The Last Zombie

For twenty years, I was one of the million founders. Our pact—$100 a month from each man—built a $100 million monthly treasury, financing a 10,000-acre paradise. We built arcologies and a perimeter lethal to zombies. I left our $24 billion genesis.

My family understood. I took the Aegis Mark X exosuit, a plated titan making the wearer invincible. Outside the gate, I let sprinters claw harmlessly at its shell. Their threat was neutralized.

But the suit cannot synthesize food or water. In this kingdom of rot, I survive on found beans and risky water, deliberately sharpening myself on hunger and isolation. I orbit the citadel we built, fighting for humanity breath by breath in the ruins, to remember the cost of the comfort we walled away.