Let me begin by saying: I thought having powers would be cooler.
Like, at minimum, I expected glowing fists or flying or maybe slow-motion dodging bullets with sunglasses on.
What I got?
Motion sickness.
After Tito Edgar's little bracelet stunt, I spent the next thirty minutes dry-heaving into a rice sack while the Boy Scout patted my back and offered me a banana.
"You did good," he said.
"I saw God," I replied.
He nodded. "She looked nice."
We sat back on a beanbag while Edgar fiddled with an old desktop PC running what looked like Windows 98 and a cracked program labeled "EDEN SUITE BETA".
"So," I said weakly, "what exactly did I just do?"
"You slowed local time around you by 0.7 seconds," Edgar said without looking away from the screen. "You basically created a tiny time bubble for about five meters. You're manipulating the virus's quantum latency signature."
"I have no idea what that means."
The Boy Scout added, "You bent reality, kuya. Like a tita bending traffic rules."
"Oh. Cool."
Then I paused. "Wait. That's it? Less than a second?"
Edgar finally turned to me. "It's a start. The virus is still syncing with your nervous system."
"So you're saying I need a software update?"
He nodded. "And better reflexes. You fell over like a fish at a baptism."
Just as I was about to spiral into a full existential breakdown, someone knocked on the top hatch.
We all froze.
Knocks in the apocalypse? Never good.
Edgar grabbed a frying pan.
I grabbed the fishing net again.
The Boy Scout grabbed a walkie-talkie and whispered, "We've got top-side movement. Two bodies. One might be human."
We climbed up the metal stairs quietly, one creaky step at a time, until Edgar peeked through the periscope (yes, he had a periscope. Yes, it had stickers).
"…It's safe," he said. "But weird."
He opened the hatch.
Standing outside was a girl in neon-green leggings, a crop top that said "EAT BRAINS NOT FEELINGS," and a GoPro strapped to her forehead.
Behind her stood a duck.
Wearing a tiny helmet.
"Yo!" she said, waving like we were old friends. "We saw your bunker on my drone cam. You dudes still alive?"
"…Who are you?" I managed.
"Name's Chai Del Rosario, but my fans call me ZomChai. I was livestreaming the end of the world until the signal dropped. This is Sir Quackers, my emotional support duck-slash-sidekick."
The duck quacked loudly like it had a gun and knew how to use it.
Edgar gave me a look that said "absolutely not."
I gave him a look that said "it's either her or more zombies."
He sighed.
"Fine. Inside. But no TikToks."
"Too late," Chai grinned. "We're trending."
Back in the bunker, Chai dug into a canned mac-and-cheese like she hadn't eaten since Season 3 of Stranger Things. Sir Quackers was pecking suspiciously at the Boy Scout's shoelaces.
"So," she said with her mouth full, "what's your superpower?"
I blinked. "How do you know I have a power?"
"You're glowing, dude. Like a radioactive K-drama lead."
I looked down. Sure enough, my wrists had a faint shimmer again. Subtle. But there.
Edgar muttered, "That's new…"
Chai leaned forward. "Can you fly? Shoot fireballs? Talk to ghosts? Control ducks?"
Sir Quackers quacked angrily.
"No," I said. "I can slow time. Kinda. Barely. For less than a second. But it makes me throw up."
She nodded like I told her I collected stamps. "Sick. We need that."
"For what?"
"A supply run," she said.
We all stared at her.
"A what?" I said.
"A supply run. Duh. There's a Mercury Drug two blocks from here. We need meds, food, and Wi-Fi extenders. Sir Quackers has IBS and I have a live stream to resurrect."
Edgar shook his head. "That place is overrun. Last time I checked, there were at least a dozen roamers outside."
Chai smirked. "Then we move fast, stay quiet, and let the time-bender distract them."
I choked. "Excuse me?!"
She pointed at me. "Look, you're the only one here who's technically unkillable right now. You're like… the team's plot armor."
"That's not comforting!"
"Relax," she said, patting my shoulder. "You've got main character energy. People like you never die in Episode 4."
Somehow, ten minutes later, I was standing outside a shattered pharmacy, wearing a bike helmet, holding a broom, and regretting everything.
Edgar stayed in the alley with the Boy Scout on lookout duty. Chai had sprinted ahead already, GoPro blinking red. Sir Quackers rode in her backpack like a tiny war general.
"I'm going to die," I whispered.
I edged toward the pharmacy's entrance.
It was dead quiet—until I stepped on a rubber duck.
"SQUEEEEK."
Immediately, three zombies turned around.
They saw me.
I saw them.
Nobody moved.
Then I dropped my broom.
"RUN!" I shouted, bolting inside the pharmacy and knocking over an entire shelf of adult diapers.
The zombies roared after me.
I sprinted, slipped on lotion, hit a shelf, and crashed into a display of whitening soap.
I looked up and saw a security mirror above me.
And in it—I saw myself glowing.
Not faint. Not weak.
Bright. Pulsing. Controlled.
Something clicked.
I raised my hands.
"Okay," I whispered. "Slow time."
I focused.
Breathe in.
Breathe out.
Imagine everything stretching…
FLASH.
The world tilted.
The zombies slowed.
Shelves stopped shaking mid-fall.
Even my own scream got glitchy.
I moved. One step. Two.
Grabbed a box of antibiotics.
Shoved it in my backpack.
Tripped over a mop.
Still cool.
Ran past the zombies like a polite breeze.
Then it ended.
Everything snapped back.
And all three zombies slammed into each other like bowling pins.
Outside, Edgar blinked. "Was that a power spike?"
The Boy Scout whispered, "He didn't fall over this time."
Back inside, I came running out with a backpack full of meds and a stupid grin on my face.
"I DID IT!"
Chai high-fived me.
Sir Quackers pooped in celebration.