Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse-Chapter 470: A Much Needed Vacation

If paradise had a soundtrack, it was the quiet crash of waves, the whisper of palm fronds, and the faint squelch of decomposing feet in the sand.

I sat with my legs kicked up, a frozen drink in hand, sunglasses I definitely didn’t buy perched on my nose, and a mutated zombie waiter standing patiently nearby with a tray of tropical fruit. His jaw was slightly unhinged from his beachball like head, his eyes milky white, but he wore his bowtie with pride. One of the pineapples on the tray even had a tiny umbrella in it.

It was so cute that I couldn’t even be mad at it all.

I know the guys had the best intentions for me. The moment I came back from the small dimension I had built Marc, they huddled around me like they thought I would bring about the end of the world.

Again.

But they didn’t need to worry about me. Like water off a duck’s back, I was actually healing from the scars of my past. And if torturing Marc every minute for the rest of his life didn’t put a smile on my face, I didn’t know what would.

However, the guys were worried that another wish would come and I would be dragged into dealing with something else, so they dragged me here first. free𝑤ebnovel.com

By here, I meant on a private beach, inside a beautiful resort that had only me, the guys, and a skeleton staff of mutated zombies and other dead people.

Looking at the massive swimming pool in front of me, I couldn’t take my eyes away from the sight. Tank was waist-deep in the ocean with Snowflake, who had taken to the pool like a queen on her throne. Tink floated nearby on a pool floatie shaped like a donut, pink frosting and all. His tongue lolled out with bliss as all four limbs dipped into the cool water.

Salvatore and Ronan were setting up a volleyball net on the nearby beach for reasons I didn’t quite understand. Dante had already stripped off his shirt and was oiling his chest in the yummiest display of masculinity I had ever witnessed.

"Are you actively trying to start a fight?" I asked, sipping from the frozen drink as Dante smirked and posed like he was in a bodybuilder competition.

"If it ends with your hands on me, then yes," he called back.

"Subtle," muttered Luca from his lounge chair beside me. "That’s his subtle voice."

Chang Xuefeng sat nearby in a wooden chair under a palm tree, his eyes closed like a lazy cat. I would be worried about the man who hadn’t moved in a while, but this was a vacation; I would let him do whatever he wanted.

Besides, it’s not like he can die.

"I think I like it here," Beau said, sprawling out beside me with a book and a plate of shrimp the zombie waiter had just delivered. "The air smells like coconut and corpse. Just how I like my Tuesdays."

"You have weird Tuesdays," Eric muttered from the shallows, where he was building a sandcastle way too intricate for someone pretending not to care. He glanced up at me as I stirred my drink with the umbrella. "You okay?"

I didn’t answer right away.

Honestly, I liked it here. That was the problem. I liked the soft, heated sand between my toes. I liked the fruit and the breeze and the weightlessness of not having to answer a wish every five seconds.

But peace like this only lasted a short while before I began to be antsy to do something else. Maybe it was the chaos in me, but I could only appreciate things like this in short quantities.

Still...

The umbrella twirled in my fingers.

"Yeah," I said finally, letting myself lean into the lounge chair. "This is fun. In its own way."

----

Hours passed slowly, and I was getting better at doing absolutely nothing. The guys took turns forcing me to do something new. Beau coaxing me into the water, Tank carrying me when I refused to get my feet burned, Désiré feeding me mango slices and asking me to rank everyone’s beach bods like I was on The Bachelorette: End of the World Edition.

Chang Xuefeng even managed to find roses for me to hand out.

I ended up declaring Luca the winner purely because he glared at me the whole time and muttered about objectification. Ten out of ten.

Dinner was laid out at sunset beneath a bamboo canopy strung with glowing lights. The zombies served grilled fish, roasted plantains, and something suspiciously like steak tartare that none of us touched except Beau. "It’s fresh," he claimed. "You can tell by the twitch," he continued, poking at it with his fork.

After dessert—coconut cake and something pink that Désiré claimed was aphrodisiacal—everyone dispersed. Some headed for the beach, others for the hot tub carved into volcanic rock, and still others for a late-night swim beneath the moon.

But me?

I stayed right where I was.

Feet in the sand. Drink in my hand. Face tilted toward the stars.

And that was when he appeared.

The zombie waiter, the one with the unhinged jaw, came forward with a silver tray and a bow that would make a maître d’ proud. On it sat a single folded piece of paper.

I didn’t want to touch it, not because I was scared, but because I already knew what it said.

Reaching forward, I plucked the folded paper off the tray and opened it.

Written in beautiful cursive, too pretty for the words, was a single sentence.

"I wish I had never been born."

I stared at the words as the wind turned cool, and the guys slowly started migrating back to me as if they understood the shift in the atmosphere.

"Great," I grumbled, setting the paper on the table beside the fruit husks and wine glasses. "Apparently, my house is stalking me right now. I guess that it knew that I knew what it was up to and is now sending the messages to me instead of waiting for a knock on the door."

I closed my eyes, sighing into the dark.

"This house never lets me sleep."