Apocalypse: King of Zombies

James's eyes widened in shock, struggling to process the truth before him. The horrifying scenes of the apocalypse were still vivid in his mind, as if they had just happened yesterday.

"Did I really… come back to life?"

His thoughts raced. If the end of the world was only ten days away, the first thing he needed to do was stockpile supplies. Then, he'd find a safe place to hide and build a secure shelter to survive the apocalypse.

"James, what are you dawdling for?" A woman's voice called out from outside his room.

"Mom!" James's heart skipped a beat. Memories of his mother flashed through his mind—how, on the very first day of the apocalypse, she had turned into a terrifying zombie.

But now… now he had the chance to see her again.

With a loud thud, James scrambled out of bed and rushed out of his room.

Sure enough, there she was—a woman bustling around the dining table, setting out breakfast.

The food on the table was simple: a few small dishes, a pot of oatmeal, and two slices of whole-grain bread. In the apocalypse, such a meal would have been an unimaginable luxury.

The warmth of the scene before him overwhelmed James, and tears streamed down his face.

"Mom!"

He ran forward and threw his arms around her, his chest tightening as he broke into uncontrollable sobs.

His mother looked at him with a mix of surprise and mild annoyance. "James, what's gotten into you?"

"Mom! I missed you so much, I—" James couldn't stop crying. Everything felt so surreal. He raised a trembling hand to gently touch her face.

"Mom, I promise you, this time… I'll make sure you survive."

"Is that so?" Her tone suddenly shifted, her voice sharp and unnatural.

"Huh???"

James's eyes widened in alarm. Something was wrong. Her body felt cold—unnaturally cold. The warm, loving face he had just touched was now expressionless. Then, before his very eyes, her skin began to rot at an alarming speed.

A foul, putrid stench filled the air as dark, viscous blood oozed from her eyes, nose, and mouth. Her flesh peeled away, chunks of it falling into the pot of oatmeal on the table, turning it into a grotesque, contaminated mess.

The kind woman he had just embraced was now a zombie.

Her eyes glinted with feral rage, and her lips curled back to reveal jagged, bloodstained teeth.

"Raaaghhhh!" She let out a guttural growl, her body lunging toward him.

James stumbled back, his heart pounding in terror. The haunting memory of his mother's transformation on the first day of the apocalypse was playing out all over again.

"No… no, no, no!" James clutched his head, his mind spiraling into chaos. "What the hell is going on?!"

His mother, now a snarling zombie, leapt toward him. In a panic, James grabbed the nearest object—a kettle—and swung it with all his strength.

CRACK!

The kettle smashed into her head with a sickening thud. Her skull burst open, spraying blood and brain matter across the room. The grotesque remains splattered onto the walls, the table, and even James himself.

Breathing heavily, James stood frozen, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His eyes burned with rage and despair as he stared at the lifeless, mutilated body on the floor.

None of this made sense.

"Am I… still dreaming?" James muttered, staring at his trembling hands. He tried to calm himself, but his mind refused to settle.

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This couldn't be real. It had to be a nightmare.

"Maybe… maybe I need to die again to wake up!" James gritted his teeth, his gaze darting toward the window. Without hesitation, he sprinted forward, crashing through the glass and hurling himself out of the third-story window.

THUD!

The sensation of falling was so vivid, so real. His consciousness faded as he hit the ground—only to jolt awake moments later.

James shot upright in bed, gasping for air. His heart pounded in his chest, and his fists were clenched so tightly that veins bulged along his arms. He frantically scanned his surroundings, his eyes darting around the room.

He was back in the Awakener camp. The familiar sight of the tent, the faint light of dawn creeping in, and the sound of his teammates snoring softly nearby—it all seemed real.

"Looks like… I'm finally awake this time," James muttered under his breath. But he couldn't shake the lingering unease. He quickly got out of bed and shook Captain David awake.

"Captain! Captain! Wake up! I just had a nightmare—there was a Zombie King invading!"

David groaned, rubbing his eyes as he sat up. His face was a mix of exhaustion and irritation. "What are you yelling about? It's already morning. There's no Zombie King. You just had a bad dream, that's all."

"Huh?" James froze, glancing at the faint light outside.

It was morning.

Doubt crept into his mind. If it had been a Nightmare Zombie King, he would've been dead within seconds. There was no way he could've survived until dawn.

"Could it really have just been… a normal nightmare?" James whispered to himself, though something still felt off.

Then, a chilling thought struck him. His eyes widened in horror.

What if…

What if he was still trapped in the nightmare?

At that moment, James completely broke down.

"Captain! You have to tell me! Is this real? I can't tell anymore! I really can't tell!" His voice cracked, his desperation spilling out like a dam bursting.

"James, calm down! Calm down!" David rushed forward, wrapping his arms around James in an attempt to steady him. His voice softened, trying to soothe the panicked man. "Take it easy… deep breaths… deep breaths…"

In the Captain's embrace, James's trembling began to subside. Slowly, his breathing steadied, though his body still shook uncontrollably. He kept muttering under his breath, like a mantra.

"It's real… it's real… it has to be real…"

But just as a fragile calm began to settle over him, a putrid stench invaded his nostrils. The smell was sharp, rancid, and unmistakable. James's eyes darted down, and his heart sank.

David's advanced nano-combat suit had somehow turned into tattered rags. The exposed skin beneath was no longer human—it was decayed, rotting, and oozing with filth.

James's gaze shot upward, locking onto David's face. His stomach churned as he saw it: the Captain's features had twisted into the grotesque visage of a zombie.

"AAAAHHHH—!"

...

The night wind howled outside the camp, carrying with it a blood-curdling scream that tore through the silence.

David, who had been sound asleep, jolted awake instantly. His instincts kicked in, and his hand shot to the blade resting beside his pillow. Gripping it tightly, he scanned the room, his eyes landing on James's bed.

"James! What's wrong? Wake up! Wake up!" David called out, his voice sharp with urgency.

But James didn't respond. His body lay motionless, his breathing shallow and fading fast. David's heart sank as he realized what was happening—James's life force was draining rapidly. His mental energy had been completely depleted, and his consciousness was slipping into brain death.

"Damn it!" David's eyes widened in horror as the pieces clicked into place. This wasn't just a nightmare. This was the work of a Nightmare Zombie King.

His gaze darted around the tent, and his stomach twisted further. The rest of the team was in no better shape. Each of them was drenched in sweat, their faces contorted in pain as they writhed in their sleep, trapped in their own personal hells.

"Wake up! All of you, wake up!" David shouted, shaking the nearest teammate. But no matter how hard he tried, they wouldn't wake. Their nightmares had sunk their claws in too deep.

Just then, one of the female Awakeners bolted upright from her bed. Her breathing was ragged, her eyes wild with fear. Without hesitation, she grabbed her titanium-alloy machete, her gaze darting around the tent like a cornered animal.

"Is this… still the dream?" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Don't move! Don't do anything rash! This isn't a dream—it's real! You're awake!" David said quickly, his tone firm but reassuring. He raised his hands in a placating gesture, trying to calm her down.

But her eyes locked onto him, and her expression twisted into one of fury and betrayal. "You're lying to me! You're trying to trick me! I don't believe you!" she spat through gritted teeth.

Before David could stop her, she made her decision. With a resolute glare, she gripped her machete with both hands and slashed it across her own throat in one swift, decisive motion.

Blood sprayed across the tent as her body crumpled to the ground.

David stood frozen, his mouth opening and closing as if to speak, but no words came out.

"..."