❂ The Night Before the official Apocalypse

A lone guy (Yamada Yuki) stood before a Department store, The light omitted the streetlights were weak and they barely reached him. He stood like a numb guy before the small local Department store. He was holding a beer and drinking it sip by sip and Just as he tilted it back, the last drop vanished, at that movement it felt like the can went empty.

He stared at the glass doors resembling a depressing moment as he saw the "CLOSED" sign hanging crookedly on the entryway, mocking his timing. For a moment, he felt a pang of disappointment he left bad for a moment but that couldn't stop him from raising his fist dramatically towards the door.

BAM! BAM! BAM!

The glass door shook, although probably more due to the falling discomfort of his knocking compared to an actual effect, the knocking making it clear that he is totally off from his mood. There was silence for a few seconds, there was the sound of footsteps behind the door. The door creaked open just enough to expose an elderly man with greying hair, wearing an expression that could only be described as disappointed

He stared at the familiar face, looking as if he had seen a ghost or more likely, a very persistent neighbor trying to return something embarrassing.

The old man sighed. "Hey, kiddo. You’re up again here, huh?"

Yuki smirked, keeping his hands into his pockets. "Yeah. Got a problem with that?"

The owner huffed, rubbing his temple. "Tch. The store's closed, y'know. And it’s 1:00 AM."

"Well, yeah, I can see that." Yuki kicked at the wet pavement, immediately regretting it as his foot connected with a hard patch of concrete. An immediate jolt of pain threw up his leg like an unpaid electricity bill, and he instantly regretted every decision that had led him to this moment. He tried to play it cool, trying to act real smooth, but the cartoonish twitch in his eye and the way he gulped in air through his jaw like a dying vacuum totally gave him away.

The guy was staring at the old man with the twitch in his eye while gulping the pain."C'mon old man, Just needed a place to breathe for a second."

The owner leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed "You sure it’s just that?"

A pause for a moment. Yuki glanced away, suddenly finding the sidewalk.

The Yuki smirked, stepping inside. "No promises."

The owner let out a sigh so deep, shaking his head as he shut the door behind him, sealing himself in with whatever nonsense was about to occur.

As soon as the nerd stepped inside, he stretched his arms as if he had just walked into his own place. His shoes cracked against the freshly mopped floor, leaving faint soaked footprints.

He walked to one of the refrigerators, ripped it open, and took out a can of beer without skipping a beat. TSSK! --The satisfying pop echoed through the empty store as he opened up the lid and took a big gulp.

The old man turned slowly, still closing up the door. He smiled as he saw Yuki's antics, he looked at him playfully. He rubbed the back of his neck, with a sigh.
"You know the deal," he said, in his cheerful voice “No trouble tonight, okay?” 

"Yeah, yeah," Yuki said back, a smirk on his face as he wiped his mouth with his hand after the big gulp. "I got it." 

The owner shot him a tired look, then gestured toward the storage room. "I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Don’t do anything stupid."

Yuki smirked at him and replied "OK! old man take your own time."

The old man's footsteps faded into the back of the store as he started moving down the corridor. Yuki took another sip while resting on the tabletop, tilting his head back and looking at the ceiling ~ As another long night.

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The old man had just settling his goods in the storage room, kneading his shoulders, when
~ CRASH! echoed from the outside. The entire store shook for a short second, rattling its shelves.

He froze in mid-motion. "...The hell was that?"

He thought for a second about ignoring it. He was aware that curiosity was a terrible habit because he had witnessed enough strange things in his life. But he suddenly heard the groaning sound in a low, soaked squelching sound that made the old man uncomfortable and shivered him down.

He grumbled, picked up the closest object he could find, a partially broken mop stick, and walked slowly over to the back door.

He pushed the door open just enough to peek outside.

And that’s when he saw it.
~ ~ A couple upturned crates. A huge, oddly dented metal trash. Something—or someone—groans from beneath a collapsed stack of a metal container, as if something had just fallen down.

His tired eyes scanned the area—then stopped.

Right there, in the dull glow of the motel’s flickering neon sign, two bodies lay in a crumpled heap on top of a dented garbage can. Their skin was pale and gleaming with sweat—or blood—and their limbs were entwined awkwardly, Well... technically, one was on the other. Their bodies were covered with scratches and marks from the fall, and they were both naked.

At first, the old man’s brain tried to make sense of it the normal way. “Drunk couple. Fell from the damn motel window. Probably some weird sex thing.”But then—The man on top moved.
Not the kind of movement you’d expect—no groaning in pain, no struggling to stand up. Rather, his head twitched up in an unfamiliar way. His jaw moved a bit, and his eyes, which were lifeless and milky white, focused on the woman below.

The old man blinked.

The man's jaw moved slowly as his face was buried in the woman's neck.
Not kissing. Not even having S&M sex where it's not even seem like the Master is taking the pleasure out of the Slave partner. 

It's more horrible and feels like Eating.
~ The man was eating her.

He sank his teeth deep into her neck.

The old man didn’t blink. Didn’t move. Just stood there, staring.

He was trying to understand the things: One second. Two seconds. Three—Then, finally—"……The hell?""Ain't no way in hell I’m dealing with this tonight."

He stood there for a second, scratching his head.
Then, finally, he muttered: "Ain't my business."
And walked right back inside.

After he closed the door, he paused for a while.

The old man was standing with his back against the door and his fingers gripping the door, Exhaling as if he had just seen his dead dreams. his fingers were trembling, He drew his cigarette slowly and lit it.

"No. Not at all. Not my problem." 

However, his mind refused to let it go. There was more to what had happened than just a couple in a drugged-out motel acting strangely. That bite. That sound. That expression of dead eyes.

The old man moved back inside and looked at the Yuki who was slouched on a chair with one leg resting on another chair and the table in front of the Yuki was filled with dozens of empty beverage cans.

"Oi." The old man called out the Yuki.~ No response

Taking a can off the table, the old man threw it at Yuki's head.

BONK.

The can bounced off his forehead.

"Ow—what the hell, old man?!" Yuki rubbed his head, he's obviously still intoxicated. "Damn,what was that? I barely felt that."

The old man walked back and forth, ignoring him. "We have a problem."

Yuki waved his hand lazily. "I assume that a woman once more voiced her displeasure about the expired cup noodles isn't that right? I told you, expiration dates are just suggestions."

The old man shook his head. "No, dammit! I just saw a naked dude eating a woman’s neck and there is  Blood everywhere, outside!"

Yuki blinked. "…Wait. Like, actually?"

The old man nodded, dead serious.

` Silence.` A long silence between them.

 Yuki was staring at him. "ey… old man! You look high as hell right now."

Yuki leaned forward. "Did you… did you smoke before I got here?"

The old man hesitated, then sighed. "Maybe. Just a little. Just to relax my nerves."

Yuki clapped his hands together. "AHA! And now you're out here seeing zombie porn in the alley? Damn, old man, what kinda stuff -- meth or cocaine stuffed with cannabis?"

The old man waved him off. "Never mind that. So… maybe I didn’t see anything."

Yuki smirked. "Or maybe—" He leaned in. "—you're still seeing it."

The old man squinted. "Don’t mess with me, kid"

Yuki choked on his beer, momentarily losing his senses. In a low voice, he asked, "Did you see that video that recently went viral—the one where someone is bagging up in the car?"

"............Totally felt like a zombie act?"

The old man smirked and stated, "You are just like your father, When it comes to taunt someone."

Old man paused for a while, "He really loved you alot...." Continued while glancing at him.

Yuki gave a small smile and stated in a low voice, “Yeah… he was always scared to leave, not because he feared death—but because he didn’t know how I’d live without him… and the truth is, neither did I.” 

His voice trembled slightly, eyes fixed on the ground as memories surfaced. “He carried all that pain... alone, just so I wouldn't have to. Never show it, never let it slip. He made the world feel normal, even when everything inside him was falling apart.”

He started sobbing—quietly, like a man lost in the voice of his father. All he could hear was his father's protective voice in frustration at his final moments.

"You are a loser... you are just nothing without me," the words rang in his ears. The voice grew heavier, sharper, more filled with guilt and grief. 

"You're just a wreck who doesn’t even know what life is. You just make things more complicated..." His breath hitched, and the tears began to fall—first slowly, then uncontrollably—streaming down his face as if each drop carried the weight of every unspoken apology, every misunderstood moment.

Every word and every memory shackled him,  Each sip of the wine scorched his throat, but it relieved the pain enough, Bottle after bottle—he drank, not to forget, but to feel less. His sobs, once silent, now broke out in loud.

The world outside blurred. Time passed

Then—
BAM! BAM! BAM!

~ A loud banging echoed from the back door.

Yuki didn’t flinch. His head hung over the edge of the table, and his face was similar to someone who had drunk far past their limit.

"Ugh... shut up already..." The gruff voice came from the old man slumped beside him, barely still in consciousness.

BAM! BAM—SCRAAAAATCH!
~ The door trembled.

Outside the shattered frosted glass, shadows moved and twitched like shattered marionettes.

"What the hell!" the old man growled under his breath, gripping the edge of the table to steady himself. Empty bottles rattled and clinked.

His chair screeched back and tipped over as he stood. He moved towards the sound. 

As the beating continued, this time more loudly—
BAM! BAM! BAM!
But this time, it felt like somebody was slamming the door.

BAM! BAM! BAM!
The entire back wall shuddered now, like something was about to break through it.

SCRAAAAATCH—CLANK!
The metal hinges screamed as he yanked the door open.

Then—
He froze watching them.

Seven... maybe ten. Like marionettes handled by someone who was high on sugar, they were all hunched, twitching, and moving with strange, broken spasms(abnormal muscle constraint). Their skin had a sickly greenish hue—pale in some places, rotted in others. Beneath their torn flesh, veins glowed dimly, bulging like dark vines across their cheeks, arms, and legs.

Some were half-naked, covered in fresh wounds, their skin smeared with blood—but it wasn’t just theirs.

One woman, topless, her ribs visible through her thin, discoloured skin, screamed like a beast and lunged forward, stopping inches from the limit.

The old man stumbled back.
Eyes wide. Mouth quivering.
“Wh-what the... what the FUCK?!”

Then—

One of them snapped its neck sideways, with a grotesque CRACK, and moved forward.

Stamping. screams. 

BAM!

The old man was slammed to the ground and crushed beneath the half-naked person covered in blood. He stuck his teeth on the old man's neck, Like leeches feeding on the blood, he totally sank his teeth on his neck.

the old man spit beer and blood when he coughed, thrashing his arms in pain.

Some crawled right over him—

Their green, vein-riddled bodies twitched as they scurried past—
Eyes glowing, mouths foaming—
Toward the dark corner of the store…

Where Yuki sat.

“Yuki!” the old man bellowed, trying to crawl away, wild-eyed, mouth spilled with blood, as the zombie thrusting its teeth over the neck.

They moved closer to Yuki......

But Yamada…
Face down on the floor, snoring with a stupid grin.
Completely drunk. Utterly useless.

One of the zombies fell over him. Then another. And another.
Suddenly, they were crawling all over Yamada, their limbs scratching across his back, neck.

His grin twitched.

His eyes blinked open—bloodshot and unfocused.

“...the hell... get off..."

A zombie snarled right next to his ear.

Yamada’s expression shifted—sober enough to realize something was horribly wrong.

“HUHHH?!”

He sprung up, flinging two of them backward like rag dolls, slamming them against the shelves. Bottles shattered. Glass sprayed.

Another one moved towards him—he punched it in the jaw.

Then— 

A zombie tackled him from behind, smashing him down the aisle, crashing into crates and boxes.

He rolled, kicking wildly—panic in his face.

“GET OFF ME!”

One grabbed his wrist and sank its teeth into his hand.
Blood gushed. Yamada screamed, tossing the zombie into the wall.

Panting, stumbling—he ran, holding his bleeding hand, crashing through a door near the back.

SLAM!

He locked it.
Shoved a broken shelf in front.

Silence—except for his ragged breath and the wet squelch of blood dripping to the floor.

He slumped against the wall.

His hand—twitching. Turning green. Veins pulsing.

“Shit... shit... what is this…”

His breath hitched. Eyes widened.

his reflection in a cracked mirror showed one of his eyes had turned bright red, glowing faintly like the monsters outside.

“No… no no no…”

He stumbled back—tripped over something.

A bottle. A dusty, untouched bottle of aged wine. Still sealed. Without thinking—he grabbed it, popped the cork with his teeth, and chugged, He drank it. Gulp by Gulp.

Then… The red glow in his eye flickered— And slowly, faded. He gasped. Blinking. His eyes returned to normal. “…What the hell is happening to her..."

he lost consciousness....