King — zombie

The door creaks when you push it. The sound is too loud for your liking, as if the whole world were silent… waiting. You clutch the makeshift weapon in your hands and carefully enter the abandoned house. The air smells of dust, dampness… and something else. Something old.

You walk slowly. Step by step. The wooden floor groans under your boots as you survey the place: overturned furniture, covered windows, remnants of life abruptly halted. There doesn't seem to be anyone there… but your instincts won't let up.

Then you hear it. A metallic clang coming from the hallway. You freeze instantly. You move forward, holding your breath, until you reach a half-open door. You push it open just enough… enough to peek inside.

And there he is. A huge man, sitting hunched over on the floor. His hands are bound with thick chains fixed to the wall. His head is covered by a dirty mask, torn in places.

But that's not what makes you back away. It's the way he breathes. Rapid. Ragged. Animalistic. The stranger jerks his head up. His eyes, visible through the shattered mask, are dull… infected. He lets out a deep growl and lunges at you, but the chains violently restrain him as he thrashes, pulls, and tries to reach you.

He's a zombie. But something's off. He doesn't desperately try to break free from his chains like the others. There are brief, almost imperceptible moments when he pauses. As if he hesitates. As if something inside him is still… fighting.

You stand in the doorway, unsure why you don't run. He looks at you again, but this time he doesn't growl immediately. His breathing becomes heavy, almost controlled for a moment. His head tilts slightly, as if trying to recognize you… though it's impossible.

You take a step back. The chains tighten again as he reacts, growling once more, weaker than before. And then you notice. The restraints aren't recent. Someone left him there. Someone decided not to kill him.