Chapter 13

I went straight home and told my parents my observation. We decided to focus on watching those suspicious-looking zombies closely.

On the fourth day of the zombie outbreak, the water and power went out.

The faucet gurgled weakly, then fell silent.

Trying to check the group chat, I got a red error: “Network Unavailable.”

We were prepared, but other residents weren’t so lucky.

The zombies downstairs persisted, howling day and night at the locked doors, though the hungriest eventually wandered off.

If rescue was coming, the winners would be the ones who outlasted everyone else.

In the virus's early days, buildings still had supplies. The compound was eerily quiet. At night, it felt like a dead city.

I whispered to my parents, “Let’s cut back on observations these next few days. Less chance of being spotted.”

“Okay,” they whispered back.

A few days later, something felt off.

The house felt increasingly like a steam bath. Even the walls were warm at dawn.

The temperature was steadily climbing.

The thermometer showed 102°F (42°C) outside. Being the top floor with poor airflow, our indoor temperature soared to 113°F (45°C).

The feels like temperature hit 122°F (50°C)!

It was insane. I was melting.

I wore the skimpiest tank top, sat in front of a fan blowing over ice cubes, fanning myself with a palm leaf fan, wishing I could pant like a dog to cool off.

This felt like stacking impossible challenges!

Sweat poured down my body; I could feel it trickling paths down my skin.

But even soaked, we didn’t dare shower or wash hair. We used damp cloths with precious little water, mixed with a bit of rubbing alcohol, for sponge baths.

We only dared crack a window for air under cover of darkness.

The plants on the balcony were moved into deep shade, barely hanging on.

The seedlings on the roof weren’t so lucky.

The sun cut through the shade cloth like a knife, killing almost all the sprouts in their infancy.

Total wipeout.

It broke my agricultural grad-student heart.

Out of sheer frustration, I made three giant cups of shaved ice the next day.

Devoured them.

Food lost all appeal once it warmed past lukewarm.

I got creative with cold salads.

Poached chicken breast shocked in ice water, shredded, tossed in dressing.

Mom made mung bean soup daily, forcing Dad and me to drink it to beat the heat.

Ugh.

I sprawled on the cool bamboo mat, propping up my telescope for my watch shift.

The relentless heat, without a drop of rain, was a death sentence for the whole community.

Humans can survive a week without food. Only three days without water.

The heat was driving people out in search of water.

Two thin girls rushed out wearing textbook-and-tape armor. Maybe they’d smeared something on themselves, because the zombies didn’t go after them immediately.

Others copied them.

A man rounding a corner collided with a zombie. He was slow getting up. “Help me!” he screamed at the girls.

The two pioneers didn’t look back.

His screams drew more zombies. They tore into his limbs.

His agonized wails echoed through the compound.

The girls seized the moment, jumped into a car, and sped towards the gate with the fewest zombies.

Navigating at night was hard. Human senses couldn’t compete with zombies. The people who followed weren’t so lucky. One after another, they were caught.

Screams, howls of pain rose and fell.

Horrified, I put down the telescope, covered my ears.

Hypnotizing myself, and reminding myself to tell my parents tomorrow:

In this apocalypse, only the ruthless survive.

This extended “heatwave” lasted about a month before temperatures finally began to drop.

When the first thunderclap boomed across the sky, I jolted awake.

Dad was still at the bay window, observing. He frowned as I sat up.

Soon, the soft patter of rain became a downpour, hammering the windows.

Our roof had the automatic water system, but after the drought, we sneaked up with extra buckets to catch runoff under the eaves.

In the black fury of the storm, a few windows cracked open here and there, various pots and pans silently placed to catch the rain.

Some had fallen during the heat. Some had passed quietly at home.

Some had endured the hardship, waiting for this mercy.

To my delight, I heard clattering sounds from the 13th-floor apartment of the young couple.

Across the way, the Red Wolf Pup’s hair remained… defiantly vivid.