Sweet Apocalypse System

Chapter 4

The pungent smell of ammonia stung their noses, mixing with the sharp aroma of bleach. Inside the cramped janitor's closet, Boby was acting like a mad wizard concocting a potion of death in a blue plastic mop bucket.

"Are you sure this is going to explode? Or just make the floor shiny?" Irene asked skeptically. She stood in front of the door, bracing the handle with her back. Outside, the sound of banging and zombie growls grew more brutal. The wood of the door was already beginning to crack in the middle.

"This isn't for mopping, Feisty Lady," Boby replied, pouring a full bottle of toilet cleaner into the mixture. The liquid hissed, emitting a thin, yellowish smoke. "This is called Super Knock-off Chlorine Gas. A secret recipe for housewives who want to slowly kill their husbands. In high concentration in a closed room? This will blister their lungs and melt their eyes."

[System Notification: Detecting Dangerous Craftsmanship.]

[New Skill Unlocked: *Terrorist Wannabe* (Lv. 1)]

[Effect: Increases chemical blast radius by 10%.]

"Damn, that skill name has no class," Boby muttered. He tore off the sleeve of his doctor's coat, wet it with tap water, and handed it to Irene. "Here. Cover your nose and mouth. Don't breathe until we're out of the building. Unless you want to cough up blood until you die."

Irene accepted the cloth, giving Boby a new look. "Are you really a doctor? Or a terrorist disguised as a doctor?"

"I'm a doctor who got bored healing people, so now I'm healing the zombie population... with death," Boby tied the remaining wet cloth over his own face, then turned to Dogy. "Dog! Hold your breath! Wait, you're a dog, you can't be told. Just run fast when you smell this stuff!"

Dogy barked softly, as if understanding his owner was planning something stupid but effective.

"Ready?" Boby carefully lifted the bucket. The yellow smoke was getting thicker. "On three, you open the door, and we run toward the north emergency stairwell. Dogy leads, I'm in the middle, you cover my ass."

"Don't you dare order me around!" Irene protested, but she prepared herself nonetheless.

"One... Two..."

CRASH!

The door was broken down from the outside before the count of three. A zombie hand reached through, nearly scratching Irene's hair.

"THREE! OPEN IT NOW!" Boby yelled.

Irene jumped away, pulling the door wide open. Immediately, Boby hurled the contents of the blue bucket—the frothing, smoking chemical liquid—directly into the faces of the zombie crowd jammed in the hallway.

*SPLASH! HSSSSSS!*

The reaction was instant and horrifying.

A sizzling sound, like meat frying on a hot pan, filled the air. Thick yellow smoke immediately filled the narrow hallway. The zombies in the front row didn't scream in pain—because their nerves were dead—but their bodies reacted biologically. Their eyes melted, facial skin blistered and peeled, and most importantly: they began coughing violently because their respiratory systems (which were still technically functional) were burned out.

Chaos erupted. The front zombies fell, rolling over and blocking the ones behind them.

"RUN! DON'T BREATHE IT IN!" Boby yelled behind his mask, his voice muffled.

Dogy shot forward like a golden bullet, knocking down the legs of the zombies still standing, making them fall. Boby and Irene followed behind, running through the toxic smoke cloud, squinting their eyes which were starting to sting.

They ran down the second-floor corridor. Boby's vision was blurry, not just from the smoke, but because the effects of the Sugar Crash hadn't fully worn off. His legs felt heavy, as if he were wearing concrete shoes.

"Come on, Clown! Don't pass out now!" Irene grabbed the back of Boby's coat collar, dragging him to keep him running straight. Irene's right hand held the *karambit*, slashing the neck of a stray zombie that emerged from behind an office door.

*SLASH!*

"I'm... I'm not passing out... I'm just... enjoying the view..." Boby mumbled, his eyes focused on Irene's straight back running in front of him.

They reached the end of the corridor. The north emergency stairwell was in sight. But unfortunately, the stairwell door was locked with a large iron chain from the outside.

"Bastard! It's locked!" Irene yelled, kicking the door. It didn't budge.

Behind them, the chlorine smoke began to thin, and the horde of zombies that hadn't been directly affected started to chase. The sound of hundreds of undead feet shuffling made the building floor tremble.

"Boby! Think of something! You're the chemistry genius!" Irene snapped in a panic.

Boby looked around. No more chemicals. But his eyes caught something on the wall: a Fire Hydrant Box.

It wasn't the hose he saw, but the fire extinguisher tank hanging next to it.

"Move!" Boby grabbed the heavy red cylinder. He didn't have enough strength to lift it high.

[System: Detecting Heavy Object. Assistance Option: Use Adrenaline Reserve? Side Effect: Extreme Dizziness.]

[Y / N]

"YES!" Boby thought.

A small electric jolt ran through Boby's arms. He screamed, swinging the fire extinguisher tank with all his might toward the chain lock.

*CLANG!*

The padlock was dented, but not broken.

"Again! One more time!" Irene yelled, holding back two zombies that managed to get close with a spinning kick.

Boby gritted his teeth. "OPEN... YOU... DAMN... DOOR!"

*CLANG!*

The padlock broke. The chain fell off.

Irene immediately kicked the door open. "Get in! Go! Go!"

They scrambled into the stairwell, then Irene slammed the door shut and wedged it with the fire extinguisher tank.

*THUD! THUD!*

The door shook, but held fast.

"Down! To the *basement*!" Irene commanded.

They ran down the spiral staircase. Boby nearly tripped over his own feet multiple times. Dogy faithfully waited at every landing, making sure his owner didn't tumble down.

Reaching the lowest floor, Basement 2, the atmosphere was pitch black and damp. The foul smell of sewage was pungent.

"Over here," Irene whispered, turning on the small tactical flashlight mounted on her shoulder. "There's a storm drain that leads to the river outside. I surveyed this building once."

They walked quickly through the dark parking garage. The shadows of wrecked cars looked like sleeping monsters.

Suddenly, Dogy stopped. His ears were erect. He let out a low growl, the fur on his back standing straight up.

"What is it, Dog?" Boby whispered tensely.

*Scrape... Scrape...*

The sound of something being dragged across the concrete floor.

From behind a concrete pillar, a zombie figure emerged. But this one was different. He wore a security uniform, but his helmet had fused with his swollen head. His hand held a fire axe.

"Tanker Zombie... *Mini Boss* Type," Boby muttered.

[System Analysis: Medium Threat Level. Target has high physical defense. Weakness: Knee joints and fragile ego.]

The security zombie roared, then ran—faster than expected—swinging its axe toward Boby.

"Watch out!" Irene shoved Boby, sending him tumbling.

The axe slammed into the floor, sparking right where Boby had been standing.

Irene stepped forward, trying to stab the zombie's neck, but its skin was too tough and fatty. Irene's knife only grazed the surface. The zombie flicked its left hand, slapping Irene so hard she was thrown against a car hood.

"Ugh!" Irene groaned, her ribs aching.

The zombie raised its axe again, preparing to split Irene in half.

"HEY, FATTY!" Boby yelled.

The zombie turned its head.

Boby stood there, holding... a bottle of motorcycle chain lube he had found on top of a trash can.

"Slippery floor, please be careful!"

Boby sprayed the contents of the can onto the floor beneath the zombie's feet, then threw the can at the zombie's face as a distraction.

The zombie stepped forward angrily, but the soles of its boots hit the floor, which was now slick with oil. Physics took over. The zombie's feet slipped forward, its massive body lost balance, and it fell backward with a heavy crash.

*THUD!*

The back of its head struck the parking barrier with a loud cracking sound of bone. It wasn't dead, but the concussion (if it still had a brain) paralyzed it momentarily.

"Now, Ren! Stab its eye!" Boby yelled.

Irene wasted no time. She leaped onto the chest of the stunned zombie, then plunged her knife right into its left eye socket, piercing through to the back of the brain.

The zombie convulsed briefly, then went silent forever.

Irene stood up, breathing heavily. She stared at Boby, who was grinning while holding the lube can cap.

"Lube?" Irene asked incredulously. "You killed a zombie with lubricant?"

"Dual function, Miss. Good for engines, good for... *ahem*... making people fall. Don't let your mind wander," Boby replied, winking, even though cold sweat was soaking his face.

Irene shook her head, a faint smile playing on the corner of her lips—the first one she had shown. "Your brain is sharp, Clown. I'll give you that."

"Come on, the exit is over there," Irene pointed to a rusted iron grate in the corner of the parking lot.

They struggled to pry the grate open (with a little help from Dogy's pushing). Behind it was a dry sewer tunnel leading to sunlight at the far end.

They crawled inside, leaving the hellish building behind them.

***

**TIME SKIP: 2 HOURS LATER**

The atmosphere inside the dry sewer was quiet, broken only by the dripping of water from a leaky pipe. The late afternoon sun filtered through the manhole covers above, creating dusty shafts of light.

They sat leaning against the dry, mossy sewer wall. Far from the zombie crowds, at least for now.

Boby was examining the contents of Irene's utility pouch, which turned out to contain a mini first aid kit. He applied antiseptic to a scratch on Irene's arm.

"Shhh... Easy, idiot," Irene hissed.

"Watch your mouth, patient. I'm a professional doctor. This is a scratch from the wire when we entered, not a zombie bite. You're safe," Boby said, applying a bandage.

Dogy was curled up asleep near Irene's feet, snoring softly.

"You saved my life twice today," Irene said suddenly, her voice softer, less sharp than usual. She looked at Boby, who was tidying up the bandages. "And you look like the kind of person who runs fastest when there's trouble."

Boby chuckled. "I am a coward, Ren. I run the fastest. But... Dogy can't run alone. And I... I can't stand to see a beautiful girl die pointlessly. It would reduce the world's angel population."

Irene snorted, but her cheeks flushed slightly. She lightly punched Boby's shoulder. "Your pickup lines are trash. Expired like the chocolate you eat."

"But it made you smile, didn't it?"

The atmosphere was quiet for a moment, slightly awkward but warm. However, peace in the apocalypse was a luxury with a very short duration.

Suddenly, Dogy's nose twitched. His eyes snapped open. He didn't growl, but he whimpered softly, his tail tucked between his legs. A sign of pure fear.

Boby looked at Dogy, then at Irene. "What's wrong with him?"

Irene straightened up, her hand instinctively reaching for her knife. "Dogy is scared. He's never scared of regular zombies."

From the dark end of the tunnel, a sound was heard. Not shuffling footsteps. But the sound of *sniffing*.

*SNIFF... SNIFF...*

The sound was loud, wet, and drawn out. Like a vacuum cleaner sucking up snot.

"That..." Irene's face paled. "The smell of my blood... The wound is small, but the scent..."

[System Warning: Enemy Detected.]

[Type: CLASS C MUTANT - THE SNIFFER.]

[Description: Completely blind, but its sense of smell is 100x sharper than a dog's. It can smell menstruation from 1 KM away. It knows you are here.]

Boby swallowed hard. "The System says... we have an uninvited guest. One with a very sensitive nose."

The *sniffing* sound grew closer, faster. Accompanied by the sound of long claws scraping the concrete wall.

*SCRAATCH... SNIFF...*

"We have to move," Irene whispered, but Boby held her back.

"Don't move. It's blind," Boby whispered, trembling, reading the info on his hologram. "If we run, the sound will attract it. We have to... mask our scent."

Boby looked at the pile of rotten garbage and rat feces in the corner of the sewer. He looked at Irene.

"Ren... I apologize in advance."

"What?"

"We need a natural perfume bath." Boby pointed to the pile of filth.

Irene's eyes widened. "Don't be crazy."

*SNIFF!*

The sound was now only ten feet away around the dark bend. A hunched shadow with a nose mutated into something like an anteater's snout began to appear vaguely in the darkness.

"No time to argue!"

Boby snatched the rotten sludge and smeared it on his own face and neck, then—with the courage of a man about to die—he smeared his dirty hand across Irene's slender neck.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH, BOBY!" Irene shrieked in a whisper, as the foul stench clung to her skin.

But the Sniffer stopped. Its nose twitched in confusion. The sweet smell of blood it had been tracking suddenly vanished, covered by the smell of sewage.

The monster stepped out of the shadows. Its face had no eyes, only large, pulsating, disgusting nostrils. Its long tongue extended, dripping acidic saliva onto the floor.

It stood exactly ten feet in front of them, who were frozen like mud statues.

One wrong move, or one sneeze, and they were finished.