Chapter 2 - Chapter 2 — Vain

Parvez's Apartment.

𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘏!! 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘛, 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘛, 𝘚𝘏𝘐𝘛!! 

Parvez screamed internally, his legs pumping furiously down the stairwell. Behind him, the sound of dragging footsteps and hoarse growls chased him. Several figures, no longer resembling humans, thirsted for his blood.

"I regret going out! Anyone, save me!" he shouted, his lungs starting to burn.

——

Ten minutes earlier.

Parvez had decided to leave his comfort zone. He needed a safer place, or at least, more information. With his large backpack on his back and his hand gripping tightly the modified broom handle with a kitchen knife taped to the end, he opened his door a crack and peered out.

The hallway was empty. No one.

He stepped out cautiously, trying to descend the stairs step by step.

...𝘪𝘵'𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘲𝘶𝘪𝘦𝘵. 

But just as he was about to reach the third floor, a piercing scream shattered the silence. Without thinking, Parvez ran towards the source. There, a woman was cornered, trembling violently, chased by a horde of those horrific creatures.

Parvez froze on the stairs. His body suddenly stiffened, as if common sense forbade him from getting closer. But his hand only gripped his makeshift spear tighter. He took a deep breath, then shouted as loud as he could.

"Hey! I'm over here!!"

He yelled while waving his arms.

𝘛𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘗! 𝘛𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘗! 𝘛𝘏𝘜𝘔𝘗! 

He stomped the end of his stick on the floor, creating an echoing sound in the corridor. His strategy worked. The zombies stopped chasing the woman and slowly turned their bodies towards Parvez.

"You there, run fast!" Parvez yelled at the woman.

The woman immediately bolted down the stairs. However, misfortune was unavoidable; from the lower floor, another, larger crowd emerged. Parvez realized the situation was out of control. He couldn't win against that many alone. So he turned and sprinted back up the stairs.

——

Back to the present.

Parvez managed to reach the fourth floor and quickly hid in a dark recess between walls. His breath was ragged, his lungs burning. He tried to cover his own mouth, regulating his breathing to avoid making the slightest sound, or those creatures would find him.

He sat down on the cold floor in the corner, trying to calm his pounding heart. He let out a long sigh.

"Haah... idiot," he cursed himself. Why did I have to play hero like that?

A few moments later, he stood up. "No time to laze around now. I have to get back to my room."

He peeked from behind the wall. The zombies were still wandering near the stairs. Parvez's eyes caught sight of a trash can. There was an empty tuna can. He picked it up and threw it in the opposite direction.

𝘛𝘪𝘯𝘨! 𝘊𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘦𝘳! 

The sound of the can successfully diverted their attention. As soon as the crowd moved away, Parvez immediately tiptoed and dashed like lightning towards the fifth floor—the floor where his apartment unit was.

The condition of the fifth-floor hallway was a mess. Items were scattered, a foul stench starting to permeate the air. Just as he was almost at his door, suddenly one of the unit doors burst open with a loud bang. A zombie lunged out.

Parvez was startled. The creature attacked him aggressively, letting out hoarse sounds like someone drowning in mud. Thick black liquid oozed from its mouth, spreading a pungent, rotting smell.

Parvez immediately got into a stance with his makeshift spear. He held the charge with all his might. Then he pushed the zombie back with one foot.

"It's stumbling, but its strength is insane..." Parvez muttered through gritted teeth. His already tired breath was making him struggle.

The creature lunged again. This time Parvez managed to parry with the broom handle, then landed a hard kick to the zombie's stomach, sending it staggering back. As the creature fell and tried to get up, Parvez didn't give it a second chance. He raised his spear high and thrust it straight into the creature's chest.

𝘛𝘩𝘶𝘥. 

The hallway fell silent instantly. Black liquid seeped out from the wound in the zombie's chest. Parvez pulled his weapon back with trembling hands. He stood still for a moment in front of the now motionless body. Slowly, he clasped his hands together and bowed his head slightly—paying his last respects to the human who was now just an empty shell.

The sound of heavy footsteps was heard from a distance. Parvez snapped out of it, immediately ran towards his unit, slipped inside, and locked the door tightly.

He leaned against the door, breathing heavily, his chest tight. He stared at his hands. He clenched them, then opened them. His knuckles were white, his skin felt foreign to him. He had just killed something.

"Haah..." He tried to push that feeling far away. Now was not the time for trauma.

Parvez returned to the living room, placing his things on the table. He turned on his phone. Luckily, there was a satellite network he could use to access emergency forums.

There, anonymous users were exchanging information. Some were terrified, others were arguing. Parvez's eyes fixed on one message:

[𝘈𝘯𝘰𝘯𝘺𝘮𝘰𝘶𝘴: 𝘐 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘨𝘰 𝘰𝘶𝘵 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥... 𝘉𝘶𝘵 𝘮𝘺 𝘧𝘳𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘥 𝘸𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘵𝘵𝘢𝘤𝘬𝘦𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘶𝘳𝘯𝘦𝘥... 𝘐'𝘮 𝘩𝘪𝘥𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘯 𝘚𝘪𝘯𝘸𝘢 𝘈𝘱𝘢𝘳𝘵𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵, 𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 148, 4𝘵𝘩 𝘧𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘳. 𝘕𝘦𝘹𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘪𝘵 𝘪𝘴 𝘢 𝘤𝘰𝘯𝘷𝘦𝘯𝘪𝘦𝘯𝘤𝘦 𝘴𝘵𝘰𝘳𝘦... 𝘐 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘦𝘧𝘵. 𝘗𝘭𝘦𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘭𝘱 𝘮𝘦, 𝘐 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘯𝘵 𝘵𝘰 𝘥𝘪𝘦.]

"...Our fates are pretty similar," Parvez muttered, leaning back on the sofa, staring at the dull ceiling.

Power's out, they say don't use the tap water, food? Maybe enough for a week if I really ration. Drinking water? Four bottles left. He thought hard. It seemed there was only one choice: stay home as long as possible.

𝘉𝘈𝘔! 𝘉𝘈𝘔! 𝘉𝘈𝘔! 

His apartment door was being pounded violently. Parvez got up silently, peeking through the small peephole. His heart nearly stopped. Outside, a horde of zombies was gathered, brutally banging on his door.

"What are they doing here?"

Panicked but trying to stay quiet, he pushed a cabinet and a bookshelf to barricade the door. After a few tense minutes, the pounding sounds slowly faded away.

Those things... how did they know I was here? Did they smell the black fluid from their friend I killed earlier?

Parvez walked unsteadily to the window. Down below, the city had turned into hell. No more order, only uncontrollable chaos.

——

Raymond Company Building, City Center.

On the top floor of the skyscraper, the silence was suffocating. Inside the vast presidential office, a middle-aged man in an expensive suit stood frozen in front of a giant glass window. His eyes stared sharply at the city below, beginning to be shrouded in black smoke.

𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬.. 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬.. 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘤𝘬.. 

"Enter," the man replied curtly, his voice heavy and authoritative.

The large wooden door opened. A tall young man in a long coat stepped in. The sound of his shoes echoed on the shiny marble floor. His face was calm, yet there was a hidden tension behind his sharp eyes.

"You called for me, Father?"

The young man was Luce Raymond, the sole heir to the Raymond family fortune. The man before him, the President Director, didn't turn around immediately. He kept staring at the destruction outside.

"You've seen what's happening down there, haven't you?"

"Yes, Father."

"This world has started to go mad," the man grinned thinly. His reflection in the window glass looked cold, as if he were watching an entertaining show. "Time for the weak to be weeded out."

Luce remained silent. The atmosphere in the room was so heavy, dominated by his father's presence.

"Luce, you're coming with me," the man finally turned, looking at his son with an ice-cold stare. "We can't let everything we've built be destroyed just like that. We're going to a safe place in the North. The helicopter is waiting on the roof."

Luce clenched his fist inside his coat. "I'm not going."

The smile on his father's face instantly vanished. His eyes narrowed dangerously. "What? You want to stay here? You want to end up as one of those disgusting creatures?!"

"The world is already destroyed, and Father is still thinking about the company?" Luce's voice began to rise. "Why don't we use our connections and facilities to help the survivors? We have resources!"

"They are not our concern, Luce! In a situation like this, only those with power deserve to survive—"

BANG!

The office door burst open roughly. An employee with a pale face and gasping breath appeared at the threshold. His tie was askew, cold sweat drenching his face.

"Sir... forgive me... in the corridor..."

"Speak clearly!" the father snapped.

"Those people... those zombie creatures... they've managed to get in! They're heading this way!"

Almost simultaneously with his words, the sound of heavy, irregular footsteps was heard from the emergency stairwell. The sound of bloodthirsty growls began to echo, creeping into the luxurious room.

Luce and his father were startled. The father acted quickly. "Luce, hurry to the roof! Now!"

The employee immediately ran off in a panic, following the order. But Luce was frozen. He saw his father moving towards his desk, not towards the exit.

"Father! What are you doing? Let's go together!"

"You first," his father replied without looking back. He pulled open a desk drawer, taking out a black pistol that gleamed under the room's lights. With steady hands, he loaded bullets into the magazine. Chk-clk.

The man stepped out of the room, facing the corridor now beginning to fill with horrifying shadows.

𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎!

One shot rang out, hitting the lead zombie squarely in the head. The creature's body collapsed instantly.

𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎! 𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎! 𝘉𝘈𝘕𝘎!

Luce was frozen. He had never seen this side of his father. The man stood firm like a fortress, firing shot after shot to hold back the zombie tide, preventing them from getting near the stairs leading to the helicopter.

"Get out of here, Luce!" his father barked between gunshots.

Luce hesitated for a moment, but he knew if he stayed, they'd both be finished. As he started to run, his father called his name one last time.

"Luce! Take this!"

His father tossed his pistol into the air. Luce caught it with quick reflexes. The cold metal of the weapon felt heavy in his hand.

"Father?!"

The man didn't answer. Instead, he ran away from the stairs, deliberately making noise and luring the zombie horde to follow him towards a dead-end corridor. He was sacrificing himself, acting as bait to clear the only path to the roof for Luce.

Luce stared at his father's back, slowly being swallowed by the darkness of the corridor and the crowd of creatures. That was the last moment he saw his father.

"Stubborn old man..." Luce whispered, his voice trembling, before finally turning and sprinting towards the helicopter.

Luce ran with all his strength up the stairs to the roof. His breath was ragged, but fear fueled his legs. Up above, the helicopter blades were already spinning fast, creating a deafening roar of wind.

The employee who had fled earlier was already inside, waving frantically. "Sir! Hurry!"

Without a word, Luce jumped in, pulled up by the employee's outstretched hand. As soon as the door closed, the helicopter lifted off, leaving the Raymond Company building, now surrounded by dark shadows below.

"Haah... My God," the employee leaned back, his face pale. "They really turned into zombies. Terrifying."

Luce remained silent, his eyes staring blankly at the helicopter floor. His mind was still on his father, who had run towards the crowd.

"We'll arrive in four hours, Sir," the pilot reported from the controls.

Luce nodded slowly. But his eyes caught something. On the pilot's arm, there was a fresh, torn wound, still wet.

"Sir, that wound on your arm... what's that from?" Luce asked, his voice suddenly alert.

"Oh, this?" The pilot glanced at his arm briefly. "One of them rushed me on the way to the helipad. But don't worry, I feel fine. I won't turn."

"Ah... glad to hear that," the employee said with relief.

But that hope lasted only seconds. Right after he finished speaking, the pilot's body suddenly stiffened. He began to convulse violently. The sound of his breathing turned into a wet gurgle, and the next moment, he vomited thick black liquid onto the control panel.

"Sir?! Pilot Sir?!" the employee screamed.

The pilot turned around, his eyes already white. He roared and lunged straight at the employee. In the cramped, shaking space, a terrified scream erupted. The employee had no time to fight back before the pilot's teeth sank into his neck.

The helicopter lost control, tilting sharply to the left. Luce was thrown against the cabin wall. He saw the pilot and the employee, both now changed, starting to crawl towards him with horrible rasping sounds.

"Ugh... Get away from me!"

Luce kicked with all his strength, trying to keep his distance.

𝘙𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘨𝘩! 𝘙𝘳𝘳𝘳𝘨𝘩! 

In the chaos, his eyes landed on an orange emergency bag in the corner of the cabin. With a desperate move, he grabbed the bag, slung its strap over his shoulder, and opened the helicopter door. They were flying low.

Strong wind rushed in. Before the two monsters could lunge again, Luce jumped out.

Moments later, the helicopter slammed into the side of a nearby building, then crashed and exploded in the middle of a park not far from the city center. Luce landed hard in thick bushes. Pain shot through his left ankle. Sprained.

He groaned, trying to get up while forcing his aching foot to move. All around him, zombies were starting to emerge, drawn by the explosion. He had no choice but to hide. His eyes caught sight of a convenience store, its door already smashed in by a car. He quickly slipped inside, hoping to disappear from the creatures' sight.

Once inside, Luce sat in a dark corner of the minimarket. There turned out to be a group of people there, also looting the remaining supplies. They stared at Luce in surprise. Recognizing his face from economic news reports, they found it strange to see a rich kid in a place like this. Then one of them approached.

"Hey, aren't you... the Raymond Company owner's son?" asked one man with a cynical tone.

Luce stared back coldly. "So what?"

"You're supposed to be in a safe place, right? Not here with us," the man spat on the floor. "Don't people like you usually only care about yourselves? Why are you here?"

One of the others tried to calm him down. "Hey, that's enough. What if those zombies hear you? They'll come."

"Tch!" The man turned and walked away.

Luce didn't say a single word. He clenched his fist tightly. 𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘥𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢𝘯𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨.

He had just watched his father die to save him, and now he had to listen to moral lectures from strangers.

Luckily, a small child approached and handed him two packs of bread and a bottle of soda before the group left. Luce could only nod slightly in thanks.

That night, in the terrifying darkness, Luce sat keeping watch. His foot still throbbed with pain. He took out the pistol his father had given him. Three bullets left.

"So stupid... Why did I have to leave? That old man never did want to listen," he whispered, full of regret and frustration.

——

Two days passed. Luce remained in the minimarket, with dwindling, meager food supplies. Since his ankle was starting to heal, he decided to look for another place.

Just as he was about to stand up, he heard a sound from outside.

𝘊𝘳𝘳𝘬... 

Luce sensed someone's presence. He peeked from behind a shelf. He readied the pistol in his hand.

The sound of heavy, slightly hoarse breathing. He assumed it might be a zombie. He raised his pistol, ready to attack.

Just as the sound was right beside him, he thrust the pistol forward, about to pull the trigger. But at the same moment, a stick with a knife at the end was thrust towards him.

——

Meanwhile, on the other side, Parvez, sitting as usual on his sofa, was counting his remaining supplies.

"Haah... How many days have I been here?" Parvez checked the calendar on his phone. "Ah... the 21st, so it's been four days. Time flies."

Parvez then stared at his remaining supplies. Two bottles of water... four instant noodles... four eggs. Hm... I've been frugal enough, right?

Parvez stood up. He walked to the window and looked outside. The city was completely destroyed in just a few days. He really didn't want to go out right now. However, the supplies he considered running low forced this lazy guy to go out. He put on his jacket, gripped his makeshift spear, and slipped a bottle of perfume into his jacket pocket—for who knows what reason. He left the apartment very carefully, taking off his shoes to step silently on the asphalt, heading towards the minimarket.

Upon arriving at the minimarket, he entered the dimly lit space. As he entered, he felt someone was behind that shelf.

Parvez pretended to be calm, but his hand gripped the shaft of his makeshift spear tighter. He wanted to be sure, so he walked slowly closer to the shelf. Just as he reached the end of the shelf...

𝘚𝘸𝘰𝘰𝘴𝘩! 

Parvez thrust the tip of his knife forward, and at the same moment, a black pistol muzzle was pressed near his face. Both froze.

——

Back to the present moment.

"Y-you...?" Parvez's eyes widened. He recognized that cold face. The person he had bumped into the other day.

Luce slowly lowered his pistol, finally letting out the breath he was holding. Parvez also lowered his spear, though his heart was still pounding.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to," Luce said flatly.

"Yeah... me neither," Parvez replied awkwardly. He turned, trying to find water, but the shelves were completely empty.

"There's nothing left here," Luce informed him. "I'm going to look for another place."

Parvez fell silent. There was an inner conflict within him. His heart told him to leave and search elsewhere on his own, but his brain said otherwise, telling him to follow this person, because being together might increase his chances of survival.

"W-wait!" Parvez called out, stammering. Luce stopped. "C-can I... come with you?"

Luce looked Parvez up and down, saw the strange spear in his hand, then nodded slowly. "...Sure."

They walked together. Along the way, they saw a group of zombies. Parvez suggested always hiding whenever they saw zombies, and Luce complied. They stopped briefly at a small grocery store, but the result was nil. Just one can of tuna and a small pack of instant noodles.

"Totally pointless," they both thought.

Afternoon turned into evening. The sky turned orange, with thick clouds covering it, giving the impression of a dying world.

"Hey... Uh.. how about we just go home?" Parvez offered hesitantly.

"You go home. I'll stay here," Luce answered, staring at the sky. He had no home left to go to.

Parvez stared at Luce for a moment, then awkwardly placed their share of the food on the store counter. "If you need anything... just come to Blue House Apartment, no. 151, on the fifth floor. I'm there."

Without waiting for an answer, Parvez walked away. He felt a bit stupid for giving his location to a stranger, but his heart felt it was the right thing to do.

Luce watched Parvez's retreating back. He looked at the counter. Besides the food, there was something else left behind.

Parvez's makeshift spear.

Luce picked it up. Examined the duct tape wrapped around the kitchen knife attached to the broom handle. There were traces of dried zombie blood, but it had been cleaned.

...𝘛𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘪𝘴... 𝘢 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘰𝘮 𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘭𝘦, 𝘥𝘶𝘤𝘵 𝘵𝘢𝘱𝘦, 𝘳𝘰𝘱𝘦, 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘢 𝘬𝘯𝘪𝘧𝘦, 𝘓𝘶𝘤𝘦 𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘮𝘶𝘳𝘦𝘥.

He looked towards the path Parvez had taken. Letting out a sigh, he decided to follow. He felt he should return the weapon before it was too late.