The knife came at me fast.
Liu Feng's thrust was clumsy but committed—the attack of someone who had never killed but was desperate enough to try. I sidestepped, caught his wrist, and twisted. The kitchen knife clattered to the concrete floor.
"I'm not here to fight," I said, releasing him before he could panic. "I came through the front door. Invited."
This was the abandoned compound in the western industrial district, and my first meeting with its occupants was going worse than expected.
Liu Feng scrambled back, rubbing his wrist and staring at me with a mixture of fear and hostility. Behind him, Max Yang watched with those calculating eyes, making no move to intervene.
"Max Yang told me to come this evening," I continued, keeping my hands visible. "We spoke yesterday about the compound. About what's coming."
"I told Liu Feng to test you," Max Yang said calmly. "Anyone can talk about survival. I needed to know if you could back it up."
A test. Of course.
I picked up the fallen knife and held it out, handle first.
"Satisfied?"
Liu Feng took the knife warily. Max Yang's expression didn't change, but something shifted in her posture—a slight relaxation that suggested I had passed.
"Come inside," she said. "We have much to discuss."
------------------------------
The morning had started normally enough—leaving Ghost alone in the apartment, enduring the subway commute, sitting through meaningless meetings at work. I stood on the packed subway, surrounded by people who had six days left to live, and planned the next phase of my preparations.
Resources were accumulating, but I still lacked the most critical element: a defensible location.
My apartment was a death trap. Third floor, single stairwell, windows facing a narrow courtyard that would become a kill zone the moment the zombies learned to climb. I needed somewhere with multiple escape routes, high ground advantage, and enough space to store supplies.
In my previous life, I had learned the hard way which buildings survived and which became tombs. The fancy high-rises downtown? Death traps. The zombies would fill the stairwells within hours. The shopping malls? Even worse—too many entrances, too many hiding spots, too many people turning all at once.
The survivors who lasted longest were the ones who found the unglamorous places. Warehouses with loading bays that could be sealed. Old factories with heavy doors and roof access. Industrial compounds with walls and gates.
I had spent ten thousand years mapping the safe zones of every major city. I knew exactly where to go.
------------------------------
Work passed in a blur of meaningless tasks.
I sat through two meetings about the Yang account. Director Chu wanted a "synergistic approach to client retention." Marketing wanted a "brand-forward communication strategy." I wanted them all to stop talking so I could focus on staying alive.
"Wei?" Chen Chen's voice cut through my thoughts. "You still with us?"
I blinked and realized the meeting had ended. People were filing out of the conference room, clutching their laptops and tablets, already mentally moving on to the next item on their agendas.
"Just thinking," I said.
"About what?" Chen Chen fell into step beside me as we walked back to our desks. "You've been weird the past couple days. Distracted."
I considered my response carefully. Chen Chen was perceptive—it was one of the things I had liked about him, back when I still liked things. In six days, that perceptiveness would count for nothing. He would turn like everyone else, and all his insights would be replaced by the mindless hunger of the infected.
But for now, he was still human. Still my friend, in some technical sense.
"Personal stuff," I said. "Relationship issues."
It was the perfect deflection. Everyone knew Min-Tong and I had broken up. The office rumor mill had made sure of that.
Chen Chen nodded sympathetically. "She still not talking to you?"
"Something like that."
"Give it time, brother. These things work themselves out." He clapped me on the shoulder. "Hey, bunch of us are going out for drinks after work. You should come. Get your mind off things."
I almost laughed. Drinks with coworkers, while the countdown to humanity's extinction ticked away in my head. The absurdity of it was almost beautiful.
"Maybe next time," I said. "I have errands to run."
Chen Chen shrugged, already pulling out his phone to check some notification. "Suit yourself. The offer stands."
I watched him walk away and felt nothing.
Five days, eighteen hours.
------------------------------
I left work at 5 PM sharp—unusual for me, in this timeline. The old Wei had been a workaholic, staying late to impress bosses who would never promote him, sacrificing his relationship with Min-Tong for a career that would mean nothing in a week.
Today, I had better things to do.
The location I remembered was in the western industrial district, about forty minutes by subway and another fifteen on foot. An old manufacturing compound that had been abandoned when the company went bankrupt three years ago. High walls, multiple buildings, a central courtyard, and best of all—a network of maintenance tunnels that connected to the city's underground infrastructure.
I had discovered it in my first life, about two years into the apocalypse. By then, it had already been picked clean of useful supplies, but the structure itself was sound. I had used it as a base for nearly a decade before the zombie hordes grew too large to hold off.
This time, I would claim it before anyone else.
The subway deposited me at SoDo Station, a quiet stop in a neighborhood that had seen better days. I walked past shuttered storefronts and half-empty apartment blocks, my Death Aura pulsing softly as it catalogued the lives around me.
Fewer people here than in the city center. Older, poorer, the kind of residents who couldn't afford to leave even when the neighborhood declined. They would survive longer than most, simply because there would be fewer zombies in the initial outbreak. But eventually, the horde would spread. Eventually, everyone would fall.
Unless I claim them first.
The thought was dark, but I didn't shy away from it. Binding the dying was what my power was for. When the apocalypse came, I would need an army. These people—if they were still alive when everything fell apart—could be the beginning of something new.
But that was for later. First, I needed the compound.
I found it exactly where I remembered: a gray concrete complex surrounded by a three-meter wall topped with rusty barbed wire. The main gate was chained shut, but the side entrance—a smaller door meant for foot traffic—showed signs of recent use. Fresh scratches on the lock. Footprints in the accumulated dust.
Someone was already here.
I paused, reaching out with my Death Aura. Three life signs inside. Two on the ground floor of the main building. One on the roof.
My power gave me no details about who they were or why they were here. Just their presence, their warmth, the steady pulse of their hearts.
Squatters, probably. The homeless often claimed abandoned buildings like this. Or perhaps a local gang using the space for storage. Either way, they were occupying the location I needed.
In my previous life, I would have simply killed them. Efficiency demanded it. Resources were scarce, and sentiment was a luxury no survivor could afford.
But this wasn't the apocalypse yet. The rules of civilization still applied, at least nominally. Murdering three people for their real estate would attract exactly the kind of attention I was trying to avoid.
I would need a different approach.
I circled the compound, mapping its perimeter with the eyes of someone who had done this ten thousand times before. The wall was solid, no obvious weak points. The main building was three stories, with what looked like a loading dock on the north side. The secondary structures—smaller warehouses, probably—were arranged in a U-shape around the central courtyard.
Defensible. Very defensible. With the right modifications, this place could hold off a horde of thousands.
I completed my circuit and returned to the side entrance—which brought me to now, disarming Liu Feng in the courtyard while Max Yang watched.
------------------------------
The interior of the main building was surprisingly well-organized.
Someone had cleared the debris from the ground floor and arranged the space into functional areas: a sleeping section with bedrolls laid out in neat rows, a cooking area with a fire ring and salvaged pots, a storage corner stacked with canned goods and water bottles.
These weren't ordinary squatters. They were survivors-in-training.
Max Yang led me to a makeshift sitting area—overturned crates arranged around a low table. Liu Feng followed, still watching me warily. His knife was sheathed now, but his hand stayed near it.
"There's one more—Hui Zhang—on the roof keeping watch," Max Yang said, settling across from me. "My nephew."
"You mentioned a storm yesterday," she continued. "When you first approached me at the gate. I thought you might be another doomsday preacher, ranting about judgment day."
"But you invited me back."
"You spoke about pandemic. About disease." Her eyes narrowed. "I used to work for the public health department. Before the budget cuts. I still have contacts. And they've been... nervous lately. Unusually nervous."
This was new information. In my previous timeline, I had never learned Max Yang's background. She had simply been another survivor, met years after the fall.
"What are they nervous about?" I asked.
"Reports. From overseas. A new illness they can't identify. Spreading faster than anything they've seen." She paused. "And people aren't just dying from it. The bodies... do things. After death."
My blood went cold.
They already knew. Or suspected. And they weren't telling anyone.
"Why isn't this in the news?"
"Officially, it's unconfirmed. Panic prevention." Max Yang's voice was bitter. "By the time they confirm it, it will be too late. It's always too late."
I met her gaze. "It's already too late. The outbreak is coming. Days, not weeks. But if we prepare now—if we fortify this compound—we might survive it."
Liu Feng made a scoffing sound. "Days? That's impossible. We would have heard—"
"Liu Feng." Max Yang's voice was sharp. "Be quiet."
The young man fell silent, chastened.
Max Yang turned back to me. "Suppose you're right. Suppose something terrible is coming in days, not weeks. What exactly are you proposing?"
"Partnership," I said. "I have resources and knowledge. You have a location and manpower. Together, we can build something that will survive what's coming."
"And after? When the 'storm' passes?"
"Then we'll be the only ones left standing in this part of the city. We can decide what comes next from a position of strength."
Max Yang studied me for a long moment. I could see her weighing options, calculating odds, measuring risks. She was a survivor—I had known that from the moment I saw her. The apocalypse would reveal that, but I could see it now.
"We'll think about it," she said finally. "Come back tomorrow. We'll give you our answer."
I nodded and rose to leave.
At the door, I paused and looked back.
"One more thing," I said. "In the next few days, pay attention to the news. Watch for reports of strange illness, of hospitals overwhelmed, of government officials giving vague reassurances. When you see those signs, you'll know I was telling the truth."
Max Yang said nothing, but her eyes followed me as I stepped out into the gathering darkness.
Five days, fifteen hours.
I walked back toward the subway station, my mind already planning the next phase.
The compound was perfect. Max Yang and her people were potential allies—practical, organized, already preparing for disaster. If I could bring them on board, I would have the nucleus of a survivor community before Day Zero even arrived.
But I would need to move quickly. Five days wasn't much time to fortify a compound, stockpile supplies, and convince a group of suspicious strangers to trust me.
Then again, I had done more with less.
Above me, the first stars were appearing in the darkening sky. Somewhere in the city, Ghost was waiting for my return. And in a morgue or hospital or quiet bedroom, someone was dying.
I could feel them. Dozens of them. Hundreds. The city's dying, calling to my power like beacons in the night.
Not yet, I told myself. Soon. But not yet.
I had preparations to make first.