Day 20.
Five days after the entity's defeat, and the world was already changing.
The corruption was fading faster than Morgan had predicted. Trees that had twisted into nightmarish shapes were straightening, their bark slowly returning to normal. The ground that had pulsed like living tissue had gone still, becoming simple earth again. Even the air felt different—cleaner, lighter, free of the psychic weight that had pressed down on everything since Day 0.
I stood on the compound wall, watching a work crew clear debris from the main road.
"Progress," Rachel said, climbing up beside me.
"Some."
"More than some. We've cleared three miles of road in five days. Found two supply caches the entity's corruption had hidden. Established contact with four survivor groups within radio range." She handed me a clipboard. "At this rate, we'll have a functional trade network within a month."
I scanned the numbers.
They were good. Better than expected.
"And the zombies?"
"Vanguard's patrols are covering twice our range. They don't need rest, don't need supplies, and the feral zombies avoid them." Rachel shook her head. "I never thought I'd say this, but having fifteen thousand undead allies is actually useful."
"They're not undead. Not anymore." I watched a group of Vanguard's soldiers pass by on the road below—organized, purposeful, aware. "They're something new. Something we don't have a word for yet."
"New enough to scare the hell out of the survivors from Tacoma."
"The ones who arrived yesterday?"
"Yeah. Thirty-two people, led by a woman named Sergeant Reyes. Military background. Organized, capable, but..." Rachel grimaced. "They took one look at the zombies and nearly opened fire."
"What stopped them?"
"Vanguard. He talked them down. Actually talked—introduced himself, explained the alliance, answered their questions." She laughed. "Their faces when a zombie started discussing diplomatic relations in complete sentences..."
I could imagine.
"We'll need to work on that. First contact protocols. Ways to explain our situation without causing panic."
"Already drafting something. Morgan's helping." Rachel hesitated. "But that's not why I came up here."
"What is?"
"We received a transmission an hour ago. Long-range. Someone with serious equipment."
She handed me a transcription.
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The message was brief.
To the Seattle Compound—
We've monitored your transmissions. We know about the entity's defeat. We know about the Zombie King's sacrifice. We know about your alliance.
We are the Pacific Northwest Recovery Initiative—a coalition of military remnants, government survivors, and organized civilian groups spanning from Portland to Vancouver. Our numbers exceed ten thousand. Our resources are substantial.
We propose a summit. Face to face. To discuss cooperation, shared defense, and the future of human civilization in this region.
If you are interested, respond on frequency 142.7. We will be listening.
—Director Harrison, PNRI
I read it twice.
"This is real?"
"Morgan verified the encryption. Military-grade. These people have resources we can barely imagine." Rachel's expression was complicated. "But there's something else."
"What?"
"They mentioned the Zombie King. By name. Which means they were monitoring us closely—probably had observers on the ground." She met my eyes. "They know you're human now. They know the zombies are independent. They've been watching."
I looked at the message again.
To discuss cooperation, shared defense, and the future of human civilization.
It sounded diplomatic.
But diplomacy could hide many things.
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The inner circle debated for hours.
"It's an opportunity," Morgan argued. "The PNRI has access to government bunkers, military bases, preserved infrastructure. If they're willing to share, we could accelerate rebuilding by years."
"Or it's a trap," Max countered. "They know we're weakened. Know the Zombie King is gone. What better time to absorb a rival group?"
"We're not rivals. We're survivors."
"Same thing, from a certain perspective."
Drake leaned forward, his fire flickering with agitation.
"What about the zombies? Any alliance that includes us includes them. How's a military coalition going to react to that?"
"They mentioned the alliance in their message," Rachel noted. "Didn't condemn it. Didn't threaten."
"Didn't endorse it either."
The argument continued.
I listened.
Watched.
Thought about ten thousand years of history—most of it now lost to me, but some patterns remained. Some instincts.
"We go," I said finally.
Everyone stopped.
"You're sure?" Min-Tong asked quietly. She'd been silent through the debate, but her concern was obvious.
"No. But hiding from them won't make them go away. If they're hostile, better to know now than be surprised later. If they're genuine..." I shrugged. "Then we might actually have a chance at rebuilding something real."
"And if it's a trap?"
"Then we spring it on our terms." I looked around the table. "I won't go alone. Full delegation—representatives from every group in the compound. Show them we're not just the Zombie King's remnants. We're a community."
"What about the zombies?" Drake pressed.
I thought about Vanguard. About the alliance we'd formed. About fifteen thousand former servants of my will who had chosen to stand with us.
"Vanguard comes too."
That caused a stir.
"Wei—" Rachel started.
"If they can't accept our allies, they won't accept us. Better to find out at a summit than after we've committed to cooperation." I stood. "We leave tomorrow. Anyone who wants to join the delegation, be ready at dawn."
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I found Vanguard at the edge of zombie territory.
He stood motionless in the twilight, watching his soldiers patrol the perimeter. Silent. Patient. Eternally vigilant.
"You wished to speak," he said as I approached.
"How did you know?"
"Your footsteps. Deliberate. Purpose-driven. Not the casual walk of someone seeking leisure." A ghost of expression crossed his dead features. "I have learned to read the living."
"We received a message from a larger survivor group. They want to meet."
"I am aware. Sound carries. And my soldiers report what they observe."
Of course they did.
"I want you to come with me. To the summit."
Vanguard turned to face me fully.
"That is unwise."
"Maybe."
"Humans fear us. Even here—among those who have worked alongside us—there is discomfort. Unease. In a gathering of strangers, that fear will be magnified."
"I know."
"Then why?"
I met his milky eyes.
"Because you're part of this. Whatever we're building, it includes you—includes all of you. Hiding that won't change it. Pretending the zombie alliance doesn't exist won't make it go away."
"The humans may reject us. May demand our destruction as a condition of cooperation."
"Then we don't cooperate with them."
Vanguard was silent for a long moment.
"You would sacrifice an alliance with thousands of living humans to protect an alliance with the dead?"
"I would refuse to build the future on a foundation of betrayal." I gestured at the compound behind me. "You chose to help us. Freely. Without coercion. That kind of loyalty isn't something I throw away because it's inconvenient."
More silence.
Then Vanguard did something I'd never seen before.
He smiled.
It was terrifying—dead muscles pulling in unfamiliar ways, creating an expression that was almost but not quite right. But the emotion behind it was genuine.
"You are strange, Wei Chen. For a human."
"I've been told."
"Very well. I will attend your summit. And if they reject us..." The smile faded into something harder. Colder. "We will demonstrate why rejection is unwise."
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The night before departure, I couldn't sleep.
I wandered the compound, nodding to the guards, watching the stars wheel overhead. The same stars that had witnessed the entity's arrival. The same stars that would witness whatever came next.
Min-Tong found me near the medical building.
"Nervous?"
"Terrified."
She laughed softly.
"You faced an elder god and won. A diplomatic summit scares you?"
"Facing the entity was simple. Kill it or die trying. Clear stakes. Obvious enemy." I leaned against the wall. "This is... politics. Negotiation. People with agendas I can't see and goals I can't predict."
"You could stay here. Send Rachel. She's better at diplomacy anyway."
"I could. But they asked for us. For the Zombie King's compound. Sending anyone else would look like weakness." I turned to face her. "And besides—I started this. Whatever we're building, I have to see it through."
She stepped closer.
"Then I'm coming with you."
"Min-Tong—"
"Don't." Her healing light flared briefly. "I'm not staying behind while you walk into unknown territory with people we don't trust. The Saint has as much right to be at that table as anyone."
I wanted to argue.
Couldn't think of any argument that wasn't insulting.
"Alright. But if things go bad—"
"If things go bad, I'll heal you. And then I'll watch you talk our way out of it." She kissed my cheek. "That's what you do, isn't it? Talk your way through impossible situations?"
"I used to command an army of the dead. Talking was backup."
"Well, now it's your main strategy." She smiled. "Time to adapt, Zombie King."
I pulled her close.
Held her.
And tried not to think about everything that could go wrong.