The last thing Rangga Siregar remembered before the world ended was the stench of piss from the second-floor drainpipe and a bank balance that was only enough for a plate of Nasi Padang with a single potato fritter The boarding house inherited from his late grandfather—“Kos Pusako”—was more of an architectural miracle than a building, mostly because it was a mystery how the two-story wooden shack hadn't collapsed in a stiff breeze yet. Rangga had just finished tightening the last bolt on a leaky faucet when the first scream shattered the quiet of a Jakarta afternoon.It wasn’t a normal scream. It was raspy, wet, and ended with the sound of bones being crunched.Rangga peered out from his dusty louvered window. Down below, on the cracked asphalt, Pak Amrin Tanjung—the neighbor who usually just sat on his porch smoking—was sprinting like an Olympic athlete. Behind him, three men were in hot pursuit.Wait, they weren't just running. They were crawling, scaling car hoods, and leaping at s

For a solid three seconds, the only sounds in the bunker were the deafening THUD-THUD-THUD of the giant mutant zombie hammering against the outer steel door, and the dripping of dirty mop water from Zahara’s designer blazer.Zahara stared at Rangga. Her brain, highly trained in hostile corporate takeovers and underworld assassinations, literally stopped working."Clean... the floor?" she whispered. Her voice was dangerously quiet. The kind of quiet that usually preceded someone ending up at the bottom of the Jakarta Bay in a cement sleeping bag."Yeah," Rangga said, leaning back in his cheap plastic chair, completely unbothered by the fact that the ceiling was vibrating. "And the broken mug. Don't step on the glass, it's a pain to pick out of your soles.""THERE IS A MUTANT FREAK TRYING TO TEAR THIS BUILDING APART!" Zahara finally exploded. Her voice echoed off the titanium walls, raw and unhinged. She pointed a trembling, perfectly manicured finger at the hologram screen. "AND

Rangga leaned closer to the microphone. "I don't think you understand how renting works, man. The landlord holds the keys. Also, you're loitering. I’m going to have to ask you to step off the grass. Well, the asphalt."Zahara grabbed Rangga’s arm. Her grip was surprisingly strong, her nails digging into his skin. The baggy sleeves of her "REBAHAN 4 LYFE" t-shirt slipped down, but her eyes were all Ice Queen."Rangga, stop joking," she hissed, her voice frantic but low. "That’s Rizal. He’s not bluffing. He’s got two modified armored SUVs out there and at least ten heavily armed men. If they have RPG-7s with tandem warheads, they can crack a Level 1 bunker door with enough repeated hits."Rangga looked at her, raising an eyebrow. "Tandem warheads? You guys brought anti-tank weapons to a corporate takeover?""We're a mafia syndicate! What did you think we used, strongly worded emails?!" she snapped."Time's up," Rizal’s voice echoed outside. He turned to one of his men holding a long, ol

"I'm done," Siska sniffled, wiping her nose with the back of her wrist. "The bowl is sparkling. Can I have some food now? I haven't eaten since yesterday."Rangga didn't even look up from the screen. "Inspection time, Head Maid."Zahara smoothly slid two perfectly cooked eggs onto a ceramic plate. She wiped her hands on her apron, her eyes locking onto Siska. The terrifying 'CEO-turned-Domestic-Enforcer' aura flared up instantly."If I find a single speck of grime on that porcelain, Siska, I am going to make you scrub it again with your toothbrush," Zahara said coldly, marching past her toward the bathroom.Siska shuddered, wrapping her arms around herself. Once Zahara was out of sight, she looked over at Rangga. Her eyes darted around the luxurious, expanded bunker. She saw the smart fridge, the warm lights, the soft sofa bed, and the absolute safety of the titanium walls.Old habits die hard.Siska puffed out her chest, pushed her messy hair over her shoulder, and walked over to t