Day 10.
The sun rose over Seattle, and for the first time since the apocalypse began, I felt something like control.
Eight thousand zombies patrolled my territory. Three hundred mutants prowled the outer perimeter. Two Elites—Vanguard and Ursa—led the most dangerous sectors.
Ghost sat on my shoulder, purring, her consciousness brushing against mine with wordless approval.
Pack grows, she sent. Alpha stronger.
"Alpha" was her word for me. She'd started using it after the Hive King battle, when the nature of our bond had shifted into something deeper. Something that felt less like master-and-pet and more like... equals.
"The pack needs to keep growing," I said. "We're not safe yet."
Never safe. Only stronger.
She was right.
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The inner circle met in what we'd started calling the War Room—a converted conference room on the compound's second floor. Max had requisitioned a map of Seattle, marked up with pins and colored strings that tracked our territory, our patrols, and our threats.
"Current situation," Rachel began, pointing at the map. "We control a rough semicircle from the waterfront to the industrial district. About twelve square miles. Everything outside that is contested."
"Contested by who?" Drake asked.
"Wandering hordes, mostly. The organized mutation group you took out last night was the biggest concentration. But there are more emerging. Here, here, and here." She tapped three spots on the map—all on the northern edge of our territory. "Smaller groups. Twenty to fifty each. Moving with purpose."
"They're organizing," I said. "Just like the bear-creature's group."
"Yes. And if we let them organize fully..."
"We get another siege. Maybe worse." I studied the map. "We can't let that happen."
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"My proposal," I said, "is systematic expansion. We move outward in a spiral pattern. Claim every zone we can, absorb every zombie we encounter, neutralize every potential threat before it becomes one."
"That's aggressive," Max said. "What about the survivors? The human groups that might be out there?"
"We offer them the same choice we've been offering: join us or stay out of our way. But we don't slow down for anyone who isn't interested."
Harold raised a hand.
"What about resources? Food. Water. Medicine. We're already stretched thin with fifty-nine people. How do we scale up?"
"By taking what we need." The words came out harder than I intended. "There are warehouses across the city. Distribution centers. Hospitals. All of them are sitting there, unguarded, waiting for someone to claim them."
"Guarded by zombies," Drake pointed out.
"Zombies I can control." I smiled—a thin, predatory expression. "Every obstacle is an opportunity. Every horde is reinforcements waiting to be claimed."
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We spent the next three hours planning.
Rachel divided the expansion into phases: first, secure all critical infrastructure within our current territory. Generators. Water treatment. Food storage. Then, extend outward to the north, claiming the zones where mutations were organizing.
Harold would run the supply operations, converting cleared buildings into forward bases. Max would manage the human element—integrating new survivors, maintaining morale, keeping the community functional.
Dr. Vasquez would establish medical outposts. Min-Tong would train under her, developing her healing abilities while serving as our emergency response.
Maya would continue watching the futures, alerting us to threats before they materialized.
And me?
I would do what I did best.
Claim everything.
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"What about the facility?" Sarah asked. She'd been quiet through most of the meeting, still recovering from her reconnaissance mission. "The 72-hour deadline expires today."
I'd almost forgotten.
Almost.
"We don't respond," I said. "Let them wait."
"They know where we are. They could attack."
"They won't." I was confident now—more confident than I'd been when we first received their message. "The entity in that mountain needs me. Needs my army. Needs whatever I'm supposedly building for it. They're not going to destroy what they want to harvest."
"And when they come to harvest?"
"Then we'll be ready."
Sarah looked unconvinced.
Drake, surprisingly, nodded.
"I like it. Let them come to us. Force them to act on our terms." His eyes glowed with that ever-present fire. "And when they do, we burn them."
"Or claim them," I added. "Whatever works."
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The expansion began at noon.
I led it personally, with Ursa at my side and five hundred zombies at my back.
The first target was a hospital complex two miles north of our territory. Pre-apocalypse, it had been a regional medical center—seven buildings, hundreds of beds, stockpiles of medicine and equipment.
Now it was a nightmare.
Zombies filled every floor. Hundreds of them—patients, staff, visitors, all transformed on Day 0. They shambled through corridors stained with old blood, trapped in rooms they lacked the intelligence to open, congregating in the lobby like shoppers waiting for a sale.
They never saw me coming.
CLAIM.
The command rippled through the building.
Two hundred and forty-three zombies. All of them mine in a single instant.
No resistance. No struggle. Just absorption.
My army grew.
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By sunset, I'd cleared twelve buildings.
Two hospitals. Three warehouses. Four apartment complexes. Two schools. One shopping center.
Each one added to my force. Added to my territory. Added to my power.
I felt the growth with every claim. Not just in numbers—in depth. My connection to the dead was becoming something more. Something that hummed in my bones. Something that whispered in my blood.
Stronger, Ghost sent. But also... different.
"Different how?"
Can't explain. Just... feel.
I looked at my hands.
They were pale. Paler than I remembered.
When did I last eat?
When did I last sleep?
The answers didn't come easily.
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I returned to the compound at dusk.
Min-Tong was waiting.
"You look terrible," she said.
"Thanks."
"I mean it." She took my hand. "When did you last eat?"
"I... don't remember."
"Wei." Her voice was sharp now. "You have to take care of yourself. You're not just a necromancer—you're human. Or you're supposed to be."
Supposed to be.
The phrase echoed.
"I'm fine," I said. "Just tired."
"You don't look tired. You look..." She hesitated. "You look like someone who's forgetting to be alive."
I wanted to argue.
I couldn't.
Because she was right.
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We ate together that night.
Real food—Mrs. Chen had prepared a hot meal from their dwindling supplies. Rice and vegetables and some canned meat that had been scrounged from a nearby grocery store.
I put a spoonful in my mouth.
It tasted like nothing. Like chewing wet paper. My tongue had forgotten what food was for.
"Wei?" Min-Tong's voice was concerned. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Don't lie to me."
I set down my chopsticks.
"The food doesn't matter anymore. My body knows I don't need it." I met her eyes. "I haven't eaten in two days, and I'm not hungry. I haven't slept in three, and I'm not tired. Something's changing in me. Has been changing since I came back. And every time I use my power—every time I claim more zombies—it accelerates."
Her hand found mine under the table.
"Is that why the entity is pleased? Because you're becoming... like it?"
"Maybe." I squeezed her fingers. "But I'm not going to let it control me. Whatever I'm becoming, I'll make sure it's mine. Not its. Not anyone else's. Mine."
"And if you can't?"
I thought about our conversation on the roof. About the failsafe we'd discussed.
"Then you know what to do."
She nodded slowly.
And said nothing more.
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The radio crackled at midnight.
Harold's voice came through the speakers, tense and alert.
"Wei. Rachel. Everyone. You need to hear this."
We gathered in the radio room.
"This is Facility Seven-Alpha," the familiar voice said. "The deadline has expired. We note your lack of response. We interpret this as a decision to maintain independence."
A pause.
"Very well. We respect your choice. But circumstances have changed. The entity is waking. You have perhaps one week before it completes its regeneration. When it does, it will claim what was promised."
My blood—what little of it still felt like blood—went cold.
"We offer one final option. Come to us. Learn what we know. Together, we may find a way to survive what's coming."
Another pause.
"Or don't. Die alone, surrounded by your army of corpses, while something older than humanity tears the world apart."
"The choice, as always, is yours."
Static.
Silence.
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"One week," Rachel said quietly.
"One week," I agreed.
"That's not enough time."
"No."
"So what do we do?"
I looked at the radio. At the compound. At my inner circle, gathered in the dim light of the basement.
I thought about the entity in the mountain. About the debt I supposedly owed. About the changes happening in my body, making me less human with every passing day.
And I made a decision.
"We go to them," I said. "Not to surrender. Not to join. But to learn. To understand what we're facing."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then I bring eight thousand zombies and burn it to the ground." I stood. "Either way, I'm done waiting. Done reacting. Done being prey."
"What are we, then?" Drake asked.
My smile felt predatory. Inhuman. I didn't try to soften it.
"We're the ones who hunt the hunters."