The last days：Domination

The world had never felt so still.

Adam crouched behind the crumbled remains of what had once been a bustling shopping mall. The sounds of distant groans and the shuffle of decayed feet filled the air, mingling with the acrid stench of death that hung heavy in the atmosphere. A few months ago, this city had been a thriving center of human activity, but now it was a forsaken landscape—a graveyard of shattered glass, overturned cars, and broken lives.

"Just need a little longer..." Adam muttered to himself, clutching the cracked water bottle in his hand. The last drop of water had long since disappeared, leaving a dry, scratchy feeling in his throat that gnawed at him. He pressed his back against the cold concrete and took a deep breath, trying to ignore the overwhelming thirst that clouded his thoughts.

He had no choice but to press on.

The world as he knew it had collapsed in on itself in a matter of weeks. A virus, quick to spread and more deadly than any disease known to man, had turned the majority of the human race into mindless, ravenous creatures—zombies, the survivors called them. And while the infected were dangerous, they were not the only threat. The real danger now lay in the scarcity of resources and the ruthless survivors who were just as deadly.

Adam had learned that the hard way. His journey through the desolate city had started alone—until he met Monica.

She had been holed up in a dilapidated apartment, the last of her group having been killed by a marauder gang. She was the first person he had encountered who wasn't a monster, and for a brief moment, he allowed himself to hope. The hope was fleeting, though, as survival had quickly turned into a game of trust and betrayal.

"Adam," Monica's voice interrupted his thoughts as she approached him, her silhouette casting a long shadow under the dim light of the ruined street. "Found some food. And there's water nearby. Not much, but it'll do for now."

Adam stood up, his legs stiff from crouching for so long. His fingers trembled slightly as he took the meager pack she handed him, the scent of stale bread and dried meat escaping from the cracked seal. His stomach growled in protest, but he knew better than to take it for granted. He would need every bit of energy to survive.

"Good work," he said, forcing a faint smile. His eyes, however, remained sharp. He couldn't afford to trust too easily.

Monica returned the smile, but there was something about her eyes—something that didn't quite match the softness of her expression. She was smart. Too smart. He had learned that much about her in their brief time together.

They weren't the only ones left in the city, of course. There were others—other survivors, and some of them weren't so kind. Adam had already encountered Ethan, a scavenger who had nearly killed him over a bag of supplies, and Jack, the so-called "merchant" who had tried to sell them contaminated goods. Trust was a luxury they couldn't afford.

Monica was different. She had proven useful in several situations, but Adam couldn't shake the feeling that she was hiding something. She never fully let her guard down around him, and neither did he. In this new world, everyone had their own agenda.

"You know," Monica said as they started walking toward the nearby building where the water source was located, "you're not like the others. You're different."

Adam frowned but didn't respond. "How so?"

"I've been watching you," she continued, her tone thoughtful. "You're not just trying to survive. You're planning something. I can see it in the way you move, the way you think. You're trying to build something bigger, something... stronger."

Adam didn't respond to her accusation. She was right in some ways. He had no choice but to adapt and find a way to grow stronger. But Monica didn't know the half of it. There was something else, something far more significant than simply surviving the apocalypse. It was the system—the strange power that had inexplicably entered his life since the day the outbreak began.

At first, Adam had thought it was just a delusion. A side effect of stress or fear. But the more he used it, the more he realized that it was real. The system had given him a way to survive, and even more than that—it had given him a path forward, a chance to become something more.

"Let's just get the water," Adam said, shaking off the thoughts. "We need it."

Monica didn't press him further, but he noticed the flicker of curiosity in her eyes. She was always watching him, always analyzing. Adam knew she would figure it out sooner or later. But for now, he had a plan. A goal.

The water supply was located in an abandoned high-rise building, a few blocks away from their current location. The streets were littered with the bodies of the fallen, the air thick with the smell of decay. The path ahead was clear, but danger lurked around every corner.

Adam and Monica made their way cautiously down the street, keeping their footsteps light. They passed a crumpled car, its windows shattered and blood staining the pavement. A distant howl broke the silence—probably a pack of mutated zombies in search of fresh prey. Adam didn't flinch. He had become numb to the horror.

They reached the building without incident, and as Adam kicked open the rusted door, the first thing he noticed was the strange hum that seemed to vibrate through the walls. It was faint but constant, like an echo of something much larger—something he couldn't quite understand.

The door creaked open, revealing the shadowy interior. Monica stepped inside first, followed by Adam. The air inside was stale, and the faint smell of mildew clung to the walls.

"We'll need to be quick," Adam said, scanning the dimly lit room. The water tanks were located on the second floor. He could see the faint glimmer of sunlight filtering through the shattered windows, but it was too quiet—too still.

Suddenly, there was a sharp noise from upstairs. A low, guttural growl.

Adam's heart raced. "Stay close," he whispered to Monica. "We're not alone."

Adam motioned for Monica to stay behind him as he slowly advanced toward the staircase. His senses were on high alert. The growl had been faint, but it was unmistakable—an infected. Maybe more than one.

He moved cautiously, his hand hovering near the makeshift weapon at his side. It wasn't much, just a broken pipe he had scavenged from the street, but it would have to do. In this world, even the simplest tools could mean the difference between life and death.

The growl came again, this time louder, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of decayed feet. Adam's grip tightened on the pipe. He motioned for Monica to follow, and they crept up the stairs, careful not to make a sound.

At the top of the stairs, the hallway stretched out before them, dark and filled with the scent of mold. The water tanks were at the far end of the corridor, but the growling was getting closer. Adam's heart began to race. Every instinct told him to hurry, but he knew they couldn't afford to rush. One wrong move could lead to disaster.

He stopped at the corner, peering around it carefully. There, stumbling down the hallway, was a single infected. Its skin was grayish and hanging off its bones, eyes clouded with a lifeless, hollow stare. It was dragging its leg, but it was still fast enough to pose a serious threat.

Adam clenched his jaw. He had fought plenty of zombies before, but this one was alone. It wasn't the problem—what came after it was.

He glanced back at Monica, whose face was set in grim determination. She held a crowbar she had found earlier, the steel gleaming faintly in the dim light. Adam nodded at her, signaling that he was going in.

Before Monica could react, Adam moved swiftly, his feet barely making a sound on the cracked floor. With a single, quick motion, he lunged at the infected. The pipe swung down in a brutal arc, striking the creature across the back of the skull. The crack of bone was sickening, and the zombie dropped to the floor, motionless.

Monica breathed a sigh of relief behind him, but Adam wasn't done yet. He moved quickly to the door at the far end of the hall, the water tanks just beyond it.

"Stay alert," he muttered to Monica, opening the door.

Inside, the tanks were as they had been described—large, rusted containers, their contents murky but still drinkable. The sound of water sloshing inside was a welcome noise after days of thirst. Adam moved toward them, his hands shaking with anticipation as he reached for the valve.

"Wait!" Monica's voice was sharp, a sudden warning that froze Adam in place.

He turned to find her staring at something in the corner of the room.

A shadow.

Adam's muscles tensed instantly. His eyes narrowed as he scanned the dim corner of the room. There, half-hidden behind a pile of debris, was another figure. This one wasn't a zombie.

It was a person. A man, hunched over, eyes wide in terror as he stared back at them. His clothes were ragged, his face gaunt, but there was no mistaking the look of desperation in his eyes.

"Who are you?" Adam demanded, keeping his grip on the pipe tight. "You alone?"

The man's lips trembled as he spoke, his voice weak but audible. "Please... don't hurt me," he begged. "I—I won't take your water. I just... I need it too."

Adam studied the man carefully. He wasn't armed, and there was no sign of any immediate threat. But that didn't mean anything in this new world. Desperation could make anyone dangerous.

"You'll get your share," Adam said, lowering the pipe slightly but still keeping a watchful eye on the stranger. "But first, tell me your name."

"Jack," the man stammered. "Jack Mills. Please, I... I've been wandering for days. I've got nothing left."

Adam didn't move, still unsure whether to trust this man. People like Jack were a dime a dozen in the apocalypse—either too weak to survive or too dangerous to be trusted.

"Why are you here?" Adam pressed, his voice cold.

"I... I heard the noise," Jack explained, his hands shaking. "I thought you were raiders. I didn't mean to scare you."

Monica shifted behind Adam, her eyes calculating as she observed Jack. She didn't speak, but Adam could feel her assessment.

"Stay there," Adam instructed, keeping his eyes locked on Jack as he turned to the water tanks. He twisted the valve and watched as the water gushed out. The man's desperate eyes followed the flow.

Adam filled their bottles, the cool liquid a welcome relief. But as he finished, his eyes flicked back to Jack, who hadn't moved.

"Here." Adam tossed a water bottle to Jack. "That's all you get."

Jack caught it with trembling hands, his gratitude almost overwhelming. "Thank you... Thank you," he repeated, taking a long gulp.

Adam turned back to Monica, motioning for her to follow. "We're leaving. Don't trust him."

Monica didn't hesitate. She moved to follow him as he walked toward the door. But before they could leave, Jack's voice stopped them.

"Wait!" he shouted, his voice panicked. "You—you don't want to go out there."

Adam paused, his hand on the door handle. "What do you mean?"

"The city," Jack gasped, eyes wild with fear. "The infected—they're swarming. I saw them... thousands of them. The streets are crawling with them. You won't make it out alive."

Adam's grip on the door tightened. It was just one more complication in a world that seemed to throw them at him relentlessly. Still, he couldn't ignore the truth behind Jack's words. If the infected had truly overrun the city, then there was no time to waste.

"Thanks for the warning," Adam said curtly, pushing open the door and stepping into the hallway. Monica followed without a word, and together, they moved quickly toward the exit.

As Adam glanced back, he caught a glimpse of Jack still standing in the room, clutching the water bottle like it was the last thing he'd ever hold.

"Let's go," Adam muttered, more to himself than to Monica.

With every step, the tension grew. They weren't alone in the city anymore—and that meant danger was closer than ever.