Regressing Through the Apocalypse with the Third Male Lead-Chapter 8 - Nightmares

12:00 midnight...

Freyah sat in the dim glow of her laptop screen, the quiet hum of the keys the only sound echoing through her room. Tonight marked the first night of the apocalypse. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, urgency pressing her forward as she crafted a detailed PDF file titled Apocalypse Survival.

She filled it with everything she knew—every catastrophic event that would soon unfold, every method of fighting the zombies, and the evolution of even deadlier monsters that would soon appear. Each line included strategies, skill descriptions, and survival techniques she had gathered from her memories. This wasn't just a guide—it was a lifeline.

"I hope this will give me more unknown variables that I can use."

She had to finish. She had to post it online before the internet would inevitably go down in three days.

This was her choice. Her plan. To disrupt the timeline, introduce unknown variables, force fate's hand. And she knew the risks. Tampering with the course of events could lead to dangers she couldn't predict—worse threats, worse outcomes.

But if she let fear consume her... then no one would survive.

Not against that monster.

The one she couldn't defeat.

The one who destroyed their last remaining hope for humanity. The hammer that convicted the end.

Every single time, it haunted her every memory. A monster that was the size of twenty storey building, with quick reflexes and fast regeneration. Whose weakness was never known.

Her chest tightened, but she pressed on. With a final tap, the document was uploaded. Her social media update followed seconds after:

"My last update. I pray you all to survive."

Silence.

She checked her phone for the hundredth time—still no reply from her family. Her gaze lingered on the screen. If only she could fly to Bohol right now. Her parents were there. Her siblings. Two hours by plane, but flights were already grounded.

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Too far.

But not too late. She knew in her past life that her family survived the first wave. And with the information she gave them, "they will survive." There was no doubt on those words.

A bitter sigh escaped her lips. "At least... I have a few hours before the apocalypse fully sets in earlier."

The weight of it all pressed heavier on her chest. The memories were still so fresh, yet impossibly distant. Whenever she closed her eyes, all she saw was endless, desolate sands. She stood atop a ruined building, the wind howling as the sun choked behind gray clouds. Below her, a sea of twisted monsters devoured everything in their path.

She had lived too long. Watched the same horrors repeat, over and over. And when that strongest monster finally emerged, she had nothing left. No allies. No hope.

She had chosen her own end that day—stabbed herself before the monster could. Fell from the cliff, her body shattering against the rocks below.

But not this time.

Her gaze drifted to the supplies stacked against the walls—canned goods, bottled water, medical kits. Enough for a while. But she needed a way to store more.

That skill... the storage skill.

Her jaw clenched at the memory. She had found the holder of that ability far too late. That old man... who had taken his own life.

Not this time.

"I need to find him... before it's too late."

Her voice cracked. She swallowed hard, forcing back the wave of emotions.

"And then... I'll come for you, Dad. Mom. Everyone. Wait for me."

She closed her laptop with a quiet click, staring blankly into the empty space of her darkened room. Sleep was out of reach. She had tried—so many times—but nightmares greeted her the moment her eyelids shut.

A sudden ringing shattered the silence.

Her pulse jumped.

Not her phone.

She glanced at the devices on the bed—Monica and Gwenette's phones. Both silent. Then she remembered.

Harley.

The delivery boy.

She turned to where he lay on the floor, carefully tucked against a thick cushion she had placed beneath him. He was still out cold, pale but breathing steadily. She knelt, searching his jacket pockets until she pulled out the ringing phone.

Auntie Mama flashed across the screen of the caller id.

Her finger hovered over the answer red button.

Right... Her chest ached. He has family out there, too.

She answered. "Hello..."

Before she could speak further, a broken voice echoed through the speaker.

"Harley... where are you? Please live. I'm sorry..."

Freyah's breath hitched.

"Hello, your son is safe. I have him here. He's alive and now sleeping. Where are you? I can rescue—"

"Harley, where are you? Please live. I'm sorry..."

The exact words.

Repeated.

Over.

And over.

Freyah's blood ran cold as the voice looped like a broken recorder. It was not a recorder, but definitely a human. Someone who was already turned into a zombie.

One of their characteristics to repeat the last words of what was the most important to them. The moment of what they thought before dying and becoming a zombie.

"Hah. Too late."

Her fingers clenched around the phone.

No. She glanced at the sleeping boy. Then let out a sigh.

"Harley is alive," she whispered fiercely. "He's safe in my care, and I will make sure he stays that way. I promise you... he will live."

The line fell silent for a moment. As if the Freyah heard a sigh of relief.

Then, again— it must be just her imagination.

"Harley, where are you? Please live. I'm sorry..."

Freyah ended thd call with a hollow beep.

Freyah sank back onto the bed, the weight of the apocalypse pressing heavier than ever.

"Damn it all... this world is already falling apart again. I'm used to this but sometimes I felt I'm not either huh."

From the hallway, Florence passed by, pausing just long enough to overhear the final moments of the call. He lingered in silence, his face unreadable, before quietly retreating to his room.

His thoughts? Unknown.

Freyah noticed him the retreating shadow from the adjacent opened door. "Can't sleep either huh?" She chuckled and leaned her head at the headboard of the bed.

"Once they wake up, things will be busier."