I woke to the sound of something scraping against metal.
For one confused moment, I thought somebody was moving furniture around my house.
Then I remembered Ruby.
"Oh, right. I've got a zombie in my workroom."
I rubbed my face and sat up.
What a wonderful way to start the morning.
The clock read 6:38 a.m. I had slept maybe five hours, and I still felt exhausted from yesterday's whirlwind of construction, spending money, and somehow managing to kiss an attractive engineer.
A blue window appeared.
**SYSTEM NOTICE\~**
**Time remaining until Day 0: 11 days.**
**Host survival preparations proceeding!**
"Yeah, well, could you help with the zombie problem?"
Silence.
"Of course not."
I got dressed and checked the workroom.
Ruby was still tied to the steel chair, her once-bright eyes cloudy and gray. Her red hair hung messily across her face, and dried blood stained the bandage around her bitten hand.
She immediately snapped toward me.
"Good morning to you too."
Her teeth strained against the gag as she growled.
"You're really not a morning person anymore, are you?"
Nothing.
**RUBY BENNETT — AFFECTION: 0%.**
I sighed.
Despite everything, I couldn't help feeling sorry for her. She'd trusted me enough to come here when she was terrified, and now she couldn't even recognize me.
At least not yet.
"I'll figure something out, Ruby. Just give me time."
---
By eight, I was searching vehicle listings.
I needed an armored van. Something practical, durable, and most importantly, cheap.
Yesterday I'd been looking at impressive vehicles that cost more than some houses. Today my standards were much simpler.
Could it drive?
Could it carry heavy cargo?
Could a zombie bite through it?
If the answers were yes, yes, and no, I was interested.
Besides, there was no point spending a fortune on something fancy when Nadia's final reward could eventually give me modifiable vehicle-creation blueprints.
A thought made me grin.
*If I can get her to one hundred percent affection, maybe I can turn some ugly armored box into something incredible.*
Then I remembered her expression when she'd told me I'd have to work hard for another kiss.
"Yeah. That's probably going to take some time."
I found an older armored cash-transport van listed for eighteen thousand five hundred dollars.
It wasn't pretty.
The paint was faded, the seats looked uncomfortable, and the interior was basically a large metal box with a few mounting points and storage compartments. The reinforced doors and windows were still intact, though.
The seller claimed the engine ran beautifully.
I called immediately.
"Would you take sixteen thousand?"
The man laughed.
"Buddy, it's already cheap."
"Seventeen thousand cash, and I'll come get it today."
He paused.
"Seventeen eight, and it's yours."
I considered it.
The bunker had already committed me to approximately sixty-eight thousand dollars, not including the appliances and power equipment. My collection had sold for over a hundred twenty-three thousand, but some payments were still processing. The house hadn't sold yet, either.
I couldn't afford to be stupid.
Still, seventeen thousand eight hundred wasn't unreasonable for something that could keep me alive.
"Deal. Assuming it runs as advertised."
---
At ten, I stood in front of the ugliest armored van I'd ever seen.
It was a dull gray, with scratches along the sides and a slightly crooked rear bumper.
The seller handed me the keys.
"She's not much to look at, but she's reliable."
"That's all I care about."
I inspected the interior, checked the maintenance records, and took it for a test drive. The engine grumbled, but the vehicle handled surprisingly well.
The rear cargo compartment was spacious enough for a large crate, and the reinforced doors locked securely.
Perfect.
I paid, signed the paperwork, and arranged insurance and the transfer documents.
When I finally climbed into the driver's seat, I couldn't resist laughing.
"Behold! My mighty apocalypse war machine!"
The dashboard rattled when I started it.
"Okay, maybe we'll work on the mighty part later."
I drove to a hardware supplier and bought heavy-duty straps, plywood, timber, brackets, and a sturdy furniture dolly. I also arranged to borrow a loading ramp.
I wasn't building anything beautiful.
I was building something that could transport a dangerous zombie without letting her bite me or anybody else.
---
By noon, I was back home.
Ruby heard me before I opened the workroom door.
The scraping became frantic, followed by a muffled snarl.
"Easy, Ruby. It's just me."
She didn't care.
I examined the chair and the room around it, trying to decide how to move her without her binds coming loose and her attacking me.
Her Wing Chun and Eskrima training worried me. She had been able to fight off an infected man while injured. If her instincts or coordination survived the transformation, careless handling could be disastrous.
I decided against removing her from the chair.
Instead, I'd move the entire thing.
I built a sturdy wooden pallet platform then dragged her backwards carefully onto it and secured the chair. Then I constructed a reinforced wooden enclosure that could fit over the chair, leaving ventilation openings protected so she couldn't be seen through them.
It wasn't elegant, and every time my hammer struck a nail, Ruby jerked toward the sound.
"You're going to have to forgive the accommodations. Five-star zombie transportation wasn't in my budget."
I worked slowly, checking everything as I went.
By two, I'd finished.
The enclosure looked like an unusually reinforced shipping crate.
I stepped back and admired my terrible craftsmanship.
"Well, I wouldn't sell it on the internet, but it'll do."
Ruby snarled again.
"Everybody's a critic."
The difficult part was actually moving her.
With the chair secured inside the enclosure, I eased the pallet onto the heavy-duty dolly. Every shift made the crate rock, and I stopped several times to ensure the structure stayed stable.
Eventually I managed to wheel it through the house.
Getting it through the front door took another twenty minutes of frustration.
But finally, the crate was outside.
I checked the street.
Nobody.
Thank God.
I positioned the ramp against the van and carefully worked the dolly upward, moving inch by inch.
The weight made my arms burn.
"Come on... come on... almost..."
The wheels finally crossed into the cargo compartment.
"YES!"
I nearly collapsed.
I secured the crate against the van's cargo anchors, checked that it couldn't slide around, and shut the rear doors.
Ruby responded by slamming against the inside of the enclosure.
"Don't worry. We're going somewhere much nicer."
I paused.
"Well, eventually nicer."
---
Driving with a zombie in the back was an experience I never wanted to repeat.
Every bump produced a thump or scrape from behind me.
At one intersection, a man in the neighboring car gave me an odd look when something slammed against the cargo partition.
I smiled.
"Heavy furniture!"
He shrugged and drove away.
My heart didn't settle until I reached the county road leading toward the hill.
The bunker entrance was almost invisible from a distance.
The workers had done an excellent job concealing the surface access. The main work had finished yesterday, although a few inspections and adjustments still remained.
I parked near the concealed door and got out.
For a moment, I simply stood there admiring the hillside.
"Home sweet underground home."
Moving Ruby inside was another exhausting battle with gravity.
At least the entrance had been designed to accommodate bulky equipment. The reinforced diagonal passage was wide enough for the dolly and crate, though maneuvering around the turns was unpleasant.
By the time I finally reached the main chamber, I was sweating through my shirt.
The bunker was quiet.
Soft lights illuminated the long circular interior. My television and gaming equipment sat against one wall, and the refrigerator hummed nearby. The used pool table occupied its designated space, looking almost comically ordinary inside a buried steel tube.
I smiled.
It was starting to feel like somewhere a person could actually live.
Then Ruby slammed against the wooden crate.
"Right. Back to reality."
---
I'd planned the bedroom toward the sealed end of the structure, away from the main entrance.
It wasn't enormous, but it had enough space for a comfortable king bed, some furniture, and a surprisingly useful closet.
The closet itself was small compared with an ordinary room, yet spacious enough to stand and move around inside.
More importantly, it had a sturdy door and could be adapted into a temporary holding space.
"Sorry, Ruby. You're getting the closet for now."
I maneuvered the pallet and crate inside, checking the available space and ventilation before positioning everything.
The enclosure fit.
Barely.
I couldn't believe my luck.
I secured it in place and made sure the closet door could close without pressing against the crate.
Then I stood outside, listening.
Scratching.
Growling.
Occasional movement.
But no escape and importantly very faint and easy to conceal if I put on a low volume white noise machine in the room.
"Okay. That's one problem solved."
**RUBY BENNETT — AFFECTION: 0%.**
"Still zero, huh?"
I rubbed my forehead.
I'd saved her from wandering into the streets and possibly attacking someone, but I hadn't done anything to actually help her recover yet.
That was going to require patience.
And probably a lot of food.
---
At six, I sat at the kitchen counter with a notebook and a bottle of water.
I needed a proper plan.
Ruby couldn't remain gagged and restrained indefinitely. She would eventually need food and water, and I needed to begin teaching her not to bite everything she saw.
I wrote down the progression I wanted.
**FIRST: Establish safe feeding and drinking.**
**SECOND: Teach her to respond to commands.**
**THIRD: Gradually allow independent feeding.**
**FOURTH: Reduce restraints only when her aggression decreases.**
**FIFTH: Help her recover her humanity.**
I looked toward the bedroom.
Ruby was probabky still growling.
"Yeah. We're going to be working on that first step for a while."
Her injuries worried me too. Her shoulder was still dislocated, and the bite on her hand looked terrible.
The System had promised zombie females could heal as affection increased, but I had no idea how quickly.
I needed medical knowledge.
Not just a first-aid kit and a few videos.
An actual doctor would be incredibly useful.
I made another note.
**MEDICAL SUPPLIES AND PROFESSIONAL KNOWLEDGE — HIGH PRIORITY.**
Then I checked the bunker equipment.
The battery stations were charging, and the solar installation was functioning, although I still needed to monitor actual power consumption. The refrigerator and freezer were running, but neither had much food inside yet.
My water purification system still needed its remaining safety checks.
Plenty of work remained.
At least I was making progress.
---
By eight thirty, I had showered, eaten dinner, and checked on Ruby again.
She was still aggressive.
But at least she was secure.
I sat on the floor outside the closet, keeping the door closed.
"Hey, Ruby."
A low growl answered.
"You probably can't understand me right now, but I wanted to say something."
I rested my head against the wall.
"You were always nice to me. Even when I was being a shut-in who barely talked to anybody."
Another scrape.
"And when something terrible happened to you, you came to me because you thought I'd help."
I smiled sadly.
"So that's what I'm going to do."
I waited.
Nothing changed.
No affection increase.
No miraculous flash of recognition.
Just the restless movements of a hungry zombie.
"Yeah, I know. It's going to take more than a speech."
I stood and checked the time.
Eleven days until everything collapsed.
I still needed more food, medical supplies, a secure system for feeding Ruby, and a way to improve the bunker.
My house was waiting for a buyer. My new armored van was parked outside. Nadia's modifiable expansion blueprints were waiting for me to examine them properly.
And somewhere inside that closet was a girl who might one day become human again.
I turned toward my bedroom.
"Goodnight, Ruby."
A muffled growl answered.
"Love you too, neighbor."
I chuckled, turned off the main lights, and headed to bed.
Tomorrow would be another busy day.