A Shark's Return to the Deep

"Ah, what a wonderful world."

Amidst the unforgiving heat of the sun, under its fierce gaze, I stood defiantly atop a ruined building, naked and baring all. The striking blue sky, occasionally adorned with whimsical white clouds, contrasted sharply with the chaos below. From deep within, a song began to stir. I let it flow:

🎶 "I see trees of green." 🎶

As my voice rose, the monstrous army of zombies surged forward. Their ghastly faces — sagging eyes, gore-stained teeth, and decaying skin — showcased their insatiable hunger. Yet, my spirit, uplifted by the song, remained undeterred.

🎶 "Red roses too." 🎶

Moving to the rhythm of the lyrics, I danced amongst the undead, striking them down one by one. 🎶 "For me and you." 🎶 Another creature met its end, its vacant eyes dimming forever. The haunting beauty of my song, in stark contrast to the bleak scene, continued:

🎶 "I see them bloom, for me and you." 🎶

In the midst of this deadly dance, two scarcely clothed zombies lunged at me. But it was the third, clad in ragged blue with a gleaming accessory, that caught my attention. Dodging their clumsy attempts, I snatched the prize: a sleek, cold metal baton.

🎶 "And I think to myself, what a wonderful world," 🎶 I sang, swinging the baton with deadly precision. Each strike kept time with my song, the crunches and thuds accompanying the sweet melody.

Looking up at the azure sky, the lyrics found resonance in my surroundings:

🎶 "I see skies of blue," 🎶

 Crunch! a blow to the head ended another creature. I hit with all my strength.

🎶 "And clouds of white," 🎶 another fell at my feet, the crunch of bone and brain resonating through my hand.

🎶 "The bright blessed day, the dark sacred night," 🎶 even as the song crescendoed, the grim dance went on. Hit, hit, hit these mindless lunging, biting fiends.

Despite the looming danger, the song's poignancy only deepened:

🎶 "The colors of the rainbow, so pretty in the sky," 🎶 I readied myself for another wave.

🎶 "Are also on the faces of people going by." 🎶 Although these 'people' were now monstrous fiends, the song's beauty persisted. With the immediate threat neutralized, a few zombies writhed on the ground. I delivered the final blows.

🎶 "I see friends shaking hands, saying, 'How do you do?'" 🎶 I sarcastically shook a fallen zombie's hand. "Thanks for welcoming me into your world."

🎶 "They're really saying, 'I love you.'" 🎶

I smiled. "Oh my, thank you!"

Treading carefully, I neared a stairwell leading down. Distant groans and the sound of shuffling feet hinted at more zombies lurking below. Closing the door slowly behind me, I surveyed the fallen creatures, numbering about seven.

🎶 "I hear babies cry, I watch them grow," 🎶 I moved amidst the zombies, searching for suitable clothing.

🎶 "They'll learn much more than I'll ever know." 🎶 Selecting some decent-looking clothes and boots, I dressed.

Now fully attired, I looked up, appreciating the clothes, boots, pants, and my baton, singing with all my heart:

🎶 "And I think to myself, what a wonderful world.

Yes, I think to myself, what a wonderful world." 🎶

***

Back on Earth.

Inside a modest headquarters of a small humanitarian organization, the screen of a lone computer suddenly flickered and displayed a heartwarming message:

"Thanks for the chocolate. It was a sweet gesture that ranks among the best things in my life - moments that keep me fighting to stay alive."

A worker, taken aback, shouted, "Someone just wired a huge sum to our account!"

Another quickly chimed in, "Just how many zeros is that?"

Their screen was awash with a staggering number of zeros, indicating a massive donation.

"Wayne, do you think it was from our new 'president of Earth?'" the worker joked.

Wayne, a seasoned man in his fifties with streaks of gray hair, looked contemplatively at his coffee before replying, "I can't say, but mentioning Syria and chocolate takes me back to that boy."

"The one from the time you needed that first aid kit? How long ago was that now?"

"About five years," Wayne replied.

"Has it been that long already?"

***

Five years ago,

Wayne was walking down the market in Syria, trying to find some local delicacy. The dusty streets were imprinted with the marks of countless footsteps, and the sounds of bartering echoed through the air. Deep in a small alley, littered with grime and strewn with discarded wrappers, he spotted a kid who tried to hide himself beside a big garbage bin. Rats scurried around the base of the bin, and a roach dared to venture out, only to be met by the harsh sunlight. The kid wore tattered clothes; they were supposed to be white but had turned yellow with many red marks. The dirt on his face was streaked with tears, and his eyes, though wary, held a certain depth.

'Is it blood?'

Wayne slowly approached the alley, the ground crunching beneath his feet.

The kid hid his face, and his two arms hugged himself. He cried in silence. There were several bruises and wounds on his body.

"Are you okay?" Wayne asked, attempting to touch the kid. He noticed a large wound on the kid's arm, which was still bleeding.

The kid, in shock, gripped a dagger, ready to defend himself. His eyes became sharp, a killing instinct emanating from him.

Wayne quickly stepped back, momentarily unable to breathe, shocked by the intense aura of threat from the child. "Eas... easy... take it easy, boy..."

The kid's eyes, as intense as the burning sun overhead, observed Wayne, gauging his intentions.

'Kill or not to kill.'

Wayne swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the hot air and sudden killing intent around him. "Listen, I'm just passing by and wondering if you're okay. You seem hurt. Can I help you?"

The kid remained silent, the shadows from the surrounding buildings playing on his face.

"Here, take this chocolate." Wayne carefully retrieved a chocolate bar from his pocket. "I mean no harm."

The kid eyed the chocolate, the foil shimmering slightly as it caught the sun, and then cautiously looked up at Wayne.

"Listen, I'm from a humanitarian aid group. I'm here to help." Wayne placed the chocolate on the ground in front of the child.

"Are you okay, Wayne?" A voice, belonging to one of Wayne's friends, echoed from the entrance of the alley, carrying with it a hint of dust.

"Everything's okay, Vin. But could you bring the first aid kit from the car?" Wayne responded, never taking his eyes off the child. "And don't come any closer."

Vin's voice responded, "Alright," and faded away, drowned out by the distant murmur of the market.

"No need to be alarmed," Wayne reassured with a smile. "We're here to help. Mind if I sit down?"

The child didn't respond, but he picked up the chocolate, opened it, and consumed it rapidly, as if fearing it might be taken away.

'He's hungry,' Wayne mused, positioning himself about three meters from the boy. Observing the child, who appeared to be around eleven or twelve, Wayne was reminded of his own son. His boy, always laughing, eating without a care, and engrossed in his smartphone. In stark contrast, this Syrian, a child of the same age was injured, traumatized, and clutching a bloody knife.

In the midst of this poignant moment, Wayne began to sing softly, his voice blending with the distant sounds of the bustling market:

🎶 Imagine there's no heaven

It's easy if you try

No hell below us

Above us, only sky

Imagine all the people

Livin' for today

Ah

Imagine there's no countries

It isn't hard to do

Nothing to kill or die for

And no religion, too

Imagine all the people

Livin' life in peace

You

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will be as one

Imagine no possessions

I wonder if you can

No need for greed or hunger

A brotherhood of man

Imagine all the people

Sharing all the world

You

You may say I'm a dreamer

But I'm not the only one

I hope someday you'll join us

And the world will live as one 🎶

After his rendition, a protracted silence followed before the boy finally whispered, "Will the war ever end and no more hunger?"

Wayne smiled gently, "It will, someday. When there's enough love in the world. Then, there will only be peace, love, and care."

The child seemed skeptical.

"Look at the sky," Wayne continued. "The blue vastness, the white clouds, the air we breathe - all creations of love. Everything around us is an act of love. Sunshine for our health, plants to nourish us, and our very bodies, made to love and be loved. When humanity learns to love, share, and care sufficiently, there will be no more wars."

The boy gazed upwards, lost in thought, the sun casting shadows on his face.

"We're doing our part to spread love," Wayne murmured. "Hold on. There will be peace... soon."

"Wayne, I've got the first aid," Vin's voice rang out again, echoing slightly in the narrow alley.

"Hold on, I'll be right there," Wayne replied. He turned back to the boy, "Wait here for a moment." As he left to meet Vin, he felt a sense of connection with the young boy. However, when he returned, the alley was empty. The child had vanished.

Wayne stared into the deserted space, the litter rustling with the gentle breeze, and after a moment, whispered to the wind, "Wish you luck."

***

On Earth, the horizon melded into an ethereal tapestry of twilight's orange and royal purple hues, as if the sky itself were caught in a fleeting embrace between day and night. Against this mesmerizing canvas, the rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades cleaved through the air like the pounding heart of the planet. Two obsidian choppers sliced through the atmosphere, their dark silhouettes descending with balletic grace upon a nondescript headquarters—the unassuming home of a quiet yet impactful humanitarian effort.

As the helicopters touched down, whirlwinds of dust spiraled into miniature tornadoes, swept into life by the chopper's invisible breath. The doors of the helicopters yawned open, revealing two figures. Even obscured by the swirling detritus, their presence oozed palpable authority. A tangible aura of magnetism enveloped them, as though the very air bowed in deference. Their shoes didn't merely click; they echoed like the clapping of an invisible audience, as they purposefully marched toward the headquarters' threshold.

Stepping into the dim, rustic hall, they were greeted by an ambient symphony—hushed conversations mingling with the scurrying footsteps of diligent workers. A voice pierced the atmosphere, tinged with a tremor of urgency, "Where is Wayne?"

From a crevice bathed in obscurity, a silhouette unfurled into the room's weak light. "That would be me," Wayne's voice emerged, smooth as silk yet edged with an indescribable steel. The two figures, immaculate in their obsidian suits, and behind sunglasses that mirrored the room's dull glow, pivoted toward him with predatory swiftness.

Bypassing any formalities, one of them unlatched a sleek, metallic briefcase with a swift, calculated movement. Nestled within its velvet interior lay an insignia—a symbol that encapsulated the apex of Earthly governance. Locking eyes with Wayne, the man intoned, heavy with gravitas, "By the mandate of our First President of Earth, in his unavoidable absence, you are entrusted to manage the entirety of our global affairs. You are to become the First Vice President of Earth."

The second man added, "The codes – for the nuclear arsenal, for the defense systems, and for every top-secret facility – have already been forwarded to your secure email."

Wayne, usually unflappable, found himself caught off guard. His mouth went dry, and his eyes widened, reflecting the enormity of what was just presented to him. For a long moment, he was speechless, processing the weight of the responsibility just placed upon his shoulders.

***

As I meticulously cleared the grisly remains of the zombies, I transferred their loot to my new rugged backpack. Adjusting the straps, I took a moment to ensure my gear was in order: an iron baton, jewelry, something resembling a smartphone, wallets, and everything else found in the zombies' pockets.

I paused to survey the chaotic panorama around me. The haunting screams in the distance testified that the apocalypse had only just begun its grim dance. Fresh, crimson blood painted the streets, an unsettling contrast to the grey and abandoned buildings.

Taking a deep breath, the smell of blood and chaos in the air tugged at my senses, and a wry smile played on my lips.

A smirk curled my lips as I remembered my former life of luxury and opulence. "If you sent me to a ball or some upscale party now, I'd probably stand there, looking utterly out of place amongst the glittering chandeliers and champagne flutes."

My gaze sharpened, watching a group of zombies trying to break through a barricade in the distance. "But dropping me in the midst of this nightmare? Where every heartbeat counts and every kill is a step closer to survival? You've simply thrown a shark back into the deep blue, old man."

I laughed, a sound devoid of any mirth. "Dreaming of my demise? Think again. After all, my middle name might as well be 'Indestructible'."

As if on cue, a translucent screen shimmered into existence before me. The message was clear:

[You've just eliminated zombies. They are still radiating energy. Do you wish to harvest this residual power?]

"What?!"