7 bottles of mineral water. 1 half filled kettle. 18 packets of instant noodles…

Doing mental calculations, PQ jotted down some numbers corresponding to items on a notepad.

After reassurance that his parents did not perish in a plane crash, motivation to survive took over PQ. He has spent the last 10 minutes sorting and counting his food supply to maximize his survival.

From the looks of it, he has enough food and water to survive for at least two weeks, which might be long enough for the military to rescue him.

Sadly, PQ did not realize that he might have overestimated the military's ability to handle the sudden outburst of a zombie apocalypse, let alone a zombie apocalypse and worldwide power loss concurring.

Outside, the frequency of attacks has greatly decreased, only occasionally does a scream resound throughout the neighborhood, followed by footsteps and feasting. They were probably people who evaded the initial chaos, but eventually found and slaughtered.

PQ actually planned to venture out towards a police station, but his idea was immediately shut down after seeing a neighbor with the same intention suffer a gruesome fate.

The wandering people, now zombies, did not seem to be able to see well in the dark. They are clumsy and slow and trip over trivial obstacles like benches and roots. Yet they seem to transform into enraged monsters when coming in contact with humans.

Due to horrible visibility at night, PQ originally wanted to wait till the morning before making any moves. However, his dark apartment gave him an idea. Since moonlight cannot directly shine into apartments, that means wandering zombies would have a hard time finding him. He should use this opportunity to visit his neighbors to recruit as allies. After all, his goal to to survive the apocalypse, and he needed more than himself to do so.

PQ planned to visit the apartment of a neighbor around his age, who he heard is an avid camper, as well as a zombie fanatic.

In the freezer, he had a large amount of meat and vegetable. But with the power out, they could spoil and go wrong within hours. And without the internet, he won't be able to watch tutorials on preserving these food, such as salting methods.

As an introvert, PQ rarely socialized with his neighbors, only knowing about this neighbor through his little brother.

If he remembers correctly, his brother and that neighbor's brother are classmates.

Utilizing basic zombie movie logic, PQ grabbed some extra towels to wrap around his arms. He then used tape to secure the towels, acting as an extra layer of protection for his exposed skin. He wasn't sure if zombies could infect people in this apocalypse, but he'd rather not take the risk.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

Wearing a simple leather coat and jeans, PQ chose to travel light. He believed that thick bulky clothing might hinder his movements, causing zombies to outrun him.

His apartment complex is 12 stories high, typical high-rise block building in his city. The residential buildings are divided into 4 separate residential units, each occupying the 4 corners. The stairway and elevators are located at the center of the building, shared by four apartment units on each floor.

In order to gain access to the stairway and traverse throughout the building, he must clear that common area first.

Wielding a kitchen knife in his sweaty palms, PQ carefully pressed his ear against the entrance door to his home and listened to noises outside. These zombies tend to drag their feet when walking, the friction creating obvious sounds.

Of course, he had to confirm whether the person outside was a zombie or not, or else he might mistakenly kill an innocent survivor. Lessening mankind will not be beneficial for his survival.

Knock. Knock. PQ tapped the door twice, causing the footsteps to close in. Something began scratching against the door, its growls softened by the heavy slab of door in between them.

It was right in front of his doorstep, and it was for certain a mindless zombie.

"Just one. I can do this." Mustering his courage, PQ swung the heavy wooden door open to face the sole zombie outside.

With a loud thud, the door slammed into a solid object. It rammed the zombie with great momentum, pinning it forcefully against the wall.

PQ quickly jumped out of his apartment unit, ramming into the door again with all his might.

Splat— following a repulsive squish, blood mixed with brain tissues splattered violently on the white walls.

Its head has concaved inwards, skull crushed while revolting gray and white matter oozed out.

Just like in a typical zombie movie, after the zombie's head had been bashed in, it remained pinned onto the wall, lifeless and motionless.

He did it. PQ has slain his first zombie!

Despite clearing the area, he did not feel any sense of accomplishment. Just a sentiment of sombre and grief.

He scanned the body hastily to identify it. It was his next door neighbor, a kind pregnant lady. To his horror, the lady's stomach wide open, guts exposed as if something had crawled out from inside. The umbilical cord still attached to the corpse was writhing, connected to something in PQ's peripheral vision.

The muscles on PQ's right calf twitched uncontrollably, like it was reacting to impeding danger. Instinctively, PQ punted towards the right, striking a slimy object away.

It was a baby. Not even fully formed. Soaked in amniotic fluid.

It is messed up to kick a baby in almost any scenario. But when it's an infected baby, kicking it is definitely justifiable.

Normally, a kick from a grown adult would have obliterated a 7-month old baby. But this baby was different.

PQ's kick merely shaved off the delicate skin on the monster's forehead, revealing the gnarly crack on its skull.

It crawled towards PQ, baring fangs that are not supposed to belong on 7 month olds.

****

PQ has never spewed out so much substance from his guts before.

He vomited. Instantly. Right after he stabbed through the baby's skull. The sensation of his kitchen knife crunching through the hardness of bones and slicing into mush was horrifying.

It made him sick.

He felt dirty to his core. A stench that cannot be washed off by any amount of showers.

The pungent odor of blood and flesh amplified the burning sensation in his throat. Overwhelming his sensory and taste cells, PQ stumbled back into his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him.

He heard the body of his neighbor slump onto the floor, causing a wave of nausea to engulf him once more.

With sensory overload, PQ collapsed on the apartment floor, ears ringing incessantly with an abiding stench lingering in his senses.

"Fuck this apocalypse…" Murmuring, he blacked out.