For five days, Blaze lay on the ground, unconscious and vulnerable. The zombies that passed by the crater ignored him, as if he was invisible or inedible. He survived by a miracle, but he had no clue why he was left alone.
On the third day, a cloaked figure found him and dragged him to a nearby house. It was a wreck, with only one room standing on a shaky foundation. But it was better than nothing. It gave some protection and isolation.
The cloaked figure didn't speak or show their face. They just left some preserved food, bread and water bottles, enough to last for a few days. Then they vanished into the night, as silently as they came.
When Blaze finally woke up, he felt lost and confused. He couldn't stand up without staggering, as if his legs were new to him. He felt dizzy and weak, as if he had been asleep for ages.
He tried to remember what had happened to him, but his mind was blurry. He only remembered being surrounded by a swarm of zombies, and then everything was hazy.
"Something feels different…" he muttered, looking at his palm while sitting on the bed. He saw that his skin was pale and cold, and his veins were prominent. He also felt a weird feeling in his chest, as if his heart was barely pumping.
Blaze didn't bother to wonder where he was. He was used to waking up in strange places. As long as he wasn't bound or in danger, he considered it normal. He had learned to cope with the harsh realities of the post-apocalyptic world, where nothing was stable or secure.
Then he recalled that he was indeed tied up and bitten before.
"No, I was also hit by lightning…"
Blaze quickly scanned his body with his hands, including his private parts, but he didn't find anything unusual. The only odd thing was the feeling of being slightly tipsy, as if he had a drink recently. He wondered how he survived such a horrific ordeal.
He expected to see some injuries or marks from the bite and the lightning strike, but there was none. His body was whole and healed, as if nothing had happened. He felt a mix of relief and bewilderment.
He spotted a vertical mirror on the wall and got up, staggering. He wanted to inspect his appearance and see if there were any changes.
"Definitely nothing wrong at all…"
Yes, he was supposed to be naked, but it seemed like the cloaked good samaritan had dressed him up. But he didn't remember getting naked in the first place. So he didn't find it strange.
He noticed a backpack with a heart stitched on it on the nightstand and some packages beside it. He tore open the packages, knowing they were food, and ate his breakfast. He was famished after being out cold for so long, and he needed to restore his energy.
He wolfed down the food without pause, not minding its flavor or quality. He made sure he was satisfied before pondering anything that had happened and what course of action he should take.
After a while he opened the backpack and took out a notebook and a pen. He decided to jot down his thoughts and memories, hoping that it would help him clear his confusion and plan his next move. He wanted to understand his situation and find a way to survive..
He wrote down things he remembered, the betrayal, the zombies, the lightning, and how he survived. He wrote them in bullet points, trying to be as simple and precise as possible. He tried to remember every detail and event that led him to his current state.
He felt furious and wounded when he remembered how his former comrades betrayed him and left him for dead. He felt betrayed by the people he trusted and fought with for so long.
He felt baffled and astounded when he remembered how he faced hundreds of zombies and survived their attack.
He felt stunned and horrified when he remembered how he was bitten by horde of zombies and hit by lightning at the same time.
He felt fortunate and intrigued when he realized how he survived both events without any visible damage. He felt thankful that he was still alive and well, but also curious about the causes behind his miraculous survival. He wondered if there was something unique or different about him, or if it was just a fluke.
He pushed aside the betrayal for now as he was more interested in the fact that the zombies, which should have been decaying after a decade, were still as numerous and agile as before.
He wondered how they managed to survive for so long, and how they maintained their speed and strength despite their decaying flesh. He also wondered why their number didn't seem to decrease at all.
He guessed that there might be some factors or forces that kept them alive and active, or that they might have evolved or mutated somehow.
"And there was also a mutated zombie…" he mumbled while twirling the pen between his fingers.
Now that he had some time to think about it, a zombie manipulating fire was bizarre as hell. It was not even a biological mutation. It was more like a supernatural phenomenon or a magical ability. He had never seen anything like it before, nor had he heard of any reports or rumors about it.
Blaze remembered that most of the agenda of the Protectors Assembly was to foresee zombie patterns and behavior, including possible mutation variants. And all of them were either massive overpowered zombies or anything related to physical development.
A zombie spitting fire was unthinkable, let alone controlling it. It was beyond their comprehension and expectation. It was something that contradicted logic and science. It was something that could alter everything they knew about zombies and their threat level.
Blaze felt a shiver down his spine as he pondered what else could be out there in this world of horror. He wondered if there were other kinds of zombies with different abilities or powers, and how they could handle them.