The Origin Warden

chapter 16 : Smith POV : A chance

It consisted of five story apartment buildings connected to one another, forming a square, and in the middle there was a small garden that unfortunately had turned into charcoal after a fire broke out there at the beginning of the catastrophe eight days ago.

The complex had only one entrance, a large gate with a smaller door built into the center of it.

In front of the gate stood five guards armed with firearms. Some of them wore gear belonging to the police, perhaps they had been policemen... or perhaps they had stripped the equipment from the corpses of policemen.

Smith could not help but cast a quick glance at the reason behind the order governing this residential complex.

Julian, the terrifying gang leader... or the savior, as people here liked to call him.

Eric quickly moved to Julian’s side and gave an order to the guards, or rather to one guard who was sitting relaxed on a plastic chair, and the man waved his hand toward the others.

“Open the gate.”

Smith raised his eyebrows in surprise and confusion at the behavior of the man who remained seated in his chair, relaxed, not even standing up to greet Julian, whose reaction was absolutely nothing, as though he did not care about such disrespect.

The group, consisting of eleven people, exited. All of them were armed with firearms except for one particular fat man who stared in disgust at the remains of corpses on the street before turning to look at the blue gate that closed once again behind them.

He felt like crying, and also a great deal of regret toward his big mouth that had dragged him into this mess. If he had not said he could restart cars, he would probably have been accepted as an ordinary survivor and would now be sleeping soundly on a warm bed.

While he was drowning in his thoughts, he suddenly crashed into something and lost his balance, then found himself embracing the dirty ground.

Everyone burst into laughter at his predicament.

Smith stared sadly at the ground before turning angrily toward the cause of his fall.

The streetlamp lying on the ground instead of standing upright!.

Old man Zeil approached and extended his hand to help him up.

“Fat boy, have the fats affected your eyesight!?”

Smith rolled his eyes irritably, ignoring the annoying old man’s mockery.

At that moment, the small group at the front consisting of Eric, Julian, and Mandy stopped.

They did not stop because of Smith, but because several zombies were slowly walking toward them, and behind them was another zombie missing its lower half, yet it had not given up and was crawling toward them as well.

Suddenly Julian said something, but Smith, who had moved closer to the old man seeking safety, could not hear the contents of the conversation.

That was until he saw Eric turn around and point at him with his finger.

“Smith, come here.”

Smith flinched when he saw that, and dozens of negative thoughts flooded his mind as he walked toward them.

“Umm, Mr. Eric, what is it?”

he asked nervously while wiping his hands on his shirt which had become dusty from his fall moments ago.

Eric pointed at the zombies with a faint smile and said calmly,

“Kill them!”

“Oh! no probl... wait what?!”

His eyes widened in shock. He stared at Eric, then at the ugly group of zombies, then back at Eric once again.

He let out a hollow laugh that could almost be mistaken for crying.

“But, but wouldn’t it be better if you did it yourself!?, I mean I’m just a normal person and... you already have superpowers...”

Then he added while pointing at the weapon,

“And a firearm.”

Before Eric, who was still smiling despite Smith refusing his order, could speak, Amanda spoke impatiently.

“You fat goblin, hurry up and finish them off before something more dangerous than mere walking dead appears.”

She stretched her hand toward empty air as though grabbing something, then magically a kitchen knife, or rather a butcher knife about eleven inches long, appeared in her hand.

With a careless motion she threw the blade toward Smith. The knife spun through the air before landing near his foot by barely a hair’s breadth.

Smith swallowed his saliva while staring at the knife that had nearly pierced his foot.

He raised his head intending to scold the crazy woman, but quickly gave up when his eyes met those cold honey brown eyes.

He bent down and grabbed the knife nervously.

“D-do I have to ask?, are we sure they’re really dead?”

“Didn’t you say you already killed one before?” Eric asked in confusion.

“Well, I didn’t lie, I really did. It was the neighbor living in the apartment next to mine, but I regretted doing it and I still...”

Amanda interrupted him sharply, and she truly seemed to be losing her patience.

“Cut the bullshit and hurry up and kill them before I offer you to them as food and watch you turn into one of them.”

Eric patted his shoulder, then leaned toward him and whispered into his ear,

“The leader is giving you a chance to develop yourself.”

After that he shoved him forward forcefully until he almost stumbled, though this time he managed to keep his balance.

He turned his head and cast a pleading look, but it had no effect on any member of the group.

With an ugly expression, he stared at the hideous zombies and tightened his grip on the only thing bringing him some reassurance, the long kitchen knife.

“Smith, you can do it...”

He kept repeating that sentence over and over while slowly walking toward the nearest zombie, which happened to be a woman missing her lower jaw, while her right arm dangled by a thin strand of flesh, swinging with every step she took.

That sight alone was enough to make Smith turn around and run, but did he truly have that luxury?.

He was just as afraid as the group of humans behind him.

The zombie released a strange rattling sound, different from the others due to its incomplete mouth!.

“The head, the head is the weak point,” Smith muttered.

Then it seemed as though he finally gathered all his courage.

He ran toward the zombie while gripping the knife with both hands, holding it in front of him like a spear.

In the back, Eric frowned when he saw the fat man charging toward the zombie as though he wanted to commit suicide.

He raised his firearm and aimed at the zombie, placing his finger on the trigger, then waited.

Smith stopped one step away from the zombie, staring into those ominous red eyes and the bloody veins writhing beneath the pale transparent skin like worms.

He lost all his courage.

He staggered backward on trembling legs until he tripped and fell onto his back.

“No no, to hell with the opportunity, I want to live!”

he screamed angrily, unable to hold back his tears anymore.

Then he flipped onto his stomach, placed his hands on the ground, and pushed himself up trying to stand.

But at that moment, the zombie’s only hand stretched toward him.