Chapter 3

As the sun rises, millions of Americans turn on their televisions expecting to catch up on the latest news and weather updates. Instead, they are met with scenes of utter chaos and devastation. The screen flickers with images of people being violently attacked by what appear to be rabid animals wounds or sick individuals chasing people around.

A stern-faced newscaster attempts to maintain composure while describing the unfolding crisis. "We are receiving reports from all over the country of mass attacks involving a spike of aggressive people unlike anything we have ever seen before," she says, struggling to find the right words to describe the horrific events unfolding before viewers' eyes.

The camera cuts away to show clips of people fleeing in terror from these assailants. Fires rage out of control, engulfing entire neighborhoods as emergency services scramble to respond. Streets are littered with abandoned vehicles, broken glass, and other debris left behind by desperate citizens trying to escape the encroaching madness.

Social media feeds fill up with frantic posts from users sharing stories of loved ones gone missing or worse – brutally killed by these events. #ApocalypseNow starts trending worldwide, reflecting the growing sense of disbelief and despair among those caught up in the nightmare.

Switching channels can be seen the same, the newscaster's voice trembles as he describes the growing number of incidents across the country. People begin to panic, flooding social media platforms with messages of fear and disbelief. Looting breaks out in stores, while some take advantage of the chaos to settle grudges against others.

The news channels report similar stories about an unknown virus spreading rapidly throughout the country.

Official statements from various governments attempt to downplay the severity of the situation, insisting that everything is under control. However, as more information comes to light about the incidents, it becomes clear that society faces an unprecedented threat unlike anything experienced before.

Meanwhile, in a quiet suburban neighborhood, 17-year-old Mikhail Volkov wakes up to the sound of breaking news playing loudly on the television downstairs. Groggily rubbing his eyes, seeing that he is alone with none of his woman beside him, he stumbles out of bed and makes his way towards the living room where his mother Sasha, his daughter Alisha and younger twin sisters Natasha and Nadia are already gathered around the screen, watching in horror as the newscaster tell the recent news, changing channels still show similar events, reporting about the increase on violence and people looting and stocking items, as crisis continue to unfold. But what makes them scared is that police are starting to open fire against the population while trying to disperse the masses of people causing chaos and rioting.

His eyes scan the room, taking note of every detail – from the pile of clothes lying on the floor to the half-eaten bowl of cereal left behind by one of his sisters, and even the distinctive tattoo on the breast of his mother and sisters for anyone that could get a glimpse of them over their ribbed knit crop top showing that they are his. 

Seeing the fear etched onto his family members' faces, Mikhail quickly switches off the TV and takes charge of the situation. "Don't worry," he tells them confidently. "I'll take care of us."

His mother looks up at him, concern etched across her face. She doesn't want to burden her children with more bad news, but she knows they need to discuss what steps they should take next.

"The news says people are getting sick and that makes them extremely aggressive and dangerous" Sasha doubtfully says to him.

"They must be drugged, some heavy stuff" Nadia dismisses the news.

 "And how do you explain so many people in different places being like that?" Natasha to her sister.

"Don't know, maybe is some new cheap shit that is destroying their brain, in this country there are a lot of yonkies around sniffing shit every day, in school, you can see them a lot" Nadia says as if it was a normal occurrence.

"Right, I saw principal Selena needing to call the parents of the class next door because of that" Natasha agreed with her sister. "But, who knows? Maybe this time is different."

"Maybe, in any case, we need to be careful if incidents get near the neighborhood, the center of the city appears to be having problems, given the situation it's probably better that the girls don't go to class for a while," Mikhail says laughing inside at the conspiracy theory of his sisters of the people being high and that's why this is happening, he knew that wasn't the case but don't want to stress them more than they are.

"You are right, they don't need to go school until this calms down" Sasha agreed with her man. "But that doesn't mean that you two will leave this house to go to your friends or to pass the time somewhere" Sasha looked hard at her daughters knowing too well they would slip away to their friends Clarise and Sonia.

"Mom is right, you both not going to school is not for you to play around, it's to make you be safe inside the house until these incidents pass, do schoolwork not done, read, or keep playing all day with your phone as you do, but don't go outside the house" Mikhail also insists on them staying in the house.

"Have a little faith in us brother, we listen to our husband." Nadia naughtily goes into the embrace of his big brother and kisses his lips while biting his lips drawing a little blood licking him making her horny and moaning in his mouth.

"You know we listen to Mom," Natasha embraces him from his back and kisses his neck "And you" whispers softly in his ear while liking him and then also biting his globe for a lick just like her sister, going weak on his back.

Mikhail almost goes hard at both his sister's antics, wanting to fuck them right there, what a naughty pair of twins baby sisters, they like his mother seem to be more vampires than human wanting to suck his blood at every chance they get, he knew the effects of his bonding bite so he wasn't surprised of that, but they are simply addicted to it by now, like a yonkies needing drugs each day to function.

"Not fair aunties, me too, Daddy!!" Alisha also ran to his side and embraced his neck from the front kissing him for a while and moving her little pink tongue on his mouth, he felt the taste of the cereal on her baby girl, but not long she also bit him tasting his blood moaning on him and having a climax being so strong the pleasure on her, going weak on his arms.

"Stop fooling around girls, it's too early in the morning and we need to be serious here, we need to prepare as the people shown in the news, if they are anxiously stocking things from stores, we should do so too," Sasha says while rolling her eyes at her daughters, acting cute with their man.

"We need to find more supplies," she tells them matter-of-factly. "Food, water, medicine... Everything we can get our hands on."

Mikhail nods in agreement. "I'll go out and see what I can find," he offers.

"Can we go with you?" Natasha looks at him with big doe eyes.

"No, you stay here with your niece, sister, and mom," Mikhail says to her and slaps her ass making her moan on him, he also does the same to Nadia in front.

"Why me too, I don't say anything" Nadia talks to him like she is being wronged but inside she loves it, wanting to get more spanks from her brother.

"Daddy" Alisha looks at him expectantly with her doe eyes, but Mikhail hesitates for a second giving her a little tap leaving her happy.

Mikhail knew of her competitive and jealous daughter wanting to get what the rest had and not stop to anything, she was spoiled by him since being a baby, and only being four years apart from her sisters/aunts she was practically the same in personality as them being together pretty much all the time and liking the same things.

"Yeah, right, I know u will follow in her steps, you both are cut from the same cloth" Mikhail rolls his eyes at their antics.

His sisters exchange nervous glances, but neither objects to what he says. They know that their big brother will always look out for them, no matter how dire the situation may become.

Before leaving he goes to their master bedroom on the second floor, where they all sleep together and take a case from the closet, opening it there is a Beretta 92FS with a silencer, flashlight and 3 extra magazines, closing it he goes downstairs again.

Putting the case on the kitchen counter "Mom, come here a second" Mikhail

Sasha goes to his side and embraces one of his arms between her beautiful big breasts and naughtily says, "What do you need, Daddy."

Mikhail distracted and almost wanting to make his mother kneel and suck his cock like a good girl, restrains himself with all his strength and explains to her.

"This thing happening around about the sick people isn't a simple thing, if things get worse than they already are, we will need to be more careful," Mikhail says to her and opens the case showing her the pistol.

"U know how to use it right? Can you do it?" Mikhail looks into her eyes and kisses her a little on the lips, but she doesn't bite him like her daughters, she has already learned to control her urges to taste him at every chance to feel good over the years they had a husband and wife relationship, only doing it for fun when they have sex more than anything or she feels naughty but not before sucking him for a few years until she controlled.

"Yeah, I know...You taught me how to do it" Sasha says a little disconcerted at his question

"Alright, have it close at hand, just in case, if you see someone around the yard, walking like disoriented or slowly doing weird things don't even try to help them or contact them" Mikhail seriously says to his mother.

"They are dangerous" Mikhail affirms her while closing the case.

"How do you know?" Sasha worried about it pushes her body closer to him as her big soft tits almost spilled from his arm sides.

"I just know, do as I ask you, please. Keep the girls inside and don't let them even try to help strangers or anything that could happen outside the house" Mikhail says seriously as he takes hold of her chin with a free hand to make her look at him, as he orders her.

"Ok, love. I will do as you say, you are my husband." Sasha takes his face in her hands and kisses him with her tongue for a while until she is left gasping for air and excited, wishing to please him more.

"That's my girl" Mikhail smirks while grabbing her ass to his heart's content "If someone tries to enter the house, you take the girls into the bedroom and close the door, load the pistol and at the minimum sign of the door giving in, you shoot it, don't doubt, shoot at the door to whatever is behind it."

"If it somehow breaks and you see a person walking even if shot, you aim to the head, to the head mom no other place" Mikhail insists on that to her as he makes his words go through squeezing harder her ass.

Sasha freaks out about what he is saying but tries to calm down with the nervous and worried look that Mikhail gives her, feeling bothered also by her rising heat as she wets her thong as her son continues to play with her body.

"Yes honey, will do as you say" Sasha embraces him trying to reassure him that she will do as he says, while she inside only hopes that nothing happens while he is away and to have the strength to do what is needed if it comes to that, also deep inside desiring him to come back fast to fuck her brains out, already being ready for him.

Mikhail kisses her for the last time while giving her buttocks a good grope before grabbing his keys off the table. "Lock the door behind me."

As he heads towards the front door, his heart races with fear. What if something happens while he's gone? What if someone tries to break into the house? But he pushes those thoughts away, focusing instead on finding whatever resources he can get to prepare for what is to come.

Over the next few hours outside, he quickly realizes just how much the world has changed. Streets are littered with debris, cars sit abandoned, and people scream as they run frantically from place to place and this is just the start of the outbreak. The sound of sirens fills the air, mixing with the cries of frightened animals and people caught amidst the chaos.

Despite everything going on around him, Mikhail keeps moving forward, determined to provide for his loved ones. He heads to the nearest supermarket, which is already teeming with panicked shoppers grabbing whatever they can get their hands on. Despite the chaotic atmosphere, he manages to secure enough canned goods, bottled water, and non-perishable items to last them at least a month in the trunk, front and back seats.

'This car won't work, with just this amount of food and water it's practically full, that is not counting a lot of things needed to survive on the road, a new vehicle is needed' Mikhail thinks seeing that with just these things there is no space available for the girls in this Honda Accord EX 2010.

Going back home he leaves the car inside the garage with the supplies after reassuring his girls that he was alright for a while and the things he managed to grab outside, but kissing them goodbye he still leaves again. Walking a couple of blocks he breaks a window of a car with a knife, enters inside and bypasses the starter, leaving to look for some gun stores.

Almost most places have already been picked clean, but he manages to find a few useful items along the way in different places, like field boots, belts where knives or ammo pouches that he grabbed could be attached, Cyclops II Vulcan backpacks, a few M9 bayonets, camping tents big enough for the five of them to get inside one, survival kits, fishing rods, and all kinds of utility that could come handy, ammo boxes of different calibers, but he found just only one gun, a Glock .40 S&W and a few extra magazines hidden in one of the stores.

But he still kept looking for nearby gun stores that still could have what he needed.

As he traveled through the chaotic streets filled with panicked people, his senses were heightened as he took in every sound and movement around him having already spotted a couple of people already turned into walkers. His heart pounded heavily against his chest, adrenaline surging through his veins like a wildfire. Mikhail needed to find a gun store before it was too late. And he knows that finding one won't be easy; everyone else must have had the same idea.

He spots a small shop tucked away in a corner, its windows shattered, and glass scattered across the sidewalk. The sign above reads "Jonny Gun Store." It seems untouched compared to the other stores nearby, but he can see shadows moving within. His instincts kick into high gear, and he quickly assesses the situation. People are scrambling about, grabbing whatever they can lay their hands on. Some are fighting over items, others are desperately trying to protect themselves from the crazed mob outside.

As Mikhail cautiously approaches the entrance, he notices a group of three men arguing near the counter. They seem oblivious to the chaos unfolding around them, focused solely on getting what they want. One of them picks up a shotgun and examines it closely, while the other two bicker about some trivial matter. Taking a deep breath he decides to intervene.

"Hey, guys," Mikhail called out, his voice steady yet assertive. "What's going on here?"

Their heads turn towards his simultaneously, eyes widening with surprise. For a moment, they were standing staring at each other in silence. Then, one of them speaks up.

"Who the hell are you?" he snarls, his grip tightening on the weapon in his hands.

"My name's Mikhail," Mikhail replied calmly, maintaining eye contact with him. "And I'm looking for some firearms myself. Care if I join you?"

They exchange uneasy glances among themselves before nodding hesitantly. He steps forward, careful not to provoke them further. As he moves closer, Mikhail can see that the shelves are nearly empty, save for a few remaining items scattered haphazardly throughout the store. His gaze sweeps over the area, searching for anything useful amidst the disorder.

Suddenly, another man bursts through the door, brandishing a revolver in his hand. He looks frantic, his eyes wild with fear and desperation. Before anyone can react, he raises the gun and points it directly at us.

"Don't fucking move!" he screams, his voice hoarse and ragged from hours of constant shouting.

For a split second, time seems to slow down as we all freeze in place, caught off guard by this unexpected turn of events. Mikhail glanced around quickly, taking note of their surroundings and possible escape routes. There's no telling what kind of madness might ensue if things escalate any further.

Deciding that diplomacy is no longer an option, Mikhail swiftly drew his own weapon – the recently looted Glock caliber .40 S&W – from its holster and leveled it at the intruder. His eyes widen even more, if such a thing were possible, as he realizes just how dire his predicament has become.

"Drop your weapon now, or I swear to God, I'll put a bullet in your head faster than you can blink," Mikhail growled, his voice low and dangerous.

He hesitates briefly, considering whether or not to risk challenging me. But ultimately, he decides against it. With shaking hands, he lowers the revolver slowly until it clatters onto the floor, then raises both arms above his head in surrender.

"Okay, okay! Just don't shoot!" he pleads, his words coming out in short gasps.

Mikhail with his free hand, carefully retrieves the fallen weapon and stuffs it into his pocket, ensuring that it remains safely out of reach. Meanwhile, the other three continue staring at him, wide-eyed and open-mouthed, clearly taken aback by his sudden display of aggression.

"Now, let's finish our business here without any more interruptions," Mikhail says firmly, addressing the entire group. "I need pistols, magazines, bullets, rifles, flashlights."

They exchange nervous glances once again, unsure how to proceed. After all, who would expect someone to come barging into a looted store demanding thousands of dollars worth of weapons during these mad times?

Finally, one of them steps forward tentatively, holding up a set of keys.

"We locked the back room when all this started," he explains sheepishly. "It should still have most of what you're asking for."

Mikhail grits his teeth and forces himself to remain patient despite his overwhelming desire to simply take everything by force killing them all.

"Lead the way," Mikhail ordered, gesturing towards the closed door behind the counter.

As they make their way through the dimly lit storeroom, he keeps one eye on the frightened faces of these men, fully aware that any one of them could attempt something foolish at any moment. The air is thick with tension, hanging heavy like a storm cloud preparing to unleash its fury upon the earth below.

Once inside the small room, we find ourselves surrounded by rows upon rows of neatly organized shelves filled with countless firearms and accessories. It took every ounce of self-control Mikhail possessed not to simply grab whatever caught his eye first and flee the scene. Instead, he focused on gathering exactly what he came for, meticulously checking each item against his mental list before placing them carefully into one of the duffel bags slung across his shoulder.

In addition to the weapons and ammunition, he also picked up several tactical vests that while not bulletproof, can come in handy because all the ammo pouches and pockets for radio or other things they have, binoculars, and various other supplies deemed essential for survival in this new world order. Time seems to stretch endlessly as he works steadily but efficiently, acutely aware that danger lurks around every corner.

Throughout this process, the others watch me closely, their expressions betraying a mixture of curiosity, fear, and perhaps even grudging respect. They know full well that they've been lucky so far; had he chosen to eliminate them rather than negotiating peacefully, there would be little they could do to stop me.

But despite their apparent submission, Mikhail can sense that tensions are rising within the group. Their initial shock at witnessing my ruthless efficiency has given way to growing resentment and frustration, fueled by the knowledge that they will soon lose control over their precious inventory.

Feeling confident that he had collected everything he needed, Mikhail began loading the second duffel bag filling it with only ammo boxes of the caliber 9mm, .40 S&W and 5.56 for the AR-15s picked and the pistols, careful not to leave anything valuable behind. As he zips up the final compartment.

Once done with the bags Mikhail picks a vest and puts it on him, picks 4 magazines unloaded and puts them in the ammo pouch in front, then reloads one magazine fastly with bullets and inserts it into one AR-15 from the gun rack chambering a round ready to shoot, while putting the duffel bags on his back with the straps across his chest.

Going outside the room leaving all the rest of the weapons, ammunition, and things that he could not carry away, he hears the faint sound of approaching footsteps echoing through the building.

Sensing imminent danger, Mikhail instinctively raised his gun, prepared to defend myself against whatever that could happen. However, much to his surprise, it's not another potential thief or marauder who emerges from the entrance but rather a young woman, visibly shaken and covered in blood. Her clothes are torn and ragged, her face streaked with grime and sweat.

She stumbles forward, clutching her side tightly as if she were trying to catch her breath. For a moment, none of us move, caught off guard by this unexpected development. Then, as if awakened from some terrible nightmare, the man who had surrendered earlier rushes towards her, concern etched deeply into his features.

"Oh my God, Sarah!" he exclaims, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and helping her to sit down on a nearby chair. "Are you okay?"

She looks up at him weakly, her eyes glassy with a neutral face. And makes an incoherent animalistic sound while biting a good chunk of the man's neck surprising all the people inside, seeing how much blood gushes from the wound.

At this point, everyone else gives a fuck about their surrounding doing what they need to do not caring about any danger or weapon.

Mikhail starts trotting to the exit with the rifle at hand, exiting the building and leaving the others to their fate while the woman turned walker feasts on that man distracting her from the other living people inside.

Going into the car that he left a couple of meters away in the street, he noted that it already was being pretty much filled with walkers roaming around since he came to this place. Not stopping he starts the car and goes away, looking for the last thing he needs, a vehicle big enough to travel with his family and with enough space to store all that he got. With what to do in mind he speeds away to some car dealer around the town.