Chapter 5

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

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

After receiving 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 neighbourhood, followed by footsteps and feasting. They were probably people who evaded the initial chaos but were eventually found and slaughtered.

PQ actually planned to venture out towards a police station, but his idea was immediately shut down after seeing a neighbour 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 were clumsy and slow and trip over trivial obstacles like benches and roots. Yet they seemed 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 neighbours to recruit as allies. After all, his goal is to survive the apocalypse, and he needed more than himself to do so.

PQ planned to visit the apartment of a neighbour 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 foods, such as salting methods and so on.

As an introvert, PQ rarely socialized with his neighbours, only knowing about this neighbour through his little brother, PJ.

If he remembers correctly, his brother and that neighbour'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.

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, a typical high-rise block building in his suburb. 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 a shuffle of footsteps to close in. Something began scratching against the door, its growls softened by the heavy slab of door erected in between them.

It was right in front of his doorstep, and he has confirmed that it was certainly a mindless zombie.

"Okay PQ. Time to kill a person..."

Conflicting little people in his brain began waging wars against one another, stalling his decisions.

"Fuck! I, I can't just kill someone."

"Shut yo ass up PQ, it's a damn zombie. Go kill it!"

"Argh fine! Just one. I can do this. I can do this. I can do this..." Mustering his courage, PQ swung open the heavy wooden door 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 apartment walls.

The zombie's 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 would finally remain lifeless and motionless. Gasping at the female zombie pinned on the wall, PQ trembled in shock.

He did it. He 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. The zombie he had slain was his next-door neighbour, a kind pregnant lady who would always wave and chat with him despite his introverted nature.

To his horror, the lady's stomach was 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 impending danger. Instinctively, PQ punted towards the right, striking a slimy object away. Creating distance, he had a good look at the thing that almost caught him off guard.

The thing he had fended against was a baby, not even fully formed and 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 were 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 neighbour 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.