The silence following the man’s collapse was worse than the screaming. It was a thick, suffocating quiet that made Jaka’s ears ring. He looked down at the empty plastic bowl, then at his hands, which were stained with soy sauce and what he prayed was just regular motor oil."Okay, Jaka. Deep breaths," he muttered, grabbing the handles of his cart. "The man just wanted extra chili. He wasn't a monster. He was a critic with really low blood sugar. That’s it. That’s the logical explanation."He hauled the cart, the squeaky wheel protesting loudly against the asphalt. He needed to get to the main road, or at least somewhere that didn't smell like a rotting dumpster fire."Move, you piece of junk," Jaka grunted, his feet skidding on loose gravel. "If we get out of this, I’m getting you new wheels. Maybe some fancy rims. You’ve earned it, old girl."From the shadows of a nearby convenience store, Kanya watched. Her hand hovered over the holster of her service pistol, her knuckles white. She

The scraping of the broom against the asphalt was surprisingly rhythmic. The giant—whom Jaka had taken to calling ‘Bambang’ for lack of a better name—swept the debris with the focus of a zen monk."You know, for an apocalyptic engine of destruction, he’s got really good follow-through on his strokes," Jaka remarked, dusting off his apron.Kanya kept her hand near her holster, her eyes darting toward the alley entrance. "He’s a cleaning machine, Jaka. It’s creepy. But we have bigger problems. My radio is picking up movement. It’s not the Afflicted, though. These are human signatures.""People?" Jaka perked up. "Finally! I’ve been trying to conduct market research on zombies for hours, but they’re terrible at giving feedback. Do you think they’re hungry? I’ve got enough base for a decent soto.""Don't get your hopes up," Kanya warned. "If it’s the sector scavengers, they aren't looking for a meal. They’re looking for gear."The shadow at the alley’s mouth deepened. Two men stepped into

The golden pulse beneath the cracked concrete flickered, rhythmically beating like a giant, subterranean heart. Jaka stood motionless, his spatula hovering inches above the simmering wok."Kanya, are you seeing this?" Jaka whispered, his voice cracking. "My cart is vibrating. It’s like it’s trying to dance."Kanya leaned over the side of the cart, her hand resting on her holster, her eyes darting between the glowing fissures and the encroaching shadows of the Heights. "I see it, Jaka. And I don’t like it. It’s not just the ground; it’s the air. The temperature is dropping."Bambang the giant tilted his massive head, his milky eyes fixed on the pavement. He knelt, pressing a calloused palm to the glowing crack. He looked up at Jaka and grunted a soft, rhythmic sound."He thinks it’s hungry," Jaka said, wiping sweat from his brow with a stained apron. "Great. My cart is a beacon for the neighborhood's supernatural plumbing. Do you think I should feed it a bit of nasi? Maybe a side of ex

The golden light of the subterranean kitchen bathed the pristine, copper-clad counters in an ethereal glow. Jaka stood in the center of the space, his jaw nearly touching the floor. He ran a hand over a wall-mounted rack of knives that looked sharp enough to slice through a dimension."Kanya, are you seeing this?" Jaka whispered, his eyes wide. "That’s a flash-freeze blast chiller. And is that… a convection oven with a built-in sous-vide module? This isn't just a kitchen. This is a culinary paradise."Kanya kept her pistol leveled at the shadows, her eyes scanning the corners of the cavernous, gleaming room. "It looks like a laboratory, Jaka. A very expensive, very weird laboratory. Keep your guard up.""Oh, relax, Miss Security," Jaka said, already reaching for a bottle of aged vinegar he found on a nearby shelf. "If I had a kitchen this nice, I’d be too busy perfecting my emulsions to worry about world-ending threats."Before Kanya could respond, a figure stepped out from behind a m

Jaka slammed a heavy stainless-steel ledger onto the marble-topped prep island, a thick cloud of accumulated dust billowing into the stale, damp air of the subterranean kitchen. He coughed, waving his hand to clear the gray haze before adjusting his chef’s coat, which was already looking entirely too clean for an abandoned subway station."Well," Jaka announced, sweeping his arms out wide with theatrical flair, "if we judge our survival purely by the standards of high-end gastronomy, we are sitting on a goldmine. If we judge it by things like eating actual food, we are currently in a very expensive, very shiny starvation trap."Kanya didn't look up from where she was meticulously field-stripping her sidearm on an adjacent counter. The sharp clack of metal components hitting the steel surface punctuated the heavy silence of the cavernous room. "Skip the dramatic culinary monologue, Jaka. Just tell me what we actually have to work with before the scouts from the Heights figure out where