Mary dashed down the staircase, her arms brushing against the shaking walls as the entire building trembled under the assault of the Gargantuan. Her boots struggled to find stable footing on the quivering steps, but she pressed forward with grim determination.
Behind her, Jarlath followed, his pace slower, an amused smirk tugging at his lips despite his own struggle to keep balance.
The pair reached the storage unit at the base of the stairwell, the air thick with dust dislodged from the crumbling structure. Mary flung open the steel doors with a grunt and stepped inside, the dim light casting sharp shadows over racks of makeshift weaponry.
Without hesitation, she began arming herself—her hands moving with the precision of someone long accustomed to battle. A sturdy pipe wrench, a grenade belt with gleaming mounted rounds, five carefully selected knives, and two submachine guns found their places on her person.
Jarlath sauntered inside and dropped onto the floor with a flourish, his gaze idly sweeping over the array of weapons.
He propped his chin on one hand, smirking as he spoke. "Do you really think you stand a chance against that thing? The Gargantuan? We should be running, not entertaining your suicidal vendetta against zombies," he remarked, his tone dripping with sarcasm.
Mary shot him a glare that could have pierced steel. "It's because of your incompetence in controlling that overgrown freak that I have to kill it myself! Why don't you run away instead? I'm not stopping you this time!"
Jarlath's grin evaporated, replaced by a cold, serious stare. "I'm not going anywhere," he replied, his voice lower now, almost a growl. "Not until you tell me what I want to know. You have information about that fat bastard, and I'm not letting you out of my sight until you spill it. Why not just tell me now, since you're planning to get yourself killed here anyway?"
Mary's eyes narrowed, her voice icy with defiance. "Nice try, but you'll get nothing out of me. Go ahead—wander the ruins of New York City hoping someone else will tell you where he is. Spoiler alert: they won't. Most of the survivors are too terrified of him to even whisper his name. Your so-called puppets? They're a bad joke compared to him."
The jab landed harder than Mary expected. Jarlath's lips twitched into a bitter sneer, and he let out a low, almost maniacal laugh. "You mean to tell me they fear him more than they fear me?" His voice was sharp, disbelief barely masking his irritation. "You dare lie to me like that?"
"I'm not lying," Mary snapped, fastening the grenade belt tightly around her waist. "To them, you're nothing more than a tantrum-throwing, sociopathic child. If you want to find him, you'll need me to guide you to his settlement. And I'm not going anywhere until that oversized bastard is dead." Her words were resolute, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Jarlath's jaw tightened, his frustration evident as he muttered under his breath. "She looks like Priscilla, but she sure as hell doesn't act like her." Rising to his feet, he brushed dust off his pants and followed Mary begrudgingly, his expression dark with barely contained rage.
The ground shook violently, sending Jarlath stumbling forward. He cursed under his breath as he landed face-first on the floor, the Gargantuan's distant roar vibrating through the air.
Pushing himself up, he glared at Mary's back, his mind seething with venomous thoughts.
"I'll kill her after this is over," he thought bitterly, his fists clenching at his sides. "Once the fat bastard is dealt with, she'll pay for every insult, every humiliation. I won't let her get the last word."
———
Outside Life Storage, the Gargantuan hammered its massive fists against the building's entrance, each blow shaking the structure and echoing across the street. The deafening noise drew the attention of countless zombies, their shambling forms converging on the chaos.
They clawed and pressed against the windows, but the bulletproof glass held firm, impervious even to the Gargantuan's relentless assault.
Thud! Thud!
Though the blows couldn't break the glass, they left visible cracks and dents that hinted at the creature's monstrous strength.
The storage unit's entrance flew open, revealing Mary with a fiery glare etched across her face. Her grip on the twin submachine guns tightened as she stepped out into the fray. "Hey! Die!" she snarled.
Pff-pff-pff!
Without hesitation, Mary unleashed a hail of bullets, cutting down zombies with a frightening precision born of desperation and fury. Each round found its mark, puncturing the undead foreheads with surgical accuracy.
When the magazines clicked empty, she tossed the weapons aside, drawing a carving knife in one fluid motion. She plunged it into the skulls of the advancing zombies, one after another, her movements quick and brutal.
She didn't care if the hive mind registered her attacks. Let it come. She welcomed the challenge, her hatred for the undead fueling her every strike.
Her gaze snapped upward, locking on the Gargantuan. A crooked grin tugged at her lips as she shouted, "So you're a big guy, huh? The sun's getting real low!"
With a flick of her wrist, she hurled the carving knife at its head. The blade struck its thick skull, only to bounce harmlessly off as though it had struck a steel wall.
Her smirk twisted into a scowl. "Thick-headed abomination," she muttered, her frustration mounting.
The Gargantuan roared in response, a thunderous bellow that reverberated through the street. Mary clapped her hands over her ears just in time to save her eardrums from bursting.
Before she could recover, the Gargantuan seized a van in both massive hands and hurled it in her direction.
Acting on instinct, Mary threw herself to the ground, narrowly avoiding being flattened as the van crashed behind her in an eruption of metal and glass.
The Gargantuan lumbered forward, its movements ponderous and awkward. A pack of Runners broke free from the horde, sprinting past the giant and honing in on Mary with unnatural speed.
"Stop," Jarlath commanded, his voice cutting through the din like a blade. Six of the Runners froze mid-stride, turning to form a protective barrier around him as he advanced. "Surround and protect me from your kind," he ordered coldly, his gaze fixed on the chaos.
The Gargantuan swung one of its massive arms at Jarlath, but he sidestepped with a practiced ease. One of the Runners took the brunt of the blow, its body crumpling under the impact.
Jarlath spared the fallen zombie a glance, his lips curling into a disdainful sneer.
"Pathetic," he muttered under his breath, continuing his measured pace toward Mary as his remaining Runners tore through the approaching horde.
Reaching Mary, Jarlath knelt on one knee, his expression an infuriating mix of mockery and indifference. "Are you enjoying yourself?" he drawled, his voice laced with venom. "You should've been squashed by that van. It would've saved me the trouble of keeping a mongrel like you alive."
His disdain wasn't hidden. Deep down, Jarlath wished the van had finished her off. If it weren't for the vital information she held about Byron Kade, he'd have fed her to his Runners already.
Mary shot to her feet, her anger boiling over. Without hesitation, she swung her pipe wrench at one of his Runners, obliterating its head with a single, savage blow. "Are you going to help me or not!? Because I don't mind killing you next!"
Jarlath stood, brushing imaginary dust off his jacket with an exasperated scoff. "Help you? Why would I? If you're such a legendary 'Zombie Slayer,' you shouldn't need my help to handle one measly zombie. Or maybe you're just all talk. A mere 'Zombie Killer,' not worthy of the title you flaunt."
Mary's nostrils flared as she pointed a trembling finger at the Gargantuan, now lifting a bus with ease. "Then tell me its weaknesses, you arrogant asshole!"
Jarlath sighed in irritation, running a hand through his hair as though Mary's tone physically pained him. "Fine! Gargantuans are as strong as a rhino—probably stronger—and their durability is slightly comparable to titanium. But," he added with a smirk, "they're slow when walking. Think of a turtle, lumbering and awkward. That's why my 'friend' there is strolling toward you instead of charging. It's like facing the Hulk, but—"
"Don't change the subject!" Mary snapped, firing a shot at a Whippersnapper zombie that had been lurking behind a nearby taxi. The bullet found its mark, dropping the creature instantly.
Jarlath chuckled, undeterred by her hostility. "You're no fun, are you? Fine, I'll share. Gargantuans have two glaring weaknesses: their eyes and ears. Blind it, deafen it, and it'll stumble around like a drunk, completely lost. It won't even chase you."
He paused, his smile widening as if the situation wasn't dire.
"Of course, if you want to kill it, you'll need some heavy firepower. Explosives—bazookas, grenades, that sort of thing. Sure, its skin is tough, but nothing's truly invulnerable. Enough force will eventually break through."
Mary's expression twisted into pure rage. "Are you serious right now? You couldn't have told me this before I left my stash?!"
"Hey, you didn't ask," Jarlath replied mockingly, raising his hands in faux innocence. "You just ran out here like some wannabe action hero. Not my fault you're charging headfirst into a fight without a plan."
"You're a piece of shit!" Mary spat, fury blazing in her eyes.
She turned and sprinted back toward the Life Storage building, intent on retrieving explosives. But before she could reach the entrance, the Gargantuan hurled the bus it had been holding.
The massive vehicle slammed into the ground, blocking her path and cutting off any chance of re-entering the building.
The bulletproof glass windows mocked her in their unbreakable silence, leaving her with only one option: blind and deafen the beast before worrying about killing it.
Mary spun on her heel and charged toward the Gargantuan, weaving through the shambling zombies that lunged at her.
She vaulted onto the hood of a car, using the momentum to leap higher, aiming to stab the massive creature with her knife.
But the Gargantuan's hands shot out with surprising speed, snatching her mid-air as if she were a mere insect.
Her eyes widened in shock as she glared at Jarlath, who leaned casually against a lamppost, smirking. "You lying bastard!" she shouted, struggling against the creature's iron grip.
Jarlath laughed, the sound dripping with amusement. "I said it's slow as a turtle when walking. I didn't say it couldn't throw hands slowly. How stupid are you?"
"You fucker!" Mary screamed as pain wracked her body. The Gargantuan's grip tightened, bones snapping under the immense pressure.
Blood trickled from her nose and mouth, each breath more labored than the last.
"Save me, you asshole! You still need me! You don't know where Byron Kade is!"
Jarlath settled himself on the road, crossing his legs as if watching a mildly entertaining show. His brainwashed Runners dispatched the zombies approaching him with cold efficiency. "True," he admitted nonchalantly.
"Your information would save me some time, and survivors aren't exactly forthcoming about him. But I've been alone for two years. I can find him eventually—whether it takes two years or a hundred."
Mary's vision blurred as agony consumed her. She cursed herself for saving him the night before. She should have left the psychopath to rot.
"Aaaagh!"
Her scream tore through the air as the Gargantuan's jagged teeth sank into her arms, severing them in a brutal crunch.
Blood sprayed like a fountain, and the beast's grip shifted, ripping her lower torso apart with terrifying ease.
Gritting her teeth, Mary refused to die without a fight. She twisted her head just in time to avoid the Gargantuan's next bite and spat a mouthful of blood directly into its eye.
The beast roared in surprise, loosening its grip just enough for her mangled body to drop to the ground.
Now armless, bleeding profusely, and missing the lower half of her torso, Mary lay crumpled on the pavement, gasping for air. Blood pooled around her in rivers, her body trembling from the unbearable pain.
"How unfortunate. I couldn't save her..." Jarlath muttered, his voice tinged with an emotion he rarely allowed himself to feel.
For a fleeting moment, Mary's expression—filled with despair and regret—mirrored that of someone he hadn't thought about in years. Priscilla. That same look of sadness flashed before his mind, a haunting memory of her final moments before she turned into a zombie.
His breath caught, and his hands began to tremble.
KRRRRAKKK!
Then, with a deafening crunch, the Gargantuan brought its massive foot down on Mary's chest, silencing her forever.
Jarlath's heart twisted as the sight burned itself into his memory. The face she wore in her dying moments was too familiar. Too much like Priscilla.
For a brief second, his grip on the present slipped. His instincts screamed at him to bury the memory, to suppress it like so many others. 'You're not a man', he told himself. 'You're a monster. Don't forget that.'
Shaking off the ghost of regret, Jarlath's expression hardened. He turned to his undead minions, his voice cold and commanding. "Blind him. Deafen him. Do whatever it takes to take our 'friend' down."
Six of his zombies broke off from the group and hurled themselves at the Gargantuan. The creature rumbled in confusion as the undead clawed at its face, their rotting fingers desperately scrabbling at its eyes and ears.
But the massive beast fought back with brutal efficiency.
One by one, it pried the zombies off, slamming them into the pavement with bone-shattering force.
With a low growl, it grabbed one zombie and hurled it directly at Jarlath. The projectile was intercepted by another of Jarlath's minions, which exploded into a gruesome mess of gore and bone.
Jarlath groaned, wiping viscera from his face. "Seriously, my 'friend,' couldn't you have aimed somewhere else?"
The Gargantuan responded by hefting two nearby vehicles and flinging them toward him.
Jarlath dodged at the last second, but three of his remaining zombies were crushed beneath the flying wreckage, leaving him with only two minions at his side.
As he scrambled to his feet, he barely evaded a car the Gargantuan shoved forward with its massive foot, the improvised projectile flattening dozens of common zombies in its path.
"Damn it," Jarlath muttered, his frustration mounting. He knew better than anyone how dangerous Evo-types like the Gargantuan were.
It wasn't just raw power that made them terrifying; unlike the mindless Common-types, they possessed a predatory cunning, akin to a bear.
It was this faint glimmer of intelligence that set them apart, making them creatures that survivors fled from rather than fought.
"Realistically, no one with half a brain would take one of these head-on," he muttered bitterly, glancing over his shoulder.
His grimace deepened when he saw a fresh wave of zombies drawn in by the Gargantuan's presence and the commotion. The hivemind connection made the situation even more volatile.
"Great. Just what I needed," he growled. Then, turning to his remaining forces, he barked, "Ten of you, move that bus! The rest, defend me!"
The controlled zombies obeyed without hesitation, swarming toward the bus blocking the entrance to the Life Storage building. Meanwhile, Jarlath held his ground, karambit in hand, fending off the horde while his five remaining defenders shielded him. He risked a glance back and immediately regretted it.
The Gargantuan was advancing again, this time wielding a battered pick-up truck like a club. The sight alone was enough to send a chill down his spine.
"Damn it all," Jarlath muttered under his breath. "If only I could control you... I'd be unstoppable in this hellhole."
But such fantasies were pointless. Powerful evo-types were immune to his abilities, their enhanced nature making them beyond his reach.
With a deafening screech, the bus blocking the entrance was finally pushed aside, clearing a path. Jarlath bolted toward the building, but the Gargantuan reacted with startling speed, shoving another vehicle toward him. This time, the impact sent him sprawling.
Pain shot through his body like lightning. Groaning, he struggled to his knees, his vision blurring.
For the first time in years, a sense of powerlessness washed over him—a feeling he thought he'd buried long ago.
Memories of his past clawed at him, the image of bullies towering over him as he lay helpless on the ground.
"Not again," he hissed through clenched teeth.
Desperation took hold as the Gargantuan loomed over him, its massive frame casting a shadow over his prone form.
"Kill that thing!" he roared, his voice cracking with a mix of fury and fear. "Kill that ugly bastard!"
His freshly summoned reinforcements obeyed, charging at the towering beast.
But the Gargantuan was relentless. With a single swing of its makeshift club, it obliterated the oncoming zombies, reducing the pick-up truck to little more than a twisted hunk of metal.
Undeterred, the beast hurled the remaining chunk at Jarlath, missing him by inches and smashing into the approaching horde instead.
Jarlath staggered to his feet, his legs trembling under the strain. Gritting his teeth, he extended his will to the remaining zombies in the area, commanding another wave to attack.
"Get that thing!" he shouted, his voice filled with rage and desperation.
———
Jarlath dashed into the Life Storage building, his five remaining zombies following closely behind. His breath came in ragged gasps as he bolted up the stairs, the sound of pounding feet echoing behind him.
The Runners were relentless, their guttural snarls growing louder with every passing second.
He reached the floor where the storage unit containing the firearms was located and wasted no time slipping inside.
Slamming the door shut behind him, he left his undead minions to hold off the oncoming horde. Their snarls and groans mixed with the shrieks of the Runners outside, but Jarlath ignored the chaos.
He sank to the floor, leaning against a cold metal shelf as he tried to calm his frayed nerves. His chest heaved, and for a moment, he allowed himself the illusion of safety.
His gaze wandered across the rows of weapons stored neatly in the unit—RPGs, bazookas, and ammunition that could level even the Gargantuan if used correctly.
He let out a bitter laugh. "I must be the biggest idiot alive. Why the hell did I come back here? I could've run before the horde arrived. Hell, I should've run before any of this started! What am I even doing!?"
The room fell into a sudden eerie silence.
No footsteps, no groans—just the sound of his own heart, pounding like a drum. It grew louder, faster, until it was all he could hear.
He tried to ignore it, but the rising tide of panic crept over him like a shadow.
His body betrayed him. His breaths became shallow, his skin clammy with sweat. His hands trembled as his vision blurred around the edges.
Jarlath's phobia was clawing its way to the surface, unbidden and uncontrollable.
"Damn it!" he spat through gritted teeth, punching himself in the chest in a futile attempt to ground himself. When that failed, he grabbed an RPG and moved closer to the door, peering through the small gap beneath it.
What he saw did nothing to ease his mind. The zombies outside were no longer his to command, confirming his suspicion—his five minions had likely been overwhelmed and torn apart by the horde.
The sheer numbers outside made it impossible to determine a plan. Even if he could command fifteen at once, the horde was a death sentence.
And Jarlath wasn't ready to die. Not yet. Not when he hadn't truly lived.
Then, unexpectedly, the sound outside began to change. The heavy shuffling and snarling grew fainter, replaced by a strange, collective movement—like a tide receding from the shore. His brow furrowed in confusion.
He crept closer to the door, carefully lifting it an inch. The hallway outside was eerily empty, save for a few mangled corpses of his former minions. The horde had vanished, seemingly drawn away by something—or someone.
Jarlath froze as he heard a woman's voice echoing from the road outside. His eyes narrowed.
"Another survivor?" he muttered under his breath. He couldn't fathom anyone being reckless—or suicidal—enough to face the Gargantuan alone.
Grabbing two RPGs and a box of PG-7G ammunition, he began the painstaking task of hauling them downstairs. He cursed under his breath at every step, lamenting the loss of functional elevators in this apocalyptic world.
It took him two agonizing minutes to reach the ground floor, his muscles burning with exertion.
He spotted a few remaining zombies inside the building and quickly commanded them to carry the weapons for him.
By the time he stepped outside, the sight that greeted him left him stunned.
A lone woman was fighting the Gargantuan, her movements precise and desperate. She clung to its back, avoiding its massive arms as it thrashed wildly to dislodge her.
Somehow, impossibly, she climbed toward the back of its head and drove a knife into its eye with a brutal, practiced motion.
The Gargantuan roared in agony, flailing even harder.
With a violent twist, it managed to fling the woman off, sending her hurtling toward Jarlath. He barely had time to react before she landed in a heap nearby.
Jarlath stared, his eyes widening in disbelief. The woman was Mary Sigrid.
She was alive.
Her P.E. shirt was torn at the sleeves, revealing toned arms that glistened with sweat, and her pants were hastily thrown on, barely clinging to her waist in the chaos of the moment.
Steam rose faintly from her body, as if her very being was radiating heat from exertion or rage.
"You," Mary spat, her voice laced with anger as she locked eyes with him. "I thought you'd run away by now!"
"How the—" Jarlath's words were cut short as Mary delivered a swift, bone-rattling punch to his face.
The world spun. Pain exploded behind his eyes as he crumpled to the ground, unconscious before he could finish his sentence.
Mary grumbled in frustration, shaking her fist. "I'll deal with you later, psychopath."