2

The abandoned warehouse in the Bronx reeked of engine oil and marijuana.

Carlos Medina sat behind a rusty iron table, his 250-pound frame causing the chair to creak under its weight.

Two henchmen stood behind him, the bulges at their waists revealing concealed weapons.

"Grengo, you look good." Carlos chewed on his cigar with his gold teeth. "Five hundred thousand dollars...that's no small sum. What guarantee do you have?"

I took out the remaining cash from my wallet, about $25,000: "This is the deposit."

Carlos picked up the banknotes, counted them, and scoffed, "This isn't even enough for a penny, Gringo. What else do you have worth?"

"My organs," I said calmly.

Carlos froze, then burst out laughing. "Hahaha! Interesting! Do you know how much a healthy veteran's organs can sell for on the black market?"

"Heart 150,000, liver 120,000, two kidneys 80,000 each, corneas 50,000 each, bone marrow 30,000." I recited the price list. "It adds up to over 500,000."

"Damn it, you really did your homework!" Carlos slammed his fist on the table, laughing. "But Gringoire, organs from dead people are useless. I need to harvest them from living bodies."

"Then write it into the contract," I said. "Seven days. If I can't pay back the money, you can harvest all my organs while I'm still alive."

Carlos's eyes lit up. Organ trafficking was one of his most lucrative businesses; a healthy soldier's physique was a walking gold mine on the black market.

"Interesting...very interesting." He produced a pre-prepared contract. "Sign it, Gringo. Remember, if you don't have $600,000 in seven days, I'll make you watch your heart being ripped out."

I took the pen and signed my name without hesitation.

Seven days later, your throat will be bitten off by a zombie, and the contract will become worthless.

"Very well." Carlos grinned smugly. "But I'm not just giving you money; you also want the goods, right?"

"Heavy weapons. Automatic rifles, grenades, C4 explosives. And bulletproof equipment, military-grade."

"Damn it, you want to start World War III?" Carlos laughed. "But I like big business. Come with me."

Deep inside the warehouse, in a container, are the equipment I've always dreamed of.

Five M4A1 carbines, each equipped with six 30-round magazines.

The black gun barrel gleamed with a deadly sheen in the dim light.

Remington 870 shotguns, 3 units, each equipped with 200 rounds of 12-gauge hunting ammunition and 50 rounds of slug ammunition. Glock 17 pistols, 8 units, each equipped with 5 17-round magazines.

M67 fragmentation grenades, 20 in total.

The steel grim reaper within a 5-meter lethal radius.

C4 plastic explosive, 2 kg, with detonator , is an industrial reaper capable of penetrating tank armor.

Kevlar body armor, 6 pieces, Level III protection ; Night vision goggles, 4 pairs, military-grade infrared thermal imaging , the eyes of a predator in the dark.

"A $400,000 shipment, the remaining $100,000 will accrue interest." Carlos patted me on the shoulder. "And I'll throw in 2,000 rounds of 5.56 NATO ammunition. How about that, pretty generous, right?"

I inspected the M4A1's iron sights; the trigger felt perfect. "Deal. Delivery tonight."

"Haha, I love clients like you who are so straightforward!" Carlos signed the IOU. "Remember, I'll be back in seven days to collect your organs, Gringo."

At 8 p.m., three black SUVs stopped downstairs at my apartment building.

Carlos's men packed the deadly weapons into military-green waterproof boxes as if they were ordinary cargo.

The passersby had no idea that they had just missed out on enough heavy equipment to arm a platoon.

"Derek!" I knocked on my geek neighbor's door. "Is everything ready?"

Derek excitedly flung open the door: "Boss, you'll absolutely love this system!"

His room has been turned into a small command center.

Twelve high-definition monitors fill the entire wall, each displaying different angles of the building's interior and exterior.

Infrared night vision ensures that even the darkest corners are exposed.

"The entire building is equipped with 36 cameras, providing comprehensive coverage without blind spots," Derek pointed to the surveillance wall. "Motion sensors automatically track moving targets, and sound sensors can detect footsteps from 50 meters away. There's a shortwave radio with a 50-kilometer communication radius. An emergency generator can provide independent power for 72 hours."

I handed him $5,000 in cash: "Very well, now I need you to do one last thing for me. Install an emergency lighting system in the stairwells, and make sure there's a backup power supply on every floor. Also, starting tomorrow, don't leave this building. Trust me."

Derek, seeing my serious expression, nodded: "Roger that, boss."

For the next three days, I turned the entire building into a steel fortress , while the residents assumed that the landlord, who was on vacation in Seattle, had hired people to renovate it.

Under my guidance, the welders sealed all the windows from the first to the third floor with 16mm steel plates, leaving only a few observation holes on the fourth floor, with bulletproof glass installed on the inside.

Electricians installed a high-voltage electric grid around the steel plate; the 1200-volt current was enough to turn any intruder into roast meat instantly.

The main door was replaced with a bank vault-grade explosion-proof door, 8 inches thick, equipped with a triple locking system.

I have installed concealed C4 directional mines at every corner of the stairwell. Once triggered, the explosion will collapse the entire stairwell, cutting off the intrusion path.

Most importantly, I installed a "hell defense array" on the top floor—12 injectors filled with high-pressure acid, combined with directional fragmentation mines, which can turn the area below into a death hell within 30 seconds.

On the evening of the fourth day, I ran into Sarah in the hallway.

This emergency room nurse had just finished her night shift and was carrying a medical kit.

She stopped and looked at me with tired but alert eyes.

"Are you a new resident? It's been very noisy in the building lately."

"Renovation," I replied simply, but noticed the contents of her first-aid kit.

Antibiotics, many antibiotics. Amoxicillin, cephalosporins, even vancomycin. There's also morphine injections, adrenaline, insulin. These medications are strictly regulated outside of hospitals.

She was stockpiling life-saving medications.

"You sensed something was wrong too, didn't you?" I looked her straight in the eyes.

Sarah paused, then slowly nodded. "The hospital has been admitting a lot of strange patients lately. High fever, irritable, and extremely aggressive. The CDC says it's a new type of flu, but I've seen flu patients before, and they're not like this. I've stockpiled enough medicine for three months."

I looked at this intelligent woman.

In her past life's memories, she was one of the few people who realized the danger before the apocalypse , and her medical skills were more valuable than gold in the wasteland.

"Everything will change in three days. If you want to live, stay in this building and don't go out."

Sarah stared intently at my face, searching for something. Finally, she slowly nodded: "I'll consider it."

1 hour to go.

I put on my Kevlar body armor, strapped a Glock 17 to my waist, and held an M4A1 carbine. The magazine was loaded, and the safety was off.

Derek sat in front of the monitor, nervously swallowing. "Boss, is something really going to happen?"

"Yes, you will." I checked the batteries in my night vision goggles. "Remember, no matter what you see, don't open the door. Unless I give the order personally."

10 minutes to go.

The streets were still bustling with traffic, and pedestrians hurried along their way.

No one knew that in nine minutes most of them would turn into bloodthirsty monsters.

My phone rang.

Carlos's voice: "Grengo, I've changed my mind. My men told me you've turned that run-down apartment into a military base. I suspect you're hiding something valuable. So I've decided to come collect the debt ahead of schedule. To collect your organs."

Damn ! That cunning old fox!

On the surveillance screen, five black SUVs were parked downstairs. A dozen armed men jumped out of the vehicles, armed with automatic weapons, and surrounded the building.

Carlos stood at the front, holding a megaphone: "Logan! Come out here! Let us harvest your organs, or I'll blow this building up!"

I glanced at my watch ; five minutes to go.

"Derek, activate the defense system and engage the fourth-floor observation post." I pulled the bolt. "The game begins."

The hum of an industrial cutting machine could be heard downstairs.

Sparks flew as Carlos's men attempted to cut open the blast door.

"Damn it, Gringo!" Carlos's roar came through the steel door, "I'm going to rip your heart out alive!"

I stood behind the bulletproof glass, coldly watching these dead people.

Countdown: 10 seconds , 5 seconds , 3 seconds , 1 second.

Time is up.

The first scream came from afar , then the second, the third ...

Pedestrians started running in the street, and cars began honking their horns frantically.

Carlos, downstairs, stopped cutting and looked at the street in confusion.

"Boss!" A henchman , pale-faced, pointed to the zombies gnawing in the distance . "What...what are those people doing?"

The horde of ravenous zombies arrived as expected.