The red Toyota Vios tore through the streets of Olongapo City, weaving past abandoned cars and scattered debris. The once-bustling roads were now filled with signs of chaos—discarded bags, smashed windshields, blood streaked across the pavement.

Ric kept a tight grip on the wheel, his jaw clenched, mind racing. The infected were everywhere now. He had seen what they could do—fast, relentless, driven by a hunger that defied reason. And yet, he wasn't afraid.

Fear was a distraction.

He had his family to protect.

Beside him, Cat clutched the dashboard, her nurse's uniform speckled with dried blood from her shift at the hospital. Her eyes darted between the windshield and the side mirrors, searching for any movement.

In the backseat, Sam sat curled against the door, breathing heavily. Her mind replayed the images from the school—the wild eyes, the gnashing teeth, the blood. She had seen one of her classmates ripped apart in front of her, and there had been nothing she could do.

Ric stole a glance at the rearview mirror. His daughter was tough, but even the toughest had their limits.

"You hanging in there, Sam?" he asked, voice steady but firm.

Sam swallowed hard, nodding. "Yeah, Dad."

She wasn't. But she didn't want to say it.

Cat exhaled sharply. "I still can't believe what I saw at the hospital. Those people—they weren't human anymore."

"They weren't," Ric agreed. His jaw tightened. "And they're everywhere now."

A sudden movement ahead snapped their attention forward.

A figure stumbled into the street, its body twitching, unnatural.

A man—or what used to be a man.

His clothes were torn, his skin slick with blood and grime. His head snapped toward them, dead eyes locking onto the car.

Ric's stomach turned cold.

The thing wasn't just moving—it was hunting.

More figures emerged from the alleyways, drawn by the sound of the car.

Cat gripped his arm. "Ric..."

"Hold on," he muttered.

Ric gunned the engine, swerving past them. The infected lunged at the vehicle, hands slamming against the windows. One of them—a woman with half her jaw missing—climbed onto the hood.

Her shattered teeth snapped at the glass.

Sam screamed.

Ric didn't hesitate. He hit the brakes—hard.

The infected flew forward, slamming against the pavement with a sickening crunch. Before it could move, Ric threw the car in reverse and ran it over, crushing its skull under the tires.

Cat's breath came out in a shudder. "Jesus."

Ric's voice was calm, measured. "Headshots. That's the only way to kill them."

Sam shuddered. "Why?"

"The brain's the only thing keeping them going," Ric said. "Destroy it, they stop. Anything else just slows them down."

A figure slammed against the windshield.

A man—no, not a man anymore. His face was twisted in a grotesque snarl, blood smeared across his chin, his eyes dark and soulless. He clawed at the glass, mouth snapping, trying to get in.

Sam screamed.

"Hold on," Ric growled.

He jerked the wheel, sending the infected rolling off the hood and onto the asphalt. He barely had time to breathe before more of them appeared—a small pack, emerging from between wrecked vehicles.

They sprinted toward the car.

"Shit," Cat gasped.

Ric made a split-second decision.

"We can't go around them," he said, reaching for the Glock 19 holstered at his hip. He flicked off the safety, his instincts kicking in.

"I'll take care of it. You two stay in the car."

"Ric—"

"Stay in the car." His tone left no room for argument.

He threw the door open, stepping out onto the cracked pavement, raising the pistol with practiced precision. The air was thick with the stench of blood and decay.

Breathe. Aim. Fire.

The first shot rang out, hitting the closest infected right between the eyes. The creature dropped instantly, its body twitching before going still.

Two more charged toward him.

Ric fired twice— one to each of their heads. Both collapsed in a heap.

But there were more.

Five. Six. Maybe more.

They came in waves, their bodies moving unnaturally fast, their limbs jerking in unnatural motions.

"Ric!" Cat called from the car.

Another one lunged from the left—Ric sidestepped, bringing his gun up and firing point-blank into its skull. Blood sprayed across the pavement.

Another came from behind.

"Behind you!" Sam shouted.

Ric turned sharply and fired. Click.

Empty.

The infected pounced.

Before it could reach him, a metal object smashed into its skull. The creature stumbled backward, dazed. Ric turned to see Cat, gripping a heavy tire wrench. Her face was pale but determined.

"Reload!" she barked at him.

Ric didn't hesitate. In one smooth motion, he ejected the empty magazine, grabbed another from his belt, and slammed it in place.

He fired again, putting the infected down for good.

Cat wiped her mouth. "Gunfire attracts them."

"I know," Ric said, pulling forward again. "But sometimes, it's the only way. You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah."

"Good hit."

She managed a small, tight-lipped smile. "You forgot I played softball in high school."

More shadows shifted ahead—more of them coming.

They had to fight.

Ric went back to the car and reached over to the passenger seat, unsheathing his 10" Rambo hunting knife from his gear bag. Polished stainless steel, the blade gleamed in the morning light. Deadly. Efficient. Silent.

He shoved it into Cat's hands. "Take this."

She stared at him. "You want me to—?"

"You see one coming? You aim for the head," he said, voice like iron. "It's them or us."

Cat hesitated, then gripped the handle. "Got it."

Ric turned to Sam. "You stay in the car. No matter what happens, you do not get out."

She nodded quickly. "Okay."

Ric killed the engine.

Silence swallowed them.

The infected turned toward the sudden absence of noise, their heads tilting unnaturally. Their hearing wasn't the best—but they could sense movement.

Two were getting too close.

Ric had his own 7" Browning knife in hand. He moved like a ghost, his military training taking over. He came up behind the first infected—looked like a local street sweeper from the Barangay, based on its clothing.

Ric grabbed its hair, yanked its head back, and drove the blade deep into its skull.

The body went limp instantly.

The second one turned to look at him.

Too late.

Ric lunged forward, slicing its throat—not to kill, but to disable. The creature staggered, confused, and that was all Ric needed. He slammed the knife up through its eye socket, twisting hard.

The body collapsed.

Cat's breath hitched. "Holy shit..."

Ric wiped the blade on his jeans, eyes scanning the street. More were coming.

"Back in the car," he ordered.

They scrambled inside as more of the infected started rushing toward them.

Ric turned the key—nothing.

The engine stalled.

"Come on, come on—" Ric muttered, twisting it again.

The infected sprinted at them, full speed.

Cat grabbed Sam's hand, pulling her close. "Ric—!"

Finally, the engine roared to life.

Ric slammed the gas.

The Toyota Vios shot forward, plowing through the horde. Bodies slammed against the hood, rolling off, bones cracking.

They were seconds away from being overwhelmed.

But they made it through.

Ric kept his foot down, barreling toward Gordon Heights.

No one spoke.

Because they knew—this was just the beginning.