Apocalypse: King of Zombies Chapter 2 Something dirty…

Warren marched into Ethan's property, followed by a band of rough-looking goons. Each one strutted with arrogant confidence, their skin marked by inked designs of death heads and serpents, aiming to instill fear. Yet Ethan's face stayed composed, utterly undisturbed by the intrusion.

"Hey, Warren," Ethan said in a relaxed manner, his voice steady and chill.

Warren offered a faint grin and cut to the chase. "Ethan, you realize the reason for my visit. Have you considered our talk about this property?"

His words carried a courteous edge, designed to begin mildly before ramping up the coercion.

To his astonishment, Ethan inclined his head and answered serenely, "Yes, I've mulled it over. I'm prepared to hand it over to you at the price you mentioned."

Warren halted briefly, surprise etching across his features.

He hadn't anticipated such swift compliance from Ethan. Even his accompanying toughs swapped puzzled looks, like the expected scene had flipped upside down.

"You… you're truly going along with it?" Warren probed once more, doubt creeping into his tone.

Ethan dipped his head again. "Sure. My modest farm shouldn't obstruct your grand ambitions."

Upon hearing that, Warren's expression brightened with delight, a sense of superiority swelling inside him.

At last, this young fool has wised up.

"Hahaha, excellent! Let's finalize the agreement immediately," Warren declared with enthusiasm.

His aide promptly presented a pre-drafted document. They had arrived fully prepared, merely awaiting Ethan's consent.

Ethan settled down without delay, grasped the pen, and proceeded to sign each section.

The plot housing his farm spanned a considerable area—valued at a hefty $20 million on the open market. As Warren observed the signing, he remained amazed at the effortless progress.

"Ethan, what's happening with your farm? Why the abrupt choice to let it go?" Warren inquired, unable to suppress his intrigue.

Ethan kept his focus downward, replying with unwavering poise. "Because I require the funds."

"Require funds?" Warren's gaze sharpened a bit as thoughts raced through his head. Beyond property development, he dabbled as a cunning moneylender.

The bruisers in his entourage served more than intimidation; they aided in managing his shadier dealings.

All at once, a scheme formed in his mind. This presented a chance for additional profit.

"Ethan, do you still lack cash? If you want extra… I could assist you," Warren suggested, his manner turning gentle, like extending a helpful hand.

Ethan halted briefly, raising his eyes to lock with Warren's. He studied the man's wide, battle-marked visage, and for once, the typically overbearing shaved-head thug appeared oddly approachable.

With doomsday approaching, this individual wasn't just purchasing his land but proposing a loan too. Such benevolence!

A surge of appreciation washed over Ethan, nearly bringing tears to his eyes from Warren's surprising generosity.

...

"Warren, your aid arrived perfectly timed. We're bound to rake in riches ahead," Ethan remarked, shattering the quiet.

"Haha! Haha!"

Warren erupted in chuckles, envisioning the influx of wealth. "Aiding you is simple, but you're aware of my terms. The rates are steep, and security is required."

"Fine by me. I own a supermarket, an estate, and a residence," Ethan answered promptly.

Warren was well-versed in Ethan's holdings. The estate lay on the city's outskirts, an opulent secluded haven. The residence? A vast top-floor apartment in Los Angeles' elite district, priced over $30 million. The supermarket? Positioned ideally, its grounds alone fetching $50 million.

"Ethan, given your candor, I'll advance you $80 million. Does that work?"

"Agreed," Ethan confirmed, direct and decisive.

Warren inwardly rejoiced, sensing a major coup. The arrangement seemed foolproof for him, virtually without hazard. Pride in his shrewdness swelled within.

"Hahaha, Ethan, we'll follow the standard procedure. Sign the IOU, provide your print, and surrender the titles."

"Fine," Ethan stated evenly.

The transaction concluded swiftly. Ethan offloaded his farm and obtained an $80 million advance, totaling his resources at $100 million.

Content, Warren departed clutching the papers and note, his group in tow.

Ethan lingered at the farm's gateway, eyeing Warren's vehicle fade away. His stare held depth, as though pondering deeply.

The finale neared. How might Warren react when it unfolded?

Oh… perhaps he'd cease all thought.

…

Post-sale of the farm, Ethan commenced gathering items, intent on salvaging as many provisions as possible.

He intended to proceed to the supermarket and stash the fresh stock.

The store held not only raw meats but also apparel, linens, cleansers, washing agents, and daily necessities.

Though transformed into a zombie, Ethan diverged from the norm. He gained heightened logic—and an intensified fixation on hygiene.

Beep beep beep!

As he prepared to depart, his device vibrated. Retrieving it, he noted a text from "Lola."

"Something unclean…" Ethan whispered under his breath.

Lola embodied the university's stunning allure at University of Southern California, charming and endearing, surrounded by suitors. Dubbed the "man-eater."

In his isolated, yearning phase, Ethan had entered a romance with her.

"Darling, my birthday's coming next month. What's my present?" Lola's note arrived, laced with flirtatious banter.

"The present's set," Ethan shot back icily, his gaze empty of affection.

Lola appeared delighted and typed fast, "Appreciate it, darling! Truthfully, the present's secondary. Your little soldiers count more."

"My soldiers, eh… You'll discover shortly," Ethan's response was curt, his emotions untouched.

In his prior existence, Ethan had secluded in his supermarket when Lola's frantic plea arrived.

She claimed entrapment in her dormitory, unfed for days, teetering on starvation.

To rescue her, he gambled all, venturing from the secure shop to deliver sustenance. Regrettably, infection struck, morphing him into a zombie.

Even post-transformation, his fixation persisted. He endeavored to supply her further.

Leveraging his undead state to evade fellow zombies, he hauled his rigid frame amid the masses.

Yet upon reaching her quarters, the scene demolished him utterly.

Lola engaged intimately with five males.

Spotting his zombified form, she acted without pause. She bound him to a pillar and compelled him to witness her and the men's frenzied indulgence.

Subsequently, they inflicted brutal torment on Ethan, culminating in one shattering his skull with a firearm blast.

Then, Ethan had vainly attempted communication, but speech eluded him. Only animalistic snarls emerged, powerless.

Perhaps… to them, Ethan's state—zombie or human—held no relevance.

Twelve days remained before chaos erupted, and Ethan had devised a "gift" for that crew.

He grinned darkly, inwardly resolving to reveal his "stance."

In this crumbling realm, fellow survivors merely represented another "asset" to Ethan.

He set aside the phone after his reply to Lola, inner void intact.

Subsequently, he sorted the farm's materials.

Power units, sun-powered boards—these proved invaluable come downfall. He tucked them sequentially into his dimensional ring.

He claimed even the excavator. Limits didn't apply.

The ring's capacity exceeded needs, eliminating storage concerns.

Beyond utilities, Ethan included sentimental pieces.

A faded image adorned the wall, capturing a cluster of youngsters. Snapped at his upbringing's shelter, it encapsulated his early recollections.

Most orphanage youths were parental discards. Some bore bodily impairments, others cognitive hurdles.

In the shot, Ethan and a lass called Mia stood out most.

Mia clutched a stuffed bear, her complexion ivory-smooth, large luminous orbs beaming purity.

Still, Ethan recalled the director's words: Mia suffered psychological afflictions.

At twelve, she savaged half a lad's visage with bites, leading to her institutionalization.

Ethan lost sight of her thereafter.

Prior to that, their bond was tight.

They crafted origami, sketched, and frolicked jointly.

Ethan saw no flaw in Mia. Vividly, he recalled her smiling moonlit gaze and the tenderness she directed his way.

He gently stowed the image in his ring too.

With packing complete, he boarded his golden Chevy Cruze and drove to the supermarket.

Upon arrival, multiple lorries idled outside, laborers hustling to offload cargo.

Nina, overseeing storage, dashed up, perspiring while clutching records.

"Boss, you've returned. Today's shipment manifest is here. Mind reviewing?" Nina huffed.

Nina, a university learner, toiled part-time at the market to fund studies.

Recent influxes overwhelmed the supermarket, burying her in tasks.

Ethan acknowledged, accepted the records, and scanned several sheets. Eyeing Nina's weary visage, he uttered steadily, "It's grown dark. Head back and recharge."

Nina paused, then beamed appreciatively. "Thank you, boss. Classes start early tomorrow, so afternoon arrival at best."

Ethan regarded her, voice neutral. "No further shifts required."

Nina's grin faltered. The words caught her off guard.

"B-boss, have I erred?" she ventured warily, anxiety lacing her words.

Ethan denied with a head shake. "Not your fault. Recent issues mean the supermarket's shutting temporarily."

Nina bowed her head. Comprehension dawned, yet disappointment lingered. Softly, she murmured, "Oh… Understood."

Ethan observed her, appending, "Double pay this month. Leave now."

Nina raised her gaze, thanks mingling with sorrow in her eyes.

She murmured gratitude and departed the premises.

Ethan tracked her exit, emotionless.

Cataclysm loomed, poised to overhaul all.

…