Chapter 2

Without thinking, I reached out to cover his eyes, but I was a second too late.

I was sure Leonard would scream or burst into tears.

But he didn't.

He just stared, curious as ever, not a hint of fear on his face.

"It looks lonely."

I felt a sudden chill in my chest.

Lonely? How could he possibly see loneliness in that mess of rotten flesh?

From that day on, I started noticing something was off about Leonard.

He was completely unfazed by the smell of blood. One time, a zombie was ripped to shreds by a mutated beast right outside the bunker, black blood splattering across the periscope lens. Leonard just calmly handed me a rag, as if nothing had happened.

"Mommy, it's dirty."

I started to get scared.

I checked Leonard over and over, but there were no wounds, no signs of infection.

His temperature was normal, his pulse strong, and he could still eat two full bowls of rice every day.

He was still my son. He'd snuggle up to me, and apologize whenever he messed up.

But the way he looked at zombies was like he saw them as his own kind.

I tried not to dwell on it.

I just tried to be extra good to him, filling his days with stories and games, hoping to keep him totally cut off from the crazy world out there.

I kept telling myself that he was just a kid. He didn't even get what fear meant.

Until the day that mutant zombie dog smashed through the third layer of the ventilation filter.

It was a Doberman zombie, now three times its original size.

Half its head was missing, exposing white bone, and its remaining eye was a cloudy blood-red.

Its razor-sharp claws shredded the alloy filter with a screech, and it dropped straight down the twenty-meter ventilation shaft.

With a thunderous crash, it slammed into the iron storage crate, shaking the whole bunker.

Chills shot through me.

I shoved Leonard behind me and grabbed the loaded pistol.

My hands trembled, not with fear, but with rage.

I'd put my heart and soul into making this bunker as secure as possible, and still, something slipped through.

The mutant zombie dog shook its head, climbed off the iron crate, and let out a low, menacing growl.

It locked its gaze on us, lowering its body, ready to pounce.

"Stay behind me, Leonard! Don't move!"

I kept my eyes glued to it, finger on the trigger, ready to fire the moment it lunged.

But Leonard walked out from behind me.

"Leonard!"

"Mommy, don't shoot."

His voice was so calm, almost comforting.

"It's in pain."

To my shock, Leonard started walking step by step toward the raging beast.

My heart was hammering so wildly, it felt like it might burst right out of my throat.

"Come back! Please, come back!"

The mutant zombie dog's growl got even louder, black drool dripping from its fangs and hitting the floor, making white smoke hiss up.

It was about to pounce.

I shut my eyes tight, finger on the trigger, ready to fire.

But the expected culling and gunshots did not happen.

Trembling, I opened my eyes, and saw something I'd never forget.

Leonard approached the monster, step by step, and reached out his tiny hand.

The mutant zombie dog, strong enough to shred steel, stopped dead in its tracks, just half a meter away from Leonard.

Its growl faded into a low whimper, and in its blood-red eye, I could swear I saw... a hint of grievance?

Leonard gently placed his small hand on its head.

He stroked it.

"It doesn't hurt anymore," Leonard said softly.

The wild, savage mutant zombie dog, which could have torn us apart, suddenly acted like the gentlest pet, nuzzling Leonard's palm with the part of its face that was still whole.

Then, it lay down, perfectly still.

It was dead.

Not killed, but... finally at peace.

All the strength drained out of me, and I sank to the ground.

I looked at Leonard. He turned to me and flashed a pure, innocent smile.

"Mommy, it's asleep."

My mind went totally blank, and a terrifying thought hit me.

Leonard wasn't infected.

Was he... always one of them?

From that day on, I was consumed by an even deeper fear.

This fear didn't come from the zombies outside. It came from my own son, Leonard, the one I loved most.

I stopped letting him near the periscope. I packed away anything that could let him see the outside world.

I started telling him stories more and more often, about human heroes, about kindness and evil.