Survivor の小説・ストーリー

It was protecting its children from the zombie horde. Even zombies instinctively protected their offspring. And yet my own sister spent every waking moment plotting against me. The thought left a bitter chill in my chest. Fortunately, my sadness lasted less than three seconds before my mood brightened again. Because at that exact moment, the system informed me that the zombie siege had counted as a major survival crisis. Even though I had survived partly thanks to the zombie bird’s help, I was still eligible for a special reward because of it.

Because it was so outrageous and there were so many bystanders, the story quickly went viral. Commenters were split in the replies, but most chose to believe what my mom said. They decided I was an ungrateful brat who abandoned the mother who raised me the moment I got money. I had no idea who taught Mom how to start a livestream. That afternoon, a stream titled "Airport Mother's Heartfelt Confession" appeared online. When I clicked on it, Mom seemed to have turned on some kind of aging filter. She looked old and haggard. "My daughter has always loved taking shortcuts. She got into Westridge through luck and won the lottery through luck.

" he questioned. Silence fell over us. As expected, the only way to deal with this was to fight fire with fire. "Are you okay?" the system asked carefully. "Can you check if I'm still intact? Or have I already been reduced to ashes?" I asked in my mind. "The good news is that we're stuck in the middle of a plot point, so we're not dead yet." Then, it added sheepishly, "The bad news is that your supposed downfall is coming ahead of schedule, but neither of them has broken things off with you yet. If this continues, we'll be stuck here forever. None of us will be able to return home!"

“Bianca. Listen to me. You have survived being beaten. You survived five days without water. You survived being left for dead. And your baby survived all of it. You are both strong, and we will get you out of here.” Sge says firmly as she squeezes my hand and tears sting my eyes. “I’m scared.” I admit and she slowly nods her head. “I know.” “I don’t know how to protect something so small.” I say, looking down at my stomach. “You already did.” She says softly. “Say I stay... What’s the plan?” I ask softly and she sits back slightly. “Daniel can get us access to the south trail. It’s rarely patrolled.” “And then?” “You head toward the neutral territories.”

"How can you be so selfish? The bunker was built with money we all put in! What right do you have to take it all for yourself? Come out and get us! Now!" I let out a soft laugh. "Why the rush? The safe's key and the address of the bunker are both inside. And the password—you already know it, don't you?" From the other end came frantic rummaging sounds, mixed with barely restrained delight. "Found it! We found it!" Leisurely, I leaned back on the sofa and switched to the surveillance feed of the safe. I watched as the three of them crowded around the safe, entering the password. Their faces bloomed with the wild joy of survivors spared from disaster.

They left their teammates to begin decontamination and cleanup. The guard holding a clipboard with the survivor registry reassured me. "Ma'am, your fiance has already turned. The vaccine couldn't have been able to help him anymore." In my past life, I'd died early, when the zombies first appeared. I never lived long enough to see the disaster end. This time, I was rescued, and I saw Sarah again. She had survived, too. "Are you okay? These past few weeks must've been really hard," she said, sounding concerned.

She would survive. To be continued…

Torres held me back. "You cannot help him. My team is moving in—" Her radio crackled. "We have survivors emerging from the wreckage. Two—no three—repeat three survivors—" "Who—" "Damien Cross. Cassidy Chen. And—" Pause. "And Sarah Mills. All wounded. All alive. Need immediate medical—" Relief flooded through me. "They made it. They all—" "Contact! Armed hostiles breaking through perimeter!" Gunfire erupted. Torres's agents returning fire. Chaos.

A line in red in the notes field — "Memory wiped. This season's only unwitting participant." I picked up the photo. In it, my hair was black, my face fuller, standing in front of the Ouroboros logo, smiling. The other six files were spread out on the table in turn. Marcus. Season 2's final survivor. Gerald. Season 4's final survivor. The two technicians. Seasons 5 and 6. Jake. Season 3. Diane. Season 6's last-minute reveal, the eventual winner. Seven files were laid out in a row. Everyone was looking at their own.