Apocalypse Prevision: Loot the Supermarket, Watch Family Carnage

"Smack!"

A heavy slap knocked me to the ground, and a strong taste of blood instantly filled my mouth.

“Zombies? The end of the world? Ian, are you out of your mind?!” My stepfather Richard glared down at me, his expensive leather shoes kicking me mercilessly in the ribs.

The excruciating pain made me gasp, but I still clutched my chest, desperately trying to explain the incredibly vivid dream: "I'm serious! The news will be reporting soon that there have been biting incidents on the streets of Manhattan! We must stockpile supplies immediately!"

"Shut up, you ungrateful wretch!" Stepmother Mary, holding a cup of hot coffee, looked at him with disgust. "David has to participate in the school football team tryouts tomorrow, what are you doing here so early in the morning?"

David, my nominal younger brother, was sitting on the high-end leather sofa, playing with a baseball bat. He walked over, his military boot stomping on the back of my hand, a cruel smirk playing on his lips: "Dad, I think he's just trying to avoid mowing the lawn today. Lock him in the basement to wake him up, so he doesn't get our carpets dirty."

Richard grabbed me by the collar like a chick and roughly dragged me toward the door.

"Let me go! You'll regret this!" I struggled violently, but my malnourished body was no match for a strong adult man.

"Bang!"

I was thrown heavily down the stairs, tumbling down the steps and crashing heavily onto the dark, damp concrete floor. Immediately afterward, I heard the dull thud of an iron lock clicking shut above my head.

"You'll stay down there and stink without my permission!" Richard's curses came through the door and faded into the distance.

The basement was bitterly cold. I huddled on a worn-out mattress in the corner, shivering with pain all over my body.

That wasn't a dream. That definitely wasn't a dream.

Burning cars on the streets, mutilated corpses scattered everywhere, and monsters with gray pupils and wild roars coming from their throats... it all felt so real.

Exhaustion and pain washed over me like a tide, and my consciousness gradually blurred in the darkness.

When I opened my eyes again, the biting cold had disappeared, replaced by a nauseating stench.

The sky was a strange, dark red. To my horror, I realized I had returned to that dream.

"Ian, give me that half loaf of bread!" David's voice rang out from behind, carrying an undeniable greed and command.

I looked down and found myself clutching a moldy baguette in my hand. It was the only food our family of four had had for the past three days while we were hiding in the attic.

"This is what I found! I haven't eaten for three days!" I instinctively clutched the bread to my chest. Hunger made my stomach acid frantically corrode my internal organs, and the pain felt like swallowing a ball of fire.

"You bastard, you dare to eat?" Richard sprang out from the shadows and kicked me to the ground.

Mary stood indifferently to the side, her eyes looking at a pile of garbage: "Give the bread to David. He has awakened his superpowers and is our only hope for survival. Keeping it is just a waste of food."

I looked at the couple with despair. After the apocalypse, I risked my life to lure away zombies and find supplies; my blood and sweat sustained them! Now, they wanted to take away my last right to live!

"No...this is mine!" I said, my eyes red, just about to stuff the hardened bread into my mouth.

"Go to hell!"

David lunged at me, not to steal the bread, but to use the momentum to shove me violently toward the broken French window.

The sound of shattering glass exploded in my ears.

I lost my balance and fell straight into the dense horde of zombies below.

"Bang!"

Before the excruciating pain of the fall could spread, a dozen rotting arms had already gripped me tightly.

"ah--!"

I watched helplessly as a gaping, bloody maw tore open my carotid artery. Warm blood gushed out, and the excruciating pain of my internal organs being ripped out overwhelmed me instantly.

Behind the second-floor window, David was slowly chewing on the blood-stained bread, while Richard and Mary smiled with satisfaction, as if they had just thrown away a bag of trash.

"ah!!!"

I sprang up from the tattered mattress, gasping for breath like a dying fish. My thin T-shirt was completely soaked with cold sweat.

My hands trembled as I reached for my neck—no wound, no blood.

But the pain of being torn apart alive is etched on my nerve endings like a bone-deep sore, and I can't get rid of it.

This is no ordinary dream. It's a preview of the future!

I fumbled for the backlight button on my old digital watch: October 12, 2024, 3:15 AM.

Less than 72 hours remain until the apocalypse fully unfolds!

Escape! I must get out of here immediately!

The basement exhaust fan was making an annoying buzzing sound. Ignoring the cold sweat on my forehead, I stumbled and crawled toward the pile of discarded cardboard boxes in the corner.

Moving aside the moldy cardboard box at the very bottom, I dug out a loose brick. Inside was a metal box containing the $30,000 I had saved up penny by penny over the past five years by washing dishes and delivering takeout in Chinatown.

Richard always thought I handed over all the money I earned from my part-time jobs, but little did he know that I had been preparing to escape this hellhole for a long time.

I never imagined that what would force me to leave early would not be the independence that comes with adulthood, but a catastrophe that would destroy all of humanity.

I stuffed several stacks of banknotes tightly into my inner pocket. This was my only chance to survive this apocalyptic frenzy.

Looking up at the locked wooden door, I gave a cold laugh. Richard, that megalomaniac, never knew that the basement ventilation ducts were large enough for a skinny adult to climb out.

I stepped on the abandoned washing machine, grabbed the grease-stained louvers of the ventilation vent with both hands, and yanked them off forcefully.

The sharp metal cut my hand, and blood seeped out. But I didn't even flinch.

Compared to the despair and pain of being torn apart by zombies and having one's intestines ripped out in a dream, this injury is nothing more than a tickle.

Like a nimble wildcat, I darted into the narrow pipe. The dust choked me, making me almost suffocate, but I bit my lip hard to keep myself from making a sound.

Just as I was about to climb out of the pipe and breathe in the cold air outside, Richard's terrified roar suddenly came from the second floor.

"What Manhattan riots? Are these news channels crazy?!"

Then came Mary's panicked scream: "God! David, look at the TV! That biting lunatic... his face is rotten! Ian... Ian is telling the truth!"

I lay prone at the pipe outlet, listening to the chaos and panic that erupted inside the room, a cruel smile curving my lips.

You only believe it now? It's too late.

I leaped and landed steadily on the lawn in the backyard. I glanced back at the two-story American-style villa, a place filled with my humiliating memories, my eyes sharp as a knife.

Richard, Mary, and my dear brother David…

Enjoy your last moments of peace. When the zombie apocalypse tolls, the real hell will only just begin!

I pulled the collar of my hoodie tighter and disappeared into the deepest darkness before dawn without looking back.