Chapter 3: Kill

In the dwindling light of the day, Lin stood in his now-closed supermarket, the sign removed, signaling the end of an era. His focus for the next few days was clear – amassing a collection of goods essential for the impending doomsday. He reached out to various suppliers, slaughterhouses, and fellow farm owners, his urgency palpable.

Trucks started arriving, one after another, unloading their contents at the supermarket. The majority of the delivery comprised raw meat, a necessity for Lin's survival, given his unique condition. But, alongside these were everyday cleaning products – items of equal, if not more, importance to Lin. His penchant for cleanliness remained a strong part of his identity, even in these desperate times.

"Mr. Lin, your delivery is here," announced a group of young delivery boys from 'Wherever Duda' courier service. They worked tirelessly, moving box after box into the supermarket, soon creating a small mountain of cardboard containers. These boxes were heavy, laden with what Lin had ordered online – a veritable arsenal for survival.

Inside were a hundred compound bows, a hundred crossbows, and an assortment of daggers, machetes, and other weapons. In a world teetering on the brink of collapse, these tools were invaluable. Lin, despite his impending transformation into a zombie with lycanthropic abilities, knew the importance of being well-armed.

Time raced forward, and soon it was the eve of the apocalypse. Lin's financial resources were dwindling rapidly. He had started with 200 million dollars, and his aggressive purchasing strategies had nearly cornered the market, leaving several suppliers out of stock.

As evening set in, the supermarket, now void of its shelves, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. Lin had meticulously placed every item into his special storage space, preparing for the unknown future. Tomorrow, the world as he knew it would cease to exist. Yet, in these final moments of normalcy, Lin found himself mopping the floor of his empty store. Cleanliness was not just a habit for him; it was a way of life, a principle he adhered to even in the face of impending doom.

Outside, life went on as usual. Commuters hurried to catch their buses, school children crossed the streets in neat lines, and parents waited with smiles to pick them up. This ordinary dusk was blissfully unaware of the cataclysm that awaited.

But Lin knew, and in his heart, he cherished these last moments of peace.

Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by the screeching sound of the roller shutter door being violently pulled up. Silhouetted against the backdrop of the setting sun, three figures stood at the entrance.

"Boss Lin, I'm hungry. Give me some food," demanded the leader of the trio, a young man with dyed yellow hair, known in the area for causing trouble.

Lin, uninterested in engaging with these troublemakers, replied indifferently, "The supermarket is closed. There's no food here."

The gangsters, puzzled by the empty shelves, remembered the recent flurry of activity at the supermarket. "So, what about that pretty warehouse worker? Can't we bother her anymore?" one of them lamented, disappointed at the turn of events.

"What now, Brother Yellow Hair?" asked another, looking for guidance.

The leader, sizing up Lin, saw an opportunity. "Boss Lin, even if the supermarket is closed, you can't let us starve. Lend us some money for a meal."

Lin, wanting to preserve the last bit of peace, casually tossed a bundle of hundred-dollar bills at them – thousands of dollars in total. To him, soon to be a zombie, money held no more value than scrap paper.

The gangsters couldn't believe their luck, mistaking Lin's generosity for fear. "This guy knows his place," they thought, feeling triumphant as they collected the money. "That's the respect Brother Yellow Hair commands," they boasted, ready to leave.

But as they were about to depart, one of them spat a large wad of phlegm onto the freshly cleaned floor, right in Lin's line of sight.

"Wait a minute," Lin suddenly called out, his tone changing.

The gangsters, confused, turned around. "What's the problem?"

"The floor is dirty," Lin said, his voice calm yet carrying an undercurrent of anger.

The leader, known as Yellow Hair, laughed mockingly. "So what? It's just spit."

But Lin's response was swift and deadly. In a flash, he drew a dagger and plunged it into Yellow Hair's neck. The young man's eyes widened in shock and disbelief, blood gushing from his mouth as he fell to the ground, lifeless.

The other two, stunned by the sudden violence, were frozen in fear. "What's happening?" they wondered, unable to comprehend the situation.

Lin, unfazed by the brutality, had long been accustomed to such scenes. His time as a zombie had desensitized him to violence. The remaining two gangsters, trembling with fear, pleaded for their lives, promising silence and obedience.

Lin, with a sly smirk, seemingly relented. "You can go. I won't kill you," he said, allowing them a moment of relief.

But as they turned to leave, Lin's true intentions became clear. He quickly picked up a crossbow and shot one of them in the back of the head. The other, horrified, realized too late that Lin's mercy was a ruse.

As the second gangster begged for his life, Lin, without hesitation, shot him as well. Their bodies fell to the ground, joining their leader in a grim tableau.

With the supermarket silent once more, Lin surveyed his handiwork. "The crossbow is quite effective," he mused, analyzing the weapon's power.

He then effortlessly moved the bodies into his storage space, viewing them as mere 'supplies' in his new, harsh reality. Living or dead, everything had its use now.

In the quiet aftermath, Lin stood alone in the empty supermarket, the last vestige of a world on the brink of annihilation. As the sun set on this ordinary day, the extraordinary reality of the apocalypse loomed, and Lin was ready.