Whew… That was a handful.
After hours of careful hunting, slicing, and managing commands, I've finally filled all my walker slots.
Twelve.
That's right—twelve undead under my control.
It sounds ridiculous even to me, but this is the world now. And with every kill, every carefully chosen addition to my new "undead battalion," I could feel the system's grip growing stronger.
Among them is the real gem of the bunch—a walker that can use weapons.
Yeah, you heard that right.
I found him in the heart of Pine Town. He was holding a brick, bashing it repeatedly against the glass window of a shop. At first, I thought it was just mindless aggression like any other walker... but no. This one had intent.
A mutated walker.
Probably used to be someone strong—maybe military or just plain unhinged before they turned. Either way, I stopped it before it broke in. There were survivors inside, and I didn't want to attract trouble.
The others I collected include five rugby-player types—bulky, broad, and built like tanks. The rest? Still impressively muscular for walkers. The system seems to favor physical capability when allowing control. A good sign. I can build a real army with this.
Looking up at the dipping sun, I sighed.
Night's falling fast.
Guess I'm stuck here for the night. I found an old bookstore with thick glass and a reinforced back door. It'll do.
Luckily, I packed light rations—nothing fancy. Honestly, I miss my chef and maid already. Probably preparing something delicious back at the Federation.
Freshly grilled steak, buttered vegetables, and hot bread... damn.
I chuckled as I chewed on a bland protein bar.
After eating, I checked in with my undead.
I assigned new groupings:
The two walkers I controlled earlier—my first pair.
The five rugby brutes, now lined up in formation.
The mutated weapon-user, standing a few feet away like a bodyguard.
The four remaining tanks, all capable of heavy hits and pushing obstacles.
Now for Phase Two of my plan:
The walkers would remain hidden for now. I'd use them to build checkpoints—walls of undead, blocking off roads and chokepoints that lead toward the Federation.
Any threat that dares head our way will think twice after seeing hundreds—maybe thousands—of walkers swarming the approach.
And the best part? When it's time for us to move, I'll just herd them away, whisperer-style, using the controlled ones as my shepherds.
A mobile undead firewall.
With that thought, I leaned back in my makeshift bed and let my body relax.
Then I closed my eyes and drifted off to sleep, while my undeads—silent, and motionless—stood guard in the shadows.
Morning came.
I woke up to the sound of silence—something that still felt eerie in this dying world. After a quick stretch, I ate a small meal, just enough to keep me moving. Nothing compared to the food back home, but it would do.
Now… it was time to move.
I gave a mental command to the system:
"Scatter the undead. Let them roam."
The twelve walkers I now controlled began to slowly disperse into the town, seamlessly blending in with the wandering herds. My objective? Build a natural horde that could serve as a living wall—both a weapon and a shield.
As they moved, I stood quietly on a rooftop, watching. I'd return here with Troy and the others soon. The shops, homes, and stores still held untouched supplies. We'd loot them all. Another win for the Federation's stockpile.
Time to head back.
I kept low, careful with every step. Walking alone in the apocalypse wasn't bravery—it was calculation and luck. But then—
"AHHH! HELP!"
The scream ripped through the still air.
I snapped toward the sound, instinct kicking in. Sprinting full speed down the road, I reached a clearing between some collapsed storefronts.
Three women.
One of them—on the ground—was being pinned by a walker, its decayed mouth gaping as it tried to bite her shoulder. The other two were desperately stabbing its torso with small knives. I shook my head. That wouldn't work. That's why the world fell so fast—because even the military didn't know how to stop them.
You don't shoot the body. You don't stab the chest. You destroy the brain.
Drawing my blade, I charged forward. With one clean swing, the walker's head flew through the air and hit the pavement with a thud.
I dragged the woman away, careful not to let any blood get on her skin. She screamed, but I kept her moving until we were clear.
"Careful," I muttered. "You never know what's in their blood."
The three women sat huddled on the sidewalk, gasping for breath, trembling. Finally, one of them—eyes wide—pointed at me.
"You… You killed a person!"
I looked at her, and then I laughed.
A deep, genuine laugh.
"Hah! A person? That thing was already dead," I said, wiping my blade. "If it was still alive, you wouldn't have been screaming. And no matter how many times you stabbed it, it wasn't going to stop."
They stared at me, stunned.
"You have to destroy the brain," I explained, more gently this time. "That's the only way to stop them."
Now that things calmed down, I got a better look at them.
The first was young, blonde, beautiful, with long curls matted with dirt. Her blue eyes, despite the panic, were strikingly familiar.
The second was older, a brunette in her late 30s. She had the sharp, calculating eyes of someone used to being in control.
The third was tall, with short dark hair and an athletic build.
The blonde one spoke again.
"I… I'm Taylor Swift."
I froze.
Wait… what?
She continued, "This is my agent, Shenna Boone, and our friend, Alexia Clark. When the outbreak began, we were on our way home. Got caught on the road and held up in a small shop in the next block. We managed to survive, barely."
Taylor Swift.
The woman herself. Dirt-covered, exhausted… but unmistakable.
She looked at me with wary eyes. "We heard a broadcast a few days ago—something about a safe zone in the state. We thought if we could reach it…"
I raised a hand to stop her.
"No bites?" I asked firmly.
They all shook their heads.
"Good."
I looked over them again, thinking. This wasn't what I expected today. But fate had a weird sense of humor.
I nodded toward the road. "Come with me. You're lucky I was nearby. Let's get you somewhere safe."
As we began walking, I couldn't help but chuckle under my breath.
Taylor Swift. In apocalypse. Just my luck.
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