My Apocalypse Was Just a Sick Reality Show

Five years into the apocalypse, our entire office building had been on the run.

To survive, I gave myself to Marcus, our former head of corporate security.

Right after a brutal skirmish, Marcus handed me a ration of bread.

But when my eyes landed on the packaging, my heart skipped a beat—the expiration date was stamped just three days ago!

How was that even possible?

Five years of wasteland hell had shut down every factory on the continent.

Everything we scavenged was stale, moldy, and years past its prime.

Yet here was freshly baked bread!