Chapter 2

Sergeant Miller's gaze lingered on my face for two seconds before he gave a curt nod. "Stay close."

I hoisted my backpack and strode toward the soldiers at the door.

The two armed privates shot me a glance, the tension in their shoulders easing a fraction. They could tell I wasn't the type to just scream and become a liability when things went south.

"Wait," David suddenly spoke up.

He looked out the window at the darkening sky, then glanced at the rifle in Miller's hands. As the company's Marketing Director, calculating risks and benefits was his instinct. He obviously realized that regardless of how blunt these soldiers were, following them was currently the only way to leave this building alive.

Taking a step forward, his toes already pointed toward the door. "If there's still room in the vehicle, maybe we can work something out..."

"David, are you really planning to follow them?" Amanda's voice rang out from behind the solid wood table, stopping David in his tracks.

He halted and turned to look at her. The other three executives also shifted their gazes her way.

Amanda smoothed out her suit jacket. Looking at David, then sweeping her eyes over the others, she slammed a black satellite phone onto the table.

"Ten minutes ago, during the final window before the city's communications completely went down, I got in touch with my fiancé's private head of security."

Richard froze for a second, pushing up his glasses. "The Senator?"

"Exactly." The corners of Amanda's mouth curled up. "He's coordinated a helicopter. It's going to land on the roof of this building and take us to a private, secure airfield on the outskirts. A fully fueled corporate jet is on standby there."

The conference room fell silent for a moment. The five executives exchanged looks, the reliance on the military that had just surfaced in their eyes rapidly fading.

"The jet will fly us straight to a private island in the Caribbean. It has an independent water filtration system, years' worth of premium food reserves, and a heavily armed security team," Amanda said, her pace remarkably steady as she watched David. "Now, do you still want to follow these soldiers and fight over canned food with homeless people in a tent?"

David retracted his foot as if he'd been electrocuted.

Looking at Miller, his eyes instantly regained their usual critical sneer. He even backed up two steps, afraid of getting too close to the soldiers.

Sergeant Miller let out a cold snort, not bothering to offer a single word of rebuttal. He jerked his head, gesturing for me to head out.

"However," Amanda raised her voice right on cue.

That one word made the executives' nerves tense up again. Everyone's attention snapped back to her.

"To ensure enough fuel, combined with weight restrictions, the helicopter can only take a maximum of four passengers per trip, excluding the pilot."

Her gaze swept across the faces of the other four executives. "Which means, out of the five of us, one person must stay behind and wait for the helicopter's second trip."

The moment those words dropped, the executives—who had just been preaching "synergy and cooperation"—looked at each other with entirely changed expressions.

Whether there would even be a second trip, or if it could still fly after dark, were total unknowns.

"I'm the Marketing Director," David was the first to speak. "Amanda, you know my channel connections in Latin America. Once we're on the island, you'll need me for all the follow-up supply procurement. I have to be in the first batch."

"Procurement? At a time like this?" Susan, the HR Director, immediately shot back. "God knows where the suppliers are dead out there! Rebuilding a management structure requires HR!"

"What a joke!" Paul, the Project Manager, slammed his hand on the table and pointed at Susan. "You just do admin work! Your department has gone over budget for the past three years. Whose projects covered your deficits every single time? The spot on the first flight is mine!"

Leaning back in his chair, Richard said coldly, "Paul, let's not lay our ugly cards on the table. That bad debt in your project last month? I just suppressed it and haven't reported it to the board yet. What right do you have to fight for a spot?"

"Are you threatening me with that?" Paul charged forward, grabbing Richard by the tie.

"Let go!" Susan yanked at them from the side.

Meanwhile, David quietly shifted his feet, blocking the only path to the conference room door. He was clearly guarding against anyone making an early dash for the roof.

Amanda stood where she was, making no move to stop them. She watched quietly as her subordinates tore at each other's throats for a single spot. She thoroughly enjoyed having this kind of control over them.

Standing by the door, I watched this farce in silence. I felt absolutely nothing.

Right then, Amanda's gaze crossed through the crowd and landed on me.

She probably felt that this show wouldn't be complete unless she forced me back into my designated social class.

"Jack, actually, there's no need for you to rush off."

I paused my turn and looked at her.

"Since you know tactics and have the muscle," Amanda said, using the tone of someone appraising an asset. "If you're willing to stay and guard the door for us until the second flight arrives, I can consider calling my fiancé and bringing you to the island as well."

The other executives stopped bickering, immediately grasping her intention, and quickly chimed in.

"Jack, this is your chance to jump social classes." Richard shook off Paul's hand and adjusted his tie. "Even if you follow these grunts, you'll just be doing grunt work. Stay and act as our watchdog. Once we get to the island, you can contract all the lawnmower repair work."

"Don't even think about it," David chimed in. "People like you wouldn't survive three days outside."

In their eyes, casually dangling an empty promise of "fixing lawnmowers" was enough to make me weep with gratitude and stay to fend off the zombies outside for them.

I tightened the straps of my backpack.

"No," I said calmly. My voice wasn't loud, but it cut clearly through the conference room.

The smile on Amanda's face froze. "What did you say?"

"I said I don't need it."

"You'll regret this! You're nothing but bottom-feeding trash for the rest of your life!" Richard yelled from behind.

I strode down the hallway, quickly catching up to Miller.

"You've got quite the temper control," Miller said without looking back. "I thought you'd punch that four-eyes before leaving."

"A waste of energy," I replied.

Miller didn't say anything more.

We entered the backup stairwell. The building's power supply was becoming highly unstable, making the emergency lights in the corridor flicker ominously.

Thirty-six floors down. Taking the stairs the whole way would burn too much stamina.

"Sergeant, the building's backup generator can barely power the freight elevator."

Miller slowed his pace slightly and glanced at me. Without a word of doubt, he changed his tactical hand signal.

The squad veered right, heading straight down the maintenance corridor toward the freight elevator.

The four of us stepped into the elevator, and I pressed the button.

"The rolling gate in the lobby won't hold. The zombie density has doubled."

Ding.

The elevator came to a halt.

The moment the doors slid open, the metallic stench of blood flooded in.

Only a few wall sconces were still lit in the lobby. Miller waved his hand, signaling the squad to push forward.

A sudden noise echoed from the dark corridor on the left. I grabbed the shoulder of Private Cole, who was walking ahead of me, and yanked him hard backward.

A zombie wearing the building's security uniform lunged from behind a partition.

It completely missed, crashing into the exact spot where Cole had just been standing.

I drew a half-meter-long sharpened crowbar.

Thud.

With a heavy sound, the iron bar smashed into the zombie's neck. Its body lost balance and crashed heavily into a nearby glass display case, shattering it into pieces.

Cold sweat beaded on Cole's forehead. The way he looked at me now held a new level of respect.

"Clean move, engineer," was all the Sergeant said before continuing the advance.

The aluminum rolling gate in the ground floor lobby had already been buckled, forced open into a gap nearly half a meter wide.

Breaking through the main entrance was no longer realistic.

"Abandon the lobby fallback line," I looked directly at Miller. "Retreat back to the freight elevator shaft, cut through the exhaust vents on the second basement level, and get into the garage. The MRAP is parked on the ramp outside Exit B, right?"

Miller shot me a look. "How did you know my vehicle is at Exit B?"

"Exit B has the gentlest slope, and there are no blind spots in its field of vision."

Miller barked the order, "Take his route! Fall back!"

Relying on my precise memory of the layout, we rapidly maneuvered through the pitch-black basement. A dozen minutes later, we finally pushed open the iron door leading to the ramp.

A camo-painted MRAP was parked right there.

"Mount up," Miller ordered, his rifle raised as he secured the perimeter.

I stepped onto the metal running board and climbed into the cabin. The space inside was confined, reeking of cordite and sweat. I found a seat near the edge and rested the crowbar across my lap.

Miller got in last and yanked the heavy door shut.

The armored vehicle punched the accelerator, bursting out of the building's perimeter and roaring toward the safety of the quarantine line.

Through the bulletproof glass, I stared back at the receding skyscraper.

The building’s backup generator would shut down completely very soon.

I didn't know what Amanda and those executives, sitting on the thirty-sixth floor waiting for their helicopter, would do once the entire place plunged into darkness.

To hell with them. In this life, my only priority was to survive and live well.