Everyone's Superpowered…Except the One Powering Them

"Go, or I'll put a bullet through your head." Greta Brewer's voice was ice-cold and laced with pure malice.

My scalp went numb. This felt far worse than being locked in a zombie's sights.

She wanted me to go after zombies bare-handed? She was basically sending me to my death.

Yet none of the superhumans who used to protect me said a word.

Greta had deliberately sent my parents and my brother, Dylan Brewer, away earlier. There was no one left to stand up for me.

Suddenly, a piece of rebar smeared with zombie blood was thrust in front of me. It was Ethan Davidson, the quietest guy in the group.

"Take it. Stay behind me."

Ethan didn't have any superpowers. He was just an ordinary guy, yet he was the only one willing to step up.

I gave him a grateful look and gripped the steel rod.

Greta scoffed at the sight. "Look at the useless trash playing hero. What is this, a post-apocalyptic romance?"

She tapped my face with the barrel of her gun and mocked, "Jessie, you two losers really are two of a kind."

I bit my lip and gave her a long, hard look. The safety of my family and the entire team rested on my shoulders. I couldn't die here.

The supermarket entrance was like a monster waiting to swallow us whole.

Gripping my weapon, I followed closely behind Ethan as we stepped inside.

The air reeked of rot. A dozen dark figures shuffled between the aisles, letting out occasional low snarls.

I crept carefully toward the food section.

Suddenly, a quiet clink rang out as a bullet rolled to my feet.

A frantic growl shattered the quiet as the nearest zombie lunged at me.

My heart hammered in my chest. Wielding the rebar with both hands, I drove it hard into the zombie's eye.

The moment I yanked the steel out, several more zombies swarmed toward us.

Ethan instantly moved to back me up. Back to back, we swung our rebars again and again, taking down the horde in sync.

Meanwhile, Greta strolled along behind us under the protection of a group of superhumans, casually waving a hand now and then to store supplies in her spatial storage.

Pinching her nose, she urged us, "Hurry it up! You duds are completely useless. A superhuman could clean this place out with a wave of their hand, but you two take all day."

By the time we cleared out the threat, the shelves were picked clean. All we had were a few sad packs of emergency rations stashed in our bags.

Then, Greta caught sight of a locked storage door just ahead. "There's got to be a ton of stuff in there!"

Her eyes lit up, and without a second thought, she reached out to yank it open.

My stomach dropped, and I blurted out, "No!"

But it was too late.

She had jerked the door open. A blast of foul wind hit us, and a giant zombie hound burst through the dark.

Greta shrieked, instantly grabbing my arm and yanking me in front of her.

My eyes widened in terror. Before I could even react, I was staring right down the hound's dripping fangs.