Room 115 (M)

As you open the door a brilliantly bright light slowly washes over you then suddenly disappears. You find yourself in a dusty and neglected apartment complex that seems to have been abandoned for a long time. Most of the doors seem to be locked, knocked off it's hinges, or even boarded up. Throughout the hallways you smell the faint combination of raw meat and moldy lemons, plus you can hear weird guttural noises coming from some of the rooms.

'What kind of nightmare did I end up in?' you ask yourself.

You take the opportunity to see how exactly you're dressed and realize your outfit isn't all that better than your surrounding environment. Your hair is black and is short with a disheveled style, almost as if it was kept short but otherwise left unmaintained. You are wearing a black t-shirt that used to have some sort of picture and phrase but it seems to have faded away through wear and tear, you have spacious boxers underneath, wearing a pair of jeans that have so many holes in them they're one good rip away from becoming shorts, a pair of high ankle socks, and brown combat boots. Also on your person appears to be a forest green backpack on your back. It feels somewhat heavy but manageable enough to carry it for a while.

"What is in this backpack?" you say to yourself out loud.

Since you have no idea what's in the backpack a part of you is curious and wants to look inside. The other part of you though is growing more and more nervous at the increasing noises coming from the rooms nearby. Finding a somehow intact window you manage to take a peek outside. The sun seems to be setting and the nearby streets look empty and abandoned with cars spread out randomly. You see a lone figure in the distance limping and stumbling. It's hard to make out who they are or what they look like from the distance, but they definitely need help. You sprint towards the entrance to go help that person and maybe even get some answers. Suddenly before you do six people armed with weapons burst through the doors in a panic. They don't seem to be well organized and their outfits and weapons imply they use whatever they can get their hands on. The first person you notice is a black woman with a shaved head wearing a pink shirt, a leather jacket, and brown leather pants. She seems to be yelling a lot while pointing a large tire iron at people and trying to barricade the doors with furniture. Regrettably helping her while holding a bat is a white man with a crew cut wearing a tightly fit black t-shirt and green camo cargo pants. Next to them is a white woman with long brown hair wearing a baggy men's football jersey and saggy grey sweatpants seemingly being held up by a makeshift belt. She is leaning against the wall and panting out of breath while holding a pistol. Off in the corner of the room is a younger Japanese woman with a black pixie cut wearing a blue cami top and black flared yoga pants. She is curled up in a ball sobbing, completely oblivious of everyone else she came in with. In the middle of the room is a nervous looking black teenage boy with a curly short afro wearing glasses, a blue long sleeve shirt, black vest, and beige slacks. He's fidgeting with a pistol and shaking a little. Lastly is a gruff, slightly older, hispanic man with short hair and beard that's a little grey and wearing a bulky brown coat and black jeans. He seems to be yelling at the kid frustrated and holding a shotgun to his side. After a couple minutes of awkwardly staring at them silently the gruff man and the nervous teenager both suddenly notice your presence and point their guns at you.

"Hector what do we do?!" the teenager blurted out.

"Shut up Marcel." Hector said to the teenager before turning his attention back to you. "You, say something."

"Like what?" you simply ask.

"Ok good." Hector said seemingly more calm now. "Do you know how many zees are in the building?"

"What are zees?" you ask genuinely.

"Oh my god! Zees, zombies, zeds, walkers, rotters, giant living meat sacks that you can let out all your aggression on. Seriously are you just a complete idiot?!" the angry woman shouted at you.

"Zombies?" you ask wondering if you fell into the middle of a zombie apocalypse.

At this point the barricade is almost done and the two men in front of you have lowered their guns. The more time you stand there talking the louder the strange noises outside seem to get.

"Yeah, how did you not know?" Marcel asked surprisingly calm.

"Uhhh, I was in a coma?" you say fooling no one.

"Ok look, you're breathing and talking so that's good enough with me to trust you for now. So I'll give you the bullet-points since you sincerely seem lost to all of this and we're running low on help." Hector says getting closer to you and starting a long-winded monologue. "Yes this is a zombie apocalypse, and it has been for at least 3 years. No we don't now what caused it. Yes there are more of us back at camp, but no I won't tell you where cause I don't fully trust you yet. Most people refer to the zombies as zees in most conversations. If you get bit it most likely means you're infected and will eventually turn into a zee. Some people however are immune to the infection, which turns out is still a bad thing since the zees can sense it and attack in a different way. If you're immune zees will try to kidnap you and actually attempt to **** you over and over again until your mind breaks and you become their sex **** for the rest of your life. Those who become slaves to the zees will try everything in their power to have sex with anything in sight. We refer to them as the broken. Zees are sensitive to sound so loud arguments or gunfire will most likely attract them. I'm sorry if I seem to be talking a bit fast, but we just lost three people and it's almost night out so we're in kind of a bind here."

As Hector kept ranting in his annoyed tone he kept inching closer to you and you couldn't help but smell the sweat and musk coming off from his body. It occurs to you that they all must have been running for hours with no sign of rest.

"Quick introducions." Hector continues as he steps back a few feet. "I'm Hector, and no I don't need a friend. This jittery mess next to me is Marcel. The kid is not brave by any means, but his heart is in the right place."

Marcel takes the time to put his pistol away as if he's worried he's going to accidentally set it off. Meanwhile as Hector is talking the long-haired woman slowly walks up to you and wraps herself around you.

"Mmmm." the woman says moaning into your ear.

She sensually grinds her entire body against yours focusing more on rubbing her crotch against your thigh. As she does you feel the sensation of a large wet bulge in her unattractive sweatpants. While you're uncertain if it's wet from sweat or arousal, it definitely felt like a penis.

"This is Moana Lisa, or Lisa for short. We don't know her real name because she used to be a broken before we found her and saved her from the zees. She has a hard time thinking about things other than sex." Hector explains.

"Umm." you say uncomfortably as Lisa's grinding starts getting more intense.

"Lisa stop!" Hector commands.

"S-sorry Hector." Lisa says struggling just to say the words.

Lisa dismounts off of you and goes back to leaning against the wall. You look down and see a wet spot from where her junk was rubbing against your jeans.

"The lady over there doing all the work is Nia. She's a bit rough but is pleasant if you get to know her." Hector says pointing at the angry woman.

"Whatever." Nia responds.

"The guy pretending to help her is Carter. He's an asshole and is only interested in his own world. But anyone who isn't a zee is trustworthy to a degree." Hector says flipping off Carter the whole time.

"Yeah, whatever gardener." Carter says racistly.

"Lastly is Ami." Hector says with a sigh looking at the girl sobbing in the corner. "Try not to upset her if you can help it, she just lost her twin sister to a horde."

Hector then looks at you expectantly.

"Oh, my name is Michael. I have no idea how I got here or how many zombies are still in this building." you say honestly.

"Great." Hector says putting his hands on his hips in frustration.