Now then… time to find my babies.
The morning sun burned through the fog as I made my way down the cracked road leading to Pine Town. My boots crunched over shattered glass and dried leaves, every step pulling me deeper into the silence. You'd think the apocalypse would make the world quiet and peaceful. Nope. It just made it quiet and creepy—like walking into a horror movie where you already know you're the idiot who shouldn't open the door.
When I finally reached the outskirts of town, what I saw froze me in place.
"Holy… shit."
A sea of rot. An ocean of death. Walkers—hundreds of them—no, thousands. All crammed into the streets, their grotesque forms swaying like drunk fans at a death metal concert. Their guttural groans blended into a sickening chorus that sent a chill down my spine.
My heart pounded so hard it felt like it might burst. This wasn't a herd… this was a damn apocalypse storm. If Moses showed up right now, even he'd turn around and say, "Nope."
I gripped the strap of my backpack tighter, sweat sliding down my temple despite the cool morning air.
"What the hell have I done…?"
And then it hit me. Yesterday, I gave the order. My controlled walkers—the ones I trusted—they followed my command like the perfect little death puppies they were. I told them to gather more. To lure others in. To create a force so massive no one would dare approach Federation territory.
And now… here it was. A nightmare I unleashed. Congratulations, Marcus. You just invented the zombie version of Amazon Prime—delivering death in bulk.
Thousands. Easily a thousand, maybe more. And if there were this many walkers here… what about the people?
I cursed under my breath, pulling out the folded map from my jacket pocket. Pine Town was circled in red ink, along with several other spots. My original plan was simple—strategically scatter herds across key access points, forming a deadly wall of flesh and teeth that would keep enemies from ever reaching us. Brilliant on paper. But now? Now it felt like I had just signed a death warrant for anyone dumb—or unlucky—enough to still be breathing here.
For a moment, my confidence cracked. What if there were survivors still trapped in these houses? What if my herd was already tearing through them right now?
I clenched my fists, forcing myself to breathe. No turning back now. What's done is done. You can't unbake a cake, and you sure as hell can't unrelease a zombie apocalypse death swarm.
I needed to make this worth it. I needed more control slots. More walkers under my command. And the only way to do that… was to kill. Again. Because nothing says "team building" like chopping heads off your own recruits.
Slowly, I scanned the crowd of undead from my vantage point, looking for the strongest, the meanest, the most useful of the bunch. My fingers brushed against the hilt of my blade strapped to my back. The thought of wading into that sea of death sent a surge of adrenaline through me. Or maybe that was just panic pretending to be confidence.
"Alright," I muttered to myself, gripping the map tighter before tucking it away. "Phase two starts now. Time to increase my army."
But deep down, one thought clawed at me like a ghost whispering in my ear:
How many innocent lives paid the price for this plan?
And then another voice—my own, darker, meaner—chuckled in the back of my mind:
"Hopefully not too many. Otherwise dinner with Taylor is going to be awkward."
I spotted them—my controlled walkers. They lingered near the edges of the massive herd, with a few mixed in toward the center. From this distance, they looked almost… obedient. Like dogs waiting for their master's call. Or machines, programmed to follow my every command.
"Good boys," I muttered under my breath. "Daddy's proud." Yeah, if anyone heard me say that out loud, they'd probably shoot me before the walkers did.
But admiration would have to wait. It was time to work.
By late afternoon, the air was thick with the stench of decay. Every breath tasted like rot and broken dreams. My muscles ached, my throat burned, and the sun had started bleeding into the horizon, painting everything in a dull, rusty red—like God spilled wine and decided to leave it.
The sound of the herd was deafening—thousands of shuffling feet, groaning throats, and snapping jaws. Just listening to it was enough to make my bones feel heavy.
I needed a plan. Charging headfirst into that hellstorm? I'd already tried that once today—and I nearly died like an idiot for it. A few minutes of slashing through that wall of flesh was all it took to realize the truth:
"One man doesn't fight an army… not without becoming part of it."
And trust me, I do not look good in gray, rotting skin.
If I did that again, there'd be nothing left of Marcus. Just another shambling corpse wandering around like it forgot its car keys.
So, I changed tactics. I found a narrow alley between two old diners and made it my kill zone. Luring a handful of walkers into the choke point, then cutting them down one by one—that was the plan. Efficient, controlled, safe. Or at least, safer than what I tried earlier.
And for hours, that's exactly what I did. Slice, step, breathe. Blood spraying across the cracked pavement. Skulls splitting under the weight of my blade. By the time I cleared the alley, it was carpeted in corpses. A graveyard I made with my own hands. Add that to my résumé: Professional Alley Decorator – Specializing in Gore Chic.
But the herd was endless. For every ten I killed, fifty more shuffled in the distance. Like some kind of undead pyramid scheme. Kill one, get two free.
I moved to another alley. Then another. Repeating the process until my arms screamed and my vision blurred.
By the time I stopped, my kill count was well past a hundred. Which meant more slots for my army. But the price? My entire body felt like it was breaking apart. My legs were jelly. My lungs burned. Sweat soaked my shirt and stung my eyes.
"God… I'm so damn tired."
I leaned against a cracked brick wall, staring up at the darkening sky. The first stars were already peeking through the veil of dusk, probably laughing at me.
"I… I can't keep this pace."
I chuckled bitterly, the sound raw in my throat.
"I've gotten arrogant, huh? Thought I was invincible because I had a system. Because I had power."
But the truth was staring me in the face: I was still human. Fragile, and breakable.
And right now? All I wanted was to collapse. To shut my eyes and sleep before exhaustion finished what the walkers couldn't.
I smirked at the thought. What a way to go. Not torn apart by zombies. Not gunned down by raiders. Nope… death by nap. Legendary.
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