confessed, a shadow of insecurity crossing her face.

"No, I disagree. You save and help people. That is already special in its own right," Ethan said, his words infused with genuine respect, erasing the shame from Ana's expression.

"So, anyways," Michael interjected, his eyes locking onto Ethan with expectation. "What's the plan?"

Ethan leaned forward, engaging in a straightforward discussion, "Well, it's a little rough, but it's the only way that works well for everyone. I'm thinking of holing all of us up in here until we find a better, more secure place and run out of supplies, all the while keeping an ear out for any special announcements from the authorities. We'll also keep an eye out for any potential survivors and supplies. It's probably the best we could do for now rather than go out there recklessly hoping for some safe haven to appear right in front of you." 

Michael's brows furrowed with concern as he probed further, "That's a solid plan, but what about rescue from the local authorities or the military? They might have more information on the current situation and what to do. Are you sure we're not better off trying to reach out to them for help?"

Ethan, his expression a mix of understanding and regret, didn't shy away from sharing the harsh reality to them. "As of this moment, their primary focus is on combating and eliminating the undead. Rescue operations aren't a priority and wasn't even considered in the first place. Attempting to reach out to them would only slow down their efforts and hinder their current operation. I'm sorry to say this but we're pretty much on our own."

Michael nodded, though he wasn't entirely pleased with the situation, he recognized the wisdom in Ethan's explanation. In a world where survival was the paramount concern, every action had to be weighed carefully.

Ethan contemplated their current situation, well aware of the limitations that their current sanctuary imposed. He addressed the group, his voice carrying a tone of determination, "Anyways, I'm going to try looking for survivors again tomorrow while also scouting for any potentially better locations where we can regroup and fortify. This house is secure and stocked with supplies, but it's not ideal for accommodating a larger group, and our current resources won't last us long."

"How long do we have?" Andre inquired, his concern palpable.

Ethan, wanting to be frank with them, didn't mince words, "Not enough to stretch for a month, and that's precisely why we need to take action tomorrow. With just the way it's going right now, it's better that we have supplies that could last us more than just a few months."

Michael chimed in with a glimmer of hope, "I might have an idea for that. Before we met you, we were actually heading to the mall. Maybe that could serve as a better alternative to your house."

Ethan considered the suggestion, recognizing the potential benefits. "That could work. Malls usually have a treasure trove of supplies that could likely sustain us for maybe two years, at least."

However, Andre expressed his concerns, gesturing to his pregnant wife, Luda. "What about Luda? As you all can see, my wife is pregnant, and it won't be long before she gives birth."

Ethan crossed his arms, a look of confidence in his eyes as he glanced at Ana. He addressed the couple reassuringly, "Well, it's a good thing we have a nurse among us, and you've got me. While I might not be a combat medic, I do know my way around medical procedures to the extent that I can assist Ana in ensuring a safe delivery. Plus, I have various medical supplies and tools right here, and if we ever require anything additional, there's a hospital nearby. I can drive there and grab whatever is necessary to aid in your wife's delivery."

Luda's gratitude shone through as she managed a smile, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. The collective efforts and support of this newfound group were a beacon of hope in their otherwise bleak circumstances.

~~~

Once dinner is served, everyone wasted no time savoring their meal, enjoying the simple pleasure of food and temporary respite from the horrors outside, Luda noticed that neither Ethan nor Monica are eating. Concern etched on her face, she kindly inquired, "You sure you don't want this?" Her eyes shifted from Ethan to Monica, a plate of home-cooked food in hand.

"We've already ate." Ethan graciously declined the offer with a polite smile, harking back to the diner where he ate his dinner drank his slushies. Slushies were a comfort from the past that he couldn't deny himself. As for Monica, she was both eating her food and helping serve meals at the diner at the same time Ethan was there.

"You're missing out; your girlfriend Monica is a great cook," Michael remarked casually as he relished another mouthful of the delicious meal.

Ethan chuckled at Michael's assumption, while Monica couldn't help but blush at the compliment, the IMF Agent then interjected. "Me and Monica aren't together."

Michael's friendly smile turned somewhat sheepish as he realized his mistake, absently rubbing the back of his head. "Oh, sorry. It's just that you two look like a couple."

Ethan maintained his polite smile, unsure of how to respond to Michael's remark. While he appreciated the sentiment, romance was far from his mind in the current dire circumstances. Monica, on the other hand, although slightly disappointed by Ethan's firm assertion, understood the reasons behind his decision. They had just met tonight and aren't even that close yet. Moreover, the present crisis demanded their full attention, leaving little room and time for personal entanglements.

With dinner behind them, Ethan took on the task of organizing sleeping arrangements for the whole group. Luda and Andre, overwhelmed by gratitude yet hesitant to take over Ethan's entire bedroom, eventually relented and accepted the offer. Michael, always adaptable, was content with a futon bed set up in the living room. Both Ana and Monica, despite the occasional creaks and lumps of the oversized modular couch, took it as their designated sleeping spot.

Ethan himself decided on the futon bed in the living room, right alongside Michael. It was a choice that allowed him to be closer to the entrance, a strategic decision driven by his deep sense of responsibility for their safety and well being. The good sleep they sought was elusive, disrupted intermittently by the far-off sounds of gunfire and terrified screams that seeped through the barriers of their makeshift sanctuary.

In the face of such chaos, the group tried their best to find rest, seeking comfort in each other's presence amidst a world that had severely spiraled into disarray.