Astral Hoarder: Embrace of Malevolence

Zimo took a deep breath, gripping another pen in his hand. A pen had saved him before, and though it felt ridiculous, it was his only weapon now.

He stepped cautiously deeper into the store. The scent of pastries and spilt coffee hit him, a bittersweet reminder of the life that used to bustle here and still would have been bustling here if it wasn't for those meddling kids called the zombies.

This was where he used to buy coffee, chatting briefly with the smiling barista who always remembered his order. She smiled at him and offered good conversation, unlike the people he was used to back at his job. There was also the coffee shop lady, the one who had gotten killed earlier Ahe was completely dead by then though. He was the only one looking for the other one though. He wondered where she was.

The memory tugged at Zimo's heart, but he quickly shoved it away. There was no room for sentimentality anymore, not in a world like this. If she was alive… Zimo would try to negotiate with her. If she was dead… Then Zimo would pray for her Soul.

Just then, the soft shuffle of feet drew his attention to the back of the shop. His body tensed. He could see her now, the barista. Or what was left of her?

Her apron was smeared with dark stains, her once-kind eyes clouded over with that awful milky haze. And her body was... messed up by bite marks that seemed to have come from her employer. She looked horrid.

She turned towards him, tilting her head unnaturally as if trying to remember who he was. But Zimo knew for sure. She did not remember anything. She was just looking to see which part of him to bite first. After all, he must look so tasty. He saw on Social media how a mother forgot their kids, and people forget their friends after turning into these things. She would never remember anything about him.

"Don't do this," he muttered under his breath, though he knew it was futile. His words weren't for her; they were for himself. Thinking about the lady who would hand him his coffee with a smile, Zimo shook his head. He was not ready to kill her.

How could he be ready to kill her? She had been so nice to him.

"Grahh!!" Suddenly, she lunged at him with a guttural snarl, her claw-like hands outstretched. Damn it! Zimo dodged instinctively, the adrenaline kicking in before his mind could catch up. 

She stumbled, her face smashing against the counter's ledge with a sickening crack. Seeing this, Zimo knew that he finally had an opportunity. There was no time to hesitate.

He winced as he grabbed her head and slammed it against the counter again. The impact echoed in the empty shop. She jerked back, her hands searching for him as a low growl rumbled from her throat. Zimo watched her with a face that had more disgust for himself than for her, once again slamming her head on the ledge before finally, seeing her attempt to scratch at him with her blackened hands, he let her go. 

Looking at her from above, he saw that her disfigured face was twisted in fury. For a moment, Zimo froze, staring into the distorted thing that used to be human.

Zimo knew that he had already had a few opportunities to kill her. But he chose not to because somehow, he thought he could wake her up by slamming her head on there. But now that he saw her there growling as she looked up at him, Zimo stared at her, his stomach sinking, as he finally made a decision.

Her second lunge broke him from his trance. He acted on pure instinct, driving the pen into her temple with all the strength he could muster, making it splurt out blood with a *Plscht!* And this time he was completely ready for it since he knew what was going to happen after getting experience with it earlier. e released it and watched as she fell onto the floor in slow motion.

"Ggkhh… Gaahh…" After releasing a few more sounds, she went still, her body crumpling to the floor in a lifeless heap. The pen stuck out at an odd angle as if it were some flag on the surface of the moon.

At that moment, ZImo thought of how funny that joke was. Planting a flag on the moon was like marking his territory, right? He was marking his territory right then too right? He had conquered this place after killing her. 

Zimo staggered back, his breathing ragged. "I'm sorry," he whispered. He wasn't sure if he was apologizing to her, to himself, or to the version of the world that had died alongside her. He had killed another person. He could not turn back. Not now, not ever.

This might be the third time he felt something die inside of him. And he did not like that feeling.

The show was quiet now, again. And it was everything except for the old refrigerator and the units that kept the pastries warm that were all still operating. 

Zimo wiped his hands on his jeans, the stickiness of blood and sweat clinging to him like a second skin. It was so disgusting. He genuinely needed some time to deal with this. 

Glancing at the display case, where cakes still sat, their bright colours dulled by a layer of grime, Zimo felt himself gulp. He had not eaten in so many hours... His stomach growled, loud and insistent. And then when he turned his head, only to see the barista with her head still bleeding black blood, he felt that same stomach that growled only a moment before begin lurching.

Damn it...

He would eat, but first, he had to clean up. He couldn't eat while she lay there. Especially not in such a compromised condition with her ass up in the air like she was waiting for some mating manoeuvre. Even if she was wearing jeans, it still looked messed up, like Zimo had placed her like that because he wanted to do something to her dead body.

Why the hell was he even thinking of that kind of stuff? 

Sighing, Zimo dusted himself off. Dragging her body to the corner, he did his best to cover her with a stained tablecloth. It wasn't much, but it felt like the least he could do. He even fixed her body, making sure she looked decent. Too bad the hole in her head was still bleeding even after he put her hair over it. Zimo made sure not to touch her too much this time too and by the end of it, there was a ton of black stuff on the floor beside her.

But as he stood there, he had an idea... should he open her up to find that blue thing? He had never seen what it was. But soon enough Zimo shook his head. If he was ever going to do it, he would rather it be someone he didn't know. 

When he finally stood, his knees trembled from exhaustion. But he needed to eat. It was more important now. After all, if he did not eat, he would leave his body weakened against threats and that would lead to him getting overwhelmed by powerful hordes of zombies in the future.

Zimo returned to the counter and pried open the case, grabbing a slice of cake with his bare hands. The sugary frosting felt alien against his skin, but when he bit into it, the sweetness was almost overwhelming. He ate mechanically, staring at the covered body in the corner occasionally.

This was the world now. This was the situation. Whatever this was. "This isn't living," he muttered to himself. But it was survival, and for now, that had to be enough.

Taking another bite, Zimo felt his sense of taste return to him. Okay. as long as he managed to take it day by day, then everything else would make sense in the future. One day he would thrive. One day everything would come together. He just had to make it to that day.

— Back at the Webstorm Tech Building —

The mood here was anything but sweet. In actuality, it was sombre and complicated.

Jacques paced the room, his hands clenching and unclenching. He had been watching Zimo's every move with the building's cameras, hoping for the worst. 

But then, when Zimo ran out and dashed at the zombies and continued running even while being chased by Zombies from all sides, only to kill one of those things and then hop over them, and continue running, reaching safety, everyone, even he was thoroughly impressed.

The bastard had made it. Jacques' jaw tightened, his mind racing with possibilities. He was still alive. He didn't know why, but he felt like Zimo's existence was always something that would threaten him and the others. He couldn't help but grit his teeth in annoyance. How the hell was he going to deal with this situation? 

Maya sat nearby, her arms crossed and her face contorted in disgust. "I can't believe he's still alive," she said, her voice dripping with venom. But she was quieter. After all, everyone was around. She couldn't afford to be heard by everyone. She could only be heard by Jacques who stood beside her and shared the same sentiment. After all, they had worked together to make his life hell in all this time.

Jacques smirked, an idea forming in his mind. He leaned close to her, lowering his voice. "What if we use him? He's out there, in the thick of it. And he's got access to supplies. Food, refreshments... things we'll need when this place runs dry."

Maya raised an eyebrow, intrigued but sceptical. "And you think he'll just hand it over? He's not exactly your biggest fan, Jacques. Nor is he mine. I mean… he just got fired because of us after all."

Jacques shrugged. "He doesn't have a choice. If he wants to stay on our good side, he'll cooperate. After all, he's just one man. If we pressure him, we can win. Besides, we can sweeten the deal. You don't think that this Zombie situation will last forever, do you?"

Maya was pensive for a moment, before she nodded, "You're right. We could offer him his job back if he cooperates. If this zombie situation ends he will not want to ruin things between us."

Jacques nodded, although in his head he was thinking differently. After all, he was not going to let things remain like that. He knew that the military was not going to let the situation stay like that. But to convince Maya and a few more people, he needed them to see something like this. "Imagine if we manage to get him a better salary. More benefits… He'll take it." 

Maya rolled her eyes but smiled. "You're such a manipulative bastard."

Jacques grinned, the wheels in his head turning. He turned to Rob, the department's manager. "Rob, why don't we send someone to get him? Or at least contact him? He can't ignore us forever. After all, he has access to food now, and that food is not his. It belongs to anyone who is still alive. We're all humans. We all need to work together in this time."

Rob's eyes went wide when he heard this. This nephew of his was full of good ideas. He had gotten in good with the executives because of him. But still, there was a problem... Rob hesitated, glancing around the room. "Does anyone even have his number?"

Silence. Nobody even spoke to Zimo. After all, they did not want to be associated with the resident shit eater and this was made apparent by the fact that they all were looking around as if they expected others to have something there.

Maya shrugged. "I deleted it ages ago. Him and I… He tried to befriend me. But the moment I realised he had hidden intentions, I immediately backed off from him. He disgusts me."

Jacques cursed under his breath. "Great. So how do we reach him?"

Silence once again. And then in the next moment, Someone spoke up. One of the interns, a scrawny man with glasses, spoke up timidly. "Why not call the store? He might still be there."

The room fell silent as everyone turned to look at him. Jacques' eyes gleamed. "You're a genius. What's your name?"

"Felix, sir. We speak every day, sir…"

"Right Felix! That was a great idea. Let's do it."

— Back in the Corner Coffee Shop —

In the shop, Zimo had started rummaging through the back room. He wasn't sure what he was looking for—anything useful, he supposed. He found a half-empty box of bottled water, some canned goods, and a small first-aid kit. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing.

Since this was a bakery and coffee shop, he found some more tools, some cutters, knives, and other things. He found a bag there and he took everything, looking to use it later on. Any tools and food he found were incredibly important to him. He needed to have it all, to use it all. And he would start here.

As he packed the supplies into a backpack he found behind the counter, the faint sound of a phone ringing reached his ears. He froze, his heart skipping a beat. Who the hell was calling?

Was it some supplier? Why now… Wait. Maybe it was a family member of one of the owners. Or maybe the employees… Maybe it was the barista's family.

Zimo felt his knees almost go weak at the thought of that. What was he supposed to say? Uh… I killed your sister. Sorry. Oh, by the way, I'm currently at the store, ransacking everything, taking it all for myself. Oh don't mind me, you're good. You can come over and take the body anytime. Yeah, no, I'm not touching that thing. Okay, thanks for calling. Buh-bye!

Fuck no.

Cautiously, he made his way back to the front of the store. The landline on the counter blinked, its shrill ring piercing the silence. And then when ZImo looked out there, he realised a problem. The Zombies might hear it. Damn it. He needed to do this... But what if...

Against his better judgment, he picked up the receiver. "Hello?" he said, his voice hoarse, expecting the worst. But little did he realise, it was even worse than what he had expected.