Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 17: _ Racing Against Death

Gunfire, smoke, and the tang of blood in the air—everything is chaos. My heart is still beating fast from the last shot... from the moment Kyle slumped over; eyes wide and a gaping wound where his chest used to be.

We don’t have time to grieve.

Not when we’re trapped on the rooftop of a crumbling parking garage, surrounded by the undead, with no way out.

The scavengers who ambushed us? Gone. Those bastards ran the second things got out of control, leaving us to deal with the aftermath—the groaning, snarling tide of corpses surging up the ramp and clawing their way toward us.

A breeze carries the stink of rot and cordite through the open-air rooftop. I swear, I can almost smell Kyle’s blood from here. It pools beneath him, soaking into the cracks of the concrete, spreading out in a dark stain.

Thankfully, no black worm has crawled into him before he dies. Hence, he died a human.

The rooftops aren’t safe.

Nothing is safe.

The moment my feet hit the concrete of the next building, I almost collapse. My body feels like it’s been through a meat grinder with my legs burning, lungs on fire, heart pounding so hard I can taste blood in the back of my throat.

Behind me, Benji lands with a thud, immediately rolling onto his side, cursing.

"Jesus fucking—who even does this shit for fun?" he wheezes.

"Shut up and keep moving," Trish snaps, vaulting over a rusted AC unit, and the way her movements are quick despite the exhaustion dragging us all down is admirable.

Dom, Vic, and Hector are next, landing heavily beside us. Hector staggers but stays upright. Vic just grunts, barely fazed, which is either impressive or infuriating... I don’t have the energy to decide.

The growls and snarls below us are sickening. They are like a persistent reminder that one wrong step means death. The zombies that had swarmed the garage have spread onto the streets, their grotesque forms slinking between abandoned cars, twitching, sniffing the air, searching.

But we’re not thinking about them.

We’re thinking about Kyle.

About the hole in his chest.

About the way, his body slumped, lifeless, as we were forced to leave him behind.

Benji drags a hand down his face, smearing sweat and filth. "We just—we just left him." His voice is hoarse. "We didn’t even have a choice."

"Of course we didn’t," Hector snaps. "Unless you wanted to die next to him."

"Doesn’t mean it doesn’t fucking suck," Benji shoots back.

No one argues.

Because it does fucking suck.

Kyle was our medic. Our friend. The one who always said, "Relax, I’ve got this," even when he absolutely did not have it. The one who patched up our wounds with the shittiest medical tape imaginable, then smirked like he’d just performed life-saving surgery.

Now he’s dead. And we’re alive. And I don’t know how to make that feel right.

I grit my teeth. "We don’t have time for this."

Vic exhales, nodding. "We need to get to the other side of the block. If we can get down near the old train yard, we might have a shot at slipping past them."

"Yeah?" Benji huffs. "And then what? Because, in case you forgot, the scavengers know where we fucking live."

Silence descends between us. The realization slams into all of us like a sledgehammer.

Even if we make it out of here, even if we slip past the undead, even if we keep running, even if our mission is successful, we have nowhere to run to.

Our home isn’t safe anymore. It is worse that our people are there... all of them. 𝐟𝕣𝗲𝕖𝕨𝗲𝐛𝗻𝗼𝐯𝗲𝚕.𝗰𝚘𝐦

Trish presses a shaking hand to her forehead. "We have to warn the others."

"We have to survive first," I say, scanning the rooftops. The gap between this building and the next is wider than the last.

Too wide. Shit.

"There," Hector points to the fire escape on the far side of the rooftop.

It is rusted and unstable, but also our only option.

"Please tell me we’re not climbing down that," Benji groans.

"We’re not," I say. "We’re jumping."

Benji stares. "You wanna—what the—are you on drugs? Look at that gap!"

"We don’t have a choice."

A stronger round of moans rises from below. A handful of zombies have started climbing the sides of the building, their clawed fingers digging into broken brickwork.

We’re running out of time.

"Fine," Benji mutters. "If I die, I’m haunting you."

He backs up, breathes in deep, and then takes off.

For a second, I think he’s not gonna make it.

The.... slam. He lands hard on the opposite rooftop, rolling clumsily, groaning. "Fucking—ow."

Vic goes next, clearing the gap with so much ease that could convince anyone he’s got superpowers. And then, his brother follows with almost the same flex.

Trish follows right after, cursing under her breath the entire time. Hector is right behind her, landing with a grunt.

Then it’s just me.

I back up. Inhale. Exhale. Run.

For a second there, I’m airborne. The city below blurs and there’s nothing but a mess of wreckage and rotting corpses.

Then... I make impact.

I hit the rooftop and almost slip. My knee smashes into the concrete, pain jolting up my leg. Hands grab me before I tip backward. It is Trish and Dom yanking me forward.

"Close," Vic mutters.

"Too close," I gasp, shaking.

It’s not like we have the time to mull over that. Every second wasted here is synonymous with knocking on heaven’s door.

We sprint across the rooftop, heading for the other side, where a maintenance ladder clings to the wall like it’s barely holding together. The streets below are still infested, but if we can climb down and cut through the alleys....

A loud crack suddenly booms, cutting my thoughts short.

The rooftop beneath us shudders.

"Oh, fuck no," Benji hisses.

The rooftop collapses and in the blink of an eye, everything drops.

For a second, I’m weightless. Then the world slams into me, debris raining down, dust and smoke choking my lungs. The impact rattles my skull, and for a terrifying moment, I don’t know which way is up.

Then I hear Trish coughing.

I groan, shoving a piece of drywall off me. My limbs scream in protest, but nothing feels broken.

We fell into the building. The floor below must’ve been too weak to hold our weight, and now we’re in what looks like an old apartment that is half-collapsed, has its furniture overturned, and a year old of decay in the air.

Benji groans somewhere nearby. "I am so over today."

"Everyone okay?" I rasp.

Hector staggers up, wincing. "Define ’okay.’"

Vic and Dom pull themselves from the rubble, Trish beside them. "We need to move. Now."

A distant screech echoes from above. More zombies. More incoming.

We stumble toward the nearest door, shoving through a hallway caked in dirt and shadows. The building groans, and it’s obvious that it is barely holding itself together.

We reach the stairwell and are all broken, and rusted, but still standing.

"We go down," I say. "Fast."

Nobody argues.

We basically fall down the steps, leaping over gaps, kicking away garbage, and racing against death.

When we finally burst into the street, the cold night air feels like a slap.

We’re alive. Yes, we are bruised and haunted by Kyle’s death... but alive.

Benji lets out a flimsy breath with his hands on his knees. "If we make it home, I’m drinking until my liver quits."

Trish doesn’t even argue. I glance toward the skyline—toward where our base is.

The scavengers know about us. Kyle is gone.

And the war for survival has only just begun.