After being torn apart by zombies, I unexpectedly woke up at 4 p.m. the day before the apocalypse. Knowing the outbreak would turn my neighborhood into a living hell by 6 p.m. the next day, I had to gather my family and prepare for survival before 3 p.m. We hurried to a quiet retirement community on a suburban hill, secured a top-floor apartment as our safehouse, and stocked it with water, food, medicine, and other essentials. When the zombies arrived, we fought them off and held our shelter for nine months. One year after the outbreak, the government finally developed an antiviral drug, and rescue forces arrived to take the survivors to safety. There, we reunited with the family who had sent us dumplings on our first New Year’s Eve of the apocalypse—and finally saw a way back to normal life...
