Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 34: _ Survival is a Must

After all the formalities, I think to myself; first and foremost, we need to treat Pretty Boy and Yara.

It’s not a suggestion, not a discussion. It’s a necessity. I don’t care how much Bea wants to squabble or how much León thinks he can tough it out... without medical attention, they’re both circling the drain.

"We need a plan," I say, rubbing my temples. "León and Yara need treatment, or we’re going to lose them. And since none of us are qualified doctors..." I glance at Yara, who gives me an indifferent look, "...we need supplies. Food. Water. Medicine. Basic human necessities."

Bea snorts. "You say ’basic’ like they aren’t all nearly extinct luxuries now."

"Luxuries or not, we need them." I shoot her a look. "You stay with them. Make sure their wounds don’t get infected with black worms."

Bea grimaces. "Yeah, thanks for the visual."

I shrug. "Infections aren’t pretty, cariño."

"But..."

"No buts. If any of them develop an infection, we’re screwed."

Yara, who is still slumped against the wall, rolls her eyes. "No shit."

León barely manages to smirk. "Wouldn’t want to die of infection; black worm or bacterial infection alike when there are so many other fun ways to go."

Bea huffs, folding her arms. "Okay, great. But we can’t just keep sitting in this damn living room." She gestures wildly at our surroundings. "And not even because of all the zombies... have you seen this place? All the doors are broken down! We might as well be holding up a giant neon sign that says ’Fresh Meat, Come Eat Us!’"

I bite my tongue to keep from pointing out that, technically, I would be the one doing the eating.

They all have no idea how tantalizing they look, standing and sitting in front of me like that. Especially Pretty Boy and Yara who basically have my snacks opened for me like someone had dipped a knife into a birthday cake.

Yara nods grimly. "She’s right. We’re all weak. Bea can’t fight much, and if we’re detected, either by zombies or other survivors, we’re dead meat."

I sigh, rubbing my temples. She has a point. "But we can’t all move at once," I say. "Not when some of us are half-dead already. We need a plan."

León shifts slightly, his brow furrowing. "We could hide in the bathroom while you go out. Considering how fast you are and how well you fight, I think we can count on you to come back safe and sound."

Bea looks at him like he’s suggested sleeping in a sewer. "The bathroom? You’re joking."

León shrugs, wincing at the movement. "It’s enclosed. Only one way in. We can barricade the door. It’s not perfect, but it’s better than sitting out here waiting to get picked off."

Bea scowls, but she doesn’t argue. That’s how I know she secretly agrees.

I let out a breath. "Okay, we have a plan. You guys hide in the bathroom. I’ll lock you in, go out, find supplies, and come back before you start resorting to cannibalism."

León raises an eyebrow. "Dark joke."

"I have a dark life," I mutter.

There’s some more back and forth, but ultimately, we settle on the plan: the others will hide in the bathroom while I scavenge for supplies; food, water, and anything remotely medical.

I help Yara limp her way to the bathroom, where León is already dragging himself inside. Bea’s the last one in, muttering under her breath about the "worst sleepover ever" before I shut the door behind them.

I take a deep breath and lock them in.

Now it’s just me. And the hunger.

.....

The moment I step away from the bathroom, the system’s voice echoes in my head.

[Reminder: You have 20 minutes left to consume human flesh before penalties apply.]

I gulp a lump down my throat while flexing my fingers anxiously.

Twenty minutes.

Where the hell am I supposed to find a human to eat in twenty minutes?

I grit my teeth, shaking my head. I won’t eat anyone until I’m sure they’re as good as dead. No exceptions. The more I try to be as humanly as possible, the harder the system makes it for me as if it’s waiting for me to embrace my zombie nature and forget about being human.

But I won’t let it win against me. This is my life... or rather my undead life (if there is anything like that), not the system’s.

The hunger churns inside me, but I ignore it. I have a job to do.

.

.

I make my way out of the room, keeping my steps light. My first thought is the man I found hiding earlier.

He was half-starved, shaking in a corner, too afraid to move. If he’s still there, well... Maybe I won’t have to make any hard choices.

But when I reach the spot, I find only an empty space.

No sign of him. Just a bloodstain smeared across the floor, leading away. I frown. Either he got brave and ran off, or something found him before I did.

Either way, I’m out of luck.

With no other options, I start climbing the stairs. If there’s anything useful left in this building, it should be upstairs.

Each step feels heavier as I proceed. The hunger is getting worse. It claws at me from the inside, gnawing at my ribs like a rabid animal desperate to escape.

My stomach is a pit of acid, churning, twisting, folding over itself. It doesn’t just ache—it burns. A raw fire spread through my insides, turning my veins into molten lead. My muscles tighten, my fingers twitching with the unbearable urge to rip, tear, devour.

My mouth tastes vile. My tongue feels coated in it. My jaw aches like something inside me is demanding I bite down, and sink my teeth into something soft, something warm.

I suck in a sharp breath through my teeth, but it doesn’t help. The air tastes like dust, like rot, and it makes my stomach twist tighter, the hunger surging to the forefront of my mind.

I feel like a caged beast that is barely restrained. Every part of me screams for relief. To sink my fingers into soft skin, to pull, to tear, to feast.

A thousand skins wouldn’t be enough. A thousand wouldn’t even scratch the surface of this starvation.

But I shut my eyes, take a pause, and grip my own head, trying so hard to shove it down and keep going. The others are counting on me. If I don’t return before the day breaks, Yara and Pretty Boy might be as good as dead.

Get your shit together, Renata.

What if I fail them? What if my hunger takes over and I lose control, eating and destroying instead of being human? Instead of saving? Instead of being Renata?

Oh, I fear...