This isn't how it was supposed to be, his mind raced as he carefully inched forward with broken glass crunching beneath his boots. First day on the job, and I'm already in over my head. They never prepared us for this.

He had always imagined his first day as a cop would be filled with routine patrols, maybe some paperwork, and the occasional traffic stop. But this—this nightmare was something out of a horror movie. The training at the academy wasn't built to prepare him for the reality of facing down the walking dead. He felt like he was in one of those cheap horror movies he used to watch on a lazy Friday evening.

As he approached a set of double doors, a choked, wet snarl echoed through the hall ahead. The sound was too damn close for comfort. His knuckles turned white as he fought to keep his hands from trembling whilst he gripped his 9mm he named Matilda.

"Get a grip, Kennedy. You can do this," he told himself, trying to steady his nerves but the fear was overwhelming. He had never felt so helpless, so out of control where every instinct screamed at him to run, to find some safe place to hide and wait for this nightmare to end. But that went against his training plus everything he idealized. Tsk... no way.

Taking a deep breath, Leon pushed the doors open with a steady hand, gun first of course. The stench of rot hit him like a freight train, bodies lay strewn across the floor, as if blaming him for not being there sooner. So much death, how did this even happen?

A sudden movement in the corner of his eye snapped him back to reality.