The Corporate Apocalypse: Jakarta's Survival Guide to Cosmic

The smell of death in Jakarta wasn't anything like what Hollywood movies portrayed. There was no dramatic scent of iron or the poetic aroma of damp earth. Instead, it was just the stench of a wholesale market rotting under the 95-degree sun, mixed with the rank smell of raw meat that had been left out in the open for three days.

Rendy wiped the sweat dripping from his temple, which was smudging his cracked prescription glasses. In his hand, he gripped a thin book with a slightly crumpled, photocopied cover. The title was a total eyesore, written in bright Comic Sans: "ZOMBIE APOCALYPSE SURVIVAL GUIDE FOR BEGINNERS: THE BUDGET EDITION & GUARANTEED SURVIVAL" by a mysterious author named 'Coach Udin.'

Rendy flipped to page 14. It read: "Tip #4: Zombies have ears that are extremely sensitive to the frequency of fear. If you encounter a horde, do not stay silent or hide. That only makes them feel dominant. Instead, sing in a high-pitched, cheerful tone. Children's songs are highly recommended to scramble their already rotting brain synapses."

"Is this for real?" Rendy whispered to himself.

Right in front of him, at the intersection leading to a trashed convenience store, five figures—or whatever you call walking corpses with skin sagging like melting wax—were huddling around the carcass of a stray cat. The sound of wet smacking and snapping bones made Rendy’s stomach churn.

Logically, Rendy should have turned back. Or at the very least, crawled away quietly. But the problem was his backpack was empty. He needed bottled water and instant noodles. And for some reason, every time he had followed Coach Udin’s advice over the past week, he hadn't died yet. Even though the tips often defied the laws of nature. Yesterday, the book claimed zombies couldn't see anyone wearing a bubble-style motorcycle helmet backward, and miraculously, Rendy had managed to pass a pack of 'Lickers' in his apartment basement without a single scratch.

Rendy took a deep breath. He stood up straight, stepping out from behind a wrecked minivan.

"Okay, Coach Udin. Don't let me down," he muttered.

Rendy started walking forward. He closed his eyes for a second, then opened his mouth.

"Rainbow... oh, rainbow... how beautiful you are!" Rendy’s voice was high-pitched, a bit nasal, and completely out of tune.

The five zombies stopped chewing simultaneously. They turned around. One zombie’s head tilted at a 90-degree angle, exposing severed neck muscles. Their cloudy white eyes stared directly at Rendy.

"Red, yellow, and green... in the sky so blue!" Rendy continued, his voice getting louder. He even started waving his arms like a drunk orchestral conductor.

On the second floor of a shop across the street, a girl named Alana held her bow with trembling hands. She had been aiming at one of those zombies for ten minutes, waiting for the right moment to sneak past. However, the scene unfolding below almost made her drop her weapon.

"Holy hell... is this guy insane?" Alana whispered. Her eyes widened. "Is he actually singing? In front of zombies? Does he want to be a free mukbang special?!"

Alana was ready to see the four-eyed kid’s head get ripped off in seconds. But then, something impossible happened.

The zombies, who would normally pounce on the slightest sound with predatory speed, actually looked... confused. They took a step back. One of the zombies, which had been the most aggressive earlier, actually covered its ears with a hand that only had three fingers left and let out a low groan that sounded like... a whine?

"The Maker is Great... I wonder who it is!" Rendy was now right in front of them. He strolled casually past the horde of living dead as if they were nothing more than mannequins at a mall.

The zombies cleared a path. They looked agitated, as if Rendy’s off-key voice was the sound of fingernails on a chalkboard, and it was torture for them. Rendy walked into the convenience store calmly, still finishing the last verse of the song.

Alana was frozen. "No way. That makes zero sense."

Alana quickly climbed down the stairs, jumped through a window, and jogged toward the store. She had to know what kind of magic this weird guy was using.

Inside the dim, musty convenience store, Rendy was busy stuffing water bottles into his bag. He was still holding his book.

"Hey!" Alana barked, pointing an arrow at Rendy. "What kind of voodoo are you using, huh?"

Rendy jumped in fright, nearly dropping a can of sardines. "Crap! Whoa! Easy there!" He turned around and saw Alana—a girl in a dirty parka, multi-pocket cargo pants, and a very unfriendly expression.

"Are you crazy? You almost got us all killed with that megaphone voice of yours!" Alana approached him, her voice low but dripping with anger. "How did they not attack you?"

Rendy blinked, then proudly held up his book. "This. Coach Udin’s Guidebook. It says here that zombies hate children's songs because the frequency disrupts the remains of their temporal lobes."

Alana snatched the book, skimmed through it, and her face turned bright red. "This... this is garbage! Where did you even buy this? 'Zombies are allergic to positive vibes'? 'A zombie cannot bite someone who is currently hiccuping'? This is a scam, you idiot! Do you want to die?"

"But it worked, didn't it?" Rendy replied defensively. "My name's Rendy, by the way. And who are you? You look like you need to chill out. Chapter 2 says that stress can attract zombies through sweat pheromones."

Alana desperately wanted to punch Rendy’s oblivious face, but she stopped. She looked out the shattered glass window. The five zombies were still out there, but they looked lethargic. One of them even seemed to be trying to... hum? The sound was raspy and terrifying, but the rhythm matched the 'Rainbow' song.

"Something isn't right," Alana whispered. She lowered her bow. "Biologically, zombies are brainless killing machines. They don't have emotions to feel 'annoyed' by a song. But... why did they back off?"

"Maybe because Coach Udin is a genius?" Rendy offered her a can of sardines. "Want some? It says here that eating sardines together builds a bond that makes zombies think we're part of their colony."

Alana stared at the can, then at Rendy, then at the photocopied book. "Do you actually believe everything in this book?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" Rendy shrugged. "I tried Tip #1: Wear strawberry-scented deodorant so zombies think you're a piece of fruit. And guess what? I slept in the middle of a city park without being bothered."

Alana rubbed the bridge of her nose. Her logical world, which she had maintained through strict military training and survival tactics, had just been demolished by a dork and a ten-dollar guidebook.

"I'm coming with you," Alana said suddenly.

"Huh? I thought I was crazy?"

"You are crazy. And that book is the stupidest thing I've ever read in my life," Alana grabbed her backpack. "But I want to see how long your luck holds out before you actually get chewed on. And if you die, I'm taking your sardines."

Rendy grinned widely. "Sweet. Coach Udin says in Chapter 3 that having a partner is great for delegating tasks: one sings, one claps."

"I am not singing," Alana threatened.

"We'll see about that," Rendy said, flipping to the next page. "Oh, look at this! Chapter 5: How to Tame an Alpha Zombie with Breakdancing. I think we're gonna need a portable speaker."

Alana could only let out a long sigh, mourning her fate that now relied on twisted logic. Yet deep down, a question began to grow. Why did this broken world suddenly seem to be following the rules of a total piece of junk book?

As they stepped out of the convenience store, the silhouette of one of the zombies outside seemed to shift. It was no longer slouching. It stood a little straighter, as if it were trying to mimic Rendy’s swagger.

The apocalypse had only just begun, and apparently, the end of the world had a very twisted sense of humor.