Regressed with Omnipotent AI on Zombie Apocalypse

Moments later, a loud siren blared from the school, its piercing sound filling the air and immediately grabbing the attention of every zombie nearby. The horde shifted in unison, staggering toward the source of the noise like predators drawn to fresh prey.

Inside a locked study room, several students huddled together, their faces pale as they listened to the radio blaring outside.

“Who turned on that radio?!” one of them whispered, his voice trembling. “All the zombies are heading this way!”

A heavyset man with greasy hair, known as “Uncle Sam” by the students, grunted as he gripped a crowbar and glared at them. He had been using the school as a temporary hideout, intending to use the students as leverage for an escape when the coast was clear. But with the zombie horde closing in, his plan was falling apart.

“If I find out who started that radio, I’ll make them pay!” he muttered under his breath.

As more zombies poured onto the campus, Uncle Sam’s anxiety grew. Desperately, he turned to the students. “Does anyone know where the main power switch is in this school?”

A thin, nervous-looking boy raised his hand. “I know… It’s by the security room.”

“Good,” Sam said. “You’ll go there and turn it off.”

He moved aside a makeshift barricade at the back window. “You can jump from here. The back’s clear.”

The boy hesitated, clearly terrified, but Sam’s glare was hard and unwavering. “For everyone’s safety,” he said in a threatening tone.

The other students, some of whom had been reluctant to send him, whispered words of encouragement mixed with guilt. “We’ll pull you up once you get it done, okay?”

Tears glistened in the boy’s eyes as he reluctantly agreed. “Fine… I’ll go.”

He took a deep breath and jumped out of the window, making his way toward the security room.

__________

“Nice work, Ego! Most of the zombies have moved away,” Zack said, watching the dwindling number of zombies around the transport truck.

Unaware of the terrified students inside the school, Zack stayed focused on his mission. After all, this was the end of the world. He had to make tough decisions, and he knew his survival came first.

The broadcast continued, its static filling the zombie-infested pedestrian street. Soon, only a handful of zombies remained.

“It’s time to move!” Zack muttered, gripping the wheel tighter as he pressed the gas pedal and steered his vehicle onto the street.

“Roar!” One of the zombies spotted him and, with a guttural cry, charged toward the car.

Instead of slowing down, Zack floored the accelerator, slamming into the zombie with a sickening thud. The creature hit the hood, clinging for a moment before its legs caught under the wheels. A series of horrifying crunches followed as the vehicle rolled over it, leaving behind a mangled mess.

“Sir, the cash transport truck is ahead on the right. There are several zombies around it. I suggest using Molotov cocktails,” Ego, his AI companion, advised.

Zack followed Ego’s guidance and spotted the black armored truck surrounded by six or seven zombies. Parking discreetly on the side of the road, he grabbed a Molotov cocktail from his backpack and slid out of the vehicle quietly.

Using nearby cars for cover, Zack crouched low and approached the armored truck step by step. The loud radio masked his movements. When he was about ten meters away, he paused behind a black SUV. Carefully, he pulled the Molotov cocktail from his backpack, lit the rag at the mouth of the bottle, and tossed it toward the zombies.

BOOM!

The bottle shattered, setting three or four zombies on fire in an instant. The burning zombies stumbled and screamed, spreading the fire to others nearby. The smell of charred flesh filled the air as one by one, the zombies fell.

Just as Zack was about to throw another Molotov, he spotted a zombie heading his way. It was dressed in the torn remains of an escort uniform.

“Perfect timing,” he muttered, lowering the Molotov and drawing his nail gun. He needed the zombie to be within three meters for a guaranteed hit, as the nail gun’s air pressure wasn’t very strong.

When the zombie was close enough, Zack leaned out from behind the SUV and fired twice. The first nail lodged in its forehead but didn’t penetrate fully. The second shot hit its eye socket, dropping the creature instantly.

“Well, that’s one less problem,” he said, tossing the nail gun aside. With his nail bat in hand, he approached the transport truck. Only one more zombie stood between him and the vehicle, its back to him, unaware because of the loud radio. Zack crept forward, but then, the broadcast suddenly cut out, leaving an eerie silence.

The zombie turned, locking eyes with Zack. “Roar!” it screamed, charging straight at him.

With no time to think, Zack sidestepped and swung his nail bat with full force. The blow sent the zombie sprawling. Before it could recover, Zack delivered a crushing strike to its head.

Unfortunately, the zombie’s roar had attracted nearby zombies. Seeing them turn, Zack called out, “Ego, what happened?”

“Sir, the radio’s power supply is out. There could be other survivors on campus,” Ego replied.

“Whatever. Time to leave!” Zack pulled a fertilizer bomb from his bag, lit the fuse, and tossed it into the approaching horde before sprinting toward the cash truck. Ignoring the explosion behind him, he quickly searched the fallen zombie for keys, unlocked the truck, and climbed inside.

BOOM!

The fertilizer bomb went off, shredding the zombies into a spray of blood and flesh. A few still staggered toward the armored truck, clawing and biting at the bulletproof plating, but their attacks were useless.

“The hell does this zombie think it’s doing, trying to pierce armor with its teeth?” Zack sneered, jamming the key into the ignition. The truck roared to life, and he pressed down on the gas. Zombies blocking the path were crushed under the massive wheels, reduced to nothing more than bloody smears on the road.

Two zombies clung to the windows but were quickly flung off as the truck sped up.

“Not bad, huh, Ego?” Zack said with a hint of relief in his voice, now that he was safely on the move.

“Yes, sir, the operation was a success, though with minor complications. By the way, sir, records show there’s over two million in cash in this truck’s compartment.”

“Cash? What good is cash in this apocalypse?” Zack scoffed, glancing over and noticing a shotgun on the passenger seat along with several boxes of ammunition. “Now this is useful.”

As he passed the school area, the loud rumble of the truck engine attracted more zombies, and the noise caught the attention of survivors hiding inside. Several students peeked out of windows, frantically waving and shouting for help.

“A car! It’s a rescue!” they cried, excitedly pushing desks and chairs out of the way to get to the windows.