I was on a forest clearing, watching as a butterfly, spreading its multicolored, bright wings, fluttered above the low green grass towards a flower it fancied. A gentle summer breeze slightly altered its flight path. Almost reaching its destination, a faint cracking sound echoed, and the butterfly plummeted to the ground.

I, Mortimer Amos, Morty for short, paced around the clearing with a perplexed look. In one hand, I held a stopwatch; in the other, a notepad and pencil. My thoughts revolved around one thing: a number. My birthday, the day my parents died, the number of seconds it takes to kill – thirteen was the number that connected it all. It couldn't be a mere coincidence. How was it possible for just a number, a set of arbitrary values devised by humans to simplify perception, to have such an influence on events?

Someday I'll decipher this mystery. But for now, enough with the insect genocide. That butterfly was a pointless victim, reaffirming what I already knew. I should go visit the Beckers — Joan and Steven should already be waiting for me.

This elderly couple lived two blocks away from my house. I had first met them eleven years ago when I moved to this town, when my parents were still alive. At that time, the neighbors had a little Dalmatian puppy named Mason. As we unloaded our belongings, they walked by. My father, an animal lover, couldn't resist commenting on the adorable four-legged creature, while Joan showed interest in the newcomers. The town was small, and everyone knew each other, so newcomers stood out. Our families became close friends, and at the funeral of my parents, the old folks seemed as devastated as I was. Poor Joan fainted from grief during the farewell ceremony.

A severe illness took away the two people closest to me. A rare virus with an unpronounceable name rapidly destroyed their bodies. During that period, a year ago, I was in the neighboring town visiting my uncle. Upon hearing about their condition, I rushed back, only to find their unconscious bodies in the hospital.

After that, strange things started happening. I was overwhelmed with grief and the injustice of life, wanting to vent my emotions on something, when a fly came into view. Annoying and persistent, that winged creature buzzed around, provoking my irritation to the best of its ability. After several unsuccessful attempts to catch it, I became even more frustrated that I couldn't control or change anything, not even such a trivial thing as this pest, which could hassle me with impunity. Images of tearing it apart flashed in my mind, and suddenly, inexplicably, the insect flattened against the wall, leaving a small black dot.

That time, I hadn’t fully understood what had happened, but a connection between my desires and the event seemed to solidify. So, I decided to try this method on ants. From there, I concluded that I couldn't commit mass murders through sheer willpower, I could only target one victim at a time. Each killing required a thirteen-second waiting period. The death itself occurred randomly, or I just hadn't yet figured out how exactly it worked. The experiments were conducted only on insects; I, for all my strangeness, wasn't insane enough to test it on animals, let alone on humans. Curiously enough, though, I had incidentally used it on an annoying person's phone, which broke it...

I regularly visited the Beckers a couple of times a week. We would discuss the latest news, then I’d play a game of chess with Steven, listening to his stories about forest dwellers. I would try Joan's new culinary experiments and entertain Mason a bit. He loved chasing his little plush mouse. I would throw it as far as possible, and he would eagerly return with it in his teeth, leaving it at my feet, wagging his tail in anticipation of the next throw. In recent times, the years had begun to affect the dog's activity, but he still loved this game. Sometimes I’d even encounter their granddaughter that was about my age, but for some reason she usually avoided my company. That was actually the case for most people ever since I could remember myself, even at school I was quite a loner. 

Lost in thought, I left the forest park and headed towards the Beckers’ place. The weather was pleasant, with clear skies, and my mind was focused on the upcoming meeting.

I'll have to get a rematch with Steven; last time, he got lucky when I missed an important move and gave up my queen. And I'll also show Mason a new toy - the flying saucer I bought; I bet he'll like it.

My musings were interrupted by a small flash in the sky. Looking up, I was astonished to see a massive fiery meteor streaking across the sky, heading somewhere beyond the horizon. After recovering from the awe of what I had witnessed, I expected some sound or shockwave from the impact of this flying object, but nothing happened. Apparently, it flew off somewhere far away. 

I'll have to hurry to the Beckers' and share what I saw with them! I thought. And maybe check if there's any information about it in the news. That’s quite an event for our little town… 

Inspired, I walked briskly towards their house. After a few minutes, I was already standing at the doorstep. After catching my breath, I knocked on the door a couple of times in the traditional manner. There was no response from the other side. Complete silence reigned beyond the door.

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Well, did they decide to take a nap? I frowned. I'll try once more.

After another knock, the door creaked open.

Strange, why isn't the door closed? I'll have to remind them about security measures. I mean, our town is usually as safe as it gets, but I heard about some band of ruffians making their appearance recently. 

"Mason, I brought you a new toy," I whispered almost instinctively, feeling that there was something suspiciously strange in this silent atmosphere, and intuitively not wanting to make too much noise.

Entering the hallway, my foot slipped slightly on the floor. Looking down, I noticed bloody tracks running along the entire corridor, leading into the living room. From there, I could hear squelching sounds. A shiver ran down my spine, and my heart began to race.

What the hell... What's even happening here?!

Gathering my courage, I cautiously stepped towards the sounds, trying not to step on the wet floor. Peeking into the room, I was greeted by a horrifying sight: Mr. and Mrs. Becker were on all fours in a huge pool of blood, tearing chunks of flesh from a dead Dalmatian with their teeth. It took me a moment too long to truly process what I was witnessing. The usually kind and gentle elderly couple were devouring their favorite pet like mindless beasts. The ever-so-playful Mason was reduced to nothing but a gory pile of meat. 

A wave of horror washed over me, and I began to retreat back into the corridor. 

At that moment, the floorboards betrayed me with a loud creak. With a sharp turn of their heads, the elderly couple pivoted towards me. Their eyes were bloodshot, and pieces of gore protruded from their mouths. In the midst of shock, I sprinted frantically towards the exit, driven by sheer instinct. Shrill screams pierced the air, followed by the thunderous clamor of footsteps echoing on the floor. It was evident that a pursuit had begun.

Reaching the exit and opening the door, I briefly turned around and saw those two monsters running down the corridor. Steven, or what was now him, slipped and fell to the ground, followed by Joan crashing into him. But in a matter of seconds, they both sprang up and resumed their chase.

Just die, you damn monsters! I thought desperately, driven by poor terror. A familiar sense responded to my will, but this time my target was way larger than an ant… 

I ran with all my strength down the street towards my home. As seconds passed, I heard a thud behind me. Without slowing down, I turned and saw Steve lying motionless, face planted on the asphalt. The thought that I just killed him didn’t even pass my mind, as Joan continued the pursuit and was gaining on me.

“Die, die, die!” I shouted desperately. “You aren’t Joan!” 

Seconds stretched into eternity; it felt like I would never shake off this creature, not before the timer was off. Realizing she was about to catch up, I pushed myself to the limit, trying to accelerate even more, and at that moment, I stumbled with my left foot over my right and painfully crashed to the ground. Turning around, I saw Joan —no, not Joan, but a mere zombie she had become — leaping at me. She landed on top of me, opened her mouth wide, and instantly sank her teeth into the arm I was using to shield my head.

With my right hand, I fumbled in my pocket for the dog's toy saucer and slammed it into the zombie's face with force. Its edges were sharp enough to pierce the monster's eye slightly, buying me a fraction of a second as Joan detached from my hand. I kicked her in the stomach with my left leg and pushed her aside, then scrambled to get away.

Seeing a small stone nearby on the lawn, I grabbed it with my uninjured hand and swung it at the approaching zombie's temple. This time, the blow proved fatal, and she collapsed lifelessly on the asphalt.

After recovering slightly from the shock, I slowly began to comprehend what had just happened. I wiped the blood from my face with my shirt and looked at what remained of my neighbors.

"How could this happen... Why did you turn into these monsters? Steven, Joan... Poor Mason..." Realizing the irreversibility and sadness of the situation, the loss of the loved ones, almost brought tears to my eyes. I bit my lip as I tried to suppress the heavy feeling in my chest. I didn’t even notice a text briefly appearing in the corner of my eye. 

At that moment, my gaze fell on my bloodied arm with deep bite marks on my forearm. Caught up in the adrenaline rush of recent events, I had completely forgotten about that unfortunate bite.

It seemed that my time was running out too, unless I could act quickly. According to various zombie movies, people had a chance to prevent the spread of infection only through swift amputation of the limb. Was I ready for such a decision? Could I even physically do it? And were there any other options left for me? 

Should I resign myself to fate? I thought as I fell on my knees before Joan’s dead body. I wasn’t even sure what I was living for anymore. I lost everyone who ever cared about me and, if Beckers weren’t the only ones to become zombies, if that was a mass event… was there even a point for me to live in such a bleak reality? I could as well just give up instead of enduring the pain of losing my arm only to become a cripple. 

At that moment, a desperate cry for help echoed from across the street. And the worst thing? I knew exactly whose voice that was… 

Damn, it seems this cursed day will never end...