Frozen Doomsday: I Hoard Battle Dogs and Crush the Hypocrite Priestess

I suddenly opened my eyes on the military folding bed , and quickly reached under the pillow with my right hand to grasp the gun underneath.

The room was very quiet.

There were no horrifying sounds of flesh being torn apart, no raging storms , and not a single zombie.

I cautiously climbed out of bed and, through the half-open blinds, saw the typical, continuous, chilly autumn rain that was typical of Seattle.

Lead-gray clouds loomed over the top of the Space Needle, and the traffic lights on the street continued to flash faithfully, with the occasional passing Ford pickup truck splashing up a puddle of murky mud.

I turned my head and saw the electronic calendar on the wall displaying : [November 12, 2025, 06:30 AM].

Staring at that string of numbers, I began to tremble slightly uncontrollably.

I was reborn. I returned to exactly one month before the zombie virus struck Seattle, turning the vast state of Washington into a bloody hell.

now thirty days left until the end of the world .

"Ha...haha." I slowly lowered the muzzle of my gun, a low, hoarse laugh escaping from deep within my throat.

In my previous life, I foolishly retained the moral compass and humanity of a former Delta Force operator. When the storm swept through Seattle, I took all my tactical reserves and sheltered hundreds of civilians in the community.

I hunted monsters tirelessly in sub-zero temperatures, hoping to secure a sustenance for them.

But what did I get in return?

When supplies ran out, the group of people I was protecting, under the influence of Father Josiah, pointed their guns at my back.

Josiah not only seized the safe house I had painstakingly built, but also broke my legs and threw me into the zombie-infested streets, all to buy them time to evacuate.

The video doorbell outside the apartment building suddenly rang.

I tucked the gun into my waistband, walked barefoot to the entrance , and looked out through the security camera.

Standing by the security bars outside the door was none other than Father Josiah, the hypocritical cult leader who had personally pushed me into the abyss in my previous life.

He wore an elegant black clerical overcoat, with a conspicuous sterling silver cross around his neck , and his well-maintained face wore a nauseating mix of pity and compassion.

Behind him, on either side, stood two bodyguards , each wearing a jacket and as large as a brown bear .

Even through the screen, my professional instincts allowed me to immediately spot the illegal shotguns hidden in the outline of the clothes under the armpits of those two bodyguards .

“Brother Logan, you didn’t come to Sunday service last week. I know you were at home. May the glory of the Lord shine on your dusty house.”

Josiah's gentle yet condescending voice came through the intercom microphone outside the door into the living room.

Seeing that I didn't open the door, he didn't give up on his speech.

“God revealed to me in a dream that Seattle will soon face a harsh winter that will test the human soul. Logan, I know you just received a generous retirement pay from the military. Money is a breeding ground for evil; give it to the church.”

“ We will give you ‘indulgences’ so that you can both fund the construction of shelters for the lost poor sheep in the community and buy a ticket to a new world for your blood-stained soul.”

Hearing these words, a bloodthirsty smile curled at the corner of my mouth.

In his previous life, he used this rhetoric, along with the implicit threat of violence, to drain the savings of many elderly people living alone and veterans in the community, thus building up his first capital for his dictatorship in the early days of the apocalypse.

Should I open the door? Argue? Or call the police like a law-abiding citizen in a civilized society?

Too slow, and pointless.

Without a word, I turned around and pulled out a matte black shotgun from a hidden gun cabinet in the entryway .

This close-combat weapon, commonly known as a "shotgun," was my favorite when carrying out indoor clearing missions in Iraq.

Instead of opening the security door, I stood quietly behind it, pressing the shotgun barrel directly against the indoor microphone of the walkie-talkie through the titanium alloy plate.

Hold the handguard with your left hand.

Pull it backward sharply, then push it forward forcefully.

On the monitor screen, Father Josiah's hypocritical smile froze instantly. He instinctively shrank back , his face turning ashen and filled with undisguised fear.

The two armed bodyguards behind him , who had been nonchalant, were startled and frantically reached for their weapons, but they were too afraid to move because they didn't know if there were infrared sights locked on their heads behind the door.

That was the only answer I gave.

Josiah stared intently at the security camera, a dark and venomous glint in his eyes. He gritted his teeth and coldly uttered, "God will punish all heretics who refuse redemption. Logan, you'll regret this."

After saying that, he and his two men slunk backward toward the elevator.

As I watched them disappear from the surveillance footage, I coldly put away my gun.

The world is about to collapse in a month. To survive the zombie horde, I need heavy industrial resources sufficient to rival a small organized army.

I used the encrypted channels I had kept in Delta Force to hack into several high-privilege dark web digital accounts that I had recorded while carrying out "dirty work" overseas.

The eerie green code on the screen was flashing wildly. In just ten minutes, I forcibly emptied the huge amount of Bitcoin that had been dormant in these accounts for many years and transferred it to three untraceable offshore accounts.

But that's not enough.

The post-apocalyptic fortress is like a bottomless pit.

Without hesitation, I signed three "ultra-short-term, high-interest black market loans" totaling twelve million US dollars.

As for the debt , in thirty days, those loan sharks will all turn into monsters who can only eat raw meat. Who will come to collect the debts from me then?

With the backing of these US dollars, my crazy shopping list began to take shape at lightning speed , and I set my sights on a bunker base deep in the Cascade Mountains .

That place has long been forgotten by the state government.

Orders poured into various black market channels like snowflakes . Soon, trucks loaded with supplies rolled over the asphalt road and drove into the dark, undulating mountains of the Cascade Mountains.

However, in the darkness of the night , my peripheral vision keenly caught a glimpse of something unusual at the dark exit of the ramp beneath the overpass.

A black Chevrolet SUV with its headlights off sat silently in the shadows of a blind spot, like a venomous snake .

I knew it was Josiah ; that old fox had indeed sent someone to keep an eye on me .

He must have been so envious of the supplies in that convoy that he was practically going crazy.

“Look, look all you want. You think you’re scheming against a fat sheep…” I zipped up my down jacket, turned around and got into my heavily armored off-road vehicle. “You have no idea that what you’re staring at is the execution platform that will send you to hell.”

The SUV's engine roared, shattering the tranquility of the rainy night.

A sudden gust of wind arose, and the countdown to the apocalypse was turned towards the abyss.