Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 22: _ They Are Coming

Bea’s face hardens. "They kept us safe, Yara. They risk their lives to get us food and supplies..."

"Oh, give me a break!" Yara throws her hands in the air. "You mean him? The one who was cheating on me with you?"

My head jerks up.

Wait—what?

Bea’s jaw tightens. "Yara..."

"And your boyfriend?" Yara continues, practically spitting the words. "Who teamed up with me to catch you two red-handed?"

My brain short-circuits.

What am I listening to right now?

Yara glares at Bea. "Not only did you screw my boyfriend, you seduced both men! Like—who does that?"

Bea groans, dragging a hand down her face. "Can we not do this in front of..."

Yara whirls on me. "And you! You thought we were sisters, didn’t you?"

I raise my hands defensively. "I was getting that vibe!"

"Well, surprise! Nope! Just two ex-best friends who are stuck in hell together because she..." Yara jabs a finger at Bea, "...couldn’t keep her damn legs closed!"

"I hate you," Bea grumbles.

"Join the club," Yara snaps.

I stare at them, speechless.

Because, sure, I wasn’t expecting to be trapped in a zombie apocalypse with two love-triangle trainwrecks, but what really sends my brain into a tailspin is the fact that this timeline is wrong.

I was killed two days ago.

The apocalypse was only a year old.

So why is everyone telling me it’s been a year and a half?

What the hell happened in those missing six months?

I stare at them. Maybe they’re wrong. Maybe they’re just confused because time has lost all meaning in this hellhole. But... Yara and Bea seem so sure.

I swallow hard and force my voice to stay calm.

"Are you sure?" My voice comes out thin.

I can’t bloody hold my shock.

Bea and Yara both turn to me at the same time, equally annoyed and equally exasperated.

"Of what?" Yara demands.

"That it’s been a year and a half," I say slowly, because maybe... maybe—I misheard them.

Yara rolls her eyes. "What, you think we just pulled that number out of our asses?"

Bea crosses her arms, eyeing me like I am a pesky bug. "It’s been a year and a half. What’s your problem?" 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

My problem? Oh, I don’t know... Maybe the six-month gap in my memory? Maybe the horrifying realization that if they’re right, I wasn’t just killed... I was dead. Rotting. For half a year.

How long did it take for me to reanimate?

I barely hear the girls over the way my brain malfunctions.

A year and a half.

A year and a half?

I was killed two days ago.

So, either time is playing some sick joke on me, or...

The system took six months to bring me back.

I am a six-month-old corpse.

I almost gag.

Oh my god. Oh my god. I must have looked horrible. What if they found me like that? What if someone actually saw me as a half-rotted, maggot-ridden corpse, and now I’m just walking around like it’s normal?

I now understand why Pretty Boy and his crew deemed it fit to attack me. I probably looked like shit.

My body confines at the thought, like my soul is trying to escape my own flesh.

My hands start to shake. I clench them into fists, digging my nails into my palms. Focus, Renata. Keep it together.

"You good?" Yara asks, raising an eyebrow.

"I’m fine," I lie, forcing a smile.

I bet they would have shot me on the spot as well had the system not fixed my appearance. Maybe it’s high time I start taking its instructions seriously.

Why on earth has it not announced a new quest anyway?

Gosh, I have a lot to mull over at once. I sigh and take a step forward and immediately slam my hip into the table.

A loud thud echoes through the room.

I hiss through my teeth and stagger. Why do bad things keep on happening to me?

The table screeches against the floor, loud and awful, as if I just announced our location to every zombie in a five-mile radius.

The reaction outside is instant.

A deep, gut-churning chorus of moans erupts from beyond the door, rising in desperate hunger. Fists slam against the wood, harder than before and shaking the entire frame.

Nails scrape against it like claws against bone.

A loud crack booms through the air just as I meet the two girls’ glaring gazes.

I whirl around to find that a fissure has formed in the door.

Oh. Oh no.

"You idiot!" Yara snaps, pointing at me like I’m some kind of menace to society.

"Me?" I point at myself, indignant. "You were the ones arguing like a soap opera catfight!"

"You were loud!"

"You broke the damn door!"

"You bumped into the table!"

"You screamed first!"

"Oh my god, shut up!" Bea hisses. "Just shut up and move!"

Another slam rattles the door, followed by a sickening sound which I am sure is the tearing of wood.

I whip around just in time to see a rotting, grey-skinned hand burst through the crack. Its fingers are gnarled and twitching. The smell of decay hits me almost immediately.

We freeze.

The zombie curls its fingers, then claws forward, ripping open a wider hole in the door.

"Oh, HELL no," Yara choked.

"We’re out of time," Bea says quickly.

"Obviously!"

Panic erupts between us.

"SHIT!" Yara yells, grabbing the nearest chair and shoving it against the door in a useless attempt to reinforce the barricade.

What a stupid move. We are screwed if we don’t actually do something useful soon.

I don’t even hesitate. I reach for Pretty Boy, gripping him under the arms and hauling him up. My muscles scream, and my back aches as my strength has begun to diminish from malnutrition, but I don’t stop.

Ain’t no way I’m eating human flesh again.

Pretty boy is deadweight and still completely unconscious, but I am not leaving him here.

I don’t know why I feel like his survival means the survival of my humanity. I need to cling to that for as long as I can.

"Rooms! Now!" I bark at the girls.

Oh, boy, they don’t even argue. They bolt immediately, rushing into the nearest room and slamming the door shut behind them.

Cowards.

I, meanwhile, drag Pretty Boy like a goddamn sack of rice toward the second room, my breath coming out in ragged gasps. The barricade groans again. More hands shove through the widening hole in the door.

More angry; "Grrrrrr!"

They’re getting in.

I don’t have time. I won’t let these zombies eat Pretty Boy.

Not if I can eat him first...