Two years have elapsed since the onset of the zombie apocalypse, and the date is now September of 2026. The once bustling metropolis of New York now lies in ruins, overrun by the undead. Vegetation has reclaimed the city, with weeds breaking through the concrete and trees sprouting in any available space, their growth eventually causing buildings to collapse.
Vines have scaled the walls and windows, forming a verdant curtain. Animals have adapted to this new world, feeding on the abundant vegetation while evading the zombies. Urban-adapted species such as rats, crows, and cockroaches thrive amidst the decay, while larger animals like deer, wolves, and bears have migrated from the surrounding wilderness.
A quartet of survivors, comprising two adult males, a woman, and a child, sought refuge behind the remnants of a dilapidated vehicle, shielded from the sight of the undead creatures that lurked nearby. Their location was in close proximity to the iconic Empire State Building. The eldest of the group, a man in his 50s and the patriarch of the woman, cautiously surveyed their surroundings to ascertain the safety of their position.
"I'm hungry," lamented the child, a cousin of the woman, as her stomach audibly protested its emptiness.
"We'll eat the canned foods later, Rosa. For now, you need to be courageous, alright?" The other man, a best friend of the woman, attempted to placate the young girl with the promise of a meal once they had successfully evaded the undead.
"These zombies seem to be stationary for the time being," observed Carl, the older man, noting the unusual stillness of the zombies, who were typically restless like an ADHD person. "We need to devise a strategy to divert their attention and enter one of the buildings."
"Executing such a plan won't be straightforward, sir," Lee, the second man, remarked as he sifted through the debris scattered across the road. "A mere noise might not be sufficient to distract all of them. We require something with a more explosive impact."
"That's a bad idea! It would draw a multitude of them towards us!" Samantha, the woman, voiced her objection to the idea in hushed tones. "Imagine if we needed to flee! We'd be met by a swarm of them!"
"She's correct. We can't jeopardize our escape route-" Carl began to concur with his daughter's logical argument, but his sentence was abruptly cut short as he noticed the zombies starting to mobilize along a different path, arousing his suspicion.
"They're moving all of a sudden. And in unison, too," Samantha echoed her father's suspicion, noting the absence of any noise that could have attracted the zombies. These creatures wouldn't have moved in the same direction unless they were drawn by a sound. "I have an ominous feeling about this."
"Could it be... that person? The one rumored to control these monsters?" Rosa queried, her eyes wide with fear.
Lee scoffed in amusement, "You're referring to the Lone Wolf? I find that highly unlikely. These creatures are devoid of intellect. How can someone manipulate beings that lack intellect? Don't believe those rumors, Rosa. They're merely scare tactics."
Approximately two years prior, during the initial stages of the zombie apocalypse, a rumor had circulated about a mysterious hooded figure with wolf-like eyes who hunted survivors with an army of the undead. It was even suggested that he was the instigator of the apocalypse. However, the majority of survivors dismissed such claims as preposterous.
"Regardless of the reason for the zombies' movement, it's safe for us to enter the building," Carl declared. "But stay alert, Lee. There could be additional zombies inside."
Lee nodded in acknowledgment, "Understood, sir."
As the group cautiously ventured into a building that appeared to be safe, they were relieved to find it devoid of zombies. However, this didn't mean they could let their guard down. Human adversaries could be lurking anywhere. It was a well-known fact that humans posed a greater threat than zombies in a zombie apocalypse, despite the evolution of some of the latter.
They conducted a thorough and silent inspection of the building, checking for any hidden zombies or human enemies. After two hours of meticulous examination of every corner of the building, they concluded it was safe. They decided to settle on the third floor, taking a moment to unwind after a strenuous day.
Exhaling a sigh of relief, Lee reclined onto the moss-covered floor, his frustration palpable. "This journey seems interminable. When will we finally reach the survivor camp? The constant evasion of the zombies is becoming tiresome," he lamented.
Carl, ever the voice of reason, reminded the group of their precarious situation. "Engaging the zombies directly is not an option. Many survivors we've encountered have confirmed a biologist's theory that the zombies are linked through a hive mind. Any physical contact or aggression towards them could potentially attract a swarm in our direction," he explained. "We must reserve combat as a last resort, not only to avoid detection but also to conserve our limited ammunition."
Lee, however, was quick to counter. "But remember, the hive mind supposedly doesn't activate unless a zombie's brain is directly hit. We're proficient marksmen; we could easily eliminate a significant number without inciting a horde," he asserted, his voice barely above a whisper.
Carl responded with a chuckle, skepticism evident in his tone. "That's quite optimistic."
Rosa's stomach chose that moment to interrupt, its growls growing louder. "Can we eat now?" she asked.
Carl, his own hunger gnawing at him, agreed. "Yes, we should. I'm hungry too."
As they each consumed their ration of canned sardines, Carl retrieved the CB radio, hoping to ascertain the proximity of the designated survivor camp and possibly establish communication with them or any other survivors in possession of a similar device. Meanwhile, Lee kept a vigilant watch on the windows, ready to alert the group at the first sign of zombies. So far, none have appeared.
"This is rather odd," Lee remarked, noting the absence of zombies in the vicinity. The streets, usually teeming with the undead, were eerily deserted. It was reminiscent of the infamous video game scam, The Day Before, from December 2023.
Suddenly, a loud thud echoed from the ground floor, causing everyone to startle. Lee and Carl immediately armed themselves with their hunting rifle and machete, respectively. Carl ventured to the first floor to investigate the source of the noise, while Lee stayed with Samantha and Rosa, escorting them to the relative safety of the second floor.
"Something's here," Lee murmured, his skin prickling with goosebumps in anticipation of the imminent danger. He didn't possess any preternatural senses; it was simply his instincts screaming a warning.
Then, Carl's yell reverberated from the ground floor.
"Dad!" Samantha cried out in alarm, fear for her father propelling her through the building with Rosa in tow.
"Samantha! Wait!" Lee called after her, frustration seeping into his voice at her reckless disregard for the potential dangers that lay ahead.
Unbeknownst to them, zombies lurked on the second and first floors, lying in wait for a specific individual to trigger their movement. And that individual was seated somewhere out of sight, a satisfied smile playing on his lips.
Upon their descent to the ground floor, the trio was met with a sight that defied belief. Carl, his body marred by wounds and smeared with blood, was on his knees. His arms were being held taut by a pair of zombies, while a third zombie in the center was pummeling him mercilessly, reminiscent of a brutal mafia beating. The scene was deeply unsettling for the three onlookers.
"DAD!" Samantha's voice echoed through the space, a cry of concern for her father.
The central zombie responded instantly, its neck snapping towards them as it growled in the manner typical of its kind. The two zombies flanking Carl maintained their grip, stretching his arms to prevent any chance of escape. It was clear that the trio of zombies intended to pursue them, but seemed unable to move, seemingly bound by an unseen command.
Carl, gasping for breath amidst the pain constricting his airway and coughing up blood, managed to utter, "Run...! RUN!"
"No! You're going to die!" Samantha protested, her father's perilous situation overriding her obedience.
"We must go, Samantha! Please don't endanger Rosa!" Lee implored his friend, reminding her of the risk to her cousin and the need for rational thought. "We'll come back for him! Come on!"
Left with no other option, Lee forcefully pulled Samantha away, her screams for her father's rescue echoing behind them, while Rosa followed, her fear palpable. The central zombie divided its attention between the retreating survivors and Carl, who it had been instructed to "torture" for amusement.
"Go ahead and catch them," came the voice of a teenager, filled with glee. "Don't bite them. Just scare them. Join in with your brethren, my friend."
The central zombie let out a monstrous roar before giving chase, as commanded. Carl, left behind, wondered about the identity of the shadowy figure who had ordered the zombie to pursue them instead of him. The voice was unmistakably that of a young man. Could he have recognized this person?
"Are you the Lone Wolf!?" Carl demanded, even as the two zombies intensified their grip on his arms, amplifying his pain.
A smile was the only visible response from the hooded figure, who then ascended the stairs with a calm demeanor, seemingly unafraid of the lurking undead. The figure's silence confirmed Carl's suspicion - he was indeed the Lone Wolf. Carl was taken aback that such a person truly existed and berated himself for falling into such an obvious trap. He regretted not trusting his instincts and seeking a different area.
Struggling against the two zombies despite his weakened state, Carl managed to groan out, "Please survive, Samantha, Rosa! Don't let that sociopath... kill you!"
———
As the youthful figure made his way up the staircase, the ominous echo of numerous zombie footsteps in pursuit of the trio of survivors filled the air. He began to hum a tune, specifically the melody of "ru ru rurururu" from the 2023 anime film, Suzume no Tojimari. His intention was to heighten the sense of fear among the survivors as they endeavored to evade capture by his newfound companions. However, he remained uncertain if his humming was audible to them.
Earlier...
For the survivors still residing within the city, each day is a nightmare as they battle against the relentless undead horde. However, for this individual, this post-apocalyptic world is a paradise, a gift that signifies the end of his previous suffering.
Perched atop the EyeShy Building (originally the MetLife Building) in New York, a 19-year-old man clad in a black hoodie sits on the edge of the rooftop, his legs swinging freely. He watches with amusement as a functional RV filled with survivors is pursued by zombies. Their screams of despair and fear bring a smile to his face, a symphony to his ears.
The young man, chuckling in amusement, bites into an apple, remarking, "They're definitely not going to make it."
Behind him, six zombies tend to the crops he has cultivated over the past two years, ensuring his sustenance. Two additional zombies fan him with a peacock feathered fan, a relic from an antique store he discovered a year ago. Another zombie, the ninth, is dispatched to hunt animals without biting them, while the tenth is sent fishing.
He sighs contentedly before tossing the apple core at a zombie below, musing, "If only my mind could handle more zombies. My life could be even better."
The young man, Jarlath Mavely, gained the ability to manipulate zombies on his birthday two years ago. He has the capacity to control up to fifteen zombies, but due to the mental strain of controlling so many, he limits himself to ten. This also allows him to send the ninth and tenth zombies, affectionately named "Bob" and "Rob", further afield without causing him undue discomfort.
Jarlath rises and walks towards his crops: carrots, potatoes, cabbages, and radishes. He gazes at the jars of pickled radishes and carrots he has prepared, as well as the cabbage juices and mashed potatoes on the table. There are also condiments, such as salt. He has been living life to the fullest since gaining his freedom, but he yearns for more.
"It seems I'll have to hunt some survivors again. I want to try something new," Jarlath declares, a wicked smile playing on his lips and a crazed look in his eyes.
When "Bob" and "Rob" return to the rooftop bearing a fresh deer and a pile of orf fishes, Jarlath anticipates a feast of cooked deer meat and roasted fish for lunch and dinner. He has grown weary of his vegetable and pickle diet.
"Well, I have to head out, and I will definitely lose control of you guys," Jarlath warns, knowing he'll be attacked upon his return. He points towards the edge of the rooftop, a sadistic smile on his face. "All of you, except Bob and Rob, please jump off. Obey your dear and kind friend, won't you?"
All of the zombies, with the exception of the ninth and tenth, leap from the rooftop without hesitation. Through Jarlath's voice, the zombies fall under his control. He has exploited his power to turn the zombies into his puppets, considering them "friends" in his warped perspective. His mental state has deteriorated to such an extent that he views his actions as anything but inhumane.
With a satisfied expression, Jarlath dusts off his hands and announces, "I'll be back shortly. In the meantime, you two should knock each other out until I return."
As Jarlath makes his way down to the lower floors of the EyeShy Building, the two zombies proceed to punch each other, subsequently collapsing onto the ground in a state of simulated unconsciousness. Although zombies are incapable of true unconsciousness, they mimic the action under the influence of the young man's command.
Back in the present...
He finds himself engaged in a macabre game of cat and mouse, relentlessly pursuing the survivors for his own amusement. This has been his modus operandi for the past two years, a twisted means to satiate his inexplicable cravings. He has orchestrated the demise of the majority of them, trapping them in corners with the undead. The rationale behind his satisfaction derived from manipulating the lives of others remains elusive to him, yet he revels in it.
"Lone Wolf? That's a fascinating title," he muses. This was his first encounter with this nickname, likely bestowed upon him by the survivors who had endured his torment or those fortunate enough to escape his clutches. "However, I have a preference for the title, Zombie King."