Breakup Cash in Hand, I Watch My Ex Turn Zombie

The jazz music playing in the coffee shop sounded like noise to me.

I sat in a corner booth at Starbucks, looking at the two familiar faces across from me— Chloe, my fiancée from before I enlisted in the army , and Seth, the rich second-generation heir she had recently hooked up with.

Chloe and I were together for eight years, but in the end, I lost to money.

Memories of my past life flashed through my mind like a movie replay, every detail so clear it felt like a knife cutting into my heart.

"Logan, don't make this ugly." Chloe shoved a check in front of me, her Chanel lipstick gleaming greedily under the light. "One hundred thousand dollars. That's enough for you to rent that run-down apartment in Brooklyn for another ten years."

In my past life, I refused the check and decided to find a job myself.

As a result, when he couldn't find a job and his family's food supplies ran out, the zombie apocalypse arrived.

On the third day after the apocalypse, I huddled in a corner of my apartment, so hungry I was seeing stars.

There was only half a bottle of expired milk and a bag of moldy bread left in the refrigerator.

My stomach was growling, and stomach acid was burning the empty walls of my stomach.

I just can't take it anymore.

I discussed with a few neighbors upstairs that we should go out to find food together, as we were all starving.

But hunger had drained my strength, and the muscles I had built up during my three years of military service had atrophied due to lack of nutrition.

When the horde of zombies suddenly appeared, everyone else ran away quickly. The accountant, who was usually the most cowardly, pushed me to the ground in an attempt to save his own life .

I fell amidst the shattered glass, trying to get up, but my legs wouldn't obey me. The zombies charged, their sharp teeth piercing my neck...

If I had $100,000 to buy supplies in advance , at least I wouldn't go hungry after the apocalypse .

Seth leaned back in his coffee shop chair, glancing at me sideways with a sneer. "Listen, soldier," he said, "we're all adults. Chloe needs real men now, not scraps living off their veteran's paychecks."

I picked up the check and looked at the number: $100,000.00.

This time, I won't make the same mistake again.

"Thank you," I said, my voice as calm as ice.

Chloe froze. She was clearly expecting my anger, pleading, or at least a desperate struggle of male pride. She opened her mouth slightly, as if wanting to say something even more scathing to humiliate me.

Seth frowned. "That's it? Don't you feel angry? Don't you feel humiliated?"

I stood up and put the check into my wallet.

The brutal scenes of the apocalypse from my past life flashed through my mind .

Compared to life and death, being cheated on is a trivial matter.

"Anger?" I looked at these two idiots who had no idea what was going to happen . "In seven days, you'll understand what true fear is . While the money is still useful, buy as many supplies as possible ."

I kindly left them a hint, then headed out of the coffee shop.

"What nonsense are you spouting?" Seth's voice rose.

But I've already turned and left ; I have more important things to do.

This time, I will survive !

Not only must we survive, but we must live better than anyone else.

Brooklyn .

The red-brick apartment building remains dilapidated, and the elevators still creak unsettlingly.

But none of that matters now. I need to turn this four-story building into a steel fortress.

I took out my phone and dialed the first number.

"Walmart purchasing department? I need to order a batch of supplies... Yes, all cash payment... Delivered today."

Two hours later, the first batch of trucks arrived.

I received 200 boxes of MRE (Military Resistant Equipment) rations, 12 servings per box, with a daily calorie density of 3600 calories. These brown-packaged military rations were surplus military waste before the apocalypse, but after the apocalypse, they are a life-saving guarantee more precious than gold. In my past life, I was so hungry that I didn't even have the strength to stand up because I lacked these things.

Next came the water purification equipment: 8 LifeStraw Family water purifiers, 500 water purification tablets, and 12 100-gallon water storage tanks. I also specially ordered 50 cases of bottled water as an emergency reserve.

Then came the medical supplies: 200 boxes of amoxicillin capsules, 150 boxes of ibuprofen painkillers, medical gauze, bandages, iodine, and medical alcohol. I also specially ordered 40 bottles of vitamin D and 100 bottles of multivitamins—in the sunless wasteland, these little pills could determine whether a person lives a strong life or dies of scurvy.

Finally, basic protective equipment includes: 20 sets of chemical protective suits, 50 N95 masks, 6 industrial-grade gas masks, 15 high-powered flashlights, and 200 emergency candles.

He spent $47,000 in one go.

"Derek!" I knocked on the door across the street.

My neighbor, that geek who always wears Marvel T-shirts, peeked out from under the door: "Hey, Logan, are you stockpiling for World War III?"

I took $1,000 in cash from my wallet and handed it to him: "Derek, I need you to upgrade the entire building's surveillance system and communications network. WiFi signal amplifiers, infrared night vision cameras, emergency radios, and a backup generator. Can you do that?"

Derek's eyes lit up as he looked at the banknotes in his hand. "Of course, boss. Give me 24 hours."

In the afternoon, I drove the rented van to the Home Depot building materials market.

"I need steel plates, 16 millimeters thick, that can be cut to the size of a door panel," I said, looking at the materials list.

"Also, 20 bags of high-strength, quick-drying cement. And steel mesh, enough to cover the entire window area of the building."

Chainsaws, impact drills, welding machines, cutting machines. Industrial adhesives, waterproof sealants.

"If you don't have explosion-proof glass, give me the thickest tempered glass. And barbed wire, the kind with spikes, 200 meters."

The workers at the building materials market looked at me like I was crazy, but the allure of money silenced them. Another $28,000 was gone.

Late at night, I stood in my apartment, looking at the mountain of supplies piled up.

The four-story building was packed full, with each room redesigned according to a tactical defensive layout.

First floor: Supply warehouse and first line of defense

Second floor: Living quarters and medical room

Third Floor: Monitoring Center

Fourth floor: Observation post and emergency evacuation point

But that's not enough.

These civilian equipment are still too vulnerable when faced with real threats.

I need real firepower and real protection.

I need automatic rifles, fragmentation grenades, C4 explosives , and heavy equipment that can turn an entire building into an iron fortress.

But those require a lot of money and professional channels.

I took out my phone and dialed a number I swore I would never contact again.

"¿Hola? ¿Quién es?"

"Carlos, this is Logan," I said. "I need to borrow money."

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then a Mexican-accented English voice said, "A retired soldier? How long has it been? How much do you need?"

"US$500,000. Seven-day deadline."

"Hahaha! Are you crazy, Gringo? What guarantees do you have?"

I looked out the window at the New York nightscape, which was about to descend into hell: "With my life."

Carlos fell silent again, but this time I could detect interest in his tone: "Interesting... Meet me tomorrow afternoon at the usual spot in the Bronx. But Gringo, if you can't pay me back, I'll rip your guts out and feed them to the dogs."

"Deal." I hung up the phone.

My past life memories tell me that Carlos and his entire gang will be torn to shreds by the zombie horde on the second day of the apocalypse. I still remember the screams of that fat Mexican man as the infected ripped his guts out. At that time, this debt will vanish forever with the creditor's death.

I stood by the window, looking at the sea of neon lights in Manhattan.

After 72 hours, those lights will be extinguished forever.

The streets will be crawling with zombies infected with the berserk fungus, which will tear apart every living human being.

Will I survive this time?