Be Careful What You Wish For: A Zombie Apocalypse
Chapter 332: Idle Hands

Chapter 332: Idle Hands

Look. I get that I wasn’t the sharpest tool in the shed, but at the same time, to say that there was nothing supernatural in the world and that hellhounds didn’t exist seemed insane. Gerald was cutting off his nose to spite his face, and he couldn’t see that.

One of the hellhounds, sitting down, stared at the soldier who was trying to electrify everyone to death like he had just found the best show on TV. Cocking his head to the side, he watched for a few minutes before nodding his head.

Coming to his feet, the hellhound let out a soft bark, bringing the soldier’s attention to it. When the next lightning strike hit, it seemed to only have eyes for the hound. But instead of dying or at least feeling pain, it was almost like the hound was happy.

"Huh," I muttered softly, watching as the hound seemed to smile, his tongue rolling out of his mouth to the side. The next thing I knew, a massive ball of lightning was forming inside the hound’s mouth.

Within seconds, the ball was already twice the size of the soldier’s. When it was satisfied, it casually tossed out the ball of lightning like it was nothing, instantly frying the soldiers.

"Mimicry has been achieved," remarked Gerald beside me as he quickly wrote something down.

"Excuse me?" I replied, more than a bit curious. "What do you mean?"

"While most of the clones are perfect replicas of Tank, we did experiment with some of them," shrugged Gerald like he was telling me that they decided to add chocolate chips to an ice cream sundae instead of chocolate syrup. "The mimic octopus was one such addition to the DNA. We were expecting for the animal to be able to shift into other species, but instead, it looks like it can mimic the powers of others."

Nodding my head, I went back to watching the chaos in front of me. "I have to admit. When you fuck up, you fuck up big time. Like Grade A, top shelf, type fuck up." When someone screws up, it is normally a small thing.

Spelling mistakes, grammar, putting a shirt on backward, going left instead of right. These were all small fuck ups... easily fixed, not that big of a deal. But Gerald actually doubled down on his fuck ups and was proud of it.

He, maybe not single handedly, brought about a zombie apocalypse, destroyed the world, and wiped out more than half of the human population. And instead of saying... ’Huh, maybe I should have made a right instead of a left,’ he brightly decided to fuck around with the genetic code of a hellhound.

Shaking my head, I couldn’t help but slowly clap my hands together in appreciation. I thought I did chaos well, but clearly, I had a thing or two to learn from this man.

Looking at me from the corner of his eye, Gerald didn’t bother to reply to my sarcastic comment. "Humans would be nothing without progress," he sniffed at me, even as the lightning pup all of a sudden grew a mouth on his stomach and started eating the chard corpses of the humans around him.

I really hoped that at some point in time, the mimicry wore off, because until that happened, I was not giving him any tummy rubs. No matter how good of a boy he was.

"A certain amount of progress is acceptable," announced a new voice. Looking up, I saw that the elevator doors were wide open, and my men were strolling down the hallway like it was just another day.

"If it weren’t for progress, humans would still be living in caves and cooking meat over an open fire," continued Dante, even as he stepped aside to let a hound by.

"’Ey!" grunted Désiré, looking at me before giving me a wink. "Don you be lookin’ down on barbeque. Meat ’n fire were always a perfect pairin’."

"Who are you, and how did you get in here?" demanded Gerald. He looked around at the eight men coming toward us before his eyes found Jonas. "Did you bring them here? You don’t have the clearance for this level. How did you get down here?"

Ronan let out a disappointed tsk before shaking his head. "You donna need to be worryin’ about Jonas. De entire buildin’ is nothin’ more dan the Devil’s Playground."

"There are zombies and... monsters... running all over the Sanctuary right now," hissed Jonas, glaring at Gerald. "People are dying outside, and this building is wide open. There isn’t an experiment here that hasn’t been able to escape and wreaked havoc on the base."

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At first, it was only the Z-Packs that were destroying New Dawn Sanctuary. But no matter how bad and destructive they were, they were limited to open spaces. Not having opposable thumbs meant that as long as you got a door between you and them, they couldn’t get inside.

But some of the creatures that crawled out of this hell hole didn’t have such restrictions. Like the men who could split apart and have their limbs crawl into the tiniest spaces.

It took Jonas a moment to get his stomach to settle down after watching that scene, but the men around him treated him like it was nothing. NOTHING! As people were being ripped apart, the stench of blood and feces and the different screams of innocent children were nothing to them.

In fact, Jonas didn’t know who he should have been more scared of: the experiments or the men walking beside him.

"Ooh," smiled Lucy, bringing Jonas’ attention to her. She was sitting on a black throne-like chair with what looked like bones forming a pile around her feet. Tank was seated next to her, looking more like a statue than anything else, and behind them...

"Do I want to know?" asked the tallest of the men as he pushed past Jonas and headed straight toward Lucy.

"You know what they say," shrugged the girl. Her eyes were lit with joy as if this was nothing more than a show for her to watch. "Idle hands are the devil’s workshop. I got bored, and there wasn’t much to do."

Lost in her words, Jonas stepped down and heard a sickening crunch under his feet. Ever so slowly, he looked down, only to see that he had stepped on a singed skull.

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