I Hoarded Like Crazy Before the Apocalypse, Only to Turn Into a Zombie?

Before the zombie outbreak, I was a hardcore doomsday prepper. I hoarded countless supplies, but when the apocalypse actually arrived, I ended up turning into a zombie myself. Just as I was overwhelmed with panic, my girlfriend and the guy she was cheating on me with brought a mob of thugs to smash down my door...

 Chapter 1

Bang!

The solid steel deadbolt bit viciously into the reinforced doorframe, completely shutting out the agonizing screams of people being eaten alive by zombies outside the building.

I hit the backup power switch on the wall.

Blinding white light instantly illuminated my apartment—custom load-bearing shelves lined three entire walls, reaching straight up to the ceiling.

On the left was a mountain of canned Spam, compression biscuits, and self-heating hotpots. On the right sat hundreds of gallons of purified water, antibiotics, and filtering respirators.

"Haha... HAHAHAHA!"

Looking at this doomsday fortress that had drained five years of my savings, I couldn't help but laugh maniacally.

For five years, everyone treated me like a lunatic. But now, the zombie apocalypse was actually here!

I was the richest man in this building, maybe even this entire block!

The phone in my pocket was vibrating like crazy.

I pulled it out. Unread messages in the "Loving Apartment Family" group chat had already maxed out at 99+, filled entirely with desperate wails and cries for help.

David (Floor 18): "Are you kidding me! The first-floor lobby is blocked by a bunch of flesh-eating maniacs. Who has food? I'll pay triple the price!"

Blanca (Floor 7): "Someone save me! My wife suddenly went crazy and started biting. I'm hiding in the bathroom, somebody help me!"

Guile (Floor 10): "I don't even have a single grain of rice left in my house. Can anyone lend me some food? I'm begging you!"

Watching the panic unfold in the chat, a condescending sense of absolute control welled up inside me.

I swallowed hard, deciding to properly reward myself for surviving the initial disaster.

I walked over to the shelves and gleefully picked up a can of premium Wagyu beef—something I was usually too reluctant to touch.

But just as I was about to pull the tab, a piercing, bone-deep agony suddenly erupted from my left forearm, as if several red-hot steel nails were being viciously driven into my marrow.

"Hiss—"

The metal can slipped from my grasp, hitting the floor and rolling far away.

My entire body stiffened. Cold sweat instantly soaked my back. In disbelief, I rolled up the sleeve of my blood-stained tactical jacket.

There, on the outer side of my left forearm, was a deep, blackened, and rotting bite mark, its flesh peeled outward.

The wound wasn't bleeding. Instead, several swollen, pitch-black veins were creeping up my skin like parasitic iron worms.

Boom!

Memories from half an hour ago brutally crashed into my mind—

At a street corner, I had caught my girlfriend of three years, Jessica, passionately making out with my "good bro," Brad.

Before I even had the chance to blow up at them, the zombie horde struck.

The moment the zombies lunged at us, my damn "Mr. Nice Guy" instinct made me subconsciously shield Jessica. But that piece of trash Brad, just to save his own skin, viciously shoved me from behind!

I lost my balance and a zombie tore a chunk of flesh right off my forearm.

And that cheating couple didn't even look back, using the time I bought them to run for their lives.

"Those absolute bastards..."

Filled with extreme anger and regret, I fell to my knees. My stomach churned violently, and a high fever ignited my entire body like a blazing wildfire.

A grotesque creak-crunch echoed from deep within my bones, as if a pair of invisible, heavy hands were forcibly dismantling and rebuilding my skeleton.

The intense discomfort made me dizzy.

"Eat... right, I need calories to fight this off!"

Trembling, I picked up the fallen can of Wagyu beef, forcefully ripped off the lid, scooped out a large chunk of meat, and shoved it into my mouth.

"Blargh—!"

The rich, savory aroma that would usually make my mouth water instantly turned into the vile stench of a rotting rat left in the sun for half a month the moment it hit my taste buds.

I collapsed on the floor, violently vomiting stomach acid.

My body was frantically rejecting this "human food"!

Yet, immediately after, a ravenous hunger that threatened to burn a hole through my stomach rushed straight to my brain.

With bloodshot eyes, acting entirely on pure, predatory instinct, I tracked a scent to the double-door refrigerator and yanked open the freezer.

Faced with bloody Tomahawk steaks that hadn't even begun to thaw, greedy, animalistic swallowing sounds rumbled in my throat. I grabbed a piece and bit down, not even bothering to remove the plastic wrap.

Crunch.

Not only did it not break my teeth, but the frozen meat—harder than a rock—was effortlessly shredded by my jaws.

The frozen, bloody water melted in my mouth, tasting sweeter and more delicious than the rarest delicacies in the world.

As I frantically chewed the raw meat, I glanced up at my reflection in the metallic surface of the fridge.

The man staring back had sunken eye sockets. His skin was draining of blood, turning a deathly, ashen gray.

And around the edges of his dark brown pupils, a murky gray mist was bleeding outward.

I had boarded up a room full of supplies, only to turn into a monster that could only consume raw flesh and blood!

What was even more terrifying was... if I were exposed, what would those starving, frantic neighbors outside do to me?

They would absolutely beat me to death, throw my corpse out, and then divide among themselves every single thing I owned!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The sudden, violent pounding on the door scared me so much my nerves snapped taut.

"Who is it?!"

I grabbed the machete by my side and pressed my eye against the peephole.

Under the dim hallway sensor light, a mean-looking, overweight face was impatiently pressed near the door.

It was Auntie Martha from next door, room 1202. She was the most notorious, shameless old hag in the building, someone who constantly took advantage of me in the past.

"Little Ray! Stop playing dead! I heard you rummaging around in there. Open the door!" Auntie Martha stood wielding a meat cleaver, violently slamming the back of the blade against my security door. Her raspy voice was incredibly piercing in the dead silence of the hallway.

"Auntie, it's full of dead people outside. Do you want to attract the monsters up here?" I leaned against the door, cold sweat drenching my palms as I listened to my own voice, which had become dark and gravelly from the mutation.

"Don't try to scare me!" Auntie Martha spat viciously outside the door, cursing with the utmost entitlement. "I saw the mess downstairs! I don't have any food left, and my grandson is starving."

"I saw your ex-girlfriend and her lover run out earlier. You're all alone now, and since you're always hauling boxes of food in here, you definitely have extra. Give me twenty pounds of rice and ten cans of meat. Hurry up!"

This was blatant daylight robbery.

Ashy grey veins bulged on the back of the hand gripping the machete.

If there's one rule in post-apocalyptic stories, it's that you can never be a bleeding-heart saint. Normally, facing someone like Martha, my choice would be to hack her to death on the spot!

But I didn't dare.

Let alone the difference between reality and fiction, how hard would it be for a law-abiding citizen like me to actually murder someone?

Right now, the building was terrifyingly quiet. If I failed to kill her in one strike, a single scream from her would alert the entire building that something was happening on the twelfth floor.

If I drew the neighbors' attention and they pried my door open, seeing me as some half-human, half-zombie freak...

Seeing me stay silent, Auntie Martha completely lost her temper and started brutally kicking the security door.

"Ray! You spineless turtle! I'll count to three. If you don't open up, I'm calling everyone in the owners' group chat right now!"

"David and the others are all looking for food! If you don't open this door, I'll have David and the guys come up here with steel pipes and take it off its hinges. You pathetic loser who can't even fight for a woman—let's see if you can protect your food then!"

Group chat! Taking off the door!

She had flawlessly pinpointed my absolute greatest weakness.

"One!" The vicious countdown came from the hallway.

Reason and crazed monster instincts violently clashed in my brain. Ultimately, the terror of my identity being exposed won out.

I took a deep breath of the blood-scented air, forcibly suppressing the monstrous growl building in my throat.

I couldn't let her attract the others.

"Shut up..." I grit my teeth, spitting out two cold words through the door. "I'll get it for you!"

I turned around, using the hand that had already grown sharp black talons to lift a small bag of rice. Then, I slowly opened the door just a crack and handed it out.

"Take it and get lost!"

Auntie Martha snatched the rice, but then, she forcefully wedged half her body into the gap. "You have so much stuff, and you're only giving me this little bit?"

"Let me in! I'll pick it myself!"