The Revenant Mutation

Chapter 3: The Apocalypse

The city sprawled in eerie silence, a desolate skeleton of its former self. Buildings loomed as crumbling ruins, their jagged edges clawing at the gray sky. Streets, once bustling, lay buried under a chaotic tangle of debris, overgrown weeds, and the scars of fire. Scorch marks marred the facades of homes and cars, hinting at a violent past that had long since claimed this place. In the distance, mutated beasts scuttled through the wreckage, while zombies staggered aimlessly, their hollow moans echoing through the barren landscape.

Among the ruins, a lone figure moved cautiously, eyes scanning for danger. Each step deepened the unsettling realization—this city had been abandoned far longer than a few days. The emptiness stretched into years, its decay untouched by time’s subtle hand. At dawn on the third day, the wanderer climbed a network mast, perching twenty-two meters high to survey the city. The view revealed unrelenting devastation: buildings with gaping wounds, streets littered with forgotten wreckage, and no trace of human life.

From the perch, the figure's mind churned with questions. Had this ruin existed before the apocalypse? Was this destruction the result of a disaster unseen elsewhere? Or had the world decayed beyond recognition in a span of hours? Climbing down, unease gave way to a gnawing isolation. The question of time pressed heavily, but the absence of a phone or functioning clocks left the answer shrouded in mystery.

Later, the sound of movement shattered the silence. A massive, hairy creature—five meters tall—emerged from the shadows, its eyes briefly locking with the wanderer before retreating. The encounter hinted at an odd truth: these monsters avoided this lone survivor.

Then came the rumble of engines. The sound spurred hope, and the wanderer darted toward it, careful to stay hidden. At an intersection, three vehicles halted. A Hilux, a yellow school bus, and a truck bristling with spikes and reinforced railings hinted at a desperate fight for survival. Men and women spilled out, led by a commanding figure in camouflage who barked orders.

“Raid everything edible or wearable! Move fast before the monsters catch our scent!” his voice echoed, authoritative and sharp.

The group spread out, breaking into buildings and looting supplies with practiced efficiency. From the shadows, the wanderer observed the leader, his demeanor unmistakably military. Maps spread across the hood of the Hilux, and plans were made for scouts and lookouts.

A roar tore through the air, deep and primal. The raiding team froze mid-task, their leader snapping into action. “On me!” he commanded, rallying his team toward the vehicles.

Far from their line of sight, the source of the roar emerged—a grotesque, towering figure, a zombie swollen to monstrous proportions. Bloodshot eyes and oozing sores marked it as an apex predator of this new, twisted world. Its guttural bellow summoned others, a horde pouring out of buildings and alleyways, their collective hunger palpable.

From his vantage point, the wanderer saw the danger closing in on the raiders. They couldn’t see it yet, the buildings obscuring the approaching tide of death. A dozen fighters against hundreds—survival seemed impossible.

The leader, Paul, stood rigid as the implications of the roar dawned on him. His experience told him what was coming, and it wasn’t something his team could fight head-on. Gideon, a younger member of the group, voiced the obvious. “Sir, we don’t have enough ammo for this.”

Paul's jaw tightened. Losing this team meant endangering the survival of their base, already starved for resources. He made his decision swiftly. “Into the bus! Moses, you’re on the Hilux with me!”

The group scrambled. Spears and makeshift weapons were readied as Paul and another fighter climbed atop the Hilux, a determined fire burning in his eyes. From the shadows, the wanderer watched, heart pounding. The first zombies broke through the buildings, sprinting with terrifying speed.

Paul gripped his machete, his gaze locked on the oncoming swarm. Failure wasn’t an option. They would fight, they would survive—or they would die together.