Leveling up in Dystopia

Chapter 5, The Last Stand.

The steel door slammed shut with a finality that echoed across the empty rooftop. Shihab leaned against it, his chest heaving as sweat dripped down his temples. Behind him, the others collapsed onto the concrete, gasping for breath. The girls, Asma and Karima immediately broke into sobs, their trembling hands covering their faces as the reality of their situation set in. 

the mother of the group, clutched her baby tightly against her chest. The infant wailed, his tiny face red with distress. "Shhh, habibi, shhh," she whispered, though her own voice shook. Her eyes darted toward the door every few seconds, as if expecting it to burst open at any moment. 

Little Adam, no older than ten, stood frozen near the edge of the roof. His wide, glassy eyes were fixed on the streets below, where shadows moved in the darkness, grotesque, stumbling figures drawn by the sound of their escape. 

The old man , the eldest among them, placed a firm hand on Adam’s shoulder. "Don’t look down," he murmured, though his own face was pale. "We’re safe up here." 

Adam didn’t respond. His small fingers dug into the fabric of his shirt, his breath coming in short, panicked bursts. 

Karam, the last one up the stairs, twisted the lock on the door with a sharp click. "That won’t hold them for long," he muttered, wiping grime from his face. His dark eyes flicked toward Shihab. "We need to barricade it." 

Shihab nodded, already scanning the rooftop for anything they could use. But the space was barren—just a few scattered crates, empty water bottles, and a broken chair. His stomach tightened. 

"There’s nothing here!" Adam suddenly cried, his voice cracking. He turned to the group, his small fists clenched. "What do we do?" 

Asma hugged herself, her shoulders shaking. "They’re going to break through. We’re trapped." 

From below, the guttural growls of the undead grew louder. Thuds reverberated against the door as decaying hands slammed against the metal. The hinges groaned under the pressure. 

The cashier a man with deep lines of exhaustion etched into his face, sank to the ground. "This is it," he said hollowly. "We’re finished. Either we jump, or we let them tear us apart." 

Karam whirled on him, his face twisted in fury. "Shut up! If you hadn’t panicked and let them flood us, we wouldn’t be in this mess!" 

Samir’s face darkened. "Me? You’re the one who..." 

"Enough!" Shihab barked, cutting them off. His mind raced. He thought of his mother, his younger brothers would he ever see them again? The despair threatened to swallow him whole. 

Then, without warning, a bright blue screen materialized before his eyes. 

[SYSTEM NOTIFICATION]

[Congratulations!]

[Zombies killed: 87 

Level Up: 1→ 6

New Weapon Unlocked: AK-47 + 200 Rounds.]

Shihab’s breath hitched. A heavy weight suddenly materialized in his hands, the cold metal of an assault rifle. He exhaled sharply, gripping it tightly. 

"Everyone, get back!" he ordered, his voice steady now. "Hide behind those crates. I’ll handle this." 

The group stared at him in shock. 

"Where the hell did you get that?" Samir gasped. 

"No time to explain," Shihab snapped. "Just move!" 

They scrambled away just as the door burst open. 

The first zombie lurched forward, its milky eyes locking onto Shihab. Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger. 

BANG! BANG! BANG!

The creature’s skull exploded, blackened blood splattering the ground. More poured in behind it, a wave of rotting flesh and gnashing teeth. 

Shihab’s training kicked in. He fired in controlled bursts, each shot precise. The rifle’s recoil was strong, but he adjusted quickly, mowing down the undead as they advanced. 

"Stay down!" he shouted over the gunfire. 

Karima whimpered, covering her ears as the deafening shots filled the air. "Oh, my lord, please protect us. " 

The old man shielded Adam, pressing the boy’s face into his chest. "Don’t look." 

The zombies fell one after another, their bodies piling up at the entrance. Shihab’s arms burned from the strain, but he didn’t stop. He couldn’t. 

Then, suddenly there waa silence. 

The last corpse collapsed. The rooftop was littered with the dead. 

Shihab’s breath came in ragged gasps. His hands were slick with sweat, but the rifle remained steady. 

"Is… is it over?" Asma whispered. 

Shihab shook his head. "No. There’ll be more. We need to secure the building." 

--- 

After instructing the group to stay put, Shihab descended the stairs, rifle at the ready. The lower floor was a mess, overturned shelves, broken glass, and bloodstains everywhere. 

A zombie lunged from the shadows. 

Immediately Shihab shot it, and It dropped. 

Another came from the left. And he didn't hesitate to shoot it dead. 

Room by room, he cleared the building. The storage room was the last holdout, a small window near the ground was the weak point. Zombies were still trying to crawl through. 

Shihab emptied the last of his magazine into them, then quickly grabbed a nearby shelf and shoved it against the window. 

"Old man !" he shouted. "I need your help!" 

The older man hurried down, his face grim. "What do you need?" 

"We have to seal this. For good." 

They found metal rods and a welding torch in the storage room. With shaky hands, Al-Khayat fused the bars over the window, while Shihab covered him, picking off any stragglers. 

Finally, it was done. 

The building was secure. 

Exhausted, they returned to the rooftop. The group had begun calming down, though the fear still lingered in their eyes. 

Amira rocked her baby gently, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you. If it weren’t for you…" 

Shihab didn’t respond. He just stared at the horizon, wondering how much longer any of them would last. 

But for now, they were alive. 

And that was enough.