Chapter 3

The eve of the apocalypse arrived with a silence so profound it felt suffocating.

I stood before the bulletproof glass observation window of my fortress, watching the sky split open as a torrential downpour of heavy, dark red rain soaked the earth, carrying the heavy, metallic stench of rust.

On the wall, a television monitor flickered as emergency broadcasts began interrupting regular programming with increasingly frantic reports.

“An unidentified strain of a mutating, rabies-like virus has triggered violent attacks across multiple sectors of the city,” the anchor announced, her voice trembling violently despite her professional veneer. In the background of her live feed, piercing screams echoed through the studio walls. “All citizens are strongly advised to remain indoors, lock all doors, and secure your windows immediately…”

I turned my head toward the surveillance monitors linked to the penthouse.

Inside the luxury apartment, Chloe and Boyd remained completely oblivious to the horror unfolding outside. They were soaking together in the oversized jacuzzi tub, which was covered in floating rose petals, sipping on a vintage red wine from my private collection while trading suggestive glances.

“Why is the sky so red out there? Looks like it’s raining,” Boyd noted idly, casting a lazy glance toward the floor-to-ceiling windows.

Chloe reached out to stroke his chest, her tone dripping with casual arrogance. “Who cares what kind of rain it is? Nobody can ruin our celebration now.”

I watched them through the lens, a mocking sneer curving my lips. ‘Enjoy it while you can, because that is the absolute last hot bath you will ever take in your miserable lives.’

Switching to the external perimeter cameras mounted outside my bunker, I watched the immediate, gruesome effects of the crimson rain. Anyone caught in the downpour began to contort violently. Their skin decayed into a sickening ash-gray within seconds, their eyes bulged with ruptured blood vessels, and low, beastly growls tore from their throats.

A man in a business suit, who had been huddled under a storefront awning to escape the weather, suddenly lunged at the coworker standing right next to him. With one vicious snap of his jaws, he tore the man’s throat completely open.

Blood erupted like a geyser, splashing violently against the glass display window.

The streets descended into absolute pandemonium. Cars slammed into one another in chain-reaction collisions, triggering massive explosions that sent pillars of fire roaring into the sky. Piercing shrieks, sirens, and the wet sounds of tearing flesh bled together into a chaotic symphony. In the span of a few short hours, the entire infrastructure of the city collapsed into total ruin.

The next morning.

Chloe was jolted awake by a relentless barrage of distant screaming and car alarms echoing from the streets far below. Muttering curses under her breath, she rubbed her bleary eyes and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows, aggressively yanking the curtains aside.

“What is all that noise so damn early in the—”

Her voice cut off instantly.

Through the pinhole camera, I watched Chloe’s pupils dilate with absolute terror. She froze in place, looking as though she had been turned to stone.

The once-bustling, affluent downtown district had been transformed into a literal slaughterhouse. The streets were littered with the burning wreckage of vehicles, severed limbs, scattered organs, and hundreds upon hundreds of blood-soaked, shambling undead. On the hood of a nearby sedan, a lone zombie crouched greedily, tearing strips of flesh from a severed human leg.

“Ah—!”

A sharp gasp tore from Chloe’s throat as her legs gave out completely. She collapsed onto the floor, scrambling backward away from the glass in a frantic, undignified crawl.

“Chloe? What’s wrong?” Boyd called out, awakened by the commotion. He walked out of the bedroom, tying the belt of his silk bathrobe.

The moment his gaze followed Chloe’s toward the window, a shriek tore from his throat that was even higher and more piercing than hers.

Before they could even process the horror outside, the definitive killing blow descended.

As the city’s power grid and water treatment facilities suffered total failure, the lights inside the luxury penthouse flickered violently a few times before dying completely, plunging the apartment into shadow.

“Why did the power go out?” Boyd panicked, sprinting into the kitchen to twist the sink handle.

Sputter.

The pipes let out a dry, hollow wheeze. A few drops of muddy, yellowish water trickled out of the faucet before it went entirely bone-dry.

No running water. No electricity. Surrounded by an ocean of the undead.

On the very first morning of the apocalypse, that twenty-million-dollar luxury high-rise apartment transformed instantly into an inescapable cage of concrete and steel.

Meanwhile, I sat comfortably in the spacious, brightly lit dining area of my underground fortress.

The advanced ventilation system quietly circulated fresh, crisp air that had been scrubbed through multiple heavy-duty filters, keeping the indoor climate locked at a perfect twenty-four degrees Celsius. I plated a sizzling, perfectly seared steak and poured myself a glass of properly aerated red wine.

Lifting my head, I looked up at the massive monitor array on the wall. Chloe and Boyd were running around the dark apartment like headless chickens, ultimately collapsing into a corner, huddled together and shaking with terror.

I raised my wine glass toward the screen, offering them a distant, mocking toast.

“Good morning, my dear ex-wife,” I muttered to the empty room. “Your trial run in hell has officially begun.”