Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 469: A Wish Come True

Marc blinked, staring at me like a dog trying to process thunder. I knew he was dumber than a bag of bricks, but the look on his face just confirmed it.

"...’Attie?" he grunted, his accent showing through with just that one word. With just my name.

There it was. Recognition, too late to matter. His jaw slackened as confusion warred with disbelief—and then he smirked at me. Looking me up and down, taking in the dress, the bare feet, the pigtails, all of it.

"You look... different," he smirked like giving me a compliment was something that I should swoon over.

My smile, in return was like a razor learning how to curve. If I could give anyone death by a thousand papercuts, it would be this Shit Stain. But given his list, I was starting to rethink my stance on it.

After all, I did grant wishes, right?

"You don’t," I purred, putting away the razors and stepping forward so that I was standing beside Tank. My man placed his hand against the small of my back as he continued to stare Shit Stain Number 1 down.

This was my house, and at the end of the day, as much as it wanted me to grant wishes, I knew it would protect me from all harm.

The boys didn’t speak. Didn’t so much as move a muscle as they waited for my reaction. They didn’t need to. They knew that when I got a good idea, there was going to be only one ending.

My stepbrother, of course, had no clue. He still saw me as the little girl he used to abuse simply to pass the time.

"I didn’t recognize you at first," he said, stepping forward like we were going to catch up over coffee and mutual trauma. "You’ve grown up. Filled out."

Making sure that I had my most innocent look on my face, I cocked my head to the side. Never once speaking.

He laughed, nervous now that I wasn’t giving him the reaction that he was wanting. "You know, I always said you had potential. Never thought you’d turn into something like this, though. Damn. I mean, I figured you’d die in a ditch or—"

"You came for a wish," I said at last, not wanting to go down memory path too much. "Everything on your list? You’ll get it."

This was too big of a wish, so I couldn’t just snap my fingers and expect it to be granted the way it should be. Closing my eyes, I thought about each one of his demands and just how it needed to be granted.

It took me longer than it took me to create this house, but finally, I had it perfect. Snapping my fingers, I smiled at the man I never had to see again.

It was just too bad that his head wouldn’t be added to my growing collection. Oh well.

-----

Marc woke up to bright sunlight in his eyes.

Ever so slowly, he sat up and looked around. Sprawling acres of farmland stretched into the horizon. Mountains in the distance. A log mansion behind him. Deer grazing in the woods. The sound of birdsong—sweet, clear, almost fake.

It was everything he asked for and more. "Holy shit," Marc breathed. "It worked."

He took a step forward—and the world adjusted to him. The boots on his feet were clean. His jeans fit perfectly. There was even a belt with a custom buckle: an eagle clutching the world.

A wind chime jangled behind him. He turned to see ten women standing on the porch.

Blonde. Barefoot. Pale as porcelain. Dressed like 1950s housewives.

They didn’t say a word, just smiled at him like he hung the moon.

Marc grinned back. "Well, helloooo ladies."

They didn’t move.

"Y’all can come inside. Make dinner. Or... whatever."

Still, they didn’t move.

Their eyes blinked in perfect sync. Their hands folded in front of them as if awaiting his orders.

It took him a moment too long to realize their eyes weren’t blinking.

Walking closer, he saw little things he hadn’t seen before. Like glass eyes.

They were nothing more than dolls, until one of them opened her mouth.

And screamed.

A high, unnatural sound that sent shivers down his spine.

All ten joined in—screaming in harmony—before retreating into the house.

Marc stumbled back, his heart pounding.

A shadow passed overhead.

Children stood on the front lawn now. Dozens of them. Boys in old-fashioned button-ups. Girls in pigtails and dresses. One stepped forward. A little boy, around seven.

"Are you gonna teach us now, Daddy?" he asked, voice flat, too practiced.

Marc’s stomach churned. "I... yeah?"

The boy’s smile widened.

All the children smiled.

Rows and rows of teeth. Too many teeth to be natural.

Their faces began to flicker, like broken TVs—innocence melting into hollow-eyed rage, back and forth, faster and faster.

They rushed him, barely giving him a chance to run.

He fled into the barn, lungs burning, only to find the armory waiting for him. Rifles. Shotguns. Pistols. Rows upon rows of weapons.

He let out a shaking breath. "Thank God."

He reached for one, a pump-action shotgun, and cocked it.

No shell.

He grabbed a pistol.

Empty.

Another, and another, and another.

They were absolutely everything he ever dreamed about... and they were all completely useless.

Outside, something growled.

He looked through the slats of the barn wall.

The children had stopped at the barn doors, just staring at him.

"Stop this," he shouted. "This isn’t what I wished for!"

But it was.

Exactly what he asked for.

He bolted from the barn, running back toward the mansion—only to find the doors sealed shut.

He turned. frёewebηovel.cѳm

A throne had appeared on the lawn. Golden. Ornate. Waiting for him.

He didn’t want to sit on it, but his legs moved anyway. Dropping into it, he breathed heaving—and screamed.

It burned.

It seared through his jeans and into his flesh. The metal blistered his skin like branding irons, but he couldn’t move.

His arms were pinned by invisible force.

A speaker crackled from nowhere.

Then he heard his own voice.

A recording from earlier.

"...Men need to be men, and that’s final."

"...No weird powers or talking animals."

"...Especially not some bitch with a badge."

His own voice echoed on a loop, over and over.

"...Humans die too easily..."

His scream joined the children’s.

The world around him began to glitch. Trees flickering. Skies stuttering. The perfect landscape breaking apart like peeling wallpaper.

And in every shattered reflection of glass and sky—

He saw her.

Hattie.

Sitting calmly in a red velvet chair, a lollypop in her mouth, watching.

"You asked for paradise," she said, her voice cutting through the realm like a scalpel. "You got it. This is your land. Your rules. No demons. No monsters."

She leaned in, smiling sweetly.

"Just you. Hopefully, you won’t die too easily."