"Ah! Help!"
A single scream tore through the afternoon calm of downtown Boston—and the world cracked.
From a crowded open‑air market, several figures lurched into the street. They didn’t stumble helplessly. They charged—shoulders low, jaws snapping. The first pedestrians they hit didn’t even have ti to react before teeth closed on flesh.
More screams.
People shoved, ran, collided with traffic. Soone fell. Soone else was dragged down. Blood hit glass.
Those bitten spasd, stiffened—then, within seconds, their eyes went feral. Skin flushed, veins standing, mouths splitting wide as they whirled and attacked whoever was nearest.
"ROAR! ROAR!"
Animal throats. No human hesitation.
Screams, crunching tal, children crying, horns blaring, shattering windows—
In monts, the street dissolved into raw chaos.
—--
Several blocks away, atop a three‑story shopping complex, more than a dozen Samsara players watched the carnage from above. Most gripped machetes; a few held pistols. At their head stood the punk‑styled youth from staging—Solis—his hand resting on a long blade that glead with a faint black sheen.
Black Sword Shusui. One of the Twenty‑One Great Blades.
"Zombies are out," Solis said evenly. "Rooftop access secure?"
"Sealed," soone replied. "We jamd the stairwell—need an excavator to move it."
Solis nodded, then pointed. "Make noise. Draw them in."
His plan: lure the infected, pile them below, pick them off from height.
He was about to learn just how fast World War Z scaled aggression.
—---
Back in the CDC, muffled screams filtered down the corridors. Dr. David went pale. "God... what’s happening out there?"
"You can step outside and check," Fenric said, smiling through sweat.
He looked terrible—face flushed, hair dulling and shedding in thin strands. Fever rising hard. The KBN infection was taking hold exactly as described: rapid systemic response, immune system surging into open combat.
Perfect.
"Doctor, you’re free," Fenric said, turning for the door.
The relief on David’s face was imdiate. He scrambled to his feet and hurried toward the exit—family on his mind, no doubt.
He had nearly reached the corridor when Fenric stepped back in.
David froze. He’s co to kill !
Blood drained from his face.
Fenric held up the empty hand that wasn’t gripping the pistol. "Relax. I forgot sothing. You stock performance enhancers? Stimulants? Give anything that boosts strength and endurance."
David sagged with relief. "Yes, yes—this way."
He led Fenric to a controlled pharmacy shelf and produced two vials.
"This is a steroid—drives protein synthesis, accelerates muscle growth."
"This one’s erythropoietin—stimulates red blood cell production; improves oxygen transport, stamina."
"Side effects are severe," the doctor added quickly. "Please use carefully."
Fenric accepted both. I injected a lethal virus. You think I care about side effects?
"Thanks. You’re a good doctor," he said lightly. "Good luck."
This ti, he left for real.
Not long after, Dr. David staggered out of the CDC lobby and into hell.
Blood streaked the pavent. Limbs lay in gutters. Glass glittered under the red light. Thirty ters away, a figure crouched over a corpse, tearing at with its teeth.
David choked. "Oh God..."
He never saw the blur to his left.
A woman—face slashed, eyes rabid—exploded from behind a wrecked car, sank her teeth into his shoulder, and slamd him to the asphalt.
Fenric’s parting words echoed in his head:
"That’s really unfortunate. They won’t be your family much longer."
God, it seed, did not bless David.
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