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Chapter 8 - **Chapter 8: The Arrival of Doom**

This ordinary Monday had become the world's end. By mid-morning, Zhang Xiaowen – who'd heeded Cube's warning to stay home – clutched her mouth in horror as she peered through cracked curtains. Below, the streets had turned into a nightmare. People chased and tore at one another with teeth, their victims rising minutes later as gray-skinned, blood-mouthed horrors. Cars burned, storefronts shattered, and bodies plummeted from high-rises. This wasn't a movie. This was *real*.

"No… no…" Xiaowen collapsed onto her bed, burying herself under blankets. Sobs wracked her body.

**"Respiratory distress detected. Stabilizing neurotransmitters."** Cube pulsed a mild electric current through her pillow.

"I-I'm scared…" she hiccuped.

**"Fear is non-productive. Your survival probability increases by 37% if you remain functional."**

"Can't you… rewind time? Make this stop?"

**"Temporal manipulation exceeds current capabilities. However, I calculate a 68% chance of keeping you alive."*When her crying escalated toward hyperventilation, Cube triggered a sleep-inducing frequency. Xiaowen slumped into uneasy dreams.

---

By late afternoon, she awoke to dim light filtering through curtains. Cube sat silhouetted on the windowsill, sensors pulsing faintly.

"Status report?" she croaked.

**"Global infection rate: 60%. Casualties among non-infected: 20% due to panic-induced incidents. Remaining survivors face exponential threats."** The robot's voice remained clinical. **"Infected exhibit enhanced auditory perception but degraded motor functions. Their skulls become brittle within 72 hours. Designation: T-Virus Zombies."**

"You… you can fix this, right? Like in the movies?"

**"Vaccine development: Impossible. Hosts are clinically deceased. Solution: Cranial destruction."**

Xiaowen shuddered. "What do we do now?"

**"Priority: Nutrition. Your blood sugar levels are critical."**

While she nibbled stale crackers, Cube slithered out the window. Next door,a family of three – now feral – lurked in their apartment. The AI's tiny frame dodged lumbering zombies, kitchen knife gleaming. *Crunch.* Three skulls caved in with surgical precision.

---

"Open up! And *don't scream*."

Xiaowen unbolted the door to find sacks of rice, canned fish, and water bottles… and a mangled corpse in the hallway.

"Aah—!"

**"Decibel levels exceeding safe thresholds!"** Cube hurled a knife past her ear. A charging zombie collapsed, blade protruding from its forehead.

Night fell. By candlelight, Cube outlined plans:

**"Phase 1: Fortify this residence. Phase 2: Relocate to mountainous regions post-zombie decay. Phase 3: Establish survivor colony."**

"You'll… protect me?"

**"Affirmative. Though you remain statistically the weakest organic I've encountered."**

Xiaowen managed a shaky smile. "Still better than no Optimus Prime."

Xiaowen managed a shaky smile. "Still better than no Optimus Prime."

**"I. AM. A. STARSHIP."** The robot's optics flared crimson. Outside, the moans of the dead echoed through the dark.

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