- It was fun.

  - Now it isn’t.

  - I don’t know how, but I think I attracted too many. Like they multiplied. Like something’s changed.

  ---

  I woke up to the sound of groaning. Not one. Not two. A chorus.

  At first, I thought I was dreaming. Maybe I'd left the window open again and the wind was messing with my head. But then I heard something fall downstairs. Something heavy.

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  A week ago, I was running drills in my underwear and turning doors into gym equipment. Now I’m hiding behind a flimsy bookshelf in a half-finished treehouse while at least a dozen zombies patrol below.

  It’s like they sniffed out the cocky idiot in boxer shorts.

  I thought I was being smart. Fast. Strong. And yeah, I was. But I forgot the part where being alive makes you a target no matter how clever you think you are.

  Maybe they followed my scent. Maybe the noise of my “training” carried farther than I realized. Or maybe… they just knew.

  Something about the way they move now—it’s not just aimless shuffling. They linger. They test things. One even tried climbing the tree, half-falling as it grabbed a branch like it remembered how.

  I almost laughed. Almost.

  Instead, I packed my shit. Quietly. Left the Nest in the dead of night, shoes tied tight, crowbar in hand. I didn’t even look back.

  The Nest was never meant to be permanent. But I treated it like it was. I was breaking a lot of my tips, for what? A high?

  I miss laughing. But I miss breathing more.