CHAPTER 54: INFECTED DOG!

The sight of the infected German Shepherd charging toward us like something spawned from hell itself triggered every survival instinct I possessed. My body moved before my mind could catch up, taking an involuntary step backward as the creature’s twisted form barreled closer with unnatural speed.

I wasn’t alone in my reaction. Elena had already retreated several steps, her crowbar held defensively in front of her like a shield. What struck me most wasn’t just her tactical withdrawal—it was the genuine terror written across her face. Her usually composed features were pale as parchment, her blue eyes wide with a fear that seemed to go deeper than the immediate threat.

She was absolutely terrified of dogs.

Under normal circumstances, a German Shepherd running at full sprint would be intimidating enough to give anyone pause. But this thing... this wasn’t a normal dog anymore. Its movements were wrong, too aggressive, too predatory. Where a regular dog might bark or show some hesitation, this infected beast showed nothing but pure, mindless hunger. Its white, clouded eye seemed to glow with malevolent intent, and its exposed teeth were stained with substances I didn’t want to identify.

The infected humans we’d faced shambled along at maybe two miles per hour—dangerous in numbers, but manageable if you kept your distance and stayed smart. This thing was covering ground at the speed of a living missile, and unlike the human infected, it was built to bite. Those jaws could clamp down with enough force to crush bone, and in its infected state, it would do exactly that without hesitation or mercy.

"We should fall back..." I said, throwing to the trash my earlier heroic declaration about helping people in need.

"Y...yeah, I completely agree," Elena nodded frantically, actually moving to hide behind me.

"Yep, that thing looks absolutely terrifying," Christopher added.

We began our tactical retreat, moving backward with careful steps while keeping our weapons ready. But our plan for an orderly withdrawal was shattered when the middle-aged man at the front of the fleeing group spotted us and pointed directly at our position.

"Over here!" He shouted to his companions. "There are people who can help us!"

"Wait, you bastard!" Christopher’s voice cracked with panic. "Don’t bring that nightmare toward us!"

"Then help us!" The young woman cried out, tears streaming down her dirt-stained face.

"Like hell we will!"

The moment for measured retreat had passed. With the three survivors now running directly toward us—and the infected dog gaining ground behind them—we had no choice but to run.

"Let’s get out of here! Rachel! Elena!" I called out, shaking off the momentary paralysis that had gripped our group.

We turned and sprinted down the street, our boots pounding against the cracked asphalt. Behind us, I could hear the footsteps of the three survivors who had effectively turned us into fellow refugees rather than potential rescuers.

"Rachel, just shoot one of them!" Christopher shouted over his shoulder, his survival instincts overriding any sense of heroism. "We need to sacrifice someone so the rest of us can get out alive!"

"Christopher?!" Rachel’s voice was filled with shock and disbelief at the suggestion.

I had to admit, cruel as it sounded, there was a certain twisted logic to it. In a pure numbers game, losing one person to save five wasn’t the worst tactical decision. The thought brought an involuntary smile to my face—the kind of dark humor that seemed to be my brain’s way of processing impossible situations.

"Why are you smiling in a situation like this?!" Elena demanded, noticing my expression even while running for our lives. There were actual tears in her eyes, though whether from fear, wind, or the sheer insanity of our predicament, I couldn’t tell.

"Sorry," I called back, trying to keep my tone light despite our circumstances. "I was just thinking that the old man probably doesn’t have much time left anyway."

"Exactly!" Christopher seized on my gallows humor with enthusiasm. "Rachel, shoot the old guy! He’s practically dead already!"

Rachel shot me a sulking look. Her expression clearly conveyed that she found our survival strategy both morally reprehensible and tactically questionable.

Of course, I had been joking.

Mostly.

"Are you people insane?!" The young woman shouted from behind us, having overheard our morbid discussion.

The elderly man, despite his obvious exhaustion, managed to glare at us with impressive intensity. "Have some shame, you youngsters! I could be your grandfather!"

"Even more reason to let natural selection take its course!" Christopher replied without missing a beat.

"You little psychopath!"

"Hey!" I turned my head to address the middle-aged man who seemed to be leading their group. "Can you stop following us? We’re trying not to die here!"

"We’re running toward our shelter!" He shot back, his face red with exertion and indignation. "You’re the ones who should change direction!"

"Well, fuck this entire situation!"

"Why the hell is that thing so fast?!" Elena gasped out what we were all thinking, her enhanced physical capabilities apparently not extending to long-distance running while terrified.

"It’s infected, that’s why!" The young woman replied, as if that explained everything.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious!" Elena snapped back sarcastically.

"Can everyone stop arguing and focus on not dying?!" Rachel shouted, genuine worry coloring her voice as she glanced back at the elderly man who was clearly struggling to maintain pace. "That thing is gaining on us!"

"Can’t you just shoot it, Rachel?" Christopher asked, his suggestion sounding reasonable despite the circumstances.

"I... I don’t think I can hit it," Rachel admitted, and I could hear the frustration in her voice.

Her honesty was both admirable and concerning. The infected dog was moving too fast, weaving slightly as it ran, presenting a challenging target even for an experienced marksman. Rachel might have fired years ago, but she wasn’t a sniper, and a missed shot in this situation could have catastrophic consequences.

Even if she did manage to hit the creature, there was no guarantee it would go down immediately. Infected seemed to have an increased tolerance for damage, and a wounded but still mobile infected dog would be exponentially more dangerous than what we were already facing.

More importantly, I was acutely aware that any injury Rachel sustained would put her in immediate mortal danger. While I could cure her if she became infected again—the Dullahan virus would consume and eliminate the zombie virus—that protection only worked if she survived the initial attack. An infected dog wasn’t just interested in biting; it wanted to devour, to tear and consume. One bite to the throat or a major artery, and I wouldn’t be able to help her at all.

The risk was simply too great.

"Don’t engage it directly!" I called out to her. "Just keep running!"

Behind us, I could hear the infected dog’s breathing—a wet, raspy sound that seemed to echo with unnatural hunger. Its paws struck the pavement with mechanical precision, each step bringing it closer to the slowest member of our impromptu group.

We were running out of time, and I was rapidly running out of options that didn’t involve sacrificing someone to save the rest.

"I...I can’t...anymore..."

Joel’s words came out in ragged gasps. The old man’s weathered face had turned an alarming shade of gray, beads of sweat rolling down his forehead despite the chill. His legs trembled beneath him like autumn leaves in a harsh wind, and suddenly he stopped moving altogether, his body swaying dangerously close to collapse.

The sight sent a jolt of panic through everyone watching.

"Joel, get yourself together! Come on!" The stocky middle-aged man immediately ceased his own run. He grabbed Joel’s frail arm with both hands, his grip firm but gentle, trying to coax movement back into the elder’s frozen limbs. "Come on!!"

But Joel shook his head slowly. With surprising strength for someone so exhausted, he pushed Martin away, his rheumy eyes filled with a resignation that cut through the chaos around them.

"No, Martin. Clara, you should just save yourselves," he wheezed. The words seemed to physically pain him as much as speaking them. "Just tell my granddaughter... tell her that I love her. Tell her Grandpa fought until the end."

"Tell her yourself!" Martin retorted. "We’re not leaving you behind."

"Hurry up, Joel! Please!" Clara added as well.

I watched this scene unfold, feeling my jaw clench involuntarily.

The Infected dog was almost there. If this continued, the three of them would be dead for.

"Elena, give me your crowbar," I said.

Elena looked at me with confusion for a split second before understanding dawned in her eyes. Without hesitation, she pressed the cold metal tool into my palm. "Ryan, what are you—"

I was already turning away.

"R...Ryan! Man?!" Christopher’s voice pitched higher with disbelief as he watched me sprint past the other three survivors, heading straight toward the nightmare creature that was now prowling closer to Joel’s helpless form. "What the hell are you doing?!"

Rachel and Elena stood frozen, their faces masks of horror and confusion as they watched me charge toward what appeared to be certain death.

Should I just use the Time Freeze ability? The thought flickered through my mind as I ran, my enhanced muscles propelling me forward faster than any normal human could move. The temptation was enormous—one activation and I could end this threat instantly. I could also ask the Gun from Rachel as well.

But I forced myself to resist. There were infected gathering around our position like vultures sensing carrion. At least a dozen that I could see, with more shambling out of buildings and from behind debris. If we got surrounded, that ability might be the only thing standing between all of us and death.

I can’t let that man die, I told myself, even as doubt gnawed at me. Not when I have the power to save him. I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t try.

I could literally freeze the time after all.

If I didn’t want to use it then I should do something else.

The dog’s head snapped toward me as I approached, its lips pulling back to reveal teeth like yellowed daggers. Saliva dripped from its maw in thick, viscous strands that steamed in the cold air.

No Time Freeze, I decided firmly. I’ll handle this the hard way.

I planted my foot hard against the cracked asphalt, using the momentum to launch myself into a controlled slide just as the beast leaped toward me with frightening speed.

The impact was tremendous. The dog’s powerful jaws clamped down on the crowbar with a metallic clang that rang out across the street. I gripped both ends of the weapon, feeling the creature’s incredible jaw strength immediately trying to crush the metal—and by extension, my hands.

"Shit!" The curse exploded from my lips as the dog’s weight and momentum sent me crashing to the ground.

The asphalt scraped against my back through my jacket, but that pain was nothing compared to the realization of just how strong that dog was. This thing was stronger than any infected I’d faced. Its muscles rippled under its diseased hide as it tried to wrench the crowbar from my grip and get to my exposed throat.

"Ryan!" Rachel’s panicked scream rang.

"Stay back Rachel!" I shouted before she could approach.

The dog snarled and roared above me, its hot, rancid breath washing over my face. Strings of infected saliva dripped onto my cheek, burning slightly where it made contact. The creature’s weight pressed down on my chest. Only my awakened abilities were keeping those razor-sharp fangs from tearing out my jugular.

At least Rachel and the others don’t have to face this, I thought even as I fought for my life. Putting aside Christopher who would get overwhelmed by that dog, I wasn’t sure Rachel with enhanced strength at least for now, she could handle this dog because of the sheer aggressiveness of this dog.

Gritting my teeth, with my left hand maintaining its death grip on the crowbar, I carefully reached across my body with my right hand toward the hand axe hanging from my belt. The dog’s movements made it difficult, but my enhanced dexterity allowed me to work the weapon free.

In one fluid motion, I brought the axe around and buried it deep in the creature’s flank.

The dog’s response was immediate and terrifying. It released an sound unlike anything I’d ever heard—part howl, part scream, entirely inhuman. Instead of retreating, the blow seemed to enrage it further. Its attacks became even more frenzied, more desperate.

"Just die already!" I roared.

Blood spurted in a crimson arc across the pavement as the blade found its mark again. And again. Each strike was fueled by my awakened strength, each impact driving deeper than any normal human could have managed.

Finally, mercifully, the creature’s movements began to slow. Its snarls became weaker, more labored. With one final, shuddering breath, it went completely still.

I heaved the massive carcass off my chest, rolling to the side and gasping for air that didn’t taste like death and decay.

Christopher appeared at my side instantly, his face pale with concern as he extended his hand. "Please tell me you didn’t get bitten," he said.

I took his offered hand and allowed him to pull me to my feet, quickly checking my arms and torso for puncture wounds. "No, it’s fine," I said.

Joel approached on unsteady legs, his earlier exhaustion seemingly forgotten in the wake of what he’d just witnessed. "Thank you, son," he said. "That was... I’ve never seen anything like that. You saved my life."

I brushed some of the dog’s blood from my jacket. "Don’t mention it."

As I spoke, I was scanning our surroundings. The commotion had drawn attention—exactly what we’d been trying to avoid. Infected were converging on our position from multiple directions, their shambling forms emerging from doorways, alleys, and from behind abandoned vehicles.

"We need to move. Now," I said urgently.

Clara stepped forward. "You can come with us, if you’d like. Our group has established a safe zone further ahead."

This was exactly what we’d been searching for. "Where?"

"The municipal office," Martin replied, pointing past us toward a road leading toward another part of the city, outside the center. "We’ve been holed up there since this nightmare started two days ago."

"Are you all from this town?" I asked.

"Most of us, yeah," Martin nodded. "A lot of people panicked and fled when the outbreak hit, and others..." He gestured vaguely at the approaching infected. "Others weren’t so lucky. But those of us who remained decided to make a stand. The municipal office was the obvious choice—it’s built like a fortress."

"Wait, Ryan! We don’t have time for this!" Rachel grabbed my arm, pointing at the growing crowd of infected stumbling toward us. I could count at least fifteen now, maybe more emerging around.

"Right," I said, giving the blood-stained crowbar to Elena. "Let’s go then."