As the defense kicked off, Kevin posted up by Melk, who eyeballed the mopey newbies and snorted, “Well, you’re the sharpest knife in this shit pile.”

  Kevin cracked a grin back. “That’s ‘cause I got a badass teacher, and they’re stuck with squat.”

  Melk’s mug went stone-cold. “I don’t do disciples, so quit slathering on the butter, kid…”

  “You pulled my ass out of the fire and drilled me hard,” Kevin shot back, dead serious. “You’re my teacher, man. No you, no me standing here.”

  Melk blew him off, fiddling with his guns like he didn’t hear a word.

  Off in the distance, the three walker packs had fused into one giant, ugly mob shambling straight for camp.

  “Listen up, kid,” Melk growled low. “Save your ammo. Grab a blade or something—no guns.”

  “Boss, you shitting me?” Kevin blurted, eyes popping out of his skull.

  “This ain’t no fucking joke,” Melk rasped back. “It’s live or die, toughen up or wimp out. You in?”

  Clocking Melk’s dead-serious vibe, Kevin straightened up and locked eyes with him.

  Melk’s voice dripped with hate and gritty steel. “Don’t you run! Trouble hits, you stare it down—no pussyfooting back! Fight like hell—you might just crawl out alive. God ain’t handing you no free pass; He wants you kicking to take more pain. Turn tail, and you’re dead faster… and uglier.”

  Kevin couldn’t shake the thought—what kind of hellhole had Melk clawed out of to turn this goddamn twisted?

  Melk’s tone turned to ice. “You can’t outrun fate, kid. Don’t wanna be walker chow? Get tougher, quicker, and nastier than those rotting bastards.”

  Kevin rolled his eyes hard. “Man, this ain’t the Olympics. Who’s gotta play hero? Popping walkers does the trick, yeah?”

  Melk got up in his grill, eyes blazing with some wild fire Kevin couldn’t wrap his head around. “Hands, kid. That’s the deal.” He let it hang, heavy as hell. “Get in their face. Shank their skulls. Bust their chests. Smear that pretty mug with guts. You with me?”

  Kevin blinked, caught off guard, but he knew Melk wasn’t budging—stubborn as a brick wall. So, with a blank stare, he yanked out his blade.

  Melk chucked a rusty metal bar his way, eyes glued to Kevin. “Fight like a damn man! Ram this sucker through their skulls!” Kevin snatched it tight, primed to throw down.

  The brawl kicked off.

  This was the fattest scrap yet for the greenhorns, and Kevin’s first real up-close tangle with walkers. He scrambled up a metal bus, looming over the suckers. He jammed the bar into their heads, squashing ‘em like roaches, then hopped to the next.

  Kevin kept at it, slamming his weapon through skulls. Early on, he froze up a bit, jittery about getting in their faces. But once he clocked that walkers couldn’t climb worth a damn, the shakes melted away. He leaned in, going for broke on every kill.

  Melk worked the dagger strapped to his right hand, carving walker heads open with each swing. Dude was so jacked up, he even barked a couple tips at Kevin mid-fight.

  “Hey, bonehead! No fancy moves—just finish the job! Save your juice!”

  “Listen up, ya clown! Duck low, get in tight, and smack ‘em hard!”

  Taking Melk’s rough-ass orders to heart, Kevin dropped walkers left and right. The stack of stiffs kept piling up, and now those damn freaks were clawing up the bus!

  “Check it—this is how a real man throws down! Get nastier, ha!” Melk hacked a walker’s head clean off with one swing, booted another off the bus, then spun and jammed the pipe straight through the third’s eye hole. Guy moved slick as a cat—smooth as hell for a two-hundred-pound tank.

  Kevin went nuts too, hollering as he got up in the walkers’ mugs. These slow creeps were all stumble and no game—that was their soft spot. Melk’s tip echoed in his skull: toy with ‘em, wait for the lunge, juke, then hit back.

  Walkers moved stiff and twitchy, like their bodies were busted. Kevin kept it simple: stab the head with his blade or bar, rip it out, and watch the sucker flop.

  But the walkers kept rolling in, stacking up on the bus roof. While dodging, Kevin ate it hard—tripped and landed right in a walker’s grip. He got tore up—slashed across the thigh, blood gushing like a damn fountain. That fresh blood smell flipped the walkers into a feeding frenzy. Kevin saw red, bellowing like a beast, no way he’d back off. Ain’t no chance he’d go out like a punk in this walker swarm. He roared on, swinging wild to keep the bastards at bay.

  Somebody was gonna bite it, and it sure as hell wasn’t him!

  The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  “Hey, dipstick! Save your breath for swinging—zip that yap!” Melk’s voice thundered.

  Kevin’d been scrapping for thirty minutes and felt beat to hell. Worldhopper might be some slick data toy, but it clocked how wiped you were—tied right to your Stamina. Kevin was still hanging tough, all thanks to that hidden mission loot. His Stamina hit 7 now—outpacing most hardasses.

  Walkers kept flooding in. Every inch of scrapping ground was jammed.

  Rikk yelled at the greenhorns to save ammo and get in close. But those rookies weren’t exactly jazzed about cozying up to the dead.

  Razor Hawk’s crew ran dry on ammo. They’d held their own at first, but now, out of bullets, they were just dead weight. What, they gotta dive in like Kevin and tussle with these creeps? Fear had ‘em bunched up in the back, locked up tight, scared shitless.

  Kevin clocked he’d scored 3 survival points for smashing walkers up close, topping the shitty 2 from popping ‘em.

  Omnispace chimed in: “Survival points scale with enemy difficulty. Hand-to-hand combat, the grittiest and diciest way, yields the fattest rewards.”

  That lit a fire under him to stick tight with Melk in the close-up brawl.

  An hour later, everybody—plot characters and all—was beat to hell. But hold up—the nastiest riot police walkers rolled into the swarm, staggering toward the vehicle wall!

  “Light ‘em up!” Rikk tossed doubts out the window; waiting more was a death wish. Bullets smashed into the riot cops’ helmets. Sparks popped, but those shaky bastards kept lumbering on.

  “Their armor’s too damn thick, headshots ain’t cutting it!” Sharn hollered.

  “We gotta hold off ‘til they’re close, then scrap ‘em one by one,” Aundra piped up.

  The crew zeroed in on dropping the regular walkers, letting the riot cops barrel toward the wall. Then the nasty-ass brawl kicked off.

  Melk pounced like a panther—quick and deadly. He tore the riot cop’s visor up and jammed his blade right into the walker’s hollow eye hole. Then, like a pops gearing up his tyke, he smashed the visor back down.

  “Good job, champ,” he growled low, like he was talking to his own kid. “Daddy’s got your back, punk. Now haul ass, little cop!” He landed a sharp kick, sending the sucker flipping off the bus roof.

  But hold up—Melk couldn’t help himself and snagged a peek. He nabbed a helmet a nearby walker dropped. The stench? Foul as hell, worse than a dumpster fire! He spat a curse and slammed it onto the walker’s noggin.

  Kevin caught Melk’s move and dove in. Bam! He smashed his pipe into the cop’s helmet, rattling its skull. Then, smooth as shit, he rammed his blade under the chin and straight through the cop-walker’s head. Boom—that sucker dropped!

  Guess what? Omnispace hit Kevin with a fat 10 survival points. His eyes popped like he’d won the lottery. New gig: waste those cop-walkers.

  First, whack ‘em with the pipe, then shank the knife through their skulls. Dropping these riot cops felt so fucking good. Good thing for Kevin, these dumbass cops were strapped with guns but too brain-dead to shoot. Otherwise, he’d have been toast ages ago.

  Kevin stuck to the drill, smoked another riot cop, and—holy crap! A light green key clinked onto the deck.

  In the newbie grind, keys were rare as hell. Omnispace must figure gear’s the real deal. Maybe this light green key came off a riot cop with a fancy degree.

  Kevin popped that key open on the spot.

  Usually, Omnispace just tosses you some survival points. But this time, a green vortex spun up outta nowhere. Kevin shoved his hand in—warm and slimy, like digging into some freaky jelly from another dimension.

  Bam! He yanked out a slick piece of gear.

  A Bulletproof Vest:

  Type: Half-body armor

  Grade: Light green

  Weight: 6 lbs

  Material: Alloy steel and nylon

  Effect: Cuts physical damage by 10%, shrugs off 50% firearm hits, and blocks fatal shots in covered spots.

  A real game-changer—Kevin strapped it on fast.

  Shit was hitting the fan on the other vehicle roofs, especially where the newbies bunched up. Nobody had the guts to square up with these bulletproof cop-walkers. It was a mess—folks froze, ducked around, and it took a whole squad just to drop one of those bastards.

  Kevin clocked Morimaru swinging a massive blade that flashed in the light. For a so-called newbie, this guy carved through walker necks like a badass, heads popping off left and right.

  This kid’s no lightweight, Kevin thought. Morimaru’s moves are crisp and smooth—his sword game’s gotta be top-notch.

  A walker busted through the line and tumbled off the roof into the circle below, charging the crowd of old folks, wimps, and kids packed inside.

  Kevin jumped down, jamming his knife into the walker’s skull—see ya, creep.

  But hold up—another walker slammed down right on his back. Drool dripping everywhere—nasty as hell! Kevin flipped out, yelling, “Get the fuck off me!”

  That thing moved like lightning, chomping down on his left shoulder.

  “Son of a bitch—” Kevin’s vision started fading.

  Then—bam!—a gunshot ripped the walker’s head into chunks. Kevin crashed to the deck.

  Through the pain fog, Omnispace’s icy voice cut in:

  “Worldhopper 4444, a walker tagged you for 34 HP bite damage.

  Its chomp triggered Bleeding: 5 HP per second, 5 seconds straight.

  The walker’s bite inflicted a Tearing effect: severe damage to your left arm.

  Strength assessment completed; no crushing damage sustained.

  Physical walker hit detected—contamination check initiated. Stamina at 8, Willpower at 2. Running the scan…

  Contamination check completed. Infection confirmed: unknown zombie virus acquired.

  Per Omnispace protocol, the zombie virus will activate in 7 days.”