Chapter 1: Disoriented Awakening

What is this? a nightmare?

I woke up with a start, my heart racing as I realized that the dream I had just was all too real. The memories of the young woman fighting zombies, of the countless corpses, of her exhaustion and desperation, lingered vividly in my mind. I rubbed my eyes, trying to shake off the remnants of the dream. It was just a nightmare, I told myself. It had to be.

But as I got dressed and headed out the door, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. The world outside seemed different, somehow. The air was thick with an eerie sense of unease.

I made my way to the train station, my mind preoccupied with thoughts of the dream. As I waited for the train, I couldn't help but wonder if it was some sort of omen, a warning of something terrible to come. Or maybe because I have read too many zombie novels.

When I arrived at the university campus, I was greeted by the familiar sight of students milling about on the quad. But as I walked towards the engineering building. The morning sun slanted through the classroom windows, casting a familiar grid of light and shadow on the worn floor. The desks were arranged neatly, textbooks stacked invitingly, and as for the students their faces, a blur of youthful anticipation and boredom, offered no recognition. I sat in the middle row, my fingers tracing the worn grooves of the wooden desk. the tutor began to explain about today task... I was listening but mainly on my laptop browsing about the task because I prefer to slowly read it intently and carefully myself so I can understand it better,

But then the classroom's door swung open. My eyes were drawn to a young woman who entered, her presence commanding attention. long Dark hair pulled into a messy bun framed her face, and her expression held a quiet intensity—a weight of experiences etched into her features. She settled into a seat nearby, and our eyes met.

"Hi," she said, her voice steady and confident. "I'm Layla. Nice to meet you."

The name triggered a distant memory, like a half-forgotten dream. "Aeon," I replied, my curiosity piqued. "Nice to meet you too."

As the tutor began their lecture, I returned my focus to my laptop screen. But Layla's gaze lingered on me. She leaned in slightly, her eyes searching. "You're diligent and quiet," she observed. "And you keep your distance."

I hesitated, unsure how to respond. "It's just my nature," I admitted cautiously.

Layla's smile was enigmatic. "Nature can be intriguing," she mused.

Our conversation hung in the air, a delicate thread connecting us. I remained respectful, not wanting to push further. With a nod, I let the moment settle, leaving unspoken questions hanging between us.

Her gaze remained distant, as if burdened by some knowledge that normal people couldn't comprehend. Suddenly, as the bell for the next class pierced the air, Layla stood abruptly. "It begins," she declared, her voice laced with urgency.

Confusion rippled through the room. Before anyone could react, she reached into her bag, the movement swift and practiced. The students braced themselves for a textbook or a smartphone, but a gasp escaped them as a glint of metal flashed.

Layla had pulled out a knife and a gun. I was very surprised, nervous, worried and shocked but still acted calm and wary of any sudden movements. as for other students, Panic erupted. Shrieks and accusations of being a "psycho" filled the air. Layla held up a hand, her voice was surprisingly calm amidst the chaos. "There's no time for fear," she asserted. "This is for the zombies outside. They'll be here any minute."

Disbelief morphed into terror as her words sunk in. Some students dismissed her as delusional, while others lunged towards her, desperate to restrain her or call for help.

Layla, however, displayed an unexpected strength that belied her slight frame. "Believe me or not," she said, her voice firm, "we need to barricade the door. Five minutes. That's all we have before they overrun the school. The bell attracted them." A cold dread washed over me. A memory flickered – the unfinished zombie novel I'd been reading before sleep but could not finish. The one with a fierce heroine named Layla, fighting for survival in a world ravaged by zombies. Was this a bizarre coincidence? Or had I somehow crossed into the fictional world of the book? Realization dawned. If Layla was real, then the zombies were too. Ignoring the rising tide of arguments, I rose from my seat. "She's right!" I shouted, my voice cutting through the panic. "The zombies are coming. We need to barricade the door, then find a way out of here. We need rope, anything to climb down from a window!" Silence descended, punctuated only by Layla's surprised gaze and the students' bewildered stares. "Who are you?" Layla asked, her voice laced with curiosity. A chorus of questions erupted from the students, some accusatory, others tinged with suspicion. Taking a deep breath, I ignored them. "First things first," I said, my voice firm. "Lock the door and move the desks. We need to buy ourselves some time."

Layla's lips curved into a grim smile. "Welcome to the apocalypse," she said, her voice devoid of humor. "You'll get used to the smell of decay."

The world outside erupted in screams. A desperate plea for help shattered the fragile calm. My heart pounded in my chest as I joined the students at the window, their faces pale with terror. The sight that greeted me...