Apocalypse: After Reanimation, I Became The Queen-Chapter 36: _ The Hunger Takes Over

I make my decision. I will hunt now and scavenge later.

There’s no point in wasting time sifting through broken furniture and torn clothes when my body is already screaming for sustenance. I need to act fast before I become the next shambling corpse on the menu.

I check the room once more for any signs of life. I find nothing. Just bloodstains, overturned furniture, and the lingering scent of decay.

The blood sense ability will come in handy during times like this when I need to hunt. I guess this is why I need to fulfill the tasks. The system knows just what I need.

I move quickly to the next floor. The door creaks as I push it open, and the stench of rot grows thicker.

Of course, there are zombies... More of them.

They stand motionless in the dark corners, some swaying slightly as if waiting for something to wake them. Their dull, lifeless eyes don’t track me, but my skin crawls as I pass by. Their presence is a reminder of what I could become if I fail.

I press forward. Another floor. Another room. Nothing.

A growl of frustration vibrates in my throat, my hunger clawing at my insides like an animal trapped in a cage. My body feels weaker and my limbs are sluggish.

This is bad. I bet I’m already staggering like a fucking zombie. It is only a matter of time before someone mistakes me for one and the whole scene that plays out with Pretty Boy’s group repeats itself.

I grit my teeth and move lower. Down the stairs, one level at a time, careful not to make too much noise. If I attract the wrong kind of attention before I’m strong enough to fight, I’ll be the one dying.

By the time I reach the ground floor, my vision is already blurring at the edges. My hands tremble and my legs feel like lead.

Then I see it.

A trail of blood. It’s fresh blood. I sniff in, taking in the euphoric scent and my eyes glowed red with profound hunger.

At this rate, I’ll eat anyone I see. Even my friends. I must never reach this level of hunger. Never.

My breath ceases in my throat. The crimson path snakes across the cracked tiles, smeared and in zig-zag patterns, as though someone was dragged. Or crawling.

I follow it.

I try to move faster but my steps are slow and my senses are sharp despite my weakness. The world around me fades, narrowing down to the scent of blood.

Oh, it is thick and coppery in the stale air. My fingers twitch at my sides and my mouth feels dry.

I can’t take it anymore. My mind is slowly fading. The hunger turns into something else. It is now but a primal gnaw.

I move through the ruined lobby, my ears straining for sound. The blood leads past overturned chairs, shattered glass, and abandoned bags. It pools near the far end of the hall, disappearing behind a partially collapsed desk.

There. There is it.

I step closer. The scent is overwhelming now, saturating the air and making my head swim. My body trembles as a sick anticipation curls in my gut.

Now, I understand the zombies. The hunger drive is crazy. You lose your mind, you itch everywhere for even a single piece of meat. The smell of blood, even if it’s a single drop, drives you nuts.

Is it the zombies’ fault? Are they the bad guy, really?

They didn’t ask for this. I didn’t ask for this. Life happened to them... to me.

This is the core of our nature. To eat... to feed on human flesh. After all, survival is a must. Humans know this. They kill themselves for a single loaf of bread these days.

Now, tell me, how are they any different from the zombies?

I am still searching like a rabid dog, sniffing here and there when I see him.

The man from before.

The one I saw hiding earlier, the one I couldn’t find again. He’s crumpled against the wall, half-hidden behind the wreckage with a gun slack in his trembling grip. His face is pale, drenched in sweat, his eyes hazy with pain and delirium.

A fresh bullet wound mars his stomach, blood seeping through his torn shirt.

My fingers curl into fists. The hunger inside me howls.

Blood... His blood smells divine.

I swallow hard, locking my muscles in place. I need to be careful. If I let go... if I slip for even a second... there will be nothing left of him.

He shifts, his breath ragged. His fingers tighten weakly around the gun, lifting it just enough to point at me the moment he sees me.

He thinks I’m one of them. Maybe I am. Oh, I just am.

"D-Don’t... come closer," he wheezes, voice barely audible.

I cock my head, drawling lazily . "If I were you, I wouldn’t do that."

The moment I speak, he freezes. His eyes widen as realization dawns on him? then he lets out a weak, relieved chuckle.

"Shit... You’re human. I thought..." His arm trembles as he lowers the gun. "I thought you were one of them."

I say nothing.

Because at this moment, I don’t feel human.

The way his blood calls to me. The way his heartbeat thrums in a weak but constant rhythm is like a seduction song in my ears.

He must notice something in my expression because his own changes, his smile faltering. "Please," he croaks, his voice raw with pain. "Please... help me."

Help him?

I stare at him, motionless.

All I see is food. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

But still, I play along. "What happened to you?" My voice is casual as if we’re having a friendly chat and not sitting in the middle of the apocalypse with death breathing down our necks.

His face twists with shame. "I... I couldn’t take it anymore," he admits. "I thought I could end it. But... I wasn’t really gonna do it, I swear." He laughs, breathless and broken. "My hand slipped. I pulled the trigger by mistake."

My mouth falls open. I spared this idiot’s life, ate a cat, and starved myself but he dares to try to waste the chance I gave him.

He was going to kill himself?!

Oh, that is just ludicrous. I’m almost mad at myself because truly, some people deserve death.

I’ll give him just that.