"Buzz..."
There was a familiar, sickening resonance deep in his skull, as if someone was working with an electric drill in his mind.
Su Ze opened his eyes suddenly.
What caught his eye was not the turbid corpse blood, nor the ferocious smiles of his companions after their betrayal, nor the zombies' sharp claws that could tear everything apart.
It's the ceiling.
There was a dazzlingly clean white ceiling, with a crystal chandelier hanging on it that was extremely familiar to him, yet felt completely unfamiliar to him.
"I... Where is this?"
Su Ze's throat was as dry as if it had been polished with sandpaper, and his voice was hoarse. He struggled to sit up and looked around.
This is not the "doghouse" built of iron sheets and bones in the apocalypse, always filled with stench and despair.
This is his apartment.
In his memory, a luxury flat-storey building located in a top-notch community in the city center was razed to the ground by the zombie wave ten years ago.
The paintings by famous artists hanging on the walls, the Persian carpets on the floor, and his once-favorite, valuable leather sofa... Everything was exactly as he remembered it, clean, tidy, and full of the comfort of a peaceful era.
What's going on?
