The moment I heard the name Zenonian Faldin, a little lightbulb went off in my head. A forgotten memory came rushing back.
I knew him.
He was most definitely a character from the novel. In the original story, he and his handful of surviving guild members had bumped into the protagonist’s group during a zombie-clearing operation.
Honestly, the story was already so thoroughly mangled that a little twist like this hardly registered as a surprise.
They’d formed a temporary alliance, mostly because Zenon was an absolute font of information: the state of the town, the zombies’ movements, the locations of other survivors, you name it.
He’d actually been quite helpful in their escape.
Then, I remembered precisely why they hadn’t stuck together for the long haul.
The man had a rather pronounced crazy streak.
He was, to be precise, addicted to dopamine. As in the thrill-seeking sort of crazy.
He had a nasty habit of acting on pure personal curiosity and whim, which, as you can imagine, made him an absolute nightmare to integrate into a group.
So that was why I’d been feeling weirdly uneasy…
The leader of his little guild was rumored to be nothing more than a figurehead… but never did I expect it to be Zenon.
He couldn’t possibly be on kitchen duty simply because he was bored. This had to be some sort of internal reconnaissance.
“So, go on and tell me,” he said. “Who knows? Perhaps I can help.”
This wasn’t a man one could fool with a simple lie. He was difficult, but in an entirely different way than Yoan.
“Well…” I hedged, “if I told you the truth, I’ve got a tiny suspicion I’d be kicked out straight away.”
“Hmm. So your goal is to stir up trouble, is it?”
I said nothing.
“Silence in response to that particular question,” he mused, “usually means yes.”
Right. What now? Take him out? Right here? Could I really eliminate a guild leader so quietly?
As I was frantically racking my brain, the corner of Zenon’s mouth twitched.
“How very interesting,” he said, voice amused. “You’re clearly a zombie, yet you’ve not only infiltrated a group of humans, but now that you know who I am, you’re actively contemplating how to dispose of me. Don’t worry. I’m neutral. I don’t take sides.”
If anything, that statement was even more ominous. I bit my lip and took an instinctive step back.
“Are you always this cautious? Or are you just a coward?”
Definitely the latter.
“So, it would seem that intelligent zombies have different personalities.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I demanded. “Have you seen another zombie like me?”
“I have.”
Aria?
“When… no, where?” I asked.
“This little back back and forth is growing rather tedious. Why don’t you tell me what sort of trouble you’re planning to cause instead?”
Zenon wasn’t trustworthy. Not in the slightest.
But if I missed this opportunity, I might not get another. The moment he lost interest, he would undoubtedly report me to his superiors.
What would Yoan do?
…He probably would have told the man to get lost and then lopped his head off without a second thought.
Sadly, I didn’t have that kind of backbone. And the truth of the matter was, I needed Zenon’s help.
“Time is ticking,” Zenon prodded, a little too cheerfully for my liking.
My mind made up, I spun him a tale, skillfully weaving a version of our plan that was equal parts truth and fabrication.
After I’d finished, Zenon just hummed, his expression utterly unreadable. “Hmm. That doesn’t sound particularly interesting.”
Imagine your focus being on what’s interesting while weighing human lives in the balance. The man truly was a psychopath.
“However…” he continued, a slow smile spreading across his face, “I am a little curious to see what you, Sasha the zombie, will do. So, I’ll offer a bit of help.”
“Well… how very… gracious of you.”
“Shall we start by heading over there?”
“Where?”
“To the place where they’re keeping the zombies they captured last night.”
This is too much for me to handle on my own. I have to go back, tell Yoan, and we need to come up with a proper plan…
“Miss Sasha.”
“Yes?”
“Your chance is now.”
“Can’t you at least give me a second to think?” I pleaded.
Zenon’s gaze turned instantly ice-cold. It went beyond dry to utterly chilling.
“If you keep dragging your feet, I’m going to lose interest. Shall we just call the whole thing off?”
“No…”
That’s blackmail, you cheap bastard.
***
“I-it’s here?” I stammered.
Zenon nodded.
He had led me to a stone building tucked away in a perpetually shady spot. It saw precious little sun, even at midday. For a place supposedly meant to hold captured zombies, it didn’t look particularly large.
“There’s an entrance to the basement inside,” he explained.
“Ah.”
“Are you going in?”
“Do I have a choice?” I muttered.
“It’s entirely up to you. But if you don’t, our little arrangement ends here.”
This bastard. The more we talked, the more his entire manner of speaking got under my skin.
But he was the one holding all the cards.
“Are you, by any chance, coming with me?” I asked, trying to keep the hope out of my voice.
“If you wish.”
“You won’t betray me, will you?”
“No,” he said smoothly. “I won’t.”
Could I trust him? Still, the thought of entering a place like this on my own was terrifying. Especially when I had absolutely no idea what was waiting inside.
I chewed on my thumbnail, my leg bouncing anxiously, before I finally nodded with a look of grim determination.
“Let’s go.”
It felt like the best of a very bad set of options.
Taking a shallow breath, I walked toward the stone building with Zenon at my side.
Surprisingly, there were no guards posted, but letting one’s guard down was always a recipe for disaster. I scanned the area for anything I could possibly use as a weapon, but there was shockingly little to work with.
All I managed to find were a few loose pebbles. Still, with my zombie strength, they’d pack a decent punch… right?
“Okay,” I announced to the world at large. “I’m really going in.”
“Indeed,” he replied dryly.
I pushed the door open and stepped into a completely empty space. Just as Zenon had said, a single staircase led down into the darkness.
“You don’t happen to have a lamp or something, do you?” I asked.
“I do not.”
“And I assume you have no intention of taking the lead?”
“None whatsoever.”
I brought him along for nothing. What a positively useless escort.
Trying to steady my trembling hands, I placed a foot carefully on the first step. As much as his presence annoyed me, I had to admit that having someone—anyone—behind me was vaguely reassuring.
Seriously, how deep had they dug this thing? The stairs went on for much longer than I’d expected.
After what felt like an eternity, a thick iron door appeared before us. I fiddled with the lock for a moment before turning to Zenon.
“You don’t happen to have a key, do you?” I asked, not expecting much.
“I do.”
“I figured as—wait, you do?!”
Zenon stepped past me, produced a key from his pocket, and unlocked the door with a neat little click. His surprisingly cooperative attitude made my guard drop just a fraction.
After swinging the door open, he immediately stepped aside, gesturing with a theatrical flourish for me to go first.
Feeling a smidgen braver, I took the handle and pulled the heavy door open.
GRAAAAAAAAGH!
GURRK! GRRRK!
The soundproofing on that door must have been magnificent for none of that racket to have leaked outside. The shrieks of zombies from all directions immediately assaulted my eardrums.
“What in the world…”
A long corridor stretched out before me, lined on both sides with cells made of thick iron bars. Inside each and every one were captured zombies.
Zombies to the left of me, zombies to the right. Zombies were absolutely everywhere.
SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!
The agitated creatures slammed their bodies against the bars, the sound echoing chaotically through the long hall.
Being surrounded by zombies like this brought me right back to my first day, when Yoan had locked me in a cage for that little “ideological test” of his. I’d been so scared back then.
Grrrk? Grrr?
One of the nearby zombies spotted me and seemed to be trying to communicate.
Unfortunately for the both of us, I couldn’t understand a single word.
“Can you understand what it’s saying?” Zenon asked from behind me.
“No. Not a thing.”
“How strange. You can’t even communicate with your own kind.”
Technically, they were my kind. But I still found being lumped in with them vaguely insulting.
KAAAAHH!
“Ah! Good heavens.”
When I didn’t answer, the zombie became agitated and began violently rattling its cage bars.
In a full-blown fight, my adrenaline would be pumping and there would be no time to think. But seeing zombies locked up in a gloomy place like this… it was more than I could stomach.
I have to go back. This was a mistake.
This wasn’t something I could handle on my own.
“Z-Zenon,” I stammered, turning around. “This isn’t going to work. Let’s just go.”
Last I saw moments ago, Zenon had been right behind me.
Now? He was way far away back, standing directly in front of the iron door we had just come through.
“When did you get all the way back—ah.”
A horrible premonition washed over me. And, in my experience, that kind of feeling is never, ever wrong.
I didn’t hesitate for a second. I sprinted back toward the door—but Zenon was faster.
He slammed it shut.
CLANK.
The lock clicked into place with a chilling finality.
I threw my full weight against the door, but it didn’t so much as budge.
“What the heck are you doing?!”
KEEEEEEHH!
“Eek!”
My shriek sent the nearby zombies into an even greater frenzy, and my courage shriveled up like a salted slug.
“Hey! Zenon! Stop messing about and open this door!”
“I’m not messing about,” came his voice, muffled by the thick iron.
“You said you wouldn’t betray me!” I shrieked.
“That’s right. I planned this from the very beginning, so it isn’t technically a betrayal.”
“You son of a—!”
“I’m hardly a tour guide. Why else would I have brought you all the way down here?”
He was a genuine, non-recyclable piece of garbage.
“Well then,” he called out, his voice already fading. “I shall be looking forward to the show.”
And with that, the sound of his footsteps receded up the stairs. He had locked me in here and was actually gone.
I couldn’t believe I had fallen for such an obvious, textbook trap. I felt so utterly pathetic I could have cried.
Behind me, the shrieks and groans of the caged zombies raged on without pause.
“Oh, Yoan…”
In a moment like this, he was the only person I could think of. But how on earth was I supposed to let anyone know I’d been captured?
I crouched on the cold stone floor and focused on steadying my breathing.
Since it had come to this, I had to find out something—anything at all—before Yoan eventually came for me.
There was no use crying over spilled milk. All one could do was find a rag and clean it up.
Dammit all. Someone else spilled the darn milk, so why am I the one stuck cleaning it up?
The curses flowed rather freely after that.
A million thoughts swirled in my head, and I desperately wanted to burst into tears. In fact, a few traitorous ones did manage to escape.
“You can do this,” I whispered to myself, my voice trembling. “You can do this, Sasha.”
I scrubbed at my eyes with my sleeve and forced myself back to my feet.