Chapter 4: Contrast
Marcus looked up.
An eerie red light appeared in the sky.
It was as if the entire sky was on fire.
From the direction of the distant city, the piercing sound of air raid sirens could be heard.
"Waaaaah—waaaah—"
Marcus's expression changed.
"This is……"
His phone suddenly started vibrating wildly.
He answered the phone, his expression growing increasingly grim.
"What?! A city-wide power outage?!"
"All the patients in the hospital have mutated?!"
"Are you fucking kidding me?!"
He hung up the phone and turned to run away.
"Go! Get out of here right now!"
But I pressed the remote control.
"Click—"
The ranch gate closed automatically, the alloy door slowly descending, completely sealing off the exit.
Marcus rushed to the door and started banging on it frantically.
"Cort! What are you doing?! Open the door!"
I slowly walked up to him, and through the alloy door, I spoke into the megaphone:
"Marcus, you just said you wanted to take back 'what belongs to you'?"
"Right now, the outside is teeming with zombies."
Tell me, is the outside world 'your'?
"Go get it."
Marcus's face turned deathly pale.
He finally realized—
I knew all along that the end times would come.
My supplies, bunkers, defense systems...
Everything was prepared for this moment.
And I, like a fool, ran to steal the property of someone who "prepared an apocalyptic fortress" on the eve of the apocalypse.
"You...you knew all along..."
Marcus's voice trembled.
I exhaled a puff of smoke.
"right."
"I knew it all along."
"And you, you know nothing."
"Now, the game begins."
Just then, red "rain" began to fall from the sky.
That wasn't water, but some kind of liquid containing radiation and viruses.
Mercenaries drenched in the "red rain" began to experience skin ulceration, cloudy pupils, and gradually blurred consciousness.
They let out beast-like roars and began attacking those around them.
Marcus shot and killed a mutated mercenary, but the gunshot attracted more wandering zombies.
"Damn it!"
Marcus gritted his teeth.
He turned to look at the alloy door, a hint of madness flashing in his eyes.
"Cort!"
He shouted into the loudspeaker.
"You think you've won?"
"I'm telling you, if I die here, the army will investigate!"
"They'll find your bunker, your supplies!"
"They will forcibly requisition them then!"
Do you think they'll let you have all those resources to yourself?
So, open the door!
"It's better for you to live!"
After hearing that, I laughed.
"Marcus, you think you're so smart?"
"But what you don't know is..."
I paused for a moment.
"The army isn't coming."
"Because they are too busy taking care of themselves."
I sneered.
"Now, enjoy the apocalypse."
I turned off the loudspeaker and turned to walk into the bunker.
Marcus and Vivian, along with the remaining mercenaries, were left trapped outside the ranch gates.
In the distance, the howls of zombies grew closer.
I sat in the bunker's control room and turned on the monitoring system.
Multiple screens displayed the chaotic scene outside.
Marcus led his men in a desperate fight against the zombies' attack, but their ammunition was limited and their strength was rapidly waning.
Vivian hid in the middle of the group, her face pale with fright, screaming incessantly.
I poured myself a glass of red wine, sat on the comfortable sofa, and crossed my legs.
He raised his glass and toasted the monitor screen from afar.
"Welcome to Hell."
"Marcus, Vivian, the game has only just begun."
I took a small sip of wine, a cruel smile curling at the corner of my lips.
Day 3 of the apocalypse, 9 a.m.
I woke up naturally in the bunker.
I slept for a full 10 hours without any nightmares or alarms, just a comfortable bed and constant temperature air.
I went into the bathroom and turned on the shower.
Hot water rinsed my body; the water temperature was just right.
I shaved, changed into clean clothes, and looked in the mirror with a satisfied smile.
"On the third day of the apocalypse, I'm still living like a human being."
I went into the kitchen and started preparing breakfast.
Take out fresh ingredients from the space: eggs, bacon, milk, and toast.
The aroma of frying eggs and baking bacon on an induction cooker fills the air.
Freshly ground coffee beans are used to brew a rich and aromatic Americano.
I sat at the dining table and gracefully cut open a fried egg, the yolk flowing out perfectly.
I ate breakfast while flipping through the e-books I had downloaded in advance.
The background music is a symphony by Mozart.
"This is life."
I was talking to myself.
After finishing breakfast, I turned on the monitoring system.
The devastation in various corners of the city is displayed on multiple screens.
The streets were filled with wandering zombies, their skin bluish-purple and their eyes vacant.
The survivors hid in the abandoned building, dressed in rags and looking haggard.
Some people fought each other over a bottle of water, and some even drew their knives.
A mother held her child, who had starved to death, and wept in despair.
Supermarkets and convenience stores had been looted, leaving only broken glass and bloodstains.
I watched all of this with a blank expression.
"Humanity is worthless in the end times."
I brought up the drone surveillance and searched for Marcus's residence.
The scene shows a high-end apartment building that has been cut off from water and electricity.
The drone flew close to the window and captured the interior view.
Marcus sat on the living room floor, his face covered in stubble and his eyes looking tired.
His tactical uniform was so dirty that its original color was no longer visible; it was torn in many places and stained with blood.
He held a pistol in his hand, with several bottles of mineral water and a few pieces of moldy bread beside him—this was all the food he had found in the past three days.
He was arguing with Vivian.
Just for a sip of water.
Vivian's once exquisite makeup was now ruined, and her hair was a mess.
The tight-fitting combat suit had several holes, there were abrasions on his face, and there were zombie scratch marks on his arms (which had been bandaged with rags).
She cried out, "I want water! I want food! I can't take it anymore!"
Marcus roared, "You think I don't want to?! It's teeming with zombies outside! Going out means certain death!"
Vivian collapsed to the floor, sobbing, "It's all your fault! If you hadn't betrayed Colter, we wouldn't be in this mess now!"
Marcus, stung by the revelation, retorted angrily, "How dare you say that? If you hadn't seduced me, would I have betrayed my brother?"
Vivian sneered, "Stop trying to shirk responsibility! What you really want is Colt's ranch, isn't it?"
"Now we're doomed! We can't get the ranch, and he's emptied the warehouse. We have no way to survive!"
Marcus fell silent.
He suddenly remembered something.
"Wait... the ranch..."
He jumped to his feet: "Yes! The ranch! Colter's ranch is definitely safe!"
"His bunker still has so many supplies... Let's go find him!"
Vivian paused for a moment, then hope ignited in her eyes: "Yes! Go find him! He'll definitely save us!"
Marcus sneered, "Save us? Dream on."
"But we can rob it."
"He was alone, there were three of us, and we had weapons."
"Once we get to the ranch, kill him, and the bunker is ours."
Vivian hesitated for a moment, but quickly nodded.
"good."
I turned off the monitor and laughed.
idiot.
You've finally remembered.
At noon, I started preparing lunch.
Take out top-quality ingredients from the space: Australian Wagyu beef, Boston lobster, and fresh vegetables.
I cut off a piece of Wagyu beef and sprinkled it with sea salt and black pepper.
Heat a cast iron pan and fry until medium-rare, with a crispy exterior and a tender, juicy interior.
After steaming the lobster, peel off the shell and dip it in a butter and garlic sauce.
The side dish is a fresh salad that was just picked from the garden.
The wine served was an 1982 Lafite, chilled to the perfect temperature.
I sat at the dining table and gracefully cut my steak.
The meat juices flowed slowly in the plate, emitting a wonderful aroma.
As I enjoyed my meal, I watched the surveillance footage of Marcus gnawing on moldy bread.
He raised his glass and toasted the monitor screen from afar.
"Congratulations to your greed and folly."
After lunch, I went to the fitness area in the bunker to work out.
I need to maintain my physical strength and combat effectiveness.
Bench press, squat, pull-up – every movement was performed with precision and power.
An hour later, my muscles were flushed with blood and I was drenched in sweat.
Take a hot shower and change into clean clothes.
Then I lay on the sofa, turned on the projector, and watched a movie I had downloaded beforehand.
I have an iced cola and potato chips on hand.
"The end of the world?"
I let out a breath.
"It doesn't exist."
At 4 p.m., drone surveillance captured Marcus and others leaving the apartment.
Besides Marcus and Vivian, there were three other survivors—all cannon fodder lured in by Marcus's lie that "there is a safe place."
Each of them carried a simple backpack and held makeshift weapons: sticks, kitchen knives, and wrenches.
Marcus led the way, holding a pistol and cautiously observing his surroundings.
Vivian hid in the middle of the group, looking terrified.
I tracked their route using a drone.
They struggled through the ruins, constantly having to dodge zombies.
On one occasion, Marcus was almost discovered by zombies. He shot and killed two of them, but the gunshot attracted even more.
They fled in a sorry state.
One of the survivors was scratched by a zombie, and Marcus coldly shot him in the head, then abandoned the body and continued to flee.
I watched this scene and sneered.
"His true nature has been revealed."
Night falls.
Marcus and others rested on a highway.
Suddenly, cries for help came from afar.
A man was carrying an injured woman on his back and holding a little girl, about five or six years old, in his arms.
When they saw Marcus and the others, hope ignited in their eyes.
The father knelt down and begged, "Please, give us some water and food... My daughter hasn't eaten for two days..."
Marcus gave a fake smile.
"Of course, we're all survivors, we should help each other."
He took out a bottle of water and a compressed biscuit from his backpack and handed them to the father.
"Eat up, take your time."
The father was moved to tears: "Thank you! Thank you so much! You're such a kind person!"
I watched this scene through a drone.
Switch to multi-angle monitoring.
"A good person?"
I whispered.
"Let me see just how vicious you can be."
Just as the father turned around, preparing to hand the water to his daughter—
"Bang!"
A gunshot rang out.
The father's head exploded.
Blood and brain matter were splattered all over the ground.
His body stiffened for a second, then he collapsed to the ground with a thud.
Before the injured wife could even scream, one of the survivors next to Marcus pounced on her and slit her throat.
Fresh blood gushed out.
Her eyes were wide open, and she died with her eyes wide open, unable to close them in peace.
The little girl was stunned with fear.
He opened his mouth as if to cry, but no sound came out.
Vivian walked over with disdain and kicked the little girl over.
"Don't cry here! It'll attract zombies!"
The little girl fell to the ground, hit her head on a stone, and bled.
Marcus coldly ransacked the couple's bodies.
"Is that all? Useless."
He threw away the empty water bottle and cookie crumbs, and took the father's backpack.
Vivian added, "It's better to die sooner, so you don't have to suffer in this world."
They left without looking back.
I cut off the surveillance footage.
I stopped looking in that direction.
The sound of a little girl crying could be heard.
Then came the howling of zombies.
A few seconds later.
The crying stopped.
I recorded the whole thing.
High definition, multiple angles, and nothing is missed.
"This video,"
I whispered.
"It will be your death warrant."
I know what they're going to do next.
They will come to the ranch.
They will come asking for help.
And I will show them what despair truly is.
