The banging stopped. Then came the sound of breaking glass from the kitchen.

The site was a relic of 2005—neon green text on a black background, flickering banners promising "UNLIMITED FPS" and "GOD MODE ENABLED." I should have closed the tab when the download finished in three seconds. An .exe file that small isn't a game; it’s a skeleton key.

My screen didn't flicker. There was no error message. Instead, my desktop icons began to drift. They didn't just move; they moved with intent . My folders huddled together in the top right corner of the screen like survivors in a barricaded room.

Then, the sound started. Not the high-quality orchestral score of the real Project Zomboid, but a low, bit-crushed moaning coming from my internal speakers. It was rhythmic, like a heartbeat made of static. I tried to open Task Manager. Access Denied. I tried to shut down. Operation Not Permitted.