Chapter 5
687words
"Alert: Biological intrusion detected in East Coast Zone Three."
I set aside my blueprints and pulled up the external feeds. On screen, a rotting fish carcass had washed ashore.
It wasn't large, but its belly gaped open, leaking putrid fluids. One eye socket was empty; the other held the same crimson glow as the Zombie King.
Luna's influence had reached the ocean depths.
My island was no longer impenetrable.
I activated the cleaning protocol. High-pressure water cannons blasted the carcass back to sea while UV lamps sterilized the beach.
But this was just the beginning.
From that day forward, my defenses never rested. Mutated sharks rammed the underwater barriers, crabs with human hands scaled the reefs, and swarms of toxic jellyfish exploded in blue electric flashes against the perimeter fence.
The entire world had fallen under her control—a vast, rotting playground for her undead army.
Today was Christmas Eve.
I dragged a dust-covered artificial Christmas tree from storage—the only frivolous purchase I'd made before the apocalypse.
I carefully wiped it clean, set it up in my living area, and decorated it with lights and ornaments. With a flip of a switch, warm light filled my cold underground sanctuary.
I activated my prized projector. On screen played the last Christmas concert before the apocalypse—an orchestra performing "Silent Night" to a well-dressed audience with peaceful smiles.
I poured myself a glass of red wine, sank into my sofa, and watched.
Memories flooded back. In District 12's slums, my siblings and I would huddle around a candle, pretending it was a Christmas tree, making impossible wishes—food, warm clothes, a night without freezing.
Now I had everything—mountains of food, an impregnable fortress.
But I was completely alone.
I shoved those memories away, locking them with all other weaknesses in the darkest corner of my mind. In this game, there could only be one winner.
I cut into a perfectly cooked steak, watching red juices pool on fine china.
I raised my phone and framed the shot carefully.
In the photo: my relaxed profile, the glittering tree, the concert on screen, and my gourmet meal. I faced the camera with a perfect smile dripping with malice.
*Beep*
The photo sent directly to Luna's private channel.
She didn't reply—instead, she forwarded it to the world public channel, now with only 50 survivors remaining.
Instantly, the comments exploded.
"Fuck! Vesper, you heartless bitch! We're gnawing on tree bark while you feast on steak?"
"Is that... a Christmas tree? You're actually celebrating while we suffer?"
"Murderer! Monster! You destroyed everything we had!"
How ridiculous. What had I done? I'd stayed quietly in my shelter. Except for those who came hunting me, who had I hurt?
Luna roamed the world with her zombie horde, slaughtering and infecting, yet these people had nothing to say about that?
I watched their impotent rage with amusement as I sipped my wine.
Then I leisurely typed a message on the public channel.
"Merry Christmas," I wrote. "Hope it's your last."
The curses on the public channel continued all night.
I didn't mute it. Instead, I enlarged the screen, making their rage my perfect Christmas entertainment.
I poured another glass of wine and pulled up my tactical display.
A world map appeared, marked with three distinct colors representing the remaining power blocs.
Red belonged to the Zombie King and his human symbiote, Luna.
They ruled this rotting world, controlling vast territories with an endless army of undead. Powerful and terrifying.
Blue belonged to the military's remnant forces.
Their leader was an NPC—a stubborn old general. Their base was a former military fortress, well-defended but run by fools clinging to the old world's glory.
The third color was a dirty gray.
This force controlled District 12—once a slum, now a lawless zone.
Their leader was Cain, Tribute #128, a gang boss who'd grown powerful by plundering civilians and absorbing smaller survivor groups.
He was also the strongest ability user still alive.
A psychic manipulator.
My finger traced across the map, finally landing on that dirty gray zone.
I'll start with you, I thought.
