[3]

My heart pounded in my chest like a drumbeat, the rhythm of fear driving me forward as I sprinted down an unfamiliar, dimly-lit corridor. The IV stand lay somewhere abandoned behind me, a hindrance I could no longer afford as I navigated the maze of hallways in a desperate bid for escape.

I had discarded the needle in my arm with painstaking slowness, each movement agonizing as I extracted it from my skin. It had been a necessary sacrifice, forced upon me after my first encounter with...

A literal zombie.

The thought sent a shiver down my spine, disbelief warring with terror as I grappled with the ludicrous possibility of a zombie apocalypse. I had seen movies, watched shows, where such things were portrayed as fiction, but now, as I stumbled over a knocked-over filing cabinet in my haste, I couldn't deny the reality of the situation.

Fortunately, the first zombie I encountered had been what one might call a 'walker' – slow, lumbering, and primarily reactive to scents and sounds. It was almost laughable in its incompetence compared to the creature currently pursuing me.

Glancing back over my shoulder, I caught sight of its bloodthirsty form, its movements swift and feral as it closed the distance between us with terrifying speed. I suspected it was one of the creatures responsible for the carnage I had witnessed earlier, the mangled corpses hanging from the rafters a grim testament to its brutality.

For what felt like an eternity, I ran, my lungs burning with exertion and my legs threatening to give out beneath me. But still, the creature pursued, its hunger driving it forward with relentless determination.

With each passing moment, I could feel my strength waning, the fear threatening to overwhelm me completely. But I couldn't afford to give up, not now.

As I continued to push forward, fueled by sheer adrenaline and the desperate need to survive, I couldn't help but notice a slight surge of energy coursing through my veins. It was as if the urgency of the situation had ignited some dormant reserve within me, allowing me to push past the limits of my exhaustion.

It was this newfound strength that had saved me from becoming a random zombie's chew toy, allowing me to stay one step ahead of the relentless pursuit of the 'stalker' behind me. But now, as I staggered towards the door ahead, my muscles protesting with each step, I knew that my luck could only hold out for so long.

With my focus trained solely on the door, I pushed myself forward with single-minded determination, my breath coming in ragged gasps as I fought to keep moving. Every fiber of my being screamed for respite, but I knew that stopping now would mean certain death.

Just as I reached the door, a sharp set of claws sliced through the air, narrowly missing me as I slammed the door shut behind me. Panic surged through me as I leaned against the door, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to catch my breath.

My hands shook with adrenaline as I searched frantically for something, anything, to help me in my current struggle. But the room was empty save for a few scattered pieces of furniture, none of which seemed capable of providing much assistance against the relentless onslaught on the other side of the door.

Gritting my teeth with determination, I pushed myself against the door with all the strength I could muster, hoping against hope that it would hold against whatever horror lurked beyond. But deep down, I knew that my chances of survival were slim, and that the only thing standing between me and a brutal end was a thin wooden barrier.

As I frantically searched the room for something, anything, that could aid me in my desperate struggle, my eyes landed on a set of legs peeking out from behind a nearby desk. My heart skipped a beat as I realized it was another corpse, but my attention was drawn to something lying on the ground beside it – a handgun.

Without a second thought, I lunged towards the gun, my fingers closing around its cold metal frame as I prayed silently that it was loaded. There was no time for hesitation, no room for doubt – it was my only chance at survival.

With the gun in hand, I barely spared a glance at the rest of the corpse as I tucked myself behind the desk, my fingers trembling and my back pressed against the wall as I trained the weapon on the door. Another second passed, then another, and then the zombie burst through, its bloodshot eyes locking onto me with a hunger that sent a shiver down my spine.

With trembling hands, I raised the gun, my finger hovering over the trigger as the creature rushed towards me. In that moment, time seemed to go by in a blur, each heartbeat echoing in my ears as I braced myself for what was to come.

In the blink of an eye, it was over. The gun kicked back against my grip, the recoil jolting through my body as the bullet found its mark. The quadrupedal, undead cannibal staggered, its grotesque form convulsing in pain before collapsing to the floor in a heap, its lifeless form twitching for a while before finally lying still.

The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the sound of my own unsteady breaths. Goosebumps prickled across my skin as I stared down at the motionless body before me, the weight of what I had just done settling heavily on my shoulders.

But as I stared down at the lifeless body of the undead creature before me, a sense of grim satisfaction washed over my naked frame. I knew one thing for certain – I was alive. And for now, that was all that mattered.

As the adrenaline began to ebb away, leaving me with a shaky sense of relief, I finally allowed myself to glance down at the gun in my hands. It was a moment of fleeting triumph, the weapon that had saved my life in my time of need.

But as I inspected it more closely, horror washed over me like a tidal wave. There was no magazine loaded into the gun. No additional bullets ready to fire. It was nothing more than a useless hunk of metal at this point, a cruel mockery of the hope it had falsely provided.

My heart sank as the reality of the situation hit me like a punch to the gut. I had just risked everything on a weapon that could've been completely empty.

As I sat there, staring down at the now-useless gun in my hands, I couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity of my situation. It was almost as if my desires were being granted with eerie precision. Yet, the rational part of my mind balked at such a notion.

It was ludicrous to think that something like that was even possible. However, what was even more ridiculous was possessing such a line of thought when I was already stuck in world where zombies actually seemed to be real.

I couldn't deny the sheer luck that had seemed to follow me since waking up in this nightmare. From narrowly escaping death at the hands of zombies to finding a gun just when I needed it most, it was almost too much to believe.

And then there was the matter of the gun itself. How was it possible that, after specifically wishing for it to be loaded, it had miraculously complied with my desire? The damn thing didn't even have a magazine. While I was aware there could have been a bullet in the chamber already, it just felt like my luck defied all logic and reason, leaving me feeling overwhelmed with disbelief.

Not to mention, there was a corpse sitting right next to me. How had that person died when there had been a weapon so readily available? After a brief scan through the desk's compartments, I didn't find an ounce of ammunition, which only further accentuated my point.

In a moment of clarity, I realized just how preposterous my situation truly was. It felt like I was trapped in a dream, where the rules of reality bent and twisted to accommodate my deepest desires. But deep down, I knew that this was no dream – it was a living nightmare from which there was no waking.

As I stood before the scarred surface of the door, a sense of determination flickered within me. I closed my eyes, focusing my thoughts with a level of concentration I had never before attempted. It was a risky gambit, born out of desperation and fueled by the strange sense of power that seemed to linger within me.

At first, nothing happened. I felt a surge of frustration threatening to overwhelm me, but I pushed it aside, refusing to give up hope. I tried again, and then again, each attempt accompanied by a growing sense of unease.

And then, just when I was about to give up hope, it happened. When I opened my eyes, I looked down at myself and saw that I was no longer completely naked. Instead, I was dressed in a pair of sneakers, jeans, and a short-sleeved shirt. It was a small victory, but in that moment, it felt like a miracle.

I couldn't help but grimace at the absurdity of it all. How had I managed to change my clothes with nothing more than sheer force of will? It defied all logic and reason, leaving me feeling more lost and bewildered than ever before.

But with a weary sigh, I pushed aside my doubts and uncertainties. There was no time to dwell on the mysteries of my situation, not when there were still so many unanswered questions waiting to be uncovered.

With a sense of purpose driving me forward, I stepped out of the office and began to make my way deeper into the facility. It was a bold move, venturing further into the unknown, but I knew that I had to press on if I hoped to uncover the truth behind this twisted nightmare that had become my reality.