Apocalypse: King of Zombies

Logan paced through the woods just outside of town, his mind spinning with the same question over and over.

After a while, he spotted a crowd of zombies up ahead, all swaying and jerking to some unseen rhythm.

Right in the middle of them stood Elegy, clutching her guitar. She strummed out a fiery riff, her raspy voice belting out a high-energy tune:

"Come on, lose control, it's a midnight show!"

"Feel the beat in your bones, let it take your soul!"

"You don't need to fight—just dance, scream, hi hi hi!"

"...."

At the same time, the whole vibe crew was in place—black mist curling up from the ground, vines swaying in the background, and pink petals drifting down like confetti.

The zombie horde was hyped. After all, they'd just unlocked the highest achievement in undead America—total domination. With no more Canadian zombies to fight, dancing was pretty much all they had left to do.

Logan walked past the scene, his quiet, brooding presence completely out of sync with the undead rave going on around him.

Among the crowd, two figures stood out: the hulking Bulldozer and Logan's own zombie underling, Rebar.

Both were brute-force types, not exactly known for deep thinking, but maybe that's why they got along so well. They were having a blast together.

"Eh?"

Rebar caught sight of Logan out of the corner of his eye. He immediately noticed something was off—Logan looked... down.

"Boss, we wiped out those Canadian zombies. No more deadheads messing with us. Why the long face?"

"I've got a problem," Logan said slowly, his voice low.

Rebar's glowing eyes widened. That wouldn't do. "Boss, c'mon, tell me what it is. I'll help you fix it."

"You... probably can't," Logan muttered, shaking his head. This wasn't something brute strength could solve.

But Rebar wasn't giving up. "Boss, just say it! How do you know I can't help if you don't tell me?"

Logan looked up at him. Honestly, at this point, everyone in the horde probably knew he had a thing for Awan. It was the worst-kept secret among the undead. And if he failed at confessing... well, maybe it'd be time to leave this world behind anyway.

So really, what was there to hide?

"I need to confess my feelings to Awan."

"Oh..." Rebar nodded, his expression surprisingly neutral. Then he tilted his head and asked, "Confess... what does that mean?"

"..." Logan's face went blank. Of course. Rebar's brain hadn't evolved enough to grasp something as complicated as romance.

So telling him was pointless.

Just then, Bulldozer lumbered over, having overheard the conversation. "Rebar, seriously? You don't even know what confessing means? And you're offering to help?"

"What? You know what it means?" Rebar asked, totally lost.

"Of course I do," Bulldozer said proudly, thumping his chest. "It means... someone's skin is really pale."

"Yeah, yeah, that makes sense. Awan's skin is pretty pale," Rebar agreed immediately.

Logan slapped a hand to his forehead. He was officially done. Why had he even bothered telling these two?

But just then, Big Ears squeezed his way out of the zombie crowd. With his sharp hearing, he'd caught the whole conversation. A sly, confident grin spread across his face.

"Confession? You came to the right guy. I've got a whole professional planning team."

"For real?" Logan turned to him, skeptical.

Big Ears wasn't exactly known for his combat skills, but his evolved intelligence—especially his emotional smarts—had made him a big deal in the zombie world. Maybe he actually could help.

"So tell me," Logan said quickly. "How should I do it?"

Big Ears' eyes sparkled as he glanced toward the dancing horde. He tapped his chin, thinking for a moment, then grinned and nodded toward the scene.

"You hear that music? See the flowers? It's all right there, ready to go. You picking up what I'm putting down?"

Logan blinked. "Wait... what do you mean?"

He was totally lost.

Big Ears slapped his thigh in frustration. "A confession's gotta have music and flowers, duh!"

"For real?" Logan asked, surprised. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

"But the problem is... I can't sing."

"Then learn!" Big Ears shot back like it was the most obvious thing in the world. He turned and shouted toward the zombie rave behind him, "Alright, everybody pause the party! Logan's about to confess to a human—someone teach him how to sing!"

"What? He's confessing?!"

"What does that even mean?"

"No clue, but sounds juicy..."

"..."

The horde erupted into chatter. Some of them got it, some didn't, but everyone was curious.

Logan sighed. Great. Now his confession was officially public undead knowledge.

But whatever. At this point, there was no turning back.

Soon, the Zombie Kings gathered around, all tossing out ideas, brainstorming how a zombie could confess his love to a human. They were weirdly into it—maybe because it was something new, something different.

Elegy, especially, took it seriously. She even gave Logan one-on-one singing lessons.

And so, for the next few days, the forest rave was put on hold. Instead, the woods echoed with the sounds of Logan's... let's call it "singing"—a mix of howls, growls, and the occasional off-key screech. It was like a werewolf karaoke night gone wrong.

...

Time passed, and the three-day deadline was almost up.

That night, the stars shimmered above, and the moon hung full and bright, casting silver light across the snow-covered ground. It was so bright, it almost looked like daytime.

Ethan and Logan stood at the edge of the village, boots crunching softly in the snow.

"I'm heading out to find the Star Map tablet," Ethan said.

Logan nodded. "Got it. Most of Canada's overrun by Mutant Vampire Zombies now. There could be hundreds of thousands of them. You'll need to stay sharp."

"I know," Ethan replied. The intel Logan mentioned had already surfaced in the memories of the Pied King. It was clear now—those territories belonged to The Crimson Count. And sooner or later, the two most powerful Zombie Kings were bound to clash.

Logan gave a final nod, exhaled slowly, and turned back toward the village. "Alright. I'm going to confess."

"Go get her," Ethan said.

Logan stepped into the moonlight, his figure cloaked in silver as he walked across the snow, the soft crunch of his footsteps fading into the night.

Outside the village, a group of Zombie Kings had gathered—Elegy, Petal, Big Ears, and a few others. They were huddled together, eyes gleaming with gossip-fueled excitement as they peered toward the small town.

"He actually went."

"Think he'll pull it off?"

"No idea. But honestly, even if he fails, I doubt the boss'll kill him. He's just so... awkward. We figured we'd help speed things up a little."

"For real?"

"..."

Meanwhile, Logan had reached Awan's front door. Through the window, he could see the soft, golden glow of lamplight inside. The warmth of it stood in stark contrast to the cold, brutal world outside. It was the kind of peaceful scene you almost never saw anymore.

He took a breath, steadied himself, and stepped inside.

Awan was sitting by the lamp, threading a needle through a piece of beautifully patterned fur. Her face was calm, focused, and lit with a quiet grace.

When she noticed Logan walk in, she turned and gave him a bright, gentle smile.

"Logan? It's so late—what brings you here?"

"I just wanted to check on you," Logan said, his voice a little rough. "Are you making something for Ethan again?"

Awan shook her head, still smiling. "Nope. This one's for you..."

...