Chapter 1 — Boom

Chapter 1 — Boom

I always thought my death would be tragic.

Like, slow-motion, dramatic music, someone crying my name in the rain.

Not me sitting on a broken rooftop, smoking the last cigarette in the world while zombies scream downstairs.

Figures.

The sky’s on fire, the city’s gone, and my parents are probably still arguing about whether it’s my fault.

Spoiler: it kinda was.

I flick the lighter again — click, click, click — until the flame finally catches.

“Congrats, Lexi,” I mumble, taking a drag. “You survived sixteen years just to end up as zombie chow.”

Down below, I can hear them — the moaning, the scratching, the sound of teeth on metal.

Gross.

One of them used to be my chemistry teacher.

Guess she finally found her element: brainium.

I laugh. The world’s ending and I’m still making bad jokes.

Typical me.

I glance at the small detonator in my hand.

A single red button. I found it in a military truck an hour ago.

Someone scribbled on it in marker: “LAST OPTION.”

Last option, huh?

Sounds about right.

I take another drag, blowing smoke into the burning air.

“I never liked this city anyway.”

The zombies are climbing now — dozens of them, crawling over each other to reach me.

Their skin peels, their eyes glow, and their hands are inches from my shoes.

I could run.

I could scream.

I could… not.

Instead, I smile. A stupid, reckless, sixteen-year-old smile.

“Guess I’ll go out my way.”

I press the button.

For a second, nothing happens. Then everything happens.

The sound is beyond sound — just a deafening white noise that eats the world.

Heat swallows the air. Buildings crumble. The sky turns into liquid fire.

The last thing I see is the flash reflecting off my lighter.

And then—

black.

Silence.

Something cold hits my face.

Water? No — it’s someone’s voice.

“Lexi! Wake up! You’re drooling on your desk again.”

I blink.

Desk?

My head jerks up.

Bright classroom lights. Posters about algebra. A teacher writing equations.

No smoke. No zombies. No fire.

Just… school.

“What the hell—?” I whisper.

“Language,” says Mrs. Carver from the front, giving me that teacher death stare.

My brain short-circuits. Mrs. Carver’s alive.

Alive and lecturing about quadratic functions.

I glance around.

The windows aren’t shattered. The sky isn’t burning.

And my best friend, Maddy, is beside me, doodling hearts in her notebook.

Maddy.

Who literally got eaten in front of me two years ago.

My hand starts shaking.

I touch my hair — shorter. My clothes — middle school uniform.

On the whiteboard, there’s a date: April 3rd. Two years before the outbreak.

No.

No freaking way.

I slap my cheek. It hurts.

“Lexi?” Maddy says. “You okay? You look like you saw a ghost.”

I laugh. A tiny, hysterical laugh.

“Oh, it’s worse,” I say, staring at the clock ticking too slowly.

“I saw the end of the world.”

Mrs. Carver clears her throat. “Care to share with the class?”

I lean back in my chair, smirking.

“Nah,” I say. “They wouldn’t believe me anyway.”

But inside, one thought keeps screaming:

Ten days. I’ve got ten days before it all starts again.

And this time she must survive?

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