Chapter 1 — My Only Wish Finally Came True
The trailer smelled like death. Not the romanticized, cinematic kind of death, but the real, clinging, suffocating stench of mold, stale cigarette smoke, and piss. Every morning, it greeted me like an old, spiteful friend. Over the years, I'd stopped noticing it. Maybe I liked it that way. Familiarity was comforting in a disgusting, miserable kind of way. This space—the sticky floors, the stiff sheets crusted with old sweat, God only knew what else—was mine. My chest tightened as I inhaled deeply. That smell hit like a wall, and I flopped an arm over my face, groaning. My head throbbed, probably from the hangover that never truly left. Or maybe it was just the eternal dull ache that came with waking up in this kind of life.
The ceiling fan rattled lazily overhead, spinning half-heartedly in the humid, stagnant air. It moved nothing more than a whisper of wind through the suffocating space. I sat up slowly, feet hitting the cold linoleum. My socks stuck briefly to the floor, peeling away with a soft pop. I didn't care. I learned not care in this shitty world.
Around me, the trailer was a shrine to every bad choice I had ever made—or endured. Empty cans lined the counter, broken furniture leaned precariously, cigarette butts scattered, and a faint, sticky residue coated some surfaces. I gagged slightly, but the mess didn't bother me as much as it should have. The cracked window let in just enough light to illuminate the grime in all its glory. I hated it, but it was mine. That had to count for something.
I grabbed my hoodie off the chair, shrugged it over my bare chest, and tied my sneakers. My stomach growled, low and steady, but I didn't have much interest in breakfast. Food had always been secondary; survival came first. I walked over to the door, checked the lock, and nodded. Locked. Good. Neighbors wouldn't bother me today. Probably. I stepped outside, inhaling the morning air. It smelled faintly of burning trash and wet asphalt. A stray dog scurried across the lot, sniffing at a tree. Somewhere, someone shouted. I didn't care.
The trailer park looked like every other excuse for a neighborhood in the country: broken-down RVs, peeling paint, kids throwing rocks at each other, a man screaming at his woman over the fence. I watched for a second, smirked. The chaos, distractions... they felt... Normal. I shoved the image from my mind, swinging my leg over my bike. It had more duct tape than metal at this point, but it rolled. That was enough.
The streets weren't too busy this early, but I noticed the news trucks moving slower than usual, a few emergency sirens wailing somewhere off in the distance—probably a car crash or accident. People weren't panicking yet. No sense of urgency. Just the usual noise of a world slowly rotting. Just last week another politician was shot by a support of a different political camp.
I rode past the gas station where I worked part-time—technically, Nation's FuelStop, a stupid, corporate name that meant nothing. I didn't care. It paid the bills, and the job was easy. I did my normal shit that usually do; Fridges stocked, snacks shelved, a bathroom clean, counters wiped. all down within the hour, now its just waiting.
Inside, the station smelled like gasoline and stale coffee, a combination that should have made me gag, but it didn't. Fluorescent lights hummed overhead, flickering lazily, casting harsh shadows over aisles lined with chips, soda, and cigarettes. The register beeped when customers came through, each purchase a monotony I went through without thought.
My mind wandered, drifting back to my trailer, to the day soon ahead, the day when I would finally feel free... Freedom had a price, and I wasn't sure I was ready to pay it... not yet so I needed to work and save up more.
It was then— at 3 in the afternoon on a Tuesday— that everything changed. it was just sitting behind the counter waiting for the next customer that bought condoms or needed 20 on pump #7 since the card reader was broken. As I was doomscrolling on TikTok watching a stand-up comedy roast a drunk heckler—
And then it hit me.
Something… different. A sharp pulse through my veins. A burning that made me stagger back. My head split in two, like someone shoved a knife directly into my skull. I stumbled, knocking over a display of candy bars, grabbing the counter for support. My vision blurred. There was something in my blood, something that didn't belong. A tremor, a heat, a pulse that was alive. Pain unlike anything I'd ever known, like my body itself was rebelling. My knees buckled, and I hit the floor, hands clawing at the tiles as the world spun violently around me.
Ding.
I heard it clearly, a singular note in the chaos, like someone calling my name. And then nothing. Darkness swallowed me whole.
When I woke, the station was… quieter. Too quiet. My head pounded, my ears rang. I sat up slowly, tasting blood from my bitten tongue. Everything in my body felt different—sharper, heavier, yet lighter at the same time. My senses were… heightened? I could hear the hum of the lights, see sharper like the colors were brighter, and I could smell...blood? My vision flicked to the window, and I froze.
Outside, the streets weren't normal. Smoke curled lazily from a burning car a block away. People screamed, running in all directions. Some lay sprawled in the street. Others staggered, jerking like puppets on invisible strings. My stomach clenched, but not with fear. With anticipation.
The TV behind the counter flickered. Emergency broadcast.
"ALL CITIZENS MUST REMAIN INDOORS UNTIL MILITARY POLICE ARRIVE. DO NOT ENGAGE WITH—"
Static cut the message short, as the power went out, I'm not sure if its just our breaker or the block, or hell even the whole city could be in a power outage from the looks of the chaos outside.
And then the banging began. Heavy, frantic, desperate.
I spun around. A man, bloodied, head bleeding, eyes wide and unseeing, pounded on the glass door. "Arhghrhahghhhhhhhhh!" he half-screamed and half-yelled.
I stepped forward, shouting as I opened the door. "Hey! Are you okay? What the hell is—"
"ARG. ARG. ARG." No response. His mouth opened, and only a guttural, animalistic sound came out.
He lunged.
I barely had time to jump aside, stumbling back into a display of snacks. Chips and candy cascaded to the floor. I shouted again, trying to reason with him. "Hey! Stop! What's going on?"
ARG. He lunged faster.
Instinct took over. I ran to the back, grabbing the baseball bat I kept behind the counter. My hands shook, but my grip was firm. I didn't even think.
"Back off!" I yelled, louder than I intended. "I won't hold back!"
He didn't care. He came at me like a predator, teeth bared, eyes wide and unseeing. I swung. The bat connected with his skull. He fell, tiles cracking under his weight, blood spraying like some horrific waterfall. My heart pounded, adrenaline flooding me, but something unnerving washed over me.
He rose again, staggering, lurching toward me, still making that guttural noise.
I swung again. Harder, like I ment it. This time it ended. He collapsed and did not move.
I stared at him, chest heaving. No guilt. No relief. No satisfaction. Nothing. Just… calm. A strange hollow inferno where something should have been. A certainty, I would do it again. I held no regret besides the fact that I lost a source of information but I had an idea already of what was going on.
Ding.
The system—or whatever this was—pinged me, but I mentally flicked off the system. I wanted to see things for myself first—with my own eyes, trying to comprehend it. My hands dripped blood from contact; my bat was sticky. My mind… was clearer than it had been in years.
I looked outside. The streets had erupted into chaos. People screamed, cars burned, bodies littered the asphalt. Somewhere, a man was dragged down by… whatever that was now.
And then I smiled.
A Broken, desperate, strained smile. But a really smile. A happy one. A strange, hollow happiness that surged through me. My heart raced—not from fear, but anticipation, excitement. This was it. my freedom. The chaos. Pure survival. Nothing but reading on my own strength.
I whispered to myself, almost reverent:
"A zombie apocalypse… my only wish… finally came true."
I stood there, bat in hand, watching the world burn, the chaos unfolding. Every fantasy I'd ever had, every daydream of power and freedom, every single time I cried myself to sleep praying to a god or the devil to hear my voice... and a world was finally giving me what I asked for... no it's giving me what I deserved… and this was real.
"...heh... eheh... ehehe..."
"Hhh—ha... haha... hahahAHAHA—"
And for the first time, as I stood there within the world burn I laughed, a cruel, manic, joyous, laugh. one from the bottom of my soul. Because I was ready.