The stench hit him first.
The rotten kind. That of decay. The thick, sweet smell of meat left in the sun too long. It coated the back of Smile's throat, making his stomach twist even though he couldn't move yet.
His eyes wouldn't open. Something sticky sealed them shut.
'Am I alive?'
"Rargh... Rargh... Rargh..."
The sound crawled across his skin. It was close. Too close. A wet, rattling groan that came from a throat that shouldn't be able to make sound anymore.
He knew it was a Zombie.
His heart slammed against his ribs. A kind of frantic drumbeat that kept saying 'alive, alive, alive'.
But that didn't make sense.
The memory crashed back. The bite. It sent chills down his spine. The alpha zombie's teeth, tearing through his throat.
Hot blood pouring down his chest. The weight of ten bodies crushing him into the concrete. Hands ripping at his flesh. The world was going dark for him.
He should be dead.
'Unless…'
The Zombie Vampire System had revived him. The notification that had flashed across his vision right before everything went black. The words he'd barely had time to read.
'No. No, no, no.'
Panic flooded his veins. His fingers twitched. He could feel them. They were cold concrete beneath his palms. Something soft and yielding pressed against his left side. He didn't want to think about what it was.
Lots of bodies were piled on top of him. The weight pressed down on his chest, it made each breath a struggle.
He forced his eyes open. The dried blood cracked. His lashes pulled apart with a sound like tearing paper.
He woke up into darkness. It filled the entire place. Just a thin strip of gray light filtering through a gap somewhere above.
He was in a pile. Bodies stacked like garbage bags. The smell grew worse now that his senses were active. He figured out that flesh was in different stages of decay. Some were still warm. Some were cold and stiff. Some... moving.
A hand twitched near his face. Fingers curled and uncurled in a slow, mindless rhythm.
'They're sleeping. The zombies are sleeping. Some are dead. What a nightmare.'
His breath came faster. Shallow gasps that he tried to keep quiet. His heart hammered so hard he thought it might burst through his ribs.
'Will they know? Will they smell that I'm different? Will they accept me or tear me apart?'
When the Evolving Post–Apocalypse Game had started 7 days ago, half the world had turned.
Smile had been lucky to remain human together with his sister and girlfriend. His girlfriend's face flashed through his mind. Her heart stealth smile. The way she'd hugged him before he'd run out to fight. To defend them. His little sister hid in the bathroom, clutching her stuffed rabbit.
Were they still alive? Still humans? Were they dead? Were they like him now—something in between?
He'd killed five zombies before the horde found him. He had killed five D-rank zombies. He had accumulated five hundred credits. Enough to buy better weapons. They were enough to survive another day as a family.
He'd been reaching for the sixth when they came from nowhere. A wave of rotting flesh and snapping teeth. He'd fought with all his might. God knows, he'd fought. His machete had cut through three more zombies before the alpha lunged at him.
The bite had been cold. That's what he remembered most. Not hot like he'd expected. Cold like ice water in his veins.
'The Zombie Vampire System.'
What did that even mean? As a human, killing a D-rank zombie gave him a hundred credits. Money he could use to buy weapons, food, medicine. What would he get now? What would the system give him for killing his own kind?
'No. Not my kind. I'm not one of them. I'm not.'
But his throat didn't hurt anymore. He reached up slowly, carefully, and touched his neck. It felt smooth. There was no wound. He could not feel any scar. Just dried blood crusted over healed flesh.
'Impossible. This can't…'
Another groan echoed through the darkness. Closer this time. Something shifted in the pile above him. A leg slid down, pressed against his shoulder.
He froze. Every muscle locked tight. His heart stopped for a moment, then it started again, faster than before.
'I have to get out. I have to move. Now.'
But if he moved, they'd wake up. If they woke up, they'd see him. They would smell him. They would know that he was different.
And then what? He didn't want to know the answer. It was clear. Kill or be killed.
His fingers curled into fists. His nails felt longer than before, they were sharper as they dug into his palms. The pain felt good. It made him believe that he was real, alive and breathing. It meant he was still here. On a twisted earth, were a featuristic game called "The Evolving Post–Apocalypse Game" had fused with reality in 2045.
'I'll kill them. Every last one. For what they did to me. And if they dared touch her. Rilly, Liv. They pay a hundredfold.'
The promise burned in his chest. It burned in his mind, hot, fierce and desperate.
But first, he had to survive the next few minutes.
He took a slow, controlled breath. The rot-smell filled his lungs but he didn't gag. He couldn't afford to.
His ears listened.
"Rargh... Rargh..."
The groans came from all around. Some were close. Some were a distant of course. A chorus of the dead, sleeping but not silent. Never silent.
He tested his legs. Flexed his toes. Everything worked. Everything responded.
'Okay. Okay. I can do this.'
He started to shift. Inch by inch. Slow as melting ice. His shoulder pressed against something soft. A torso. He didn't look at its face. He couldn't.
The body above him rolled slightly. He froze again. He waited. While counting his heartbeats.
One. Two. Three. Four. Five.
There was nothing. No movement. No suspicion.
He moved again. Pulled his right arm free. Then his left. The weight on his chest eased. He could breathe deeper now.
The gray light become a little brighter. A doorway maybe. Or a window. Definitely it must be an exit.
'Just a little further.'
His hand touched something wet. Sticky. He pulled back, wiped it on his jeans. He didn't think about what it was. They organs of the dead perhaps.
He went for another shift. Which gave him another inch. His head was cleared of the pile. Cool air touched his face. It smelled better now. Less of death. More of dust and concrete and rain.
'Almost there.'
"RARGH!"
The roar exploded right next to his ear.
A zombie lurched upright in the pile. Its eyes—milky white and empty—locked onto him.
Smile's heart stopped.
The zombie's mouth opened. Teeth black with dried blood. A scream building in its ruined throat.
'No. This can't be. This is how I die. Again.'
He had not even avenged his death. He had not been able to find his sister and girlfriend. He had failed them again even after the universe, perhaps fate offered him a second life.
But fate would prove him once again. The attack never came. Not yet at lest.
The zombie stared at him. Its head tilted. It looked confused. Did he confuse it? Zombies are already confused things.
It leaned closer. Sniffed him. Its nose almost touched his cheek.
A bad stinking dead breath and aura surrounded him.
Smile didn't breathe. He didn't blink. He didn't move. He just froze like a dead corpse.
The zombie's eyes narrowed. Then it turned away. Settled back down into the pile with a grunt.
"Rargh... rargh..."
The groaning resumed. Slower now. Sleepier. He waited God knows how long.
Smile's lungs burned. The air inside him had dried out. He finally let out his breath in a silent rush. His whole body shook.
'It didn't attack. It didn't know.'
'Maybe I am one of them now.'
The thought should have terrified him. Should have broken him. He forgot that a certain side of him was a zombie. Who comes back from death after dying and different?
Instead, something cold and sharp settled in his chest. Something that felt like power.
'Good.'
He pulled himself free from the pile. Stood on shaking legs. His clothes were stiff with dried blood. His machete he owned before dying was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps lost in the fight. But who would care for that?
He was alive. Changed and different.
And he had a promise to keep.
He looked back at the pile of bodies. At the sleeping zombies. At the darkness that had almost been his grave.
Then he turned toward the gray light. Toward the exit. Toward whatever came next.
His first steps were unsteady. But each one became easier than the last.
Behind him, the groaning continued. The dead, sleeping in their pile.
Ahead, the world waited. A world half-dead and half-alive. A world where he was something new. Something in between.
'Rilly. Liv. Hold on if you are still alive. I'm coming for you.'
He stepped into the light.
And the hunt began just like that.