Weapon System in Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 57: Trapped in the Building

Thomas exhaled sharply, his HK416 clicking empty as he dropped the spent magazine.

He was stranded, outnumbered, and cut off from command.

And to make things worse?

A horde of undead was now funneling into the high-rise, drawn by the noise of his fight with the Reaper.

Their rotting figures stumbled through the ruined office space, former employees now shambling monsters, their dead eyes glowing faintly in the dim emergency lights.

Thomas knew he couldn't fight them all here. He needed to move fast.

The only escape?

The rooftop.

He reloaded his last magazine, gripping his rifle tight as the first wave of zombies lunged forward.

BANG-BANG-BANG!

Each headshot dropped a target instantly, but more kept coming.

They crawled over cubicles, pushed through shattered glass partitions, and toppled over office chairs in their relentless pursuit.

One of them—a former security guard, still wearing his ragged uniform—lunged at him, hands outstretched.

Thomas sidestepped, planting his boot into the zombie's knee, snapping it backward with a sickening crunch.

The creature collapsed, but he didn't let it hit the ground.

SHINK!

He slammed his combat knife into its skull, wrenching it free just in time to parry another attacker.

A bloated corpse in a torn business suit grabbed at his vest.

Thomas drove his rifle barrel into its mouth and pulled the trigger.

BANG!

Skull fragments painted the ceiling, and the creature dropped lifelessly.

More were coming.

No time to waste.

Thomas sprinted for the emergency exit, kicking the stairwell door open.

CLANG!

The echo was like a dinner bell, and immediately, the sound of shuffling feet and guttural moans rose from above.

The stairwell was crawling with infected.

And they were waiting for him.

He didn't hesitate.

BANG-BANG-BANG!

His shots tore through the closest zombies, clearing a brief opening.

But the stairwell was cramped, a perfect kill zone for the undead. They didn't need tactics—only numbers.

And Thomas was trapped between them and the rooftop.

"Shit."

No choice.

He had to fight through.

He charged forward, slamming his rifle butt into the face of a snarling office worker. Teeth shattered, and the zombie stumbled back.

With one smooth motion, he drew his knife, driving it up under the jaw of another attacker, twisting the blade before ripping it free.

More zombies crawled from the floors above, some dropping onto the railings, trying to pounce on him like animals.

One fell straight at him.

Thomas reacted instantly, catching it mid-air and using its momentum to slam it into the wall so hard its skull caved in.

Another one lunged, its mouth wide open, ready to sink its teeth into his arm.

He grabbed it by the throat, turned, and threw it down the stairwell.

The zombie hit the ground three floors below, bones snapping on impact.

He kept pushing upward, carving his way through the narrow stairwell, step by step.

His muscles burned, exhaustion clawing at him, but he refused to stop.

One floor left.

Almost there.

The rooftop access door was just ahead—

But so was a cluster of zombies blocking the last flight of stairs. And there is a lot of them, going through them would be suicide and he doesn't have much ammo left in him. The only thing he could do was to lure them out of the stairwell by letting them chase him. He still has a bit of stamina left. He can do it.

"Alright, you freaks," he muttered under his breath, gripping his rifle tightly. "Let's play."

Thomas turned on his heel and sprinted back into the cubicle farm. The zombies snarled, their guttural moans rising as they lurched after him.

The first cubicle wall was low. He vaulted over it with ease, landing in a crouch.

A zombie lunged from the side— he ducked, rolled forward, and came up running.

The next cubicle had a desk. He hopped onto it and leapt forward, gripping the top of a partition wall.

His body swung over the edge, and he kicked off with his feet, propelling himself toward the next set of workstations.

The zombies were barreling through desks and partitions behind him, clumsy but relentless.

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One got too close.

Thomas spun midair, aimed downward, and fired—

BANG!

The headshot splattered brains across the ceiling, and the corpse crumpled against the overturned chairs.

His momentum carried him forward. He landed, rolled, and sprang onto another desk.

A cubicle wall ahead was too high to vault.

Thomas planted his foot on an abandoned office chair and kicked off it, launching himself upward.

His fingers caught the ledge of the cubicle wall, but the weight of his gear nearly pulled him back down.

A zombie clawed at his boot, its fingers grazing the fabric.

"Not today," Thomas grunted.

With sheer strength, he hauled himself up, rolled over the top, and dropped down on the other side.

But he wasn't safe yet.

More zombies rounded the corner, their decomposing bodies squeezing through the narrow cubicle aisles.

"Shit."

He needed a way out—fast.

His gaze flicked to the emergency exit sign at the far end of the room.

A door. An escape.

But he had to reach it first.

Thomas sprinted again, weaving through the maze of office furniture.

His boots thumped against the tile floor as he dove between overturned desks, narrowly dodging the grasping hands of the infected.

Another cubicle wall blocked his way.

No time to slow down.

Thomas kicked off a filing cabinet, vaulted onto a desk, then leapt forward—

His hands caught an exposed ceiling beam.

Using his core strength, he swung forward, releasing at the peak of his momentum—

And landed directly in front of the emergency exit.

But just as he grabbed the handle—

A zombie lunged from the side.

Thomas turned, rifle raised—

Click.

"Shit. Out."

The zombie snarled, its rotten breath washing over him as it threw itself at him.

Thomas didn't hesitate.

He sidestepped, grabbed the back of its head, and slammed its skull against the metal door.

CRACK!

The impact caved in its face, and the creature slumped lifelessly to the floor.

Before he could recover, another zombie lunged—

Thomas ducked, reaching for his combat knife—

But before he could strike,

CRACK!

A baseball bat swung out of nowhere, obliterating the zombie's skull in a spray of bone and rotting flesh.

Thomas barely had time to react before the attacker—the one who had just saved him—stepped into view.

A woman.

She was short-haired, just about her neck, and wearing a white button-down shirt stained with blood tucked into a black skirt—as if she had once been a secretary before the world collapsed.

She held the bloodied bat over her shoulder, her expression calm but wary.

"Who the hell are you?"