Apocalypse: King of Zombies-Chapter 681: Junk food for the desperate

The thick haze of smoke and cheap liquor in the air was almost suffocating. To a zombie’s senses, it was downright offensive—nothing like the rich, pungent aroma of rot and blood.

"Yeah... this place definitely needs a cleanse," Ethan muttered under his breath, his voice low and cold.

Ever since he stepped into the Mercenary Inn, he’d felt eyes on him. A lot of them. Clearly, the illusion of Dane Walker wasn’t just convincing—it was familiar. This guy had a reputation around here.

People were whispering, casting glances his way. Some looked surprised. Others... suspicious.

"Holy shit, that guy actually made it back from Necroterra? Lucky bastard."

"Bet he scored a ton of crystal cores."

"Anyone else notice he’s alone? Where’s the rest of his squad?"

"If he’s the only one who came back... then maybe..."

Their voices were low, barely audible over the din of the bar—but to Ethan’s enhanced hearing, it was crystal clear. Every word. Every tone. Every flicker of hostility.

Apparently, Dane had made a few enemies in this line of work. Shocker.

"Dane! You’re back!" a cheerful voice called out.

A young waitress bounced over, smiling brightly. "What can I get you today?"

"Whatever’s easy," Ethan replied casually, curious to see what passed for food around here.

"You got it! Take a seat, I’ll bring it right over."

She wiped down a nearby chair with a rag that looked like it hadn’t been washed in weeks, then hurried off toward the kitchen.

Ethan sat down, keeping his posture relaxed but his senses sharp. He let the noise wash over him, filtering through the chaos for anything useful.

From what he’d gathered, not all of human civilization was this rundown. There were still thriving cities out there—just not anywhere near the Exile Zone. This place was the Outer Zone, the slums. The real wealth, the real power, was concentrated in the Inner City—the domain of the elite 2%.

Everyone else? They fought over scraps.

"Food’s here! Fresh batch of Compressed Protein—10 credits a block," the waitress chirped, setting a tray down with a loud clunk.

"Enjoy!"

"Thanks," Ethan said offhandedly.

The girl froze mid-turn, blinking in surprise.

Did he just... thank her?

She stared at him, puzzled, almost suspicious. Dane Walker wasn’t exactly known for his manners.

Is he... hitting on me? she wondered, cheeks flushing slightly. Wouldn’t be the worst thing...

But before she could linger on the thought, a rowdy table of mercs started hollering for more drinks, and she scurried off, thoughts trailing behind her.

Ethan turned his attention to the tray in front of him.

The "Compressed Protein" looked like a black brick—rectangular, dense, and vaguely shiny. Embedded in the surface were twitching insect legs and fragments of cracked exoskeleton.

He didn’t need to guess. It was made from ground-up black beetles, compressed into edible blocks. Technically food. Barely.

"Junk food for the desperate," he muttered, poking it with a finger.

Zombies could eat bugs, sure—but there was no real nutrition in them. Probably something Bulldozer would love, though.

Just then, a commotion stirred near the back of the inn. A woman burst through the crowd, her makeup thick, her outfit tighter than necessary, eyes scanning the room with urgency.

"Someone said my Dane’s back? Where is he?!"

"There! Over there!" a drunk merc pointed helpfully, grinning like he was watching a soap opera unfold.

Her eyes locked onto Ethan, and she made a beeline for him.

Ethan’s brow twitched. Oh no. Don’t tell me this guy had a girlfriend... or worse.

She strutted through the crowd in a skin-tight top and a micro-skirt that left little to the imagination. Her heels clicked against the floor as she passed, ignoring the wandering hands of drunk mercs who grabbed at her as she walked by.

She didn’t even flinch. She had eyes only for Ethan.

Without hesitation, she plopped down across from him, leaning in close like they were the only two people in the room.

"You came back and didn’t even come see me? Do you have any idea how worried I was when you went to Necroterra?"

"Uh..." Ethan blinked, caught off guard. He had no idea how to respond.

She pouted, eyes wide with mock hurt. "I was scared to death you wouldn’t make it back. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat... I missed you so much."

Ethan gave a slow nod. "Right... well, I’m back."

But before he could say anything else, her expression shifted—softness replaced by sharp calculation.

"Since you made it back alive, you must’ve hit the jackpot, huh? So... how about settling that little overnight tab you still owe me?" she said, voice suddenly sweet and sharp like a knife wrapped in silk.

"..." Ethan was speechless for a moment. He’d almost believed, for a second, that even in this broken-down world, there might still be something like genuine affection.

Turns out it was just a one-night stand.

"How much?" he asked flatly.

The woman’s eyes lit up the moment she realized he wasn’t going to argue. She glanced at the tray on the table, then held up two fingers. "Two Compressed Proteins."

"Fine. Take ’em," Ethan said, pushing the tray toward her without hesitation.

By Originis currency standards, one Compressed Protein went for 10 Credits. Two meant 20 Credits. Twenty credits a night. Not bad, Ethan thought. Going rate for affection in a world that’s falling apart.

The woman beamed, scooping up the two protein blocks like she’d just won the lottery. "Thanks, sweetheart. Come see me again sometime, yeah?"

With that, she turned and strutted off into the crowd, vanishing back into the haze of smoke and noise.

Ethan watched her go, then leaned back in his chair, thoughtful.

Huh. First human since the apocalypse who’s actually managed to take something from me...

The dining area of the inn was more or less what he expected—loud, chaotic, and full of drunk mercs bragging about kills they probably didn’t make. Not exactly a goldmine of useful intel.

Time to check out the lodging area.

He stood up and made his way deeper into the building.

According to the memories and data he’d pulled from Dane, the guy had rented a room here for a full month. It hadn’t expired yet.

As he left the noisy bar behind, the atmosphere shifted. The hallway ahead was wide but dimly lit, the flickering lights casting long shadows on the cracked walls.

Drunken couples stumbled past him, leaning on each other, laughing or whispering, heading back to their rooms for the night.

Ethan moved quietly, scanning the room numbers until he found the one that matched Dane’s.

But just as he was about to reach the door, he noticed someone standing there.

A teenage boy—maybe eighteen—was lingering outside the room, fidgeting nervously like he’d been waiting a while.

"D...Dane," the boy stammered when he saw him, eyes wide, posture stiff with anxiety.

Ethan narrowed his eyes, sizing him up. He didn’t recognize the kid at all. "What do you want?"

"It’s about before," the boy said quickly, lowering his head, fingers twisting the hem of his shirt. "I—I wanted to talk again. Please, just give me a chance."

"What’s this about?" Ethan asked, voice low but firm.

The boy looked up, eyes filled with desperate hope. "I want to join your team. Please, take me with you. I need the money—bad."

Ethan didn’t answer right away. He studied the kid in silence.

He looked about eighteen, with messy brown hair and sun-darkened skin. His features were soft, almost delicate—definitely not someone who’d seen much combat.

Sensing the hesitation, the boy rushed to explain.

"My girlfriend... she got accepted into Pinnacle Academy in the Inner City. But the tuition’s insane. She said once she graduates, she’ll find a way to get me in too. If I can just hold out until then, I’ll be an Inner City citizen. I swear, Dane—if you help me now, I’ll pay you back. I’ll be useful. Just give me a shot!"

...