Sweet Apocalypse System

Chapter 5

Silence.

Inside the damp, dark concrete drainage tunnel, the sound of dripping water from the ceiling sounded like a bomb blast in Boby's ears.

*Drip... Drip...*

In front of them, the creature called the *Sniffer* stood motionless. Its eyeless head moved slowly left and right, like a radar antenna searching for a signal. Its large, slimy nostrils flared, greedily inhaling the air. A long purple tongue extended, dripping acidic saliva that sizzled as it touched the concrete floor.

Boby held his breath until his chest ached. He could feel Irene's heartbeat next to him—fast but steady, the hallmark of someone accustomed to facing death. Boby’s hand, smeared with foul mud, was still clamped around Irene’s neck, masking the scent of blood and her natural perfume.

*SNIFF...*

The creature took one step forward. Its long clawed feet scraped the floor. The distance between them was now only two meters.

[System: Host Heart Rate 180bpm. Warning: Don't piss your pants. The smell of urine ammonia will trigger this monster's receptors.]

"Damn it, don't joke around now," Boby thought frantically.

The mutant brought its face closer to Boby. The stench from the monster's mouth was far worse than the sewage odor covering their bodies. The monster's nose sniffed Boby's shoulder.

Boby closed his eyes, resigned. "Okay, Rina. I'm joining you now."

But then, the mutant sneezed.

*HATCHIH!*

A splatter of green mucus hit Boby's face. The monster shook its head in disgust, as if to say, *'Gross, this trash stinks.'*

The creature snorted in disappointment, turned around, and dragged its feet away into the tunnel's darkness, searching for prey that smelled better and didn't reek like an exploded latrine.

They waited until the sound of the dragging steps was completely swallowed by the darkness. One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes.

Only then did Irene roughly slap Boby's hand away from her neck.

"Don't. Touch. Me. Again," Irene hissed. Her voice was low, but full of menace.

"You're welcome," Boby replied, wiping the monster snot off his face with his equally filthy sleeve. "I just saved your life using 'Eau de Sewage' perfume. You should be thanking me."

Irene didn't answer. She stood up, walked a few steps away, then bent over and dry heaved. The smell on their bodies was truly unbearable.

"We have to move," Irene said after emptying her already empty stomach. "That monster could come back anytime if it realizes it was fooled."

They walked in silence for fifteen minutes, navigating the deepening labyrinth of the sewer system. Dogy led the way, occasionally shaking his body to dislodge the filth clinging to his golden fur.

They found a small maintenance room on the side of the tunnel. The door was rusted iron, but sturdy enough. Irene gently kicked it open. The room was dry, containing several large pipes and a dusty old workbench.

"Get in," Irene ordered.

As soon as the door was closed and wedged shut with a broken iron chair, Irene turned around. She switched on her tactical flashlight and shone it directly into Boby's face.

Blinded, Boby raised a hand to block the light.

"Sit," Irene commanded coldly. Her karambit knife was already in her hand, dancing between her fingers.

Boby obeyed, sitting on a cold iron pipe. "Is this an interrogation? I have the right to remain silent and request a lawyer, right?"

"Your lawyer is already a corpse out there," Irene approached, her beautiful face, smeared with mud, looking menacing under the flashlight beam. "Now answer honestly, or I'll slice off your ear. Who are you, really?"

"I told you, I'm a doctor..."

"Doctors don't eat expired chocolate and then punch people's heads so hard they fly into the ceiling!" Irene cut him off sharply. "Doctors don't concoct chemical bombs from floor cleaner in two minutes! And doctors..."

Irene pointed the tip of the knife at Boby's chest.

"...And doctors don't have the eyes of someone who's already dead inside."

Boby fell silent. The goofy smile on his face slowly faded.

"I saw the way you looked at those corpses. You weren't scared. You were just... tired," Irene continued. "So, be straight with me. Are you a military experiment? Did you take the Super Soldier serum? Or are you a mutant who hasn't fully transformed yet?"

[System: Answer Options Available.]

[A. Honest ("I have a Digital Old Man in my brain"). Risk: Deemed insane and shot dead.]

[B. Cool Lie ("I'm a secret agent"). Risk: Exposed as a liar due to pot belly.]

[C. Partial Truth ("Failed Medical Experiment"). Risk: Sympathy + Decreased Trust Issues.]

Boby sighed deeply. He chose Option C.

"You're right. I'm not a regular doctor," Boby said softly. He looked at Irene's knife without fear. "Before... before the apocalypse, I was involved in endocrinology research. A glucose metabolism experiment."

"And?"

"I... I became my own guinea pig," Boby lied smoothly. "My body underwent a mutation. My metabolism burns sugar a hundred times faster than a normal human's. If I eat sugar, I get an instant surge of energy. Pure adrenaline. But when the sugar runs out..."

"You become as weak as a baby," Irene finished. She began to lower her knife slightly. The explanation sounded plausible—at least in this insane world.

"That's why I need chocolate. It's my fuel. Without it, I'm just an unburied corpse," Boby added.

Irene stared into Boby's eyes for a long time, searching for a lie. She found none of the usual signs of deceit she saw in prisoners of war. She only saw... sadness.

Irene sheathed her knife. "Okay. I'll take your word for it. But if you turn into a zombie and try to bite me, I won't hesitate to stab your brain."

"Fair enough," Boby said, grinning again.

Irene sat across the room, leaning against the wall. She pulled out a half-full water bottle from her waist pack. She hesitated for a moment, then tossed the bottle toward Boby.

"Drink. You look pale."

Boby caught the bottle. "Aren't you drinking?"

"I'm used to dehydration. If you pass out again, I don't want to carry you."

Boby gulped the water. It tasted like heaven. He saved a little, then poured it into his palm for Dogy to drink.

"Your dog is incredibly loyal," Irene murmured, watching Dogy lick Boby's hand. "Usually animals run first when there's danger."

"Dogy's different. He... he found me when I was at my lowest point," Boby said, stroking Dogy's head.

"Your family?" Irene asked suddenly.

Boby's hand stopped moving. Silence.

"They're gone," Boby answered briefly. His voice was flat, emotionless, but it was the kind of painful lack of emotion. "My wife. One daughter. The first day of the outbreak."

Irene nodded slowly. She didn't offer 'I'm sorry for your loss.' Those words were worthless now.

"My team was wiped out too," Irene said, her eyes staring into the darkness. "I was a VIP security Squad Leader. When the outbreak spread in the convention center, my client—that fat official—pushed my subordinate toward the zombies so he could run. My subordinate... my protégé... was eaten alive right in front of me."

Irene clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white. "I shot that official in the head before I escaped. I don't regret it."

Boby looked at Irene. Beneath the tough exterior and cold demeanor, he saw the same wound. The wound of a lone survivor.

"We're both sinners, Ren," Boby said softly. "The difference is, you're a brave sinner. I'm just a clown trying to atone for my sins in a ridiculous way."

Irene turned, looking at Boby with a slightly softer gaze. "You're weird, Bob. But at least you didn't leave me on the roof earlier. You could have just run off by yourself."

"I told you, I can't stand to see a beautiful woman die."

"Shut up," Irene scoffed, but this time there was a faint smile on her lips.

The atmosphere became a little lighter. The stench of sewage on their bodies was still strong, but the tension between the two humans began to ease. A thin bond was starting to form—a bond of shared fate.

Irene reached into her pocket, pulling something out. A leftover mint candy.

"Here. It's not chocolate, but it has a little sugar. For reserve energy."

Boby caught the candy. "Thanks, Commander."

Suddenly, Dogy stood up.

His ears, which had been relaxed, were now rigid. His tail was stiff. The fur along his back stood up like needles.

Boby felt the change in the atmosphere. "Dog? What is it? Another Sniffer?"

Dogy didn't answer. He let out a very deep growl, an Alpha growl Boby had never heard before. His fangs were exposed, his gums trembling. He stared straight at the iron door they had wedged shut.

[System: High-Level Biological Threat Detected.]

[Type: CANINE MUTANT.]

[Status: Territorial. Hungry. Angry.]

"Not a Sniffer," Irene whispered, her hand returning to her knife. "That's the sound of a predator."

From behind the iron door came the sound of heavy breathing. Extremely heavy. Like an old steam engine. And the sound of claws... *CLACK... CLACK... CLACK...* Claws much larger and harder than any monster's.

*GROAAARRR...*

A responding growl came from outside. It wasn't the sound of a zombie. It was the sound of a dog. But the sound was doubled, like two vocal cords vibrating simultaneously.

"Canine Mutant..." Boby hissed. "A Hellhound."

Dogy stepped forward toward the door. He did not retreat. He challenged it.

"Dogy, don't!" Boby yelled.

*BLAM!*

The iron door dented inward, struck by something incredibly powerful. The wedged chair groaned.

*BLAM!*

The second impact tore the door off its hinges. The heavy iron door crashed to the floor with a loud thud.

In the doorway stood a four-legged monster.

It was as tall as an adult's waist. Its muscles were fiery red without skin, revealing pulsating muscle fibers. Its face was a nightmare—a jaw split in two, rows of teeth like a chainsaw, and drooling, smoking saliva. It had four small eyes, glowing red in the darkness.

It was the Alpha of all the mutated stray dogs in the city, driven mad by the virus and chemical waste.

Dogy barked loudly, a declaration of war.

The Hellhound looked at Dogy, then at Boby and Irene behind him. It saw Dogy not as a fellow canine, but as an intruder in its territory—or perhaps, as an appetizer.

"Holy crap... it's huge..." Boby took a step back, searching for any weapon. But his hands were empty. He only had a mint candy.

[System: Warning! Alpha Duel commencing. Dogy has a 30% chance of winning. Host is advised to assist or prepare a grave.]

"Assist?! With what?! I only have a spicy mint!" Boby screamed internally.

The Hellhound lowered its body, its leg muscles tensing, ready to leap.

Dogy also lowered his body, completely undaunted.

"Run to the upper pipes, Bob!" Irene yelled, throwing her karambit knife toward Boby (knowing she couldn't get close for a melee duel with the monster). "I'll distract it!"

"Don't be crazy! That monster eats meat, not knives!"

Before they could argue, the Hellhound lunged. Not toward Boby, not toward Irene.

It charged Dogy.

Dogy met the charge with a death-defying leap.