Ethan and Chris burst onto the third-floor hallway—and froze.

The corridor was crawling with zombies. At a glance, there had to be over thirty of them. Just the left side alone held nearly twenty.

"Chris," Ethan said grimly, tightening his grip on the steel pipe in his hands, "we're going through. I'll take the front. You cover the rear."

Chris gave a sharp nod. "Got it."

Without another word, Ethan charged forward.

A chorus of guttural groans rose up as the nearest zombies lunged. Ethan's pipe shot out like a spear, punching clean through the skull of the first one. But his brow furrowed—something felt off. The resistance was heavier than before, like the bone was denser.

No time to dwell on it. He kicked the corpse off the pipe, sending it crashing into a cluster of zombies behind it. They toppled like bowling pins, buying the two of them a few precious seconds to push ahead.

But the dead didn't stay down for long. They scrambled back to their feet, snarling, and came at them again. More were closing in from behind.

Chris mimicked Ethan's movements, jabbing with his own steel pipe. He wasn't as fluid, but his enhanced strength made up for it. The lead zombie took the blow straight through the skull. Chris kicked it away, clearing space.

They fought like machines—stab, kick, stab, kick—bodies piling up around them. But Ethan was already noticing a pattern.

These zombies were stronger than yesterday's. Faster, tougher, more coordinated.

"Are the ones downstairs just more advanced?" he wondered aloud. "Or… are they evolving?"

"Ethan! Hurry! I can't hold them!" Chris's voice cracked with panic.

Ethan spun around—and his stomach dropped.

The horde behind them was thicker than the one ahead. Chris was nearly overwhelmed, his pipe no longer stabbing but shoving, trying to keep the dead at bay. Blood streamed from his arms where claws had raked him raw.

"Chris, hold on!" Ethan roared.

He rammed his pipe through another skull, then leapt forward, booting the corpse so hard it flew ten feet and knocked down a cluster of zombies like dominoes.

"Move!" he shouted, not bothering to finish off the fallen. He sprinted forward, using the bodies as stepping stones.

Chris gave a desperate shove and bolted after him.

Ethan switched tactics, swinging the pipe like a bat now, smashing skulls left and right as he carved a path toward Room 308.

They were almost there when a zombie, previously thought dead, suddenly grabbed Chris's leg from the floor. Its teeth sank into his ankle.

"Shit—!" Chris hissed, face contorting in pain.

"Chris!" Ethan's heart lurched. He whipped his pipe down, crushing the zombie's skull, then yanked Chris up and barreled forward, shoulder-checking a pair of zombies out of the way. They stumbled into the dorm room and slammed the door shut behind them.

Click. Lock.

"Raaagh!"

Just as they started to breathe, a snarl echoed from inside the room.

They weren't alone.

"Liam…"

The name slipped from both their lips at once.

Their roommate. Three years of shared meals, late-night games, and inside jokes. Now he stood before them, eyes clouded, mouth slack, hunger radiating from every twitch of his rotting body.

He didn't recognize them. But he sure smelled fresh meat.

"Sorry, Liam," Ethan murmured.

He drove the pipe forward—not into the head, but through the neck. Quick. Clean. Merciful.

Liam collapsed in a heap.

They'd killed plenty of zombies before. But this was the first time it had been someone they knew. Someone they'd laughed with. Lived with.

Someone who had once been human.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

The door behind them shuddered under the weight of pounding fists. The hallway horde had caught up.

No time to mourn.

They scrambled to drag a bed across the room, wedging it against the door just as the hinges began to groan.

Then—"Ethan! Chris!"

A familiar voice rang out.

They turned. Henry's head poked out from the bathroom, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Henry!" they both shouted, relief crashing over them.

The three of them rushed into a hug, clinging to each other like drowning men.

"I thought I'd never see you again," Henry said, voice thick with emotion.

"Man, it's so damn good to see you alive," Chris replied, his voice cracking.

For a moment, the pounding at the door faded into the background. They were still breathing. Still together.

And that was something.

The three of them finally let go, breathless and flushed, when Henry blinked and asked, "The whole hallway's crawling with zombies—how the hell did you two even make it back?"

Chris snorted and stuck out his leg. The ankle was a mess—bloody, torn, a chunk of flesh missing. "You wanna know? Take a look at what I got for my trouble."

"Chris…!" Henry's eyes went red the moment he saw the wound. "Shit, I'm so sorry. If I'd known this would happen, I never would've messaged you. If you turn into a zombie, I—I'll go with you."

Chris rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut up. You're not my girlfriend. Who asked you to die with me? If you really wanna help, get me something to wrap this up with. It hurts like hell."

"What's the point? You're probably infected already."

"I am not! Don't jinx me, man!" Chris snapped, glaring at him.

"But still—"

"It's fine, Henry," Ethan cut in, walking over with a small stash of supplies—gauze, alcohol, and a few first-aid meds. "He's not turning. Just needs patching up."

He'd kept this stuff around for a while. Working in the warehouse meant scrapes and bruises were part of the job, so he'd gotten into the habit of keeping a kit nearby.

But just as he knelt down to treat the wound, Ethan froze.

He'd activated his [True Sight] to get a better look at the injury—and accidentally glanced at Henry.

What he saw made his jaw drop.

Henry had an ability. A healing-type ability.

"No way," Ethan muttered, eyes wide. "You've gotta be kidding me."

"What?" Chris looked up, confused. "What's going on?"

"Henry's got powers too. Can you believe that?"

"For real?!" Chris's face lit up.

Henry, meanwhile, looked completely lost. "Wait, what are you guys talking about? What powers?"

"Just try something for me," Ethan said. "Put your hand on Chris's leg—right where he's hurt—and focus. Think about healing him."

Henry blinked. "Why?"

"Just trust me."

"…Okay." Still baffled, Henry crouched down and placed his hand gently over the mangled flesh. He closed his eyes and concentrated.

A soft white glow bloomed beneath his palm.

All three of them stared.

The wound began to close—slowly at first, then faster. Torn muscle knit itself back together. Skin smoothed over. Within seconds, Chris's leg looked like it had never been touched.

"Holy shit," Chris breathed. "That's insane."

Even Ethan was stunned. He'd seen some weird things lately, but this? This was next-level.

"What the hell just happened?" Henry asked, more confused than ever.

Ethan took a breath and explained everything he knew—about the powers, the zombies, the strange changes. By the end of it, Henry looked like he'd been hit by a truck.

"So you're telling me… the apocalypse comes with superpowers?" he said, eyes wide.

"Basically, yeah," Ethan said with a shrug.

"That's… nuts."

"By the way," Ethan added, "how'd you survive Liam turning? Were you in the bathroom when it happened?"

"No, not exactly," Henry said, rubbing the back of his neck. "That night, your phone call woke me up. I couldn't fall back asleep, so I figured I'd play a few rounds of my game. Just one or two, you know? But I kept losing, and the more I lost, the more pissed off I got. Next thing I know, it's past four in the morning and I finally win a match."

He paused, eyes distant.

"I was about to log off and go to bed when I noticed this weird red glow outside the window. I got curious, opened the door to check it out, and you won't believe what I saw."

"Let me guess," Ethan said. "The Big Dipper had nine stars instead of seven. And one of them was glowing bright red like a second North Star."

Henry's jaw dropped. "How the hell do you know that?!"

Chris smirked. "Maybe because we saw it too?"

"Oh. Right." Henry scratched his head, sheepish. "Well, yeah. That freaked me out so bad I couldn't sleep at all. I just stood there watching until the stars faded. By the time I came back in, it was almost dawn."

He took a breath, voice quieter now.

"When I got back, Liam was twitching in his bed. I kept calling his name, but he wouldn't wake up. Then I saw his skin… it was peeling, rotting right in front of me. I tried calling you guys, but the line was dead. I panicked. Then he opened his eyes—and they were blood-red. Just like in the movies."

Henry shivered at the memory.

"I ran straight into the bathroom and locked the door. Tried calling the cops, but the line was dead too. That's when I checked online and saw the news about the outbreak. After that, I just stayed in there. Didn't dare come out."

"Damn," Chris said, impressed. "You watched the whole transformation happen."

But Ethan was quiet, lost in thought.

He had powers. Chris had powers. Now Henry too.

And the one thing they all had in common?

They'd seen the stars change. The Big Dipper with nine stars. That crimson North Star burning in the sky.

Could that be the trigger?

Was that the moment everything changed?

...

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