I looked down at one of the man I'd turned into spare parts. A digital watch on his wrist, the numbers still glowing. 1:17 AM. Did the math. Sun-up was around 6:30. Five hours. Five hours to find a decent hole to wait out the day.
I just started walking. Didn't really have a destination in mind. Just moved, my sandals silent on the cracked pavement. The city was quiet except for the ever-present moaning.
Any zombie that shambled into my path just… came apart. I didn't even have to think about it. A flick of the wrist, a twitch of a finger, and they were dismantled. It was like breathing. My sword stayed in its sheath most of the time. It was easier that way.
My six eyes scanned everything, taking in the whole dead world at once. They landed on a big office building a few blocks away. Lots of movement around it. A big crowd of zombies, bumping against the glass doors. And underneath their stinking, rotten presence… I could feel it. The faint, warm pulse of living people. Survivors. Hiding inside.
Maybe it had a good spot to lay low. A server room, somewhere dark. I changed direction and headed for it, my long legs eating up the distance without any hurry.
---
Under the reception counter, Maria tried not to breathe.
It had been three days. Or maybe four. Time got weird when you were hiding under a desk, praying the zombies didn't find you. Her throat was sandpaper, her stomach a hollow ache. A small biscuits was the only thing that had kept her alive. They just shuffled around behind her, their gurgling moans and dragging feet the soundtrack to her nightmare.
This couldn't be real. She'd watched zombie movies. It wasn't supposed to actually happen. But the biting, the screaming, the blood on the windows… it was all too real.
She clutched a long, wicked shard of broken glass from the shattered front window. It wasn't much of a weapon, but it was all she had. Carefully, trembling, she lifted it, angling it so she could see the reflection of the lobby behind her without peeking over the counter.
Dozens of them. Just… standing there. Rotting. Waiting. Her heart hammered against her ribs so hard it felt like it would break.
Then, something changed.
In the reflection, a zombie's head suddenly tilted at an impossible angle and tumbled from its shoulders. The body crumpled. Then another. And another. A man in a security uniform was cleanly bisected at the waist. A woman in business attire lost both arms, then her head. It was silent, efficient, and horrifying. They were just… falling to pieces.
What was happening? Was it the military?
Gathering every ounce of courage she had left, Maria dared to lift her head just enough to peer over the counter's edge.
The zombies were definitely being destroyed. But she couldn't see what was doing it. No soldiers, no lasers. Then her eyes, wide with terror, caught movement at the main entrance.
A man. Tall. Impossibly so. Dressed in dark, old-fashioned clothes that looked completely out of place. He was just standing there, one hand resting casually on the hilt of a sword tucked into his sash. He wasn't even looking at the zombies. His head was tilted down, his face shadowed.
As she watched, a zombie lunged at him from the side. His sword never left his waist. But the zombie simply split into several chunks mid-step, its parts sliding wetly to the marble floor.
Maria ducked back down, her blood running cold. That wasn't a soldier. That wasn't human. She pressed herself into the smallest ball possible, trying to become one with the shadows under the desk. Her hand, shaking uncontrollably, slowly raised the piece of glass again, angling it to see the entrance.
There he was. Closer now. And the dim, flickering emergency lights finally caught his face.
Six eyes. Six glowing, golden, slitted eyes stared ahead, utterly dispassionate. He was just walking, a slow, deliberate pace through the carnage. Every zombie that moved within twenty feet of him was silently and instantly turned into mincemeat. His hand never left his sword's hilt.
A fresh wave of primal terror, colder and sharper than any fear the zombies had inspired, seized her. She squeezed her eyes shut, dropping the glass. It clattered softly on the tile. She prayed he hadn't heard. She prayed he would just pass by.
---
I kept walking through the lobby. The lights overhead flickered, strobing the scene of carnage. On. Off. A zombie reaching. On. Off. A pile of meat where it had been. It was kind of atmospheric, in a messed-up way.
I could smell the girl under the counter. Her fear was sharp, acrid. But she was staying put. Smart. I had no interest in her.
I passed the counter and moved deeper into the building's ground floor. The place was a maze of cubicles and offices. More zombies here. They all met the same quiet, piece-by-piece end. I wondered, just for a second, if a demon could get nutrients from eating these things. The thought was immediately disgusting. They smelled like a landfill. I'd rather go hungry.
Up ahead, a corridor opened into a wider area. A cafeteria, maybe. And there was a commotion. A double door was shaking, a large group of zombies pressed against it, pounding and scratching. And on the other side, I could feel the panicked strain of people, pushing back, trying to keep them out.
An inconvenience. If they were making noise, they'd just attract more.
I approached the horde from behind. They were too focused on the door to notice me.
It was over in seconds. The zombies at the back simply disintegrated. Then the ones in the middle. The pounding on the door stopped abruptly, replaced by the sound of meat hitting linoleum.
---
"Push! Keep pushing!" David screamed, his shoulder aching from the strain against the cafeteria doors. The barricade of tables behind them was groaning. There were so many of them.
"They're not stopping!" a woman named Lisa cried, her voice tight with panic.
Then, suddenly, the pressure vanished.
The door, which had been fighting them with the weight of a dozen bodies, suddenly swung inward easily. The five of them, who had been pushing with all their might, stumbled forward into the hallway, falling over each other in a heap.
Silence.
The snarling and scratching was gone.
"What… what happened?" a guy named Ben asked, getting to his feet and helping Lisa up.
"Did they leave?" David whispered, his heart still trying to beat its way out of his chest.
Cautiously, he crept to the door's window, peering through the grimy glass into the hall beyond.
His breath caught in his throat.
The zombies weren't gone. They were… destroyed. A carpet of dismembered bodies and parts littered the hallway as far as he could see. It was a slaughterhouse. There was no blood spray, no signs of a struggle. It was as if a giant, invisible food processor had dropped from the ceiling.
"Holy shit," Ben breathed, looking over his shoulder. "How?"
"I don't know, I don't care! They're dead! We can get out!" Lisa said, a hysterical laugh bubbling up.
Trembling, David unbarred the door and pushed it open. The coppery-metallic smell of old blood and decay hit them like a physical blow. They stepped out, their shoes making sticky sounds on the tile. They stared in a mixture of horror and profound relief at the scene.
"Did… did you do this?" a young man named Alex asked David, his face pale.
"With what? Harsh language?" David replied, his own mind reeling.
Then he noticed Ben. Ben was staring down the hallway, away from the cafeteria, his body rigid. He slowly raised a trembling hand and tapped David on the shoulder.
"David," Ben whispered, his voice barely audible.
David turned. "What?"
Ben didn't look at him. His eyes were locked on something in the dim, flickering light at the far end of the hall. Lisa and the others had seen it too. They were all frozen, their brief relief replaced by a new, deeper terror.
David followed their gaze.
And he immediately froze.
Standing there, silhouetted by the emergency exit sign, was a figure. Tall. Unnaturally still. He was dressed in robes, with long, dark hair. And even from this distance, David could see them.
Six points of golden light, glowing in the darkness where a face should be.
The figure just stood, observing them. It made no move, no sound. But a pressure began to build in the air, a cold, heavy feeling of absolute dread that made the zombie horde seem like a minor nuisance. This was different. This was a predator.
Fear, pure and instinctual, locked David's joints. He couldn't move. He couldn't speak. He could only stare at the six-eyed demon in the hallway, and know, with every fiber of his being, that they had not been saved. They had just traded one nightmare for another.
The lights in the hallway flickered once, then went out for a full second. When they sputtered back to life, the space at the end of the hall was empty. The six-eyed demon was just gone. Vanished.
David and his group stood frozen, their relief at the dead zombies instantly replaced by a new, colder fear. Where did it go?
---
In that single second of darkness, I was already moving. One moment I was in the hallway, the next I was standing on the rooftop of the office building. The cold night air hit me. My six eyes scanned the sky. The deep black was starting to fade at the edges. About twenty minutes until sunrise. Not much time.
That's when I saw it. A tiny flash from a window in a taller building a few blocks away. My eyes, which see everything faster and clearer than human eyes, tracked the bullet instantly. It was coming right for my head.
I didn't even think about it. My head moved just a little bit to the side. The bullet whipped past my ear and hit the rooftop door behind me with a loud ping.
---
In the taller building, a man stared through his sniper scope. He'd been picking off zombies from his safe perch for days. He saw the weird guy with too many eyes on the rooftop and figured he was some new kind of zombie. But his shot... missed? That was impossible. He never missed.
His hands got sweaty. He fired again, aiming for the thing's chest.
---
I saw the second bullet coming too. It was even easier than the first. I just shifted my weight and the bullet went right through where my heart should have been. It was kinda boring.
---
The man's mouth dropped open. He saw the figure dodge the second bullet like it was nothing. Like it knew the bullet was coming before it was even fired. What the hell was this thing? He frantically scanned the rooftop through his scope, but the six-eyed man was gone.
A cold chill went down his spine. The room suddenly felt much colder.
He slowly turned around.
I was standing right behind him. My six golden eyes just looked at him.
His pulse hammered in his throat. The stench of his fear was sharp. I watched the violent tremor in his hands as he stared.
"Your hands tremble," I noted, my voice a low, undisturbed murmur. "Even before the blade has touched you."
Panic flared in his eyes. His shaking hand jerked toward the pistol in his waistband.
His hand twitched, going for a pistol he had stuck in his pants.
A single, invisible cut went through the air and his hand came clean off at the wrist. It fell on the floor with a wet thump, the fingers still holding the gun.
He stared at his missing hand, his brain not quite understanding what happened yet. His mouth opened to scream.
"A weapon means nothing," I stated, watching the understanding dawn in his eyes, "in the hands of a coward."
Before any sound could come out of his mouth, I made one more cut. He fell to the ground, dead.
I looked over at the window. The sun was starting to come up, its first rays coming through the glass. A line of sunlight was creeping across the floor towards me.
I turned and walked away from the light, deeper into the apartment. I wasn't tired, but I needed a dark place to wait out the day. I found a bedroom with no windows and closed the door, sitting down in the perfect darkness. Outside, the sun kept rising, but in here, it was still night for me. I just had to wait.
---
Third POV.
Leo's legs were still shaking when they finally saw the fence. Their base was an old auto-body shop on the edge of town, surrounded by a tall chain-link fence with barbed wire on top. It wasn't much, but it was home. Right now, it looked like heaven.
Mike, who was leading, banged on the metal gate with his crowbar. "Hey! It's us! Open up!"
A face peeked out from behind a boarded-up window. A moment later, the gate screeched open just enough for them to squeeze through. They stumbled into the main garage area, collapsing onto old tires and dusty chairs. The big roller door was shut tight, only a few slivers of sunlight getting through the cracks.
There were twelve of them in total now. The six who had just come back—Leo, Mike, Sarah, Jake, Chloe, and Ken—and six others who had stayed behind to guard the place. The leader was a woman named Eya, who used to be a mechanic. She was tough and practical, with grease often under her fingernails.
"You guys look like hell," Eya said, handing Mike a bottle of water. "What happened? Where are the supplies?"
They were supposed to come back with food and medicine from the pharmacy. Their backpacks were empty.
Mike took a long drink, his hands still trembling. "We didn't get anything. We… we ran into a problem."
"A horde?" asked Tom, a big guy who was their best fighter. "We heard a lot of moaning from the east."
"It wasn't just a horde," Sarah said, her voice quiet. She was hugging herself, staring at the floor. "It was something else."
For the next ten minutes, they all tried to explain. It was a jumbled mess. They talked about being trapped on Miller Avenue. They talked about the zombies just… falling apart. They talked about the feeling, the cold, heavy fear that froze them solid. And they talked about him. The tall thing with the six eyes and the old-fashioned clothes and the weird sword that looked like it was made of meat.
When they finished, the garage was silent for a second. Then the arguments started.
"You've lost your minds," said a guy named Derek. He was one of the ones who had stayed behind. He laughed, but it was a nervous sound. "Six eyes? A samurai? Come on, guys. The stress is getting to you."
"I'm telling you, it's true!" Jake insisted, his voice rising. "He was just standing there, and the zombies were getting sliced to bits by nothing! I saw it!"
"Maybe it was a new type of zombie," said Chloe, trying to sound reasonable. "Like, a mutated one. The virus is only three days old, who knows what it can do?"
"Did it look like any zombie we've seen?" Mike snapped, his patience gone. "It was… something else! A mutated zombie thing with a sword! It looked right at us with its six freaking eyes!"
"That's impossible," Eya said, her tone firm but not unkind. "We've all seen what's out there. The dead are walking. That's crazy enough. But a… a mutated samurai zombie? It's only been three days. Viruses don't make swords."
"What about the feeling?" Leo spoke up for the first time. Everyone looked at him. "That cold feeling. That fear. You didn't feel it, Eya. It wasn't normal. It was like… like being prey."
"I felt it too," Ken said quietly. He was usually the quiet one, so when he spoke, people listened. "It was real. My body wouldn't move. It was the most scared I've ever been, and that includes when my dad caught me with his car when I was sixteen."
A few people chuckled weakly, but the tension was still thick.
"So what are you saying?" Derek crossed his arms. "That we have to worry about regular zombies and some kind of super zombie now? How are we supposed to fight that?"
"We're not," Mike said, his voice tired. "That's the point. We couldn't move. If this mutated thing wanted us dead, we'd be in pieces on the road with the zombies. It didn't even care we were there."
Derek threw his hands up. "You expect us to believe this? A zombie with a sword? I think you all got spooked by a big horde and your minds played tricks on you. Group hallucination or something."
"It wasn't a hallucination!" Sarah suddenly shouted, standing up. Tears were in her eyes. "It walked right past me! I saw the veins on its sword! Don't you tell me I'm crazy!"
"This is ridiculous!" Derek said.
"Wait, just hold on a second," said a quiet voice from the corner. It was Anya, their biology student before the world ended. She'd been mostly silent, listening intently. "I… I think I believe them."
All eyes turned to her. Derek scoffed. "You too, Anya? Come on."
"Hear me out," she said, standing up and pushing her glasses up her nose. "We know the virus does something to the brain. We've all seen it. When a person gets bitten and turns, they're different. They no longer feel pain, right? Or fear. Or exhaustion. Their bodies don't have those safety limits anymore."
She looked around the garage, making eye contact with the skeptics. "A living human's brain is like a governor on an engine. It limits our strength so we don't tear our own muscles or break our bones. But a zombie's brain… it's not doing that anymore. They can use 100% of their muscular strength, all the time. That's why they're so strong, and why it's so hard to fight them off."
She took a deep breath. "So, if the virus can do that in just three days… who's to say it can't cause other, more extreme mutations? Maybe… maybe it can hyper-evolve a subject. Change its body in ways we can't imagine. Give it extra sensory organs, like six eyes. Alter its bone structure to be taller. If it can remove the brain's limiters for strength, maybe it can rewire the brain for higher functions, like… like advanced motor skills needed to use a weapon."
The garage was silent as everyone processed this. Anya shrugged, looking a little embarrassed. "It's just a theory. But it means what they're describing… a mutated zombie with enhanced abilities… it's not impossible. It might just be the next stage of this virus that we haven't seen yet."
The group was split right down the middle. The six who had been on the road were adamant, their stories matching too perfectly for it to be a simple lie. The six who had stayed behind were now less skeptical, their faces a mixture of worry and grim acceptance after Anya's explanation. They argued for what felt like hours, going in circles.
They argued about whether it was a new type of zombie. They argued about whether it was some kind of experiment. They argued about whether they needed to pack up and leave right now.
Maria sighed and rubbed her temples. "Okay. Let's say, for a second, that you're all telling the truth. What did this… this thing do? Besides kill zombies and… ignore you."
"That was it," Leo said. "It just killed every zombie in its path and then walked away. It was clearing a path. Like it was just… taking a walk."
"A walk," Derek repeated, his voice dripping with disbelief.
"Why would a super zombie be taking a walk?" asked Lisa, a young woman who was their best medic.
Nobody had an answer.
Finally, Maria held up her hands. "Enough! Arguing isn't getting us anywhere. We have no proof. All we have is your story."
"So what do we do?" Mike asked.
"We be careful," Maria said, looking at each of them in turn. "We double the watch. We keep our eyes open. If this… six-eyed zombie is real, and if it's out there, we need to know. But we can't panic. We've got enough to worry about with the regular dead ones."
The meeting broke up, but the unease stayed. The group that had been on the road stuck together, talking in low, serious voices. The others watched them, some with sympathy, some with lingering doubt.
Leo sat by himself on an old toolbox, looking out a crack in the door at the sunrise. He knew what he saw. He knew what he felt. The others could doubt all they wanted, but he had a cold, hard knot of certainty in his gut..