the end ?

Beams of light danced across the terminal floor, their reflections flickering gently on the cracked tiles like lives that couldn’t be saved. Heavy footsteps echoed, trailing through the silent corridor that seemed to swallow their sounds. There was tension in the air—not out of fear, but because they were far too exhausted to be afraid.

The stairs leading to the surface felt like a path out of a grave. And when they emerged above—it wasn't warmth that greeted them. It was a biting cold and the sight of a city that had lost its human face.

The wind struck their faces harshly. Dust swirled in the air. In the distance, small explosions flared, faint screams mingling with the whir of helicopters.

“Zzzttt... Trupp 9, come in... you have forty minutes left before the deadline... zzzttt... don’t be late...”

Beur’s radio crackled to life like the voice of a ghost collecting an old debt. The message was colder than the wind on their cheeks.

Beur clenched his fist and clicked his tongue. “Verdammt... we’re running out of time.”

Otto lowered his gaze for a moment, checking his watch—a battered old model with a scratched face and a fraying strap. On the back, a name was etched: Anna. He held his breath briefly before speaking.

“10:23, Kapitän... Our time’s running thin.”

Beur scanned the debris-strewn field ahead. “Get in the armored vehicle. Now. No breaks.”

But Erik raised his hand, his tone hesitant—like someone afraid of bruising a superior’s pride. “The space... it’s not enough, Herr Kapitän. We’re four over. Unless someone’s... you know, willing to stay behind.”

Beur gave him a sharp look. “No one stays behind.”

And, as always, that voice chimed in—cheerful, as if the end of the world were just a late afternoon joke.

“Relax! I’ve got a solution,” said Captain Sayeed with a confident grin, pointing toward the edge of the field. There stood an old vehicle that looked like it had just rolled out of a war museum.

A Willys MB Jeep. Old. Rusted. And somehow... still standing.

“She carried my great-grandfather when he escaped Germany in ‘45. Trust me, she’s bulletproof... and occasionally logic-proof too.”

Friedrich squinted. “When you say bulletproof... does that include bullets from time?”

“Don’t underestimate her, kid,” Sayeed added, patting the Jeep’s hood. “If she survived three wars and my brother’s first marriage, she can handle some zombies.”

Friedrich let out a slow, heavy sigh. “I feel like this thing’s taking us straight to hell. But at least… the ride there will be quick.”

Marcus gave a dry chuckle. “Well, if we blow up, we’ll save time too. Just skip to the ending.”

Cole stared at the Jeep. His gaze was empty, but his voice was low—almost a whisper. “Better to ride in an old engine… than die standing here.”

Otto cut in, “This argument’s costing us too much time. We can’t waste a single second.”

Beur turned to the four of them. “You’re taking it. Western route, over the rotary bridge. Don’t stop. Don’t leave the vehicle. No matter what happens.”

“Tch…” Friedrich scoffed. “We’re going.”

“Good,” Sayeed said, tossing the keys to Marcus, then patting the Jeep’s side. “Treat her gently. She gets jealous easily.”

Friedrich shuddered. “I’m not sure what’s older—this Jeep, or your rotten humor.”

Sayeed chuckled. “I’m not sure either. But both make people wanna throw up.”

The old engine roared, coughed once… twice… then came to life, as if protesting being woken from a long slumber.

Marcus took the wheel, wiping dust off the dashboard with a quick swipe of his hand. Otto sat beside him, eyes fixed out the window. In the back, Cole leaned with his axe across his lap, while Friedrich sat rigid, staring forward with a this-was-a-bad-idea look in his eyes.

The armored vehicle ahead began to move, cutting through the field. The old Jeep followed—leaving behind the ruins… and the lingering darkness that never got buried.

10:37pm liamos....

Sunlight bathed the wreckage—burning, roasting every unfortunate soul that dared walk beneath it. The dust-choked roads and scattered debris painted an illusion of hell on earth, swallowing time and hope alike.

The old Jeep rumbled through the devastation, following the shadow of the armored vehicle that led their way. Amid once-proud buildings that once reached for the skies, only silent skeletons remained—as if death itself had brushed against the city and decided to stay. And somehow, the air felt wrong, like walking through a giant graveyard, where the tombstones stretched high enough to touch the heavens.

“Tch… This damn heat is killing me...” Friedrich muttered hoarsely. He leaned back, wiping the sweat from his temple with his forearm. His distaste for the old vehicle now felt like a curse coming true. Just recalling Captain Sayeed’s comment made him shiver and nearly gag—it felt like hearing the words of a lecherous old man.

“Hang in there, Friedrich. We’re almost there,” Otto replied with little inflection, but it was oddly calming.

Cole glanced back from his seat. His voice was low, rippling with a tension that was starting to thicken.

“Yeah, but this silence… it’s bothering me.”

Friedrich gave a faint smirk. “Same. We should’ve seen a few corpses shambling by now. But this street—it’s quiet like a church on Christmas Eve.”

Otto nodded slowly. “And what’s stranger… even with the sun burning down, I feel like there’s a chill. Not normal cold… but like… a cold that bites.”

“I don’t know,” Otto muttered. “This is worse than the winter winds in Russia. At least there, you knew what was hunting you.”

Marcus, gripping the wheel up front, let out a frustrated sigh.

“Oh, come on, guys… I can’t focus if you all start speculating creepy crap like that.”

No one replied. They let the rumble of the engine and the distant drone of helicopters fill the oppressive silence.

Then—

A thunderous crash shattered the stillness. The wall of an old apartment building to their right collapsed with a deafening roar. A thick cloud of dust erupted, swallowing the Jeep in a gray haze. The armored vehicle ahead of them kept moving, fading into the distance.

“Ugh—cough cough—damn it, what was that?” Friedrich hacked violently, brushing dust from his face.

Otto squinted ahead. “What the hell just happened...?”

Then Cole shouted. “MARCUS!! FLOOR IT!! GOOO!!”

Marcus turned instinctively. “What?!”

His voice was cut off.

Something—some thing—was rising from the rubble. It didn’t walk. It crawled, dragging itself forward on seven grotesque limbs dangling from a body that looked like a crude patchwork of human flesh stitched together. Heads protruded from its sides, along with dozens of limbs—arms and legs, some still twitching, eyes blinking with expressions of eternal terror.

This wasn’t a normal zombie. This was...

Marcus didn’t wait for a second command. He yanked the wheel hard, spinning the Jeep in the opposite direction. Tires screeched against the cracked asphalt. The monster bellowed, then lunged forward, dragging its bulk with unnatural speed—too fast for something so massive.

Friedrich quickly raised his shotgun and fired off several rounds.
The blasts tore into the side of the fleshy mass, staggering it just enough to ruin its lunge—buying the old Jeep precious seconds to speed away.

Otto was still staring out the back, eyes wide. “What... what the hell was that?!”

Cole took a breath, shaking his head slowly. “At least... now we know where all the zombies went.”

Friedrich hissed, “That thing can’t be the only one out he—”

He never finished the sentence.
His gaze froze.

The world seemed to stop for a moment as Friedrich spotted something in the distance.
An IF helicopter—tailless—plummeting straight toward them.

How had they not noticed it before?
Maybe they’d grown numb to the sound of explosions.
Or maybe…

In an instant, the helicopter slammed into the remains of a building by the roadside and—BOOM.
Light. Fire. Explosion.

And then—