Chapitre 10: Chapter 10

"Ahhh!!!" PQ screeched in shock, backing away from the door. The person whom he thought could bestow his knowledge, was unfortunately a bloodthirsty, mindless zombie.

Revealing his crooked fangs, John dashed across the apartment, reacting extremely towards PQ's high-pitched scream.

Within a matter of three seconds, he was already a few steps away from the barred metal gate.

'I was careless! Unlocking the door fully exposed myself!' Thinking quickly, PQ ran for the fire exit door, mentally prepared to retreat, then, later on, face a fierce battle again.

As saliva spattered frenziedly from his mouth, John collided into the barred metal door, rattling it violently. Despite it being securely locked and bolted, John shook the supposedly immovable metal door with his brute strength, thrashing his undead body in pursuit of PQ's delicious flesh.

"Thank god! The metal door is locked tight." Hiding behind the fire exit door, PQ popped his head out, fearful of what would have happened if he had to fight such a ferocious zombie. Thankful for the barred metal door installed, his fear subsided. He crept forward to take a closer look at the zombie enthusiast.

John was around his age, maybe even a little younger. He had short black hair and used to have brown eyes if PQ remembered correctly.

He was almost the complete opposite of John. John was a straight-A student, loved the outdoors, and was independent, while he was average at studies at best, preferred lying on his bed and was still a mama's boy.

Now John was just another zombie, enraged and mindless.

Staring solemnly at the zombified John, PQ decided it would be best to end his life. He tried to close the gap between them to deal a fatal blow to John but was forced to back up due to his frenzy of arm swings.

Unlike the other zombies PQ had encountered so far, John was far more superior in strength and speed. His nails were shaped pointier than the other male zombie he had fought, clearly in the process of transforming into claws. While the male zombie's scratches only tore through the fabric of his leather jacket, a swipe from John's fingertips swiftly tore through PQ's outerwear. If it weren't for the old newspapers and layers of duct tape PQ wrapped around his arm for extra protection, it would have definitely penetrated his skin, possibly ending his story right here, right now.

"Glad I copied that one guy from a zombie movie." PQ smeared off the cold sweat condensing on his palms against his pants, murmuring in a shaky voice. The layers of duct tape over the old newspapers already had a thin line of indent on them, demonstrating the force and sharpness of John's claws.

'Wait… are they… are they?!' It was as he noticed the lucid juxtaposition between the nails of the zombies, a jarring revelation set in.

"John is evolving!"

PQ ran into the fire exit door, skipping multiple steps at a time as he jumped down the stairs, adrenaline powering his reckless actions. Rushing back into his home on the 8th floor, he grabbed a roll of duct tape on the kitchen counter. He then shifted his attention to the wooden stool sitting innocently at the corner of the room.

It was an old stool that he owned ever since he was born, used mainly for timeouts when he got into trouble as a child. Caressing stool that grew up with him with love and reluctance, he dragged it out of his home before smashing it on the concrete ground.

Disassembling into several pieces, PQ picked up the wooden legs and began chipping them away with his knife. Combining them, he tightened the wooden legs with multiple layers of duct tape before adding on the final component — the knife. Thus, he has created a makeshift weapon, an ugly ass spear that could initiate long-ranged stabs.

"Sorry John. But there is no way I'm letting you grow further." Having killed several zombies already, the thought of killing has numbed him a little.

Wielding his new weapon, he climbed up the many flights of stairs again, already panting when he reached the top.

Observing the thrashing John, PQ found an open angle where his flailing arms couldn't reach due to the restrictions of the barred metal door. He aimed his spear at John's skull.

"So long, John." With a swish, the spear thrust forward, striking John's forehead. However, PQ couldn't move the spear any more forward. His arms were already fully extended out, which meant it wasn't due to the hardness of John's skull, but instead, some other unknown factor.

'I don't believe it.' Taking half a step closer, he thrust out again, but the same situation occurred. Only the tip of the spear penetrated John's skin, leaving two tiny holes on his forehead.

What the hell is going on?

PQ retrieved his spear, inspecting it. "Did it loosen up? Was it not enough duct tape? Oh, wait… did it?"

Trying to test his theory, PQ took another half a step, thrusting out his spear. This time, the spear did in fact work its magic, penetrating a little deeper into John's forehead. However, the distance he stepped forward and the penetration distance of the spear did not logically translate.

How can 20 centimetres closer only poke barely 3 centimetres into John's forehead?

That was when PQ noticed the anomaly. Previously, the spear standing vertically was as tall as him, around 1.81 meters, but it was now only at his eye level. Dumbfounded, he shifted his eyes onto zombified John, who seemed to be drained of his energy, now flailing less fiercely and erratically.

Did he do this?

Feeling a chill down his spine, PQ felt fearful of the alien capability of zombie John. Biting his lower lip, PQ took another safe step forward, still beyond John's reach.

Tensing all his muscles, PQ performed a final thrust. Followed by the whistling of air, the makeshift spear sank deep into John's brain. PQ felt strong resistance at the center of John's brain before an abrupt burst of mysterious grey mist crawled up the tip of his spear.

In a blink of an eye, the grey mist made its way across the metallic blade of the knife, through the malleable duct tape, around the rough wooden stool legs, and eventually at where PQ's slender fingers contacted the spear.

Seeping into his flesh, an icy sensation coursed through PQ's veins like a blizzard.

"What's going on!" PQ gasped in shock, dropping the spear. Despite no longer making contact with the spear, the frosty coldness continued to meander until it finally reached his heart.

Immense pain began cycling throughout PQ's organs and blood vessels. It felt like millions of ants chewing his flesh from the inside, an unbearable and agonizing itch that could not be scratched.

"Ahhhhhhhhhh! Arghhhhhh!"

"Please stop!!!!"

Gut-wrenching screams rumble throughout the neighbourhood, exciting the hundreds of zombies searching for their next prey.

Unable to bear the torture, PQ fainted as his vision faded away.

If he were awake and transfixed his vision onto John, he would have noticed a barely noticeable smile blossoming on his face, as if he was a benevolent teacher who had just bestowed his inheritance upon the next generation.