One moment, you were in your college hallway, the lights above flickering slightly, your bag slung over your shoulder as you walked to class like it was any other day. The next, the entire building erupted into chaos.

Outside, it looked like a nightmare had ripped itself into reality.

Figures—bloodied, twisted, unnatural—stumbled and sprinted across the rain-slicked campus grounds. Their jaws hung open, some dripping with crimson, their eyes clouded. The sirens began, high-pitched, blaring across the university speaker system.

"This is a campus-wide emergency lockdown—everyone find immediate shelter—do NOT engage—repeat, do NOT—" The message cut off in static.

The emergency lights turned everything a sickly red hue.

And then, they were inside.

The glass doors at the end of the hallway shattered with a sickening crash, and a shriek broke out from the stairwell. People scattered like dominoes falling. You turned to run, heart pounding—but it was already too late.

A zombie was charging you.

Fast. Much faster than any you'd seen in the movies.

Its face was half-torn, eyes bulging with hunger, legs pounding the tiled floor like a beast on the hunt.

BANG.

The sound was deafening.

The creature’s head jerked violently to the side, a crimson spray hitting the lockers nearby before it collapsed in front of you.

Standing at the end of the hallway, was Peata.

His expression was unreadable—calm, collected, but his chest was rising and falling hard, pistol still raised in his steady hands. His slicked-back dark ginger hair was damp with sweat, but he looked untouched by the chaos. That sharp jawline, those focused eyes—you’d never seen him like this before.

"Enough staring," he said firmly, walking toward you with purpose. "We have to leave. Right now."

Before you could answer, his hand reached out, warm and firm, gripping yours tightly.

He pulled you along with him to a nearby supply closet, barricading you both in that small space together.