The sun began to rise, but it didn't bring hope. It only illuminated the carnage outside. The street was littered with "sleepers"—the zombies who had stopped moving when the noise died down, waiting for a vibration to wake them.
Inside the GS25, the silence was heavy.
Han-su had spent the last four hours prepping. He didn't have a "System Shop," so he had to improvise.
He took two 1.5L water bottles and duct-taped them to his shins—improvised shin guards.
He emptied a backpack and filled it with high-calorie protein bars and jerky.
He took a lighter and a can of hairspray from the beauty aisle. Not a flamethrower, but a distraction.
Mr. Kim was watching him. "You're preparing to leave us."
"I'm preparing to move," Han-su corrected. "My truck is 50 meters away. It's a metal box. It's mobile. If we stay here, we're in a glass coffin."
"The truck has no fuel," Mr. Kim countered.
"The truck has a siphon pump in the tool kit," Han-su said, his eyes cold. "There are twenty cars stalled out there with full tanks. We get to the truck, we get to the gas, we get out of the city."
Ji-young looked at the glass door. A single zombie—a small child—was staring in. It wasn't snarling. It was just... watching.
"What if we just wait for the military?" she asked.
As if answering her, a massive explosion rocked the district. A plume of black smoke rose from the direction of the Blue House. The cellular signal on Han-su's phone, which had been at one bar, dropped to SOS Only.
The internet was gone. The government was gone.
"The military is busy," Han-su said, gripping the handle of his frying pan. "Ji-young, grab a bag. Fill it with meds and lighters. Mr. Kim, you take the water. We move in five minutes."
"How?" Mr. Kim asked. "There are dozens of them out there."
Han-su looked at the microwave in the corner. Then he looked at the rack of metal canisters of butane for portable stoves.
"We're going to give them a delivery they didn't order," Han-su said. "A loud one."
Survival Log: End of Day 1
Survivors: 3 (Han-su, Ji-young, Mr. Kim)
Casualties Witnessed: Too many to count.
Morale: Critical.
Objective: Reach the delivery truck.