The door to the bike room flies open as Decker and Abby race out of the building. Through the crowd of zombies around me I see them race over. Decker takes the lead as his silver sword swings out cutting into the horde.

Abby catches up to Decker stabbing out with the spear I made for her. It strikes true, killing a zombie almost immediately. She stabs at another and another as she fights to get to me.

Why are they here? It would have been safer to stay in the building and let this horde disperse. Did they really come to save me? But why me?

I’m weak. I have no strength to offer them. I’m not a predator.

The most I have to offer is my ability to use mana but any of them can use it too. Probably better than me in all honesty. Why waste the time and resources to save me?

The two draw attention from the horde splitting it into two factions. One focuses on me and the others on them.

I continue my hackinng and slashing at the horde in front of me. I cancel two Mana Scythes as I try to preserve as much mana as possible. Down to two scythes I’m barely managing to keep the zombies from grabbing hold of me.

Decker slashes out with his sword while Abby stabs out strategically from behind him. As they fight together I think of a sword and shield as I watch them. Decker almost acts as a wall for Abby to hide behind as she puts down zombie after zombie.

My focus slips and I feel one of my scythes fade as the zombies push in on me. They stumble over the bodies of their friends chomping at the bits to get me. My arm feels sore as I swing the tire iron down at the zombies heads. My last remaining scythe works over time to just keep the zombies hands off of me.

I know the moment they grab onto me I’m finished. Yet I’m so incredibly tired. I just want to go to sleep but something deep in me urges me to fight on. To not give in. To not give up.

My mantra of being the predator repeats in my mind but I know it was just a lie I told myself. To convince myself to fight instead of run. I’m just like my mother in that way.

She ran and abandoned me with my father. She claimed she was going to come back for me. That she was leaving to find us a better place to live. Fifteen years later I ran out on my own to find my own place.

My father put me in the hospital when she left. Blaming me for her leaving. And it was my fault.

According to my mother he never once lifted a hand to her before I was born. It was my birth that changed him. My birth made her want to leave so badly that she’d leave me behind.

When I was younger I would try to fight back against him. But I quickly realized that only made the beatings worse. I would run and hide but I never fought back. And eventually I even stopped running from his drunken assaults. That is until I turned eighteen.

I hadn’t awoken to the cheerful happy birthday wishes of a loving parent. I had awoken to the drunk man looming over me. When he realized I was awake he yelled at me about how I’ve been free loading long enough. That it was my turn to go out and earn money. He forced me to start working a construction job that day.

A few months later I graduated highschool. My future was ahead of me and I only wanted one thing. To go to college.

I wasn’t looking for money or any help from him. I just wanted to let him know what I had desired. He beat me that night. When he finished I made my mind up. I had had enough.

I collected what I could and ran. I hitch hiked to the closest city and found a place to sleep. With what little money I had, I got a hotel room and found a job working security. Then I got my own place and have been working to save up for college.

My father was right ultimately. I’m never going to go to college. The world’s ended. That ship has sailed.

So what am I fighting for? Why am I struggling so much for every breath? What do I have to live for?

And to top that off there are people risking their lives for me right now. The worthless child who ruined his parents' life. The worthless kid who was too scared to seek help.

I’m no predator. I’m not strong. I’m a rat being chased by a cat and found a gun and thought he could stop running and fight back.

My core pulses in pain as my last drop of mana is consumed pushing back the horde around me.

I’m just a rat with a fancy gun and I’m all out of bullets.

I swing out with the bloodied tire iron.

But even rats have survival instincts. A cornered rat will bite a cat. Fancy gun or no gun.

I swing up, knocking a zombie’s head back. Then I pull down, striking the zombie in the head powerfully. It’s skull caves in and it drops to the ground. Killed instantly by the assault.

Another zombie pushes in on me from my left. I grab out with my free hand holding the zombie at bay by its neck. Bringing the tire iron up I beat it across it’s head once. Twice. A third time depleting its health to zero and leaving a bloodied crater in it’s skull.

Dropping the zombie I feel a steel-like grip pull me back by my shoulders. I twist, throwing the hands off of me. I swing out, knocking the zombie into the side of the building.

I used to imagine what it would be like to be dead. Lots of people have their own personal beliefs. Some claim that there's an after life that you get into after being judged. Others expect a level of reincarnation. Personally I didn’t really care.

I would daydream about it just being an endless stretch of nothing. Absolutely nothingness where you never feel pain or sadness again. I wrote about this hope of mine in a school assignment once. I was brought into the counselors office with my father a few days later. They asked if I was suicidal and if everything was going good at home.

After that I never told anyone my hopes of death. I would occasionally imagine taking my own life. But every time I went to do it something stopped me. I felt like I didn’t deserve the relief that it would offer.

Is that why I continue to fight now?

I swing down on a dazed zombie.

Do I still need more punishment? More pain before I’m worthy of death?

The zombie grabs my leg, bringing it’s open mouth to it. I stab down with the flat end of the tool. It easily passes through the thing’s skin and skull killing it before it could bite me.

Looking up I see the open maw of another zombie. Spit strings between it’s blackened and yellow teeth. The rancid smell of decay and rot fills my senses. My arm races up pressing back on the zombie's neck.

It pushes in on me, grabbing me and trying to pull me closer. With all the strength I can muster I kick out with my good leg.

Pain explodes from my other leg as all my weight crashes down on it. The zombie’s grip on me loosens as it flies backwards, tripping over the bodies of it’s comrades.

Death is too kind a fate for a guy that ruined the lives of his parents. Who deserved to be abandoned. Who deserved every beating given to him.

I roar out, summoning everything I have in me. Something in my mana pool pulses at my summon. I feel energy rush through me pushing back the growing fatigue.

The bloodied tire iron raises high above me. Its shiny metal is nowhere to be seen under the gore coating it. My bloody knuckle is white with the effort of gripping it.

It sings through the air as I bring it down with everything I am. The zombie’s face vanishes in a gory hole. The light above it’s head flashes black.

Looking up I see a mass of dead bodies littering the street. To my left Decker and Abby finish off the last few from the group that broke. Abby looks up to me. Concern and worry burning in her eyes like dazzling stars.

I see her mouth move but hear no sounds. Decker turns to me and I see worry written in his brows. It’s funny, I never noticed all the wrinkles on his face. Has he always looked this old?

They race towards me as I feel gravity becoming stronger around me. I stumble forwards trying to catch myself but the mass of bodies beneath me catches my foot. I fall on top of the dead bodies.

Hands roll me over and I see Abby looking down at me. Her green eyes sparkling like seas of emeralds. Her mouth moves but no sounds reach me. Decker stands above her, blood covering his black tank top. When did he change clothes?

The shadows press in on me as I feel cold. Something blue flashes before my eyes but it’s too blurry to make out. My eyes grow heavy as my thoughts feel sluggish. The darkness races in as I pass out.