Chapter 9

"Wake up."

Can I rest, please?

"Wake up."

I'm tired…

"Wake up! Your family needs you."

PQ's eyes shot open. How long has he been out?

Still recovering from nausea, he gave himself a few seconds to meditate the symptoms away. His throbbing head calmed down, his senses no longer going on a rampage. A slick of hair draped in front of his eye and he trained his focus on it.

Concentrating on it negated the residual effects of his migraine, and his myopic vision gradually cleared. Slowly standing up, PQ grabbed his phone on the counter to check the time, preparing for the worst.

As it turns out, he was only out for a few seconds. What felt like an eternity, was just mere seconds.

A sigh of relief escaped his lungs as he gathered his thoughts.

'What now? Oh, right. I need to find that zombie enthusiast.'

Swinging open the fridge door, a cool gust and darkness welcomed him. That wasn't a good sign. The temperature was also nowhere close to being cold, which means the meats won't last long. Being a zombie enthusiast, the neighbour upstairs might know a thing or two about preserving food. He could have turned too, but if that happens…

'Let's stay positive.'

Collecting himself, PQ once again armed himself head to toe and set out.

The back door was still open, the handle hooked so deep into the female corpse that it held down the weight of the door, keeping it stationary.

PQ grieved for the friendly neighbour who always said hi to him in the morning, pausing for a moment of silence. His eyes followed the umbilical cord attached to the corpse, connecting the mother and son he, unfortunately, had to kill.

He nudged the tiny corpse next to its mother, reuniting the family. He thought about his own family, about whether they were alive or not.

Feeling a little emotional, he took his eyes off the two corpses, and he reluctantly continued on.

Pulling open the fire exit door, he half expected a harsh siren to blare. But of course, there was no power to support it. Looking back one last time, he entered the door, leaving the common area behind.

Without any man-made light, the outline of staircases was vaguely sculpted out by the mellow moonlight seeping through the barred windows at every level.

PQ carefully traversed up the stairs, reducing the volume of every footstep to avoid unwanted attention.

The 9th floor was quiet, suggesting that there were no zombies in the open common area. The 10th floor was alike the 9th floor, empty and safe. Walking up to the 11th floor was where PQ understood he had to remain absolutely silent. With every step taken, he could hear the hungry hissing and growling of multiple zombies growing more and more distinct.

On the 11th floor, the small glass window situated at eye level on the fire exit door was coated in crimson red. Inside was a cacophony of zombie screeches as if celebrating their success in conquering that floor.

Shaking his head in solidarity, PQ moved up, reaching his final destination. Though two-thirds of the floors were vacant, luck wasn't on his side on this floor. Through the small glass pane, he found two twitching zombies wandering around the premise, gawking at the doors and walls randomly. They were a young couple in their 20s, dressed in cute matching outfits. The woman had huge bite gashes on her neck. They were probably waiting for the elevator together before the boyfriend turned, infecting his girlfriend in an instant.

"It's all this darn apocalypses fault. If it weren't for it, people would have been living their happy lives." Grumbling in frustration, PQ bit down hard on his lower lip, trying to suppress the anger accumulating in him.

"I already killed 2 zombies… maybe like 1.1, 1.2 zombies but nonetheless, I think I can take them on." Mustering up his courage, PQ furrowed his eyebrows, tensing all his muscles.

3… 2… 1… Go!!!

As the male zombie approaches the fire exit door, PQ bashed it open with a powerful kick. Swinging open with force, the door pushed away from the male zombie to the right, causing it to tumble onto the ground. While the male zombie was still on the ground, PQ lashed out his kitchen knife at the injured, smaller female zombie on the left, hoping to lay a vital strike. The female zombie, unfazed by the door abruptly swinging open, attacked the human before her, baring her fangs.

In such a close encounter, PQ could smell the foul breath emitting from the zombie's mouth. Its infectious fangs were somewhat sharper than an average human, a perfect combination to match their deadly attribute.

The blade of his knife struck directly into her temple, destroying its brain and evidently slaying the undead. On the other hand, the male zombie has crawled back up, swiping his hand at PQ.

'Shit. Fuck. Poo on a fucking stick!" Vulgarities of all shapes and languages poured through his mind. He underestimated the speed of a zombie, and that now he wouldn't able to dodge the attack entirely.

'Think fast PQ! Think fast!" With nearly 20 years of experience of shitting on a toilet, he squatted down almost instantly as the zombie's hand brushed past PQ's hair strands instead of his body. Utilizing the position he was in, PQ sprung upwards explosively, sending his knife deep into the zombie's jaw and driving it up to its brain.

As a last resort, the zombie also swung at PQ. Being in an awkward position, the zombie missed its chance to deal a fatal blow, only able to graze by PQ's right arm.

Twisting his whole body, the knife acted like a drill as it rotated around the skull, eliminating the threat. PQ gasped in awe as he realized his weapon was now permanently bent. Unable to pull it out, PQ released his grasp, allowing the male zombie to rest aside from its partner peacefully. Wishing their souls to ascend to the afterlife, PQ finally collapsed on the floor, happy that the battle was eventually all over.

He wasn't religious or anything, but the apocalypse has changed his perspective on life. He just wants his life to return back to normal, and he will give his prayers to the lives he has taken.

PQ began to reflect on his fight, figuring out how to improve himself to increase his survivability in this apocalypse.

"My squat is too slow, almost died back there. Looks like 20 years of squatting… actually let's minus a few years. Almost forgot I had a baby phase where I was shitting my diapers…"

"Where was I again? Oh yeah, the zombie enthusiast!" Completing his reflection, he scanned through the four apartments on the 12th floor, locating the correct unit in no time.

It stood out from the rest of the units as it had an extra, barred metal door, adding on to the default thick door as a new layer of protection.

"Anyone home?" PQ reached out his hand in between the bar, knocking on the door twice while ringing the bell, forgetting that the bell also needed electricity to operate.

"Unlocked?" PQ was surprised to find the door handle twistable, considering the reputation of this zombie enthusiast.

"John? You there?" PQ pushed open the door.

The kitchen floor was covered in food, water and other supplies, arranged in an orderly fashion.

At the very end of the living room, a motionless silhouette of a teenager stood still on the balcony, gazing at the pitch-black city.

"John?" PQ called out in a low tone. "You there?"

That's when he noticed the occasional jitter of the silhouette, creating tremendous unease.

John turned around, towards the voice that called out to him.

Under the moonlight, PQ saw the jaundiced skin enveloping John. His grey eyes were cold and void of life.

John was a victim of the apocalypse.