Zombie survivor

[54] The leap of faith

The chaotic scene atop the jungle gym became even more desperate as the snarls and guttural howls of the zombies grew louder. The undead were relentless, clawing at the sides of the structure, their decayed hands scraping against the rusted metal bars. Below, the arena floor was a swirling mass of bodies—both living and undead—where the screams of the dying mixed with the roar of the bloodthirsty crowd.

Jean crouched near the edge of the third-story platform, his eyes darting to the advancing zombies scaling the jungle gym. "They're getting closer!" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "We can't just sit here—we're fucking sitting ducks!"

Evan kicked at an undead hand that reached for his ankle. The zombie lost its grip, tumbling back to the ground with a sickening thud, but more took its place almost immediately. "No shit, bro!" Evan yelled, his voice cracking. "Any bright ideas? 'Cause I'm about two seconds away from losing it!"

One of the other contestants, a tall man with a shaved head, tried to rally the group. "Just keep kicking them down! We've got the high ground!"

But his words were cut short as a zombie lunged from below, its bony hand clamping around his leg. He screamed, flailing desperately as the undead creature yanked him downward. "No! Get it off me! HELP!"

The others tried to grab him, but it was too late. The man's screams turned into a horrifying gurgle as he was pulled off the platform, his body disappearing into the swarm below. Blood sprayed upward as the zombies descended on him, and the crowd erupted into deafening cheers.

Tyler, perched on a shaky bar above the chaos, let out a nervous laugh. "Yeah, uh... this ain't it, chief. We're so fucked."

Jean turned to the group, his face pale but determined. "This is unsustainable," he said, his voice shaking with adrenaline. "We stay up here, we're dead."

Jordan gave him a wide-eyed look. "And going down there is better? You see the murder buffet waiting for us?"

"There's a mattress," Jean said, pointing to a patch of the arena floor about six meters below. Among the wreckage, a filthy, bloodstained mattress lay wedged between two rusted beams. It wasn't much, but it was their only shot.

Evan squinted at it, his face twisting in disbelief. "Bruh, that's like, one step above a dumpster dive. You really think that's gonna work?"

Jean nodded, his fists clenched. "It's our only chance. We jump, and we keep moving. Staying here is a death sentence."

Akira, crouched beside him, looked at the mattress and then back at Jean. "If you go, I'm going with you."

Tyler shrugged, his grin forced. "Well, guess it's either 'Leap of Faith: Apocalypse Edition' or zombie chow. YOLO, right?"

Jean took a deep breath, his heart pounding in his chest. The distance was daunting, and the risk of missing the landing loomed large, but there was no time to hesitate. He backed up a few steps, ignoring the terrified expressions of the others, and ran toward the edge of the platform.

"Jean, wait!" Evan shouted, but it was too late.

Jean leapt, the world slowing down for a brief moment as he hurtled through the air. The mattress seemed impossibly small as he plummeted, his arms flailing instinctively to steady himself. His boots hit the center of the mattress with a loud whump, and he rolled to absorb the impact, landing with a grunt on the ground beside it.

He scrambled to his feet, his chest heaving. "It's possible!" he shouted up at the others. "Just aim for the middle and roll when you hit!"

The others hesitated, fear etched into their faces. Then Akira stepped forward, her gaze unwavering. She didn't bother with a dramatic run; she simply leapt, her petite frame arcing gracefully through the air. She hit the mattress perfectly, rolling to her feet beside Jean.

"I told you I'd go with you," she said softly, her voice calm despite the chaos around them.

Jordan let out a shaky laugh. "Guess it's now or never." He backed up, muttering under his breath, "If I die, I'm haunting all your asses."

With a yell, he jumped, flailing wildly as he fell. He hit the edge of the mattress but managed to roll to safety, groaning as he landed. "Holy shit, I'm alive! That's a fucking miracle."

One by one, the others followed. Evan's jump was clumsy, but he made it, landing in a heap on the mattress and muttering a string of curses as he scrambled off. Tyler's leap was eerily confident, and he landed with surprising ease, though he couldn't resist a sarcastic, "Ten outta ten form, right?"

Not everyone was so lucky.

One of the contestants, a wiry teenager with wide eyes, hesitated for too long. When he finally jumped, he misjudged the distance. His foot caught on a metal bar as he fell, sending him tumbling off-course. He hit the ground hard, his leg snapping with a sickening crack. His screams were short-lived as the zombies swarmed him, their claws tearing into his flesh as he writhed helplessly.

The group on the ground looked away, their faces pale. Evan muttered, "Fuck me. That could've been any of us."

Jean gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay focused. "We can't think about that now. We need to move."

The remaining eight bolted, weaving through the debris-strewn arena as the zombies shifted their attention to them. The crowd cheered wildly, their chants of "Run! Run!" echoing across the stadium.

"Where the hell are we even going?!" Jordan shouted, dodging a rusted beam.

"Anywhere but here!" Jean snapped, leading the group toward a cluster of wreckage that offered temporary cover. "We just need to keep moving!"

Akira stayed close to Jean, her eyes scanning their surroundings. "There's no pattern to their movement," she said, her voice calm. "If we can funnel them into a choke point, we might have a chance to thin their numbers."

Tyler laughed, his breath ragged. "Great idea, strategist, but in case you missed it, we don't exactly have weapons."

"Then we improvise," Akira said simply.

As they ducked behind a collapsed section of the jungle gym, the zombies closed in, their grotesque forms staggering forward with single-minded hunger. Jean grabbed a rusted pole from the ground, his hands trembling as he hefted it. "We make a stand here," he said, his voice firm. "Take what you can use, and don't stop moving."

The others scrambled for makeshift weapons—metal rods, broken boards, anything that could serve as a blunt instrument. The group stood together, their faces pale but determined as the first wave of zombies reached them.

Jean swung the pole with all his strength, the rusted metal connecting with a sickening crunch as it smashed into a zombie's skull. It crumpled to the ground, but another took its place almost immediately.

Evan jabbed at one with a jagged piece of wood, his hands shaking. "This is the worst fucking game ever!"

Jordan swung wildly with a rusted beam, knocking two zombies off-balance. "No shit! I want a refund!"

Akira moved with precision, her eyes cold and focused as she drove her weapon—a sharpened piece of scrap—into the heads of the advancing undead. "Focus. If you panic, you die."

Tyler, grinning despite the chaos, muttered, "Man, this is starting to feel like a zombie-themed gym class. 'Survive or sweat!'"

The group fought desperately, the sounds of snarls and bone-crunching impacts mixing with their ragged breaths. The crowd roared louder, their bloodlust driving the frenzied atmosphere as the contestants struggled to stay alive. And amidst the chaos, the harsh reality of the arena sank deeper into their bones: survival wasn't just a game—it was the only rule.

Q: What would you do to buy more time?