Chapter 3: Who Gave Me A Second Chance?

The fluorescent lights buzz overhead, harsh and familiar.

I blink, trying to clear my vision.

My shoulder aches… phantom pain from where teeth had torn into flesh.

But when I look down, there's no blood.

No wounds.

Just my cream blouse and navy pencil skirt, pristine and pressed.

The click-clack of keyboards fills the air. Phones ring in the distance. Janet from HR laughs at something… that distinctive snort-giggle I haven't heard since she became one of the first to turn.

My hands shake as I grip the edge of my desk.

My desk.

With its stupid little succulent plant and the photo of... oh god.

The photo of Daniel and me at Christmas, his arms wrapped around me, both of us grinning like idiots in matching ugly sweaters.

"Morning, Amanda! Those quarterly reports ready yet?"

The coffee mug slips from my fingers, shattering against the floor. Mr. Henderson stands there, alive, whole… not the rotting thing that had helped tear me apart outside the bank. His navy suit is perfectly pressed, not hanging in blood-soaked tatters.

"Bob, I..." The words stick in my throat. How do you talk to someone you've seen both dead and undead?

"Whoa there!" He steps back from the spreading coffee puddle. "Rough morning? No worries about the reports. Just have them to me by end of day."

He walks away, whistling that awful tune he always used to whistle. Used to. Will. Time blurs in my head like watercolors in rain.

"Are you ready to prepare for the apocalypse this time?"

The whisper slides through my mind like ice down my spine. I've heard this before, haven't I? Last time I laughed it off. Blamed it on wedding stress and too many horror movies.

Last time. Before everything ended. Before Daniel and Lillian...

"Babe? You okay?"

His voice. God, his voice. I look up and there he stands, leaning against my cubicle wall.

Daniel.

Perfect Daniel with his perfect smile and perfect lies. The ring on my finger catches the light… three generations of his family, he'd said.

Now all I can see is him watching through the window as I died, his arm around her waist.

"Just clumsy," I manage to say, amazed at how steady my voice sounds. "You know me."

He laughs… that warm, rich sound that used to make my heart flutter. Now it makes my skin crawl. "That's my girl. Hey, don't forget the engagement party planning meeting at lunch. Lillian's got some great ideas."

Lillian.

Right on cue, she appears with her sunshine smile and designer heels.

My best friend.

The woman who held my hand through Mom's funeral.

The woman who watched me die without lifting a finger to help.

"Mandy!" She hurries over, all concern and sugar-sweet poison. "Oh no, did you spill your coffee? Here, use my backup blouse. You know I always keep one in my office."

The same offer she made last time. I remember accepting, remember hugging her in gratitude. Remember believing every fake smile and gentle lie.

My fingers curl into fists under my desk.

Yes.

This time I'm ready.

This time I know exactly who my enemies are, wrapped in their designer clothes and false concern.

I force my face into what I hope passes for a grateful smile.

"Thanks, Lil. You're always looking out for me."

The lies taste like copper on my tongue. Like blood.

Their betrayal is a fresh wound, raw and burning.

But I've learned a few things about survival, sometimes the best predator is the one that looks like prey.

And I've got three months to prepare for the end of the world.

…

My eyes trace the familiar lines of the bank's marble walls, seeing them differently now. Three months of apocalyptic survival taught me to spot the strategic points… the heavy oak doors that could hold back a horde, the reinforced windows too high for zombies to reach, the vault that could store enough supplies to last for months.

Last time, we stumbled back into this fortress by accident. This time...

My fingers fly across the keyboard, pulling up the building's architectural plans. Security cameras cover every angle. Steel-reinforced doors. A backup generator system that kept those emergency lights running long after the grid failed. No wonder we survived as long as we did.

"Coffee run!" Lillian's voice carries across the office. "The usual, Mandy?"

I watch her collect orders, playing the perfect office sweetheart. She'll swing by that fancy café around the corner… the one that becomes a death trap when the infection hits.

I remember her telling me about the barista she saw turn, foam still on his lips as he lunged for a customer's throat.

"No thanks," I call back, keeping my voice light. "Trying to cut back."

She shrugs, already turning to Daniel with that secret smile they think no one notices.

I notice everything now.

The way their hands brush when passing files. The lingering looks during meetings.

The "client appointments" that always seem to overlap.

I pull up another window on my computer… the bank's security protocols.

Everything runs through Daniel's terminal.

General Manager privileges.

He never changes his password… Classic my fiance.

"Working late tonight?" Daniel stops by my desk, straightening his tie. That nervous tell I used to find endearing.

"Actually," I lean back, playing my old role of adoring fiancée, "I thought I'd head out early. Bridal magazines to browse, you know?"

His relief is subtle but there. "Good idea, babe. I've got that client meeting with Lillian anyway. Big account."

Yeah, I bet.

The office empties slowly.

Janet with her snort-laugh. Mr. Henderson and his coffee-stained tie. The usual exodus of people who have no idea their world is about to end. Soon it's just me, the hum of fluorescent lights, and the weight of everything I need to do.

The bank could be more than just a fortress this time. With the right preparations, it could be a real sanctuary. Medical supplies in the vault. Non-perishable food in the security deposit boxes.

Weapons… where am I even supposed to get those?.

But first, I need resources, funds. And for that, I need access.

I slip into Daniel's office like a ghost. Three months of avoiding the undead taught me to move silently, efficiently. His computer hums to life under my touch. The password screen glows, waiting.

My fingers hover over the keys.

In the reflection of the dark screen, I catch a glimpse of myself… the old Amanda, with her neat bun and trustful eyes.

But behind that mask, I see what I've become.

What they made me become.

...

The loan application screen is staring back at me from Daniel's computer, all professional and proper.

Man, it's weird seeing everything working; no cracked screens, no emergency generators, just regular old banking software doing its thing.

Six hundred thousand dollars. Damn. Before all this, that number would've given me panic attacks.

Now? Now I'm typing it in like I'm ordering pizza.

Funny how watching the world end changes your perspective on debt.

My fingers hover over the keyboard as I fill in the details.

Purpose of loan: "Business expansion." Sure, if by business you mean not dying when zombies take over.

Expected return on investment: "Significant growth potential." Yeah, the potential to actually survive this time.

A dark thought hits me; I'm technically committing fraud. The old Amanda would be freaking out right now, probably breaking into hives just thinking about it.

But the old Amanda also trusted her fiancé and best friend, so clearly her judgment wasn't great.

Submit Application - Amanda Parker

Status: Pending Review

Reviewing Manager: Daniel Lester

Expected Disbursement: 24 hours

APPROVE?

God, Daniel's signature approval screen. How many times had I seen him use this? Always so proud of his position, his authority.

"Youngest general manager in the branch's history," he'd brag at parties. Wonder if he'll put that on his zombie apocalypse resume.

My finger hits enter before I can overthink it. The screen freezes for a second, and my heart does this weird little jump. Come on, come on...

LOAN APPROVED

"Yes!" I whisper-shout, then freeze, listening for any sound in the empty office.

Old habits die hard, I guess.

Even now, I'm thinking about noise discipline, about attracting attention. Though right now it'd just be the cleaning crew instead of the undead.

The screen flickers, and for a second I think I've screwed something up.

But then… holy shit.

Golden light pours out as if off the monitor like something from a sci-fi movie, not just on the screen but actually in the air, forming these weird symbols and numbers that make my head hurt if I look at them too long.

"Preparation for survival has commenced."

Okay, that voice? Not in my head anymore. It's everywhere and nowhere at once, each word shimmering in the golden light like it's alive. I should be freaking out.

This is impossible.

But hey, so is coming back from being zombie chow, so let's roll with it.

A freaking progress bar appears in mid-air. Because apparently the apocalypse runs on Windows:

INITIALIZING SURVIVAL PROTOCOL: 10%

ACCESSING TEMPORAL-COORDINATES: 27%

CALCULATING PROBABILITY MATRICES: 45%

UPDATING PARAMETERS: 63%

CONFIRMING CANDIDATE STATUS: 82%

ESTABLISHING BASELINE: 100%

The symbols start moving faster, weaving patterns that make my eyes water.

It's like trying to read a book that's breakdancing… possible maybe, but probably not worth the headache.

"Timeline preferences acknowledged. Resource acquisition phase initiated. Proceed with caution, Candidate:- Amanda Parker - star candidate 0001.

You are the first star of Your world"

Well, that doesn't sound ominous at all.

The golden light fades out slowly, like someone's using a mysterious dimmer switch.

The office goes dark again, but everything feels... different. Like reality got an upgrade while I wasn't looking.

I sit there for a minute, trying to process what just happened. So, not only did I get a second chance at the apocalypse, but there's some kind of mysterious helping hand for me? And it calls me "Candidate"?

That's not creepy at all.

But you know what? I'll take it.

Hell, I'll take anything that gives me an edge this time around.

Because in three months, everything goes to shit.

The undead rise, society falls, and the two people I trusted most in the world show their true colors.

If I didn't know better, I would say that this sounded like a very big joke… but I do know better.

Tomorrow, that money hits my account.

Tomorrow, I start getting ready for the end of the world.

Shopping list: food, medicine, weapons(still trying to figure out how and where to procure those)... oh, and maybe some therapy, because damn, I could use it after all this.

I stand up, my knees cracking because apparently being back in my pre-apocalypse body means getting all my old aches and pains back too. Joy.

But as I head for the door, I can't help smiling.

A real smile, not the fake ones I've been wearing all day.

Because this time, I've got knowledge.

I've got resources.

And I've got whatever this golden system thing is on my side.

Oh'... How I'm looking forward to the fall of society… so that I can really deal with these two betrayals.