A guttural snarl tore through the night. From within the writhing sea of corpses, a zombie came bounding forward—leaping from one rotting head to another with the agility of a wild animal. It wore a tattered yellow courier uniform. A delivery guy, once. Now its movements were unnervingly fast—faster than any of the others. Its limbs had mutated grotesquely, hands and feet twice the size of a normal zombie's. The sneakers it once wore had long since split apart; the frayed remnants dangled pitifully from its heels while its swollen, corpse-white toes clawed at the ground. It lunged ahead, kicking another zombie out of its way. One poor creature had its face crushed beneath the courier's foot—its bulging eyes popped free of its sockets with a wet snap. The eyeballs, still trailing its optic nerves, hit the ground with a dull plop before being ground into the mud by the trampling horde. The mutated courier charged on, unrelenting, climbing over bodies toward the scent of living flesh—the sweetest prey. Then, it slammed headfirst into an invisible barrier. A sharp thud echoed. And then—an explosion. The blast rattled the air, halting the pack inside. The zombies outside, moments from swarming through, suddenly shifted course, their hunger redirected by the thunderous noise. Just then, Theresa's Aeroshield flickered for a brief second. A flash of silver sliced through the dark—one clean strike split open two zombies' skulls.Two Level 5 gleamstones dropped neatly into her palm: one was that of mental manipulation, the other speed-type. Theresa didn't even glance at them. The moment she took the gleamstones, her Aeroshield snapped back up, solid and bright. A wave of searing flames roared out in front of her, clearing a fiery path through the horde. Taking advantage of the explosions outside—drawing part of the swarm away—Theresa surged forward through the thinning crowd, forcing her way out of the underground garage. As she neared the exit, her gaze flicked to the parking area behind her—rows of abandoned cars, plenty of them still intact. Just before she burst into the open air, she lifted her hand and hurled a massive fireball back into the garage. The explosion hit a moment later. A thunderclap of sound shook the ground as every car inside went up in flames. Amid the inferno and the deafening roar, Theresa sprinted for her life, blazing a trail through the chaos. The zombies outside—those already drawn to the first explosion—were now whipped into a frenzy by the new, even louder blast, surging toward the burning garage instead. Theresa held Quentin tight against her back and ran harder, faster. Run. Run faster. Behind her stretched a tide of darkness—an endless, heaving mass of the undead. The street. The railings. The station plaza. The train platforms—everything was swallowed by the chase. "Quentin, close the door!"Theresa shoved Quentin off her back, sending him tumbling toward the main entrance. He landed steadily, grabbed the big glass doors with both hands, and pushed them shut. The moment the doors sealed, Theresa slipped through the narrowing gap—barely making it inside. A sharp bang echoed as the glass doors slammed shut. Quentin snapped the top and bottom locks into place with two quick clicks. Then came the pounding. Heavy, rapid thuds shook the glass as the undead slammed into it—wave after wave, packed tight as sardines, their rotting faces pressed against the panels. Theresa kept running. Quentin, having locked the door, sprinted after her. That door wouldn't hold for long—maybe thirty seconds at best. They had to reach the car and get out. Theresa charged up onto the platform—only to freeze. "Where is everyone?" She turned—and saw Louisa's group already driving off ahead. "Theresa! We're here!" Louisa and her crew stood surrounded by piles of zombie corpses. As Theresa called out, Orren was still crouched over the last body, prying a gleamstone from its skull. The moment they heard her voice, the car engine roared back to life. Orren scrambled aboard in a panic.Theresa frowned at the sight of the vehicle racing toward her. She didn't have the time or patience to argue with them now. The second the car slid back to the platform, the glass doors behind her gave out completely. A deafening crash exploded through the station as shards of glass sprayed in every direction. Then came the tide. Zombies poured through the shattered entrance like a black wave. And this was after most of them had already been drawn away by the explosions in the underground garage. At that moment, Firestone was nothing but a city of the dead. Theresa glanced at the flood of zombies surging toward her, grabbed Quentin by the arm, and vaulted onto the roof of Louisa's vehicle. The modified truck thundered into overdrive, the sudden surge pinning her against the frame. Miles slammed his foot on the gas. Theresa gripped the overhead bar with one hand and held Quentin tight with the other as the car shot out of the station, blazing through the chaos.