After escaping the convenience store, his heart pounding in his chest, Adrian had run until he couldn't run anymore. He had collapsed against a wall, gasping for breath, his mind reeling from the horrors he had witnessed. After catching his breath, he had returned to wandering the streets, hoping to find a safe place to rest, a place where he could finally catch his breath and make sense of everything that had happened. He tried to make sense of it all, the chaos, the monsters, the sudden collapse of everything he knew but he couldn't make heads or tails about any of it. It was like a nightmare he couldn't wake up from, a twisted parody of the zombie movies he used to watch on late-night TV.
After wandering for what felt like an eternity, his legs aching and his mind numb, Adrian spotted a seemingly abandoned apartment building. The setting sun cast long shadows across the cracked facade, giving the building a desolate and foreboding appearance. He had entertained the thought of finding other survivors, but the desolation of this place with no sound to conform if there is life and the memory of the black katana filled him with unease and made him think otherwise. He wasn't sure if the survivors that he would find would even be friendly or be like those from The Walking Dead. He couldn't even guarantee his own safety yet. Though he would like some company in this hell scape. Maybe it was better to be alone, to rely only on himself.
He noticed a lone zombie shuffling aimlessly near the entrance, its movements sluggish and uncoordinated. He carefully skirted around it, giving it a wide berth. He wondered why it was the only one there. Had the other zombies already moved on? Or was there something about this building that repelled them?
He hesitated for a moment, his hand tightening around the baseball bat, then cautiously approached the building. What floor should he go to? What if the room that he chooses is already occupied, what if he is forced to fight. The lobby was in disarray, with overturned furniture and shattered glass littering the floor, a stark reminder of the violence that had swept through the city. Amidst the chaos, he noticed a broken picture frame with part of the portrait being ripped off showcasing a seemingly happy family proudly embracing their child, and a child's drawing taped to the wall, a colorful crayon sketch of a smiling family. The image tugged at his heart, a reminder of the normalcy he had lost. The air was thick with the smell of dust and decay, a scent that he was quickly becoming used to. He cautiously made his way up the stairs, checking each floor for signs of life—or un-life.
He tried the first few doors he came across, but they were all locked. He didn't want to force them open, afraid of attracting unwanted attention. The last thing he needed was to draw a horde of zombies to his location. He continued up the stairs, his senses on high alert.
On the second floor, he found a door that was barely hanging on its hinges. He cautiously pushed it aside and peered inside. The room was empty, stripped bare of any furniture or belongings with some dried blood scattered on the floor. A broken knife lay discarded near the doorway, its blade stained a dark, ominous color. A chill ran down his spine. His breath catching on his throat. His mind subconsciously making the connection back to the dead body and black sword he saw at the convenience store. Something terrible had happened here. Fearing that something was still there He quickly moved on, his hope dwindling.
As he made his way up to the third floor not expecting much, He suddenly noticed one of the apartment doors on the third floor was slightly ajar, a sliver of darkness beckoning him inside. He took a deep breath, steeling his nerves, then pushed the door open and stepped inside, his baseball bat raised but not in an overtly threatening manner.
Inside, he found a teenage guy, who looked to be around his age, lying on a makeshift bed of blankets in the corner of the room. The bed consisted of a tattered sleeping bag laid out on top of a pile of old newspapers and magazines. The guy was startled awake by Adrian's entrance and scrambled to get up quickly, his eyes wide and arms raised with alarm.
Adrian stopped just inside the doorway, his expression wary. The air in the room was stale and heavy, and the silence was broken only by the distant groan of the wind and the faint creaking of the building settling around them. "Sorry," he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. "I didn't know anyone was here."
The guy stared at him, his eyes darting to the baseball bat in Adrian's hand, then back to Adrian's face, assessing the threat. He was wearing what looked like a school uniform, though it was rumpled and stained, and his hair was a mess. He didn't speak for a moment, his expression unreadable. "It's fine," he said finally, his voice rough with fatigue. "You just startled me. What are you doing here?"
Adrian lowered the bat slightly, but kept it within easy reach. He scanned the room, taking in the sight of a makeshift bed, a desk lined with some medicine and food, and the boarded-up window. The desk was cluttered with empty cans, pill bottles, and a few tattered books. The window was covered with planks of wood, leaving only a few narrow cracks for light to filter through. "I'm just looking for a place to rest," he said, his voice flat. "I didn't mean to intrude."
The guy eyed him suspiciously, then noticed Adrian's disheveled appearance, the dirt and grime on his clothes, the exhaustion etched on his face. "You look like you've been through hell and back," he said, his voice laced with a hint of weariness. "What happened to you out there?"
Adrian hesitated, then shrugs, avoiding eye contact. He remembered the convenience store, the zombies, and the black katana. A shiver ran down his spine. "Just trying to survive, like everyone else," he said, his voice devoid of emotion. "I could ask you the same, why are you in a delapedated building alone?"
The guy sighed, running a hand through his messy hair. "Long story," he said, his voice curt. "Let's just say I had a disagreement with some... people. Besides, it's better than wandering around out there." He pauses, then adds, almost defensively, "It's safer than being outside, you know? Did you see those things out there?"
Adrian nodded slowly, his expression hardening slightly. "Yeah," he said, his voice low. "I saw them." He pauses, then adds, "What are they, anyway? Some kind of zombie?"
The guy shrugs. "I don't know," he said, his voice laced with a hint of fear. "I just call them monsters, some of them don't really fit the whole traditional zombies. They're everywhere." He pauses, then adds, almost wistfully, "It's like something out of a movie, you know? Except it's real."
Adrian nodded again, his expression unreadable. "Yeah," he said, his voice flat. "It's real." He paused, then added, "Well, I'll leave you to your devices then" as he turns around to leave the room.
Before Adrian's body could fully go out of the room he heard the boy hurriedly call out to him, "Wait!" Adrian paused, his hand on the doorframe, his back to the boy. He could sense the boy's hesitation, his internal struggle. After a moment, the boy spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can stay here," he said, "It's safer to be with someone." Then, after a slight hesitation, he added, "Just don't touch my stuff."
Adrian looks back and raises an eyebrow, a flicker of something in his eyes. Was it gratitude? Relief? Or simply a sense of resignation? "Relax," he said, his voice laced with sarcasm. "I'm not a thief. Just trying to survive, like everyone else. And besides, you don't seem to have much stuff to begin with". He sat down arms crossed by the door hugging his bat incase anything happens.
As he sat down, leaning against the door, exhaustion washed over him. His muscles ached, his eyes burned, and his mind struggled to process everything that had happened. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself sink into the weariness. The adrenaline that had coursed through him during his escape from the convenience store had finally worn off, leaving him feeling drained and vulnerable.
After a few minutes, they just sat in silence, the tension in the room as thick as the dust motes dancing in the slivers of sunlight filtering through the boarded-up window. Adrian could hear the boy's shallow breaths, the rustling of the wind outside, and the distant wail of what sounded like a siren and gunshots.
The boy started to feel awkward, the silence stretching on too long, so he asked in hopes of easing any tension "So, what's your name?".
Adrian hesitates, then decides to be somewhat forthcoming. "Adrian," he says, his voice cautious. "What about you?"
The guy shrugs. "Call me Ken," he says, his tone speaking as if it's an after thought.
Adrian nods again, his expression unreadable. "Understood," he says, his voice noncommittal. "I won't cause any trouble."
The silence stretched on again, broken only by the distant sounds of the city. Adrian started to wonder what the future held. Where was he even? Where would be go next? Would he survive? Would he find other survivors? Or are they about to become just another statistic in this new world?
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Ken spoke again, his voice hesitant. "So, what were you studying before all this?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the boarded-up window. "You know, before the... Collapse?"
Adrian shrugged, his expression unreadable. "Was a College student"he replied. "But it doesn't matter much now does it?"
Ken nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the boarded-up window. "Yeah, I guess not" he said. "But, it doesn't mean we can't return to the past! Though it might be hard, We just need to find other survivors and work together!" As he clenches his fist towards the window.
Adrian simply stared at Ken, his expression unreadable. The kid's optimism was almost unsettling.