Zombie Slaying System

The world hadn’t always been like this.

Once, people laughed on the streets. Children played outside. Friends ate lunch without fear. But now, the streets were empty. Doors were locked. People whispered behind thick curtains, too scared to step outside.

Something had changed. Something terrible.

Jonah didn’t know when it started exactly. Maybe it began when the rain wouldn’t stop. Maybe it began when people started getting sick. But he remembered the moment it all fell apart like it happened just seconds ago.

It started as a normal day. The rain had been falling for two days straight. Thick, heavy drops smacked the windows of the tall office building where Jonah worked.

Gray clouds pressed down on the city like a giant hand. Nobody wanted to be at work, but there they were, staring at computer screens, typing half-heartedly, wishing they were anywhere else.

Jonah sat by the window, tapping a pen on his desk. His eyes were on the storm outside, but his thoughts were far away. His back ached. His fingers were sore. The project he had been working on for the past week never seemed to end.

“I should quit,” he muttered to himself.

Clara, who sat two desks away, leaned over and smiled. Her short black hair was tied up in a loose bun, and her brown eyes had a spark in them even though she looked just as tired as everyone else.

“No umbrella, no quitting,” she said with a small laugh. “Unless you want to swim your way home.”

Jonah gave her a tired look. “I don’t care if I drown. This job is sucking the life out of me.”

“Then stop letting it,” Clara replied. “We finish this project, and we leave. Simple.”

She always said things like that. Like it was easy. Like everything would be okay.

Jonah wished he could believe her.

The day moved slowly. Rain tapped the glass like a ticking clock. Everyone looked exhausted. The office lights flickered sometimes, but nobody paid attention.

That’s when Conor came back. He was the head of the project team, a tall man with sharp cheekbones and a stiff walk. But today, he looked… different. 

His skin looked pale. His collar was damp. There was a strange red rash creeping up his neck.

Jonah watched as Conor walked to his desk, sat down slowly, then almost immediately stood back up and hurried to the bathroom again.

“That’s the third time,” Clara whispered. “In the last hour.”

“Maybe he’s just sick,” Jonah said, though something inside him felt uneasy.

Clara didn’t answer. She kept watching the hallway where Conor had disappeared.

Minutes passed. Conor came back, dragging his feet. His eyes were dull. He sat down and stared at his computer screen without moving.

Jonah kept glancing at him. Something was wrong. But he had work to do, and nobody wanted to get scolded for slacking.

Helen, the team manager, walked by. She was strict, short-tempered, and always carried a clipboard like a weapon.

“Conor!” she snapped. “We’re behind schedule. Stop spacing out!”

Conor didn’t answer. Helen marched up to his desk. “I said…”

Suddenly, Conor jerked his head up. His eyes were empty. No light, no emotion. Just gray and glassy.

Then he screamed. Everyone froze. Without warning, he jumped to his feet and grabbed Helen’s shoulders. Before anyone could react, he sank his teeth into her neck.

The sound was terrible. A loud crunch. A wet rip.

Helen let out a choking scream, but it didn’t last long. Blood sprayed across the desk. She fell to the floor, twitching.

For a moment, the office was completely silent. Then panic exploded.

People screamed. Chairs fell. Computers were knocked over as everyone rushed toward the exits.

Jonah grabbed Clara’s hand without thinking. “Run!” he yelled.

She didn’t ask questions. She just followed.

They sprinted through the maze of cubicles, dodging terrified coworkers. A man crashed into a filing cabinet. Another woman slipped in a pool of blood.

More screams echoed behind them.

“Jonah, I can’t keep up!” Clara gasped. “You’re too fast!”

Jonah looked back. Her face was pale. She was shaking.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, tightening his grip on her hand. “Just a little farther. We’ll find a safe room. Somewhere to hide.”

They ran down the hallway and turned into a side corridor. The lights flickered again, then went out for a second.

Darkness.

Then a buzzing sound. Emergency lights clicked on, red and dim.

“Something is very wrong,” Clara whispered.

Jonah nodded. “Conor wasn’t sick. He was… changed.”

Behind them, they heard another scream. And then more.

Heavy footsteps echoed from the main hallway. And strange sounds too, groans, like someone in pain… or someone hungry.

“Come on,” Jonah said. “This way.”

He pulled Clara into a storage room and quietly closed the door. It was small and dark, full of shelves and dusty boxes. He locked the handle and backed away.

Clara slid to the floor, breathing hard. “What were those things?”

Jonah looked at her. “People. But not anymore.”

Silence filled the room. Only the sound of the storm outside reminded them the world hadn’t ended. Not yet.

“Do you think they’re all infected?” Clara asked. Her voice was shaky.

“I don’t know,” Jonah said honestly. “But if we stay here too long, we will be too.”

The storage room grew cold. Time passed slowly. Jonah could hear distant footsteps and muffled screams. Each one made his heart beat faster.

He tried to think. Tried to remember if there were exits nearby. He had worked in that building for three years, but at that moment, it all felt unfamiliar.

Then there was a sound outside the door. A soft knock. Jonah froze. Clara held her breath.

Another knock. Then, scratch… scratch… Something, or someone was dragging their fingers across the door.

“Jonah,” Clara whispered, “don’t open it.”

He didn’t plan to. But suddenly…BANG.

The door shook hard. Jonah grabbed a metal rod from one of the shelves.

BANG.

A hole cracked in the wood. Then a voice came from the other side. “…help…”

It was a man’s voice. Weak. Struggling. Jonah looked at Clara. She looked back, eyes wide.

“Please…” the voice said again. “I’m not… like them…”

Should they open it? Could they risk it? 

Jonah’s hand tightened around the rod.