Zombie Survival System

WHEEE!

A high-pitched whistle cracked the air as the Hunter with the red energy fired a flare of energy into the air! "The Shuttle" had begun!

All at once, the thousands of swarming Hunter candidates began their mad sprints across the field.

Though Alexandre had been near the back of the line when they were being addressed at the podium, the lines had become incoherent as everyone made their way to the starting line.

Taking advantage of this, Alexandre had pushed past others until he was near the front of the pack. Some people pushed back, but Alexandre was in top physical shape, and he didn't let anyone keep him from where he wanted to be.

However, Alexandre was smart enough not to be right at the front. If there were any traps, he wanted the people in front of him to trigger them.

But despite his caution, Alexandre encountered no special dangers during the first sprint to the finish line a kilometer away. When he arrived, Alexandre looked down at the G-Shock watch he'd put on that morning, seeing that it had taken him four minutes and forty seconds to reach the end.

This was a pretty slow time as far as military standards went, but it seemed that the people in front of Alexandre were also moving more slowly than they should have in order to evade any potential dangers. They were taking the lack of food and the hours of walking very hard. Many of the candidates had fallen back very quickly and seemed to be staggering more than running.

A generous eight minutes passed before the flare screamed through the air again. By this point, almost everyone had crossed the finish line. After all, most healthy people, even under these conditions, could be expected to run a kilometer in less than six minutes!

At this point, three people had failed to cross the finish line. Indeed, they were walking slowly and breathing heavily. Looks of despair crossed their faces as they realized that they had lost their one and only chance to become Hunters.

Two of them immediately turned to the side and left the track, but one of them stared at the finish line in despair.

After a few seconds, a red laser dot appeared on the remaining failure's chest. One of the many drones hanging in the sky announced in an automated voice, "Candidate 6790! Vacate at once or you will be shot as a trespasser!"

The remaining man turned very pale and fled the track—much faster than he'd just been running, in fact!

Aside from the few failures, many candidates had caught their breaths and were feeling very good. The adrenaline pumping through their blood even let them ignore their hunger.

"It's easier than I thought!" many said to one another.

"Aha," others said, "I was stressing out about this contest, but I guess only the real weaklings have anything to worry about! So easy!"

"You hear that, Mom?" someone shouted with laughter at the sky. "I'm going to be a Hunter!"

Omega's voice came over the speaker system. "On the next signal, run back to the initial starting position."

A few candidates seemed surprised, having not realized there was more than one leg to the race. Regardless, everyone got back into a pack.

WHEEE!

They started running once more.

Just as before, Alexandre was one of the first candidates to reach the finish line. It took him a few seconds longer this time, since someone had stumbled and fallen against him. Even still, it took him four minutes and forty-five seconds.

This time, Alexandre carefully stared at his watch's timer after he reached the finish line.

As he'd suspected, it was only seven minutes and thirty seconds before the next flare blasted through the air.

"The Shuttle" would continue over and over, giving less and less time to its participants, while they grew more and more fatigued.

This time, over a dozen people failed. However, some of them looked relieved as they stepped off the field. They clearly hadn't been looking forward to more running!

This wasn't at all a measure of how fast the candidates could run. It was an endurance test, designed to bend their spirits and bodies to the breaking point! The exhaustion and tension would build up with each kilometer until the weakest candidates broke.

WHEEE!

They ran.

Alexandre focused only on the back of the candidate in front of him. He kept his breathing steady. This time, Alexandre reached the finish line in four minutes and forty-seven seconds.

But a whole crowd of people were still on the track when the "end of sprint" signal came. Alexandre estimated between four and five hundred of them. A flood of red dots lit them up, and the crowd immediately swarmed off the track to make room for the next sprint. It seemed that the organizers weren't wasting any time when there were so many failures to escort off the field!

WHEEE!

Next round.

This time, Alexandre slowed his pace even further, falling back into the pack. Being in absolutely top physical shape, he could have left everyone else behind with ease, but he wanted to blend in as best as he could.

As he fell back in the pack, someone caught his eye: the black candidate with the Brooklyn gang tattoo whom Alexandre had beaten up in the forest.

The gangster had pressed a hand to his side, as though trying to support a broken rib. His eyes were filled with pain and tears of agony dripped down his face, but he kept running nonetheless. The gangster realized that Alexandre was looking at him and glanced away, like a wounded beast avoiding meeting the gaze of its pack leader.

Alexandre was impressed. The gangster had far more determination and will to succeed than most of the other candidates. The black guy had already surpassed hundreds of other students... with at least one broken rib! It seemed that the gangster hadn't just been all boasting. To some extent, he really could back up his words.

Alexandre adjusted his pace to match the gangster's. "Good work," he said briefly.

The gangster seemed surprised and wary. That was understandable, considering the way they'd parted in the forest. But then he nodded. "You too," he said through teeth that were gritted against the pain.

They reached the finish line at nearly the same time, after about six minutes. If Alexandre's theory was right, they now had a full minute to rest.

But the scream of the flare came only thirty seconds afterward this time.

Alexandre laughed. "What a bunch of sadists."

This time, a massive number of candidates failed. As best as Alexandre could tell, it was well over a thousand.

A thousand people who had crossed hundreds of miles and hours of walking just to get to this tiny island.

They had just wasted their once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

They would never become Hunters.