Chapter 1

My name was Hailey Johnston. Before I got a second shot in life, I struggled through three years of the apocalypse.

I fought zombies, dodged scumbags, scrambled for bread, and risked it all for half a bottle of water.

In the end, I died like a total loser, betrayed by my own team and thrown to feed the zombies.

Back for round two, I was lying in bed, one minute before the zombie virus hit, thinking about my life.

I wondered if I should bother fighting anymore.

Hell no. I was tired. I would let it all end.

Screams were already coming from downstairs, and heavy footsteps were getting closer.

I didn't bother locking the door, closing the window, or grabbing a weapon. I didn't even pull back the covers.

My phone lit up with a red alert: [Emergency! Zombie virus outbreak. Immediately close and lock all windows and doors.]

I glanced at it and tossed my phone aside.

Should I hide? Maybe I could make it through today, but the next day would still screw me over.

Should I fight? I spent three years busting my butt last time and still ended up zombie chow.

I lazily wandered into the living room, collapsed onto the couch, and ripped open a half-eaten bag of chips.

The sun was shining, and the breeze was soft.

Outside, the heavy footsteps stopped right at the door.

This wasn't any average zombie crashing around. This was the kind of thud of a boss-level monster.

That was definitely a big boss out there.

It was nice. One chomp, and I was done. There would be no pain, no drama.

I stretched out my neck, closed my eyes, and spoke in a gentle, almost saintly tone, "Come on, don't be shy. Take a bite.

"The sooner I turn, the sooner we can all slack off together. No more rat race for anyone.

"Hurry up already. I'm trying to get back to sleep."

Nothing happened.

The banging stopped.

I waited ten seconds, but there was still nothing.

"What's the holdup? Zombies are running late now?" I muttered.

I raised my voice. "Hey, you, at the door, can you hurry up and do your job? I'm on a tight schedule."

Bang! The whole security door was torn in half like it was paper.

Through the swirling dust, a hulking, dark-skinned monster nearly six feet six tall stood there.

His whole body looked like it was covered in armor, and his left hand was a bone claw.

His eyes glowed red, no whites at all. The moment he unleashed his pressure, every glass in my house exploded.

That was the Zombie King.

It was the same guy who wiped out everything in his way and ripped military bases apart like they were nothing last time.

Anyone else would've peed their pants.

But I frowned, annoyed. "You're blocking my sunlight. Can you move?"

The Zombie King was confused.

He stepped closer, each stride making the air crackle with his overwhelming presence.

I craned my neck out even more, looking eager.

"Stop dragging it out. Bite me already so I can go back to sleep," I grumbled.

He raised his claw, powerful enough to shred steel, hovering menacingly over my neck.

Strangely, I was calm.

Finally, I could end it all.

The next second, that claw never touched me.

He didn't bite me.

Instead, he gently tapped my neck, so light that it barely felt like a touch.

It was like a big dog gently nudging its owner, as if testing her.

I was confused.

I opened my eyes.

The Zombie King lowered his head and gently rested his massive head on my lap.

He let out a low, mournful whine.

He looked like a huge, abandoned puppy.

*****

The chip in my hand snapped with a loud crunch.

Seriously? I couldn't believe my eyes.

He was the freaking Zombie King!

He was the ultimate boss of the apocalypse.

And here he was, acting all soft and cuddly. Was this for real?

I awkwardly reached out and stroked his head.

It was rock-hard, but surprisingly smooth.

The Zombie King instantly relaxed, his red eyes narrowing slightly.

He looked blissed out, like he was on cloud nine.

After a long, awkward silence, I finally realized something.

I was trying to slack off, and somehow ended up making the Zombie King my lackey.

I guessed it was time to start my chill life.

It took me three minutes to wrap my head around this whole mess.

Then I glanced at the Zombie King. "You broke it, and you fix it."

He immediately tried to put the two halves of the busted door back together, but no matter what he did, it wouldn't close.

Then he turned back to me, his red eyes looking sad and watery, like he was saying. "I'm so dumb. I can't figure this out."

"Uh, forget it. Leave it open. It's cooler this way." I shrugged.

He immediately straightened up, obedient as a kid on their first day of school.

I kept munching on my chips.

Before long, three big guys stormed up the hallway, waving kitchen knives and steel pipes.

They were the same neighbors who stole my stuff and threw me to the zombies last time.

The moment they saw the Zombie King, their legs turned to jelly.

But when they saw me sprawled on the couch, snacking away, greed flashed in their eyes again.

"Hailey, hand over the food. Supplies are for everyone in the apocalypse," one of them yelled.

"Why are you, a woman, hogging all this food?" one of them sneered.

I munched on my chips, not even lifting my eyes.

Back then, I was terrified of them.

But this time, things were different.

I glanced at the Zombie King and said calmly, "They're too noisy. Toss them out."

The next second, the three guys went flying out the door in a blur.

The Zombie King grabbed each one with a single hand, like he was picking up baby chicks.

He strolled over to the stairwell and casually lobbed them outside.

Screams echoed from downstairs, followed by the happy munching sounds of zombies feasting.

I kept a straight face. "They brought it on themselves."

I polished off my chips and frowned.

The Zombie King instantly started frantically scanning the room.

He found another bag in the cabinet, carefully tore it open with his claw, and offered it up to me with both hands.

He looked so respectful, like he was serving the queen himself.

I said, "Not bad. You've got the hang of this."

He let out a soft whine, showing off like he wanted some credit.

"By the way, calling you 'Zombie King' all the time is kind of awkward," I said.

I glanced at his all-black look like a huge dog, and said offhandedly, "Let's call you Buddy."

Buddy was speechless.

He might not understand the words, but he knew his owner was giving him a name.

He went wild, nuzzling my palm like an overgrown puppy, thrilled.

So, the top terror of the apocalypse was now called Buddy.

Just hearing that made me feel safe.