Chapter three : Rath

Well, this is definitely not what I wanted to wake up to.
What a buzzkill.
All I wanted was a normal weekend -- hang out with my friends, complain about assignments, laugh over nothing, just… breathe for once.
And instead?
I get this.
A f*****g apocalypse.
Lucky me.
If I even manage to survive it at all.
I call everyone I'm worried about, one after the other, but almost every call goes straight to voicemail. My parents -- no answer. My friends back home -- silence. My friends here at college -- nothing. Even Taylor didn’t respond.

My head’s still pounding from last night’s drinks. I’d gotten drunk, passed out, and woke up way too late, my body still struggling with a hangover, and now, sitting here, the only thing circling in my mind is this gnawing, sick thought:
What if they’re all dead?
If they’re gone -- if everyone I care about is gone -- that’ll be the nail in the coffin for the emptiness that’s already clawing its way up inside me, threatening to swallow everything else.
I slam the phone down. Maybe I should be figuring out my next move, maybe I should be saving myself. But all I can think about is if everyone I care about survived.
God, I hope they’re okay.

I spend hours glued to news updates and social feeds, desperate to piece together what’s left of the world -- desperate to know something, anything, about a zombie apocalypse that’s been creeping closer to my doorstep. But no one’s offering any answers. No one’s pointing to a safe zone or a rally point. Every broadcast says the same thing: stay put, stay safe, hope for the best.

For all I know, this country’s already crumbling, torn apart in places the cameras can’t even reach.
I glance around my room. Empty. No food. Nothing. I can feel the dry ache in my gut where hunger’s starting to scratch. The worst part? My bladder’s screaming from all the drinking yesterday -- funny how something so basic can still pull me out of the moment.

Bless whoever allotted the rooms -- living on the ground floor is probably the only reason I stand a chance. If I had to fight my way down five flights of zombie-filled stairs just to reach the street? Yeah, I’d be dead before my first step.
The plan’s rough, sure -- but it’s something. Now, there’s only one thing left to do -- don’t die in the process.

I need allies. Or honestly, I’ll lose my mind if I’m the only one left alive in this boys' dorm. Jesus Christ. I’ve already scanned every corner of the corridor. Open doors everywhere -- probably abandoned by whoever got caught by zombies while trying to escape. But a few rooms down, there’s one door closed tight. That’s gotta mean someone’s still in there... someone who hasn’t turned yet.

The problem? Two zombies are blocking the hallway between me and that door. No way I can get past them alive. Even if I somehow do, the odds that whoever’s behind the door will open it for me? Slim to none.
But I have to try.
I rummage through the chaos of my room, heart pounding, until my fingers brush against something -- my speaker. Jackpot.

Quietly, I crack open my door just enough to slide the speaker to the opposite side -- far from the closed door but still out in the hallway. Then, with a shaking hand, I crank the volume all the way up and hit play on my phone.
The zombies don’t hesitate. They lurch toward the noise, snarling and snapping like animals drawn to the scent of blood.

I seize the moment my door swings open, and I sprint, every step fueled by desperation, toward the closed door. My lungs burn, my heart threatens to burst. I reach the door and slam my fists against it as hard as I can.

The music cuts out -- I’m too far from the speaker now; Bluetooth connection lost. The only sound is my pounding and the growls of zombies closing in behind me.
So this is how I die. For following a stupid plan.
But I won’t give up. Not now.
More zombies are heading my way now, their guttural groans getting louder. I keep banging.
“I’m human! Please open the f*****g door!”
And then -- the door suddenly swings open. A hand grabs me, pulls me inside, and locks it tight behind me.
I collapse against the door, chest heaving, the cold weight of survival pressing down.
That... was something.

“RATH! I thought you were f*****g dead,” Taylor practically throws himself at me, and I wrap my arms tight around him, a surge of relief crashing through my chest. He’s alive. Taylor’s alive. Not torn apart, not turned, not gone.
Two other guys are huddled here with us -- tense, pale, but alive. I recognize them immediately: Jonas and Mike, guys from another course. We’ve crossed paths at parties a few times, shared drinks, some laughs -- enough to call them familiar faces in a sea of strangers.

“Did you get bit?” Jonas asks sharply, suspicion flickering in his eyes. Yeah, fair enough -- some random dude shows up at their door, somehow slipping past all those flesh-eaters outside? Sounds too good to be true.

“Not as far as I know,” I answer, already patting myself down, checking my arms, neck, ankles -- anywhere a scratch or bite might’ve sneaked past. “But I’ll check again just to be sure.”

Jonas watches, his jaw tight, until Mike steps forward and lets out a breath. “Sorry, man. We’re just… trying to look out for ourselves, you know? We watched one of our own turn right in front of us. You can never be too careful”

I meet Mike’s outstretched hand and give it a firm shake, nodding with a steadiness I don’t fully feel. “It’s alright. You gotta do what you have to do.”

I let myself take one long, steady breath.
Yeah, a zombie apocalypse isn’t exactly the life I’d planned -- but I’m not alone anymore. Not everyone’s dead. We’re still standing. We can fight for what’s left.
We’ll make it out of here.
I know we will.