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Zombie story in the city centre

zombie love

By Moharif YuliantoPublished 3 months ago 3 min read
Zombie story in the city centre
Photo by Jose Rueda on Unsplash

The rain hammered down on the pavement, mimicking the frantic beat of Sarah's heart. She sprinted down the deserted Oxford Street, dodging overturned shopping carts and abandoned handbags. It had all gone wrong so fast. One minute she'd been browsing a sale rack, the next, screams shattered the cheerful music, and figures with glazed eyes and a hunger etched on their faces flooded the store.

Now, soaked and breathless, Sarah clung to the flimsy hope that her flat might offer some semblance of sanctuary. Her phone, thankfully silenced before attracting attention, buzzed in her pocket. Ignoring it, she rounded a corner, slamming into a boarded-up pub. Panic clawed at her throat. Had they reached her street?

A guttural moan confirmed her fears. A shambling figure with clothes ripped to shreds lurched towards her, its vacant eyes locked on her scent. Sarah sidestepped it, adrenaline surging. She knew she couldn't outrun them forever. Glancing up, she spotted a fire escape clinging like a skeletal hand to the side of a towering office block.

Heaving herself onto the slick metal, she scrambled up, ignoring the bite of cold on her fingers. The rain lashed against her face, blurring the already desolate scene below. Reaching the roof, she scanned the surrounding buildings, looking for a way across the concrete chasm.

Hope flickered - a makeshift bridge of planks connected her building to the next. Taking a shaky breath, she sprinted across, ignoring the creaking protests of the wood. Once safely on the other side, she paused, catching her breath. The moans of the undead echoed from below, a constant, chilling reminder.

Her flat was just a few rooftops away. A surge of determination propelled her forward. As she approached, she saw her window – boarded up. Her heart plummeted. Had Tom not gotten my message?

A figure on the fire escape of the building opposite her caught her eye. Relief flooded her as she recognized Tom, his face etched with worry. He gestured for her to climb across the narrow gap separating them. With trembling hands, she hauled herself towards him.

"Sarah, thank god you're okay!" He pulled her into a tight embrace, his warmth a stark contrast to the chilling rain. Briefly, she allowed herself the comfort, but reality intruded.

"What happened? Did you see anyone else?" she asked, pushing away.

Tom's face went grim. "There were…too many. I barely made it back."

Silence descended between them, broken only by the relentless rain. Suddenly, a bloodcurdling scream pierced the air. It originated a few buildings down the street. Tom reacted instinctively, grabbing Sarah's hand and pulling her behind a large air conditioning unit.

Peeking out cautiously, they saw a group of ragged survivors cornered in an alleyway, a horde of the undead closing in. The survivors fought back with a desperate ferocity, wielding whatever they could find – pipes, broken bottles, even a metal pole.

But they were outnumbered. One by one, they fell, their screams lost in the constant moan of the crowd. As the last survivor went down, a horrifying silence settled. Then, the horde turned, their vacant eyes scanning the rooftops. Sarah and Tom exchanged a terrified look.

They were spotted. A low growl rippled through the crowd as they began to lumber towards the buildings.

"We need to go," Tom whispered urgently. "There's a roof hatch on the top floor. It leads down to a service stairwell."

They ran, adrenaline masking the exhaustion gnawing at their limbs. Reaching the top floor, they struggled to open the rusted hatch. Finally, it gave way, revealing a dark hole. Tom took a deep breath and lowered himself in first.

Sarah followed, squeezing into the narrow space. The air here was thick with dust and the smell of disuse. They descended slowly, the darkness pressing in on them. Every creak of the stairs echoed in Sarah's ears, like the approaching footsteps of death.

They reached the bottom floor and emerged into a deserted service corridor. Faint light filtered in from an emergency exit at the end of the hall. Relief washed over Sarah. Maybe, just maybe, they could find a way out of this concrete jungle.

But as they approached the exit, a sickening feeling crept into Sarah's stomach. The door handle was slick with a dark, viscous liquid. They exchanged a horrified look. They weren't alone.

With a single, primal scream, a figure lunged at them from the shadows. Sarah and Tom scrambled back, the sound of their desperate fight echoing in the dimly lit corridor. The rain continued to beat down on the city, a silent witness to the ongoing struggle for survival.


About the Creator

Moharif Yulianto

a freelance writer and thesis preparation in his country, youtube content creator, facebook

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    Moharif YuliantoWritten by Moharif Yulianto

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