Mutated Monster

Meanwhile, Cloud, a student forced to turn off the campus's power earlier, crouched in the corner, clutching his injured hand, his face pale and tense. He glanced up, eyes cold, watching his classmates call out.

"Someone's calling for help," Zack noted as he spotted the young people waving.

"Sir, rescuing them is highly risky," Ego advised, seemingly concerned Zack might consider it.

Zack chuckled darkly. "Ego, do you really think I'd be that reckless? We barely escaped ourselves. No way I'm risking everything for a few strangers."

He pressed the gas, speeding away as the students' shouts faded in the distance. Their faces turned to disbelief and anger.

"He just left us here? What kind of person does that?" one pampered student shouted, his voice rising to a furious pitch. His outbursts drew several zombies' attention, and their hungry moans echoed closer.

"Quiet, you idiot!" Seifer, a fellow survivor, hissed. "Do you want to die?"

The students quickly covered their mouths, stifling any further cries. But in the dim corner, Cloud trembled uncontrollably, his arm hanging limply at his side. The bite mark on his arm glistened in the dull light, dark and unmistakable.

"Ego, help me locate a residental area with fewer zombies."

"Certainly, sir."

On the outskirts of the city, Zack eased his speed, leaving behind the chaos of the city center. Equipped with weapons and a reliable vehicle, his priority was clear: find a safe shelter. He decided to head toward the mansion, where the wealthy once resided. Such areas typically had fewer people, and after the apocalypse, fewer people meant fewer zombies.

"Sir, Riverdale in the bronx has the lowest number of zombies and is the closest to your current location," Ego informed him. "However, I do not recommend you go there."

Zack frowned. "Why not?"

"Monitoring shows signs of highly dangerous mutant creatures in that area. It's likely that animals on Van Cortlandt Park have eaten infected flesh," Ego explained.

Zack thought back to Van Cortlandt Park, where near it a zoo was located. His mind flashed to images of zombified tigers and lions, and he immediately scrapped the idea.

"Any other options?"

"Tribeca near hudson river is another suitable choice, but you'll need to refuel on the way," Ego replied.

Zack glanced at the fuel gauge, noticing it was nearly in the red zone. "Alright, let's head to Tribeca."

"The route is set, sir," Ego said as a new path appeared on the navigation screen, marking a nearby gas station for refueling.

As Zack drove, he adjusted the radio, searching through frequencies. Occasionally, he'd catch distress signals from survivors, but he didn't bother to listen and kept switching. Eventually, a repeated message caught his attention.

"Survivors who hear this, please head to Sing Sing Prison. We have a place with food, weapons, and secure shelter!"

Zack raised an eyebrow. "Someone's set up a base already? Are they official?"

"No, sir," Ego replied. "Sing Sing Prison's network went offline a few hours ago. From historical monitoring, we detected that it is controlled by prisoners, with a death row inmate named Arthur leading them."

Zack's eyes narrowed. A shelter established by prisoners... anyone going there would likely face serious danger.

"What about the government? Have they made any moves?"

"Sir, when the virus outbreak started, around 80% of the global population turned into zombies. Most governments have collapsed. There is no official authority left."

Zack was silent for a moment, his face unreadable. Finally, he spoke calmly. "Ego, log the locations of all armories and military facility you can find."

"Affirmative, sir. I've recorded even overseas military bases."

"Good," Zack nodded, turning off the radio as he drove forward with newfound resolve.

Before long, he arrived at the marked gas station. From a distance, he spotted a Ferrari sports car parked with a smashed front end.

"Who tries to escape the apocalypse in a sports car?" he muttered, parking his vehicle across the road. He left the engine running, carefully scanning the station and its surroundings. If any danger showed up, he'd be ready to drive off instantly.

After a few minutes of watching, he saw no signs of zombies. It was a remote location, so the lack of movement wasn't surprising.

"Ego, can you access the security cameras in the convenience store?"

"Apologies, sir. The surveillance system here has been offline for a while," Ego replied.

"How many employees are usually at this station?"

"Two—a cashier and a gas attendant. Judging from past reports, customer flow is low, with an average of only one car per hour," Ego quickly provided the data.

"Sounds safe enough," Zack muttered. With only two employees and minimal customer traffic, there shouldn't be more than a handful of zombies.

Grabbing his shotgun from the passenger seat, he inspected it as Ego provided specs.

"Remington 870 anti-riot shotgun, 12-gauge, magazine-fed, capacity of five rounds," Ego listed.

Zack removed any blank or rubber bullets, loading lethal rounds into the magazines. After loading both magazines, he had ten shells in total—more than enough for three to five zombies.

"Alright, this should do," he said, tucking extra rounds into his backpack before stepping out cautiously.

Two dried pools of blood stained the ground near the station, with torn clothing scattered around, but no zombies in sight. The eerie quiet sent a chill down his spine, and he gripped his shotgun tightly as he approached the convenience store.

Through the shattered glass door, Zack entered. The small store was in disarray: shelves toppled, snacks and drinks strewn about, and more ripped clothing tossed into a corner. But still, no zombies.

A closed door at the back seemed to lead to the employee room.

"Anyone there?" Zack called out, moving forward with his gun raised.

Just as he reached out to push open the door, he hesitated, noting something odd. The door had been barricaded from the inside.

Not only that, but claw marks scarred the door's surface, deep and jagged, as if something had desperately tried to claw its way in.

"These claw marks... they don't look like they're from zombies."

As he studied the door, Ego's voice broke through with an urgent tone.

"Sir! A creature is approaching! The risk factor is extremely high!"

Upon hearing Ego's urgent warning, Zack spun around, aiming his shotgun at the convenience store's entrance. His breath caught as a chill crept down his spine.

A massive tiger, mottled yellow and white, prowled slowly toward the doorway, each step sending a shiver through the air. The beast was immense, its body stretching nearly two meters in length. Blood clung to its lips, and half of its fur had fallen away, revealing grotesque, grayish-white muscles beneath. Its grayish skin was the telltale sign of a zombie infection.

The creature's red eyes locked onto Zack with a ravenous glare, emitting a low, menacing growl—not the roar of a tiger, but a harsh, feral sound akin to the grunts wild cats make when fighting. Zack's pulse quickened; this wasn't just any predator.

"Ego, we're in a city—why on earth is there a tiger here?" Zack muttered, his grip on the shotgun tightening, eyes fixed on the creature, refusing to blink.