Miranda searched the inside of the wrecked vehicle once more. Beneath the scorched dashboard, she found something critical a map showing an evacuation route to the Presidential Palace. A bold green arrow marked the fastest path, as if someone had carefully prepared for this exact journey.
"Their destination was the Presidential Palace… There must be answers there," she murmured.
She knew that to end this apocalypse, she needed more than just bullets and weapons she needed information. And what better place to find that than the nation's heart of operations? The Presidential Palace likely had access to population census data and detailed maps of zombie spread.
Without hesitation, Miranda took the map and quickly located a still functional vehicle at the gas station. She filled up the tank using leftover fuel cans nearby, fully aware that the roar of the engine would attract zombies. But that was part of the plan.
"I've got 24 hours before the second wave… before they start evolving."
She turned the key. The engine growled to life, echoing through the silent ruins of the city. As expected, groans and snarls followed the undead had heard her.
And that was exactly what she wanted.
Miranda hit the gas. One hand gripped the wheel, the other held her AK-203 out the window.
Tratatatata!
A stream of bullets burst forth, splattering heads and clearing her path through the chaos.
She glanced at the map as she drove—20 kilometers to the Palace. With her driving skills, she could make it in under 30 minutes if nothing major blocked the way.
Zombies surged from alleys and ruined buildings, chasing the noise like moths to a flame. But Miranda didn't slow down.
"Come on… follow me. Better to gather you in one place than let you evolve separately," she muttered, eyes locked on the road.
Driving steadily, Miranda showed just how trained and focused she was.
Tratatatata!
Bullets from her AK-203 struck the heads of nearby zombies with precision, while her left hand kept a firm grip on the wheel. The road behind her was now teeming with the undead, drawn in by the roar of the engine.
"Let them all come after me," Miranda muttered coldly. "Better I lure them in… than let them scatter and evolve one by one."
Earlier, she had found a military route map to the Presidential Palace inside the vehicle—a shortcut that cut through residential areas and bypassed the central city. It was a route once reserved for the evacuation of high-ranking officials.
But as she passed through District 12, an abandoned industrial zone, she was forced to slam on the brakes.
A large truck had overturned, completely blocking the main route.
"Damn it… I'll have to go through the inner city," she whispered.
Turning the wheel sharply, she drove into a side street, weaving between small buildings and narrow alleys. The engine noise echoed off the concrete walls, drawing zombies from every direction.
Thankfully, the detour was still part of the map, though it would cost her an extra 15 minutes.
The horde was growing too large—too dense. Miranda clenched her jaw. She couldn't shoot them one by one forever. She'd be surrounded.
Then her eyes landed on a fuel truck across the intersection.
Without hesitation, she fired.
BOOM!
The explosion shook the street, flames engulfing dozens of zombies. Their heads burned, their brains cooked—they died instantly.
An idea sparked in her mind. Shooting zombies one by one takes too long... but fire destroys the brain.
From then on, Miranda began targeting fuel tanks—cars, trucks, anything carrying gas or oil. Every explosion lit up the streets, reducing waves of zombies to ash and char.
Through sheer grit and fire, Miranda reached the Presidential Palace, exhausted but alive.
She scaled the perimeter fence and dispatched the remaining zombies silently, using the knife fixed to her rifle.
Inside the building, she entered the President's office and spotted a laptop lying open on the desk.
Miranda booted it up and began scanning the files. Her breath caught when she found a global map—only one continent, divided into four major cities: West, East, South, and North.
Each city had approximately 500 million residents.
That meant there were roughly 2 billion zombies worldwide.
She swallowed hard. How do you kill two billion undead in less than a year? Especially when they evolve and grow stronger with time?
Digging deeper into the files, Miranda found a glaring piece of data:
Their country was located in the northern region… and had access to 200 nuclear warheads.
If she could launch them, maybe she could wipe out massive clusters of zombies at once.
She quickly tried to access the system…
But then, a message flashed on-screen:
> ACCESS DENIED. PRESIDENTIAL FINGERPRINT REQUIRED.
She didn't give up there. Miranda dug deeper into the data and found a photo of the President. According to the records, at the time of the outbreak, he had been at his private residence.
Fortunately, the President's home wasn't far from the palace.
Without wasting a second, she jumped back into the vehicle and sped off toward his residence.
But when she arrived, the entire property was overrun with zombies.
Miranda clenched her jaw, tightened her grip on her rifle, and charged into battle. Dozens, then hundreds of the undead swarmed her. Blood splattered. Bullets flew. Her arms ached. Her body screamed in exhaustion—but she endured.
By the time she cleared the way and entered the house, she was gasping for air.
And the President… was nowhere to be found.
With her heart still racing, Miranda searched the house, scouring a fallen smartphone, checking the laptop, tapping into CCTV footage.
Then she found it.
The President had left the house alive, but in the last frame of the footage… he had turned.
Now he was just another zombie out there in the city.
Her head throbbed. Frustration hit her like a wave. But she wasn't done.
Determined, Miranda searched the house for anything useful—documents, hidden rooms, weapons… until she noticed something strange behind a bookshelf.
A concealed door.
Without hesitation, she kicked it open and stepped inside.
"Jackpot," she whispered.
Inside was a hidden control room. Four massive screens lit up the dark space—satellite surveillance feeds showing the entire continent, divided into the four major regions.
Each screen flickered with real-time visuals of the devastation.
Millions of zombies.
Miranda remained inside the hidden room, her eyes scanning the satellite feeds.
All four regions—North, South, East, and West—were overrun. Entire cities drowned in undead. Even animals like tigers, wolves, and bears now roamed the streets, turned into monstrous versions of themselves.
The continent had truly fallen.
She recalled the name of the virus—EvoVamir.
A single breath was all it took. Human or animal, the transformation into a zombie was instant.
It was far deadlier than anything she had ever seen in movies.
Yet… she hadn't turned.
She didn't know why. Maybe luck. Maybe something inside her was different. But she didn't have time to think about that.
[ WAVE TWO IS BEGINNING ]
The alert on the screen flashed red.
She checked the time.
She'd been here for 24 hours.
The second wave… had started.
Fortunately, there was enough food in the control room to last a while, but the sense of urgency hit her like a hammer.
She focused the four satellite cameras around the President's last known location, watching every inch.
Zombies were evolving—
Their claws were growing longer.
Their bodies looked stronger.
Some began moving in groups, with signs of primitive strategy.
Worst of all—they now relied not just on hearing, but sight too.
And then—
She found him.
The zombie President.
Still wearing the same clothes as seen in the CCTV.
Still recognizable.
There was hope.
Without wasting time, Miranda jumped into action. She raced toward the President's last location.
Zombies along the way locked eyes with her and began to chase.
"They can see now… great," she muttered, shifting gears and blasting forward.
One of them lunged at her window.
Miranda fired a clean shot—BANG!—right between the eyes.
The zombie dropped.
Still killable with a headshot.
She reached the site, spotting the mutated President zombie.
Miranda took aim, pulled the trigger, and blew his head clean off.
She then approached cautiously, took both his hands, and wrapped them securely.
She was betting on one thing:
That his fingerprints were still usable.
Back at the palace, she rushed to the secret room, opened the laptop, and laid his finger on the scanner.
...
ACCESS GRANTED
A glimmer of hope lit her eyes.
Whatever lay ahead—she had just unlocked the most powerful weapon left on the continent.
She took a deep breath.
With full access now unlocked, Miranda turned her attention back to the satellite control panel.
One by one, she scanned the densest population centers across the four regions. The undead swarmed in the millions—cities that once bustled with life now reduced to festering nests of evolved zombies.
Miranda began to assign the 200 nuclear warheads, carefully distributing them to 200 critical zones—each chosen based on heat signatures, undead density, and structural decay. She made sure to cover every major hive across the continent.
Her fingers hovered over the red LAUNCH button.
"This... is the only way," she whispered to herself.
"No more waiting. No more running."
With a final exhale, she pressed the button.
[ Nuclear Launch Confirmed. Countdown Initiated. ]
Dozens of icons began blinking on the digital map.
Missiles soared across the sky from silos scattered across the continent.
As the countdowns ticked down and the warheads neared their targets, Miranda closed her eyes for a moment and murmured:
"Let this nightmare end. Let me pass this test."
Then—
Blinding lights.
Shockwaves.
Mushroom clouds rising into the darkened sky.