Post-Mortem: The Entire Town Became Zombie Food

After I died, my soul floated above the towering steel walls of Morningstar Town, coldly watching the torrential rain of last night wash away the last traces of blood I left behind.

That bastard Kares stepped on my bloodstains and roughly ripped open my wife Elena's collar.

Meanwhile, those elders who were usually so respectful and full of righteous words to me were raising their glasses of red wine, smiling as they celebrated the end of "dictator" Desce.

As dawn broke, Kares stood in the center of the square.

In front of him stood a huge wooden plaque covered with the "Survival Rules of Morningstar Town" that I had personally drafted.

He was carrying a rusty fire axe, and a smug smile played on his lips.

"Screw distribution according to work! Screw centralized control of supplies!"

The axe whistled through the air as it cleaved into the wooden sign, sending splinters flying. The very law representing the lifeline of Morningstar Town was cleaved in two.

"From this day forward, we will no longer have to be beholden to that tyrant! All the harsh prohibitions are hereby repealed, and your freedom has been restored!"

There was a moment of silence in the audience, followed by a burst of frenzied cheers that seemed to lift the roof off.

These idiots.

They think I'm too young and that I'm too nosy.

Prolonged peace has emboldened them and silenced the alarm bells in their minds.

They forgot who led them through this zombie-infested apocalypse, building the outer city, the inner city, and the double-layered defensive walls brick by brick; who used an iron fist to set up four checkpoints to keep the deadly virus firmly out.

They thought that by killing me, the "Iron Mayor," the end of the world would turn into paradise.

Cheers surged out of the city like a tsunami, crashing against the thick, high walls.

The almost frenzied sound wave swept me away, making me drift with the wind until I finally hovered above the watchtower of the outer city gate.

Sentry Billy was sprawled out on the sandbag, snoring loudly.

His partner, Cole, squinted his bloodshot eyes, his trembling hands unable to even press the lighter.

"Damn it... the wine Lord Carres gave me last night was too strong, my head still feels like it's going to split open." Cole cursed, then threw his cigarette into the puddle and collapsed onto his rifle.

According to my ironclad rule, the outer gate sentries must maintain a two-person shift system, with their guns loaded. Anyone who violates this rule will be punished with twenty lashes and expelled from the town.

But now, my rules have become like burning firewood in the square.

The sun gradually rose, its scorching rays relentlessly baking the earth, evaporating a suffocating heat. Cole let out a huge yawn, his eyelids finally sticking shut.

The town gates, completely unguarded, were like lambs to the slaughter, exposed to the perilous wilderness.

Time passed in deathly silence.

By afternoon, the dull roar of the engine shattered the afternoon's languor, even causing a strong resonance in the hollow soles of my feet.

A rusty old Ford pickup truck sped out of the wilderness, its tires kicking up clouds of yellow dust, and screeched to a halt before the first checkpoint.

Cole was startled awake, wiped the drool from the corner of his mouth, and nudged Billy beside him. "Damn it, we've got a job. Go do a little preliminaries."

Billy, shaking his hangover head, stood up without even taking off the safety on the rifle hanging around his neck. He shuffled towards the pickup truck, shuffling in his boots.

My soul instantly plummeted down, landing on the hood of the pickup truck, staring intently at Billy's every move.

Sitting in the driver's seat was Tom, an honest and simple townsman.

Through the windshield, I could clearly see Tom covered in cold sweat. His hands were gripping the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles white from the force, and his eyes were darting around frantically.

Something's wrong! He's scared!

"According to the rules, make him get out of the car! Open the trunk! Conduct a full strip search!" I yelled into Billy's ear.

But I couldn't make a sound.

Billy let out a burp, lazily bent over, and his cloudy eyes swept over the undercarriage of the car for a second. He didn't even turn on the flashlight.

"Alright, hurry up and go inside." He straightened up, waved his hand impatiently, and turned to walk into the shade to continue his nap.

that's all?

My meticulously designed first line of defense, which once held off tens of thousands of zombie hordes, was destroyed in less than three seconds by a drunken idiot?!

The pickup truck restarted, its engine roaring with relief as it slowly drove through the heavy steel gate.

My soul passed through the enclosed metal carriage without any hindrance and floated directly into the dimly lit back compartment.

The carriage was unbearably hot and stuffy, filled with a strong smell of sweat.

Tom's wife, Martha, huddled in a corner, clutching her seven- or eight-year-old daughter tightly in her arms. Martha's shoulders trembled slightly as she repeatedly wiped her daughter's forehead with a damp towel, her movements revealing undisguised terror.

The little girl's face was deathly pale, her eyes closed, and she had fallen into a deep sleep due to a high fever.

Apart from her slightly elevated body temperature, her weak breathing and occasional babbling seemed no different from a typical severe cold.

If I were still alive, even if I opened the carriage, I might be deceived by this extremely deceptive appearance with the naked eye.

But now, I am the soul.

Having transcended the limitations of a mortal body, I can clearly "see" through the appearance of matter and directly observe the flow of life force—as well as the erosion of death.

In my view, beneath the little girl's seemingly calm body, a nauseating gray-black aura of death was surging. The source of that aura was her right ankle, which was tightly wrapped in a heavy blanket and tall boots.

There, hidden, was a blackened zombie bite mark with slightly everted flesh.

A deadly virus, disguised as a common high fever, is silently creeping up her veins, slowly eroding her last vestiges of human life. This is not a cold at all, but the most dangerous incubation period before she becomes a zombie!

The pickup truck bounced along the bumpy road, carrying a time bomb capable of destroying thousands, and drove completely into the unsuspecting heart of Morningstar Town.