Harem in a zombie apocalypse

[109] Requiem

Stepping back from the brink, I took a moment to steady myself. The metallic taste of adrenaline on my tongue mingled with the cold, stale air of the barracks. In front of me, the horde continued to surge into the room, their grunts and growls a morbid symphony of death and decay. Around me, the undead were an insurmountable wall of rotting flesh and ragged clothes.

I felt a strange sense of calm wash over me, like the silent eye of a hurricane. This was not the first time I had been in the thick of the undead, their presence as commonplace to me as the worn leather of the chainsaw's grip. Yet, every time I found myself in the midst of these mindless creatures, it felt like a surreal nightmare.

As if walking through water, I slowly pushed through the horde. Their snarls and groans were a dull roar in my ears, their gnarled hands brushing against me but never grasping, never biting. Like a ghost, I moved among them, a whisper in the wind, a phantom in the night. It was a dance as old as the apocalypse itself, a ballet of death and survival.

One by one, I stepped around them, my movements slow and deliberate. With each step, I could feel the chill of their deathly touch, the putrid stench of decayed flesh filling my nostrils. Their milky, unseeing eyes stared blankly at me, oblivious to my presence among them.

It was a surreal experience, one that always sent shivers down my spine. The undead, for all their mindless hunger, were as harmless as the wind to me. A passive ability, some called it, a miracle of nature that allowed me to walk among the damned without fear of being torn apart.

Yet, even as I moved through them, my heart pounded in my chest like a war drum, my mind ever aware of the danger around me. It was a precarious dance, a tightrope walk between life and death, with one wrong step spelling certain doom.

With a final push, I broke free from the horde, emerging on the other side. I took a moment to steady myself, my chest heaving as I drew in ragged breaths of the cold, night air. The screams and groans of the undead still echoed in my ears, their collective voice a haunting reminder of the world we lived in.

Taking a final glance back at the undead swarm behind me, I gripped the fuse in my hand tightly, my knuckles turning white. It was time to end this, once and for all.

"God save the living." I said.

As I said the words, my voice was just a whisper, swallowed up by the groans and snarls of the horde. The world around me seemed to slow down, the air growing heavy and still. Every noise, every movement, was amplified, a stark contrast to the quiet solitude of my own existence.

I felt the weight of the lighter in my hand, the cool metal a stark contrast to the heat of the flame. I held it up, watching as the small flame flickered and danced, casting dancing shadows around me. It was a small beacon of light in an otherwise dark world, a symbol of hope and destruction, all at once.

Carefully, I brought the lighter closer to the fuse, the flame licking at the frayed end. For a brief moment, everything was still, as if the world was holding its breath in anticipation. Then, the fuse ignited, the flame springing to life with a bright burst of light.

The fuse burned with a furious intensity, the flame crackling and dancing along its length. I watched as it burned, my gaze following the trail of the fire as it snaked its way towards its final destination. The glow of the flame cast an eerie light on the horde, painting the scene in an ethereal light.

Slowly, I lowered my hand, the flame of the lighter reflecting in my eyes. I could feel the heat of it on my skin, a reminder of the power I held in my hand. It was a small thing, this lighter, but in the right hands, it could change everything.

I dropped the fuse, the flame flickering as it hit the ground. It continued to burn, the fire consuming the fuse as it raced towards its end. The glow of the flame lit up the night, a single point of light in the darkness.

Turning on my heel, I began to walk away, the sound of the burning fuse a constant echo in my ears. I didn't look back, my focus solely on what lay ahead. There was no need to watch what I already knew would happen.

The world behind me was on a countdown, the ticking time bomb ready to explode. But for now, it was just me and the night, my footsteps echoing in the quiet solitude.

As I walked away, I could hear the faint whispers of the horde behind me, their snarls and groans a constant reminder of the danger that lurked in the shadows. But they did not follow me, their attention solely focused on the chainsaw in the room, oblivious to the impending explosion.

I didn't run, there was no need to. The fuse was long enough to give me time to put a safe distance between me and the explosion. So, I walked, my steps measured and steady, the only sound in the otherwise silent night.

With each step I took, the burning fuse inched closer to its end, the fire chasing the remaining length like a predator stalking its prey. The explosion was imminent, the final act of this deadly performance.

This is it...

The end of the line.

Q: Have you ever heard of Mozart's "Requiem" before?