Chapter 21 Nothing Like the Early Days
Day ten of the apocalypse dawned–nothing like the early days.
Radio rescue announcements had ceased, government notices gone silent, and the populace, gripped by panic and drained of food supplies, hit rock bottom.
Over the past few days, residents had begun venturing out in search of sustenance.
Starvation or zombie attacks awaited most, yet desperation had stripped the undead of their terror.
This mass exodus, however, triggered a surge in the city’s zombie hordes.
Few who dared face the crowds emerged unscathed.
Nine out of ten foragers met gruesome ends—no exaggeration.
Fear and inexperience had kept people hiding in the early days, but now zombies lurked everywhere, striking without warning.
Stumbling into a cluster meant certain death, a feast for the undead.
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As the number of new zombies skyrocketed, both humans and undead endured prolonged hunger.
Driven by starvation, the zombies launched relentless raids on
human shelters.
Case in point.
“Damn! The door won’t hold much longer! The zombies outside have been roaring louder and slamming harder every day. I’ve barricaded it with everything I have, locked myself in the innermost room–why the hell can they still find me?
“I still have plenty of food! Is anyone out there? I’ll trade my supplies for help!”
Iris came across a live stream where an attractive young man begged for help.
A quick glance revealed his profession: food blogger.
No wonder he had a stockpile–countless free samples from sponsors and evaluation purchases filled his shelves.
His supply was impressive.
Brad Smith was also a homebody, rarely venturing out—making him one of the luckier survivors of the zombie crisis.
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His only misfortune? Renting an apartment in a youth hostel.
Nearly everyone on his floor had turned.
Zombies roamed the halls outside his apartment daily. After days of terror, Brad followed online advice to reinforce his front door, hiding in the innermost bedroom and doing his best to mask his scent.
Now, though, the increasingly violent slams on his door left no doubt–every zombie in the building seemed to have gathered outside.
Shortly after Brad posted his plea, a response arrived from a fitness instructor in the same building: [I can save you, but I want half your food.]
Brad replied instantly: [Deal! How will you get to me?]
[I’m right above you. I’ll lower a rope from my window–grab on, and I’ll pull you up.]
[Okay!]
Brad hurried to pack, strapping a camera to his head to broadcast the entire rescue.
He laid out instant mac and cheese, beef jerky, self–heating meals, and water. The man upstairs told him to hoist fogd:09
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up
first to make his climb easier.
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Brad muttered to the camera, “I’m not an idiot. If I send all the food up first, he’ll just leave me here.”
He tied as many supplies as he could to his body.
Just then, a loud crash cut him off–the sound of his front door splintering.
“Hurry up!” the instructor shouted.
“Coming!” Brad glanced back to see his door shattered, hordes of zombies swarming in.
Their gray–black bodies were mangled, many with gaping abdominal wounds, rotting intestines dragging like black hemp ropes. Dark brown skin clung tightly to their faces; some had lost all features, leaving only bloodied, bone–exposed holes.
Starving for days, the undead lunged at him with feral hunger.
The sight would have paralyzed anyone with fear.
Brad slammed shut the flimsy bedroom door, scrambled onto the balcony, and grabbed the dangling rope.
“You have to save me!” he cried–only to realize he was far too heavy.
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“You’re too heavy!” the instructor grunted, nearly pulled over the edge by the weight. “There’s still time–lower the food separately first!”
“No! Together!” Brad refused.
In these desperate times, handing over the food meant certain death.
“Then throw some of it away!”
Without hesitation, Brad tossed his water bottles aside.
“Not enough! I haven’t eaten in days–I don’t have the strength! Throw more!” the instructor gasped.
Brad complained to the camera, “Fitness instructor, my ass. If I throw everything away, what’ll I eat later?”
Reluctantly, he discarded more supplies. Just as the instructor managed to lift him slightly, the bedroom door burst open.
“AAAAH! Pull me up! Hurry!” Brad dangled mid–air, terrified.
“Hook the food onto the basket next to you! I’ll pull you up first, then the supplies!”
“No! No! The food comes with me!” He couldn’t risk the
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instructor dropping him once the supplies were safe.
Food was life now.
“You have to trust me! Otherwise, you’re dead!”
Brad hesitated—but before he could decide, a withered hand clamped onto his ankle.
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ir Gifts
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.
