The morning sun barely pierced the thick clouds hanging over the city.
The world outside was drenched in a haunting silence, broken only by the occasional groan or the distant crash of glass. But inside the apartment building, footsteps echoed, steady and determined.
Ren's fingers tightened around the sword's hilt as he stood by the window, eyes scanning the zombies and wreckage below.
The streets were already a battlefield, shambling corpses clustering near overturned cars and broken storefronts, their pale, lifeless eyes searching for any sign of movement.
He pulled back from the window, the weight of what was coming settling heavily on his shoulders. Today was the day Brian would try to leave. Today, everything would change.
Ren grabbed his backpack, checking the supplies quickly a couple of water bottles, some canned food, a small first aid kit, and his notebook. He had to move fast.
Quietly, he slipped into the hallway and made his way to Brian's door. A few knocks, then a voice.
"Ren? Is that you? What are you doing up this early?"
Brian opened the door, and looked quite alert.
"Quickly, come inside first."
Brian pulled Ren inside with surprising strength, closing the door softly but firmly behind them. His eyes flicked toward the window, alert and sharp.
Ren met Brian's sharp eyes. "Brian, listen. You can't leave today. Not yet."
Brian frowned. "What do you mean? I have to find my sister. She never came home."
Ren took a deep breath, steadying himself. "I know. And I want to help. But it's dangerous out there worse than you think. I've seen it. The zombies are evolving, growing faster and smarter. If you go alone, you won't make it."
Brian's jaw tightened. "So what? We just stay locked up here? Wait to die?"
"No," Ren said firmly. "We fight — together. But you need to trust me first. I have a plan, a way to survive. You don't have to face this alone."
Brian studied him, searching for any sign of deception. When none came, his shoulders relaxed slightly.
"Alright," Brian said finally. "I'm in. But if this goes south, I'm not blaming you."
Ren nodded, relief washing over him. "Good. First step, stick close. We'll prepare, train, and build a team. Then, when the time's right, we'll move."
Brian looked at the window, the chaos outside a grim reminder of their reality.
Ren gripped his sword tighter. 'This time, Brian, we survive. And I won't let you die again.'
Brian nodded, still wary but willing to listen. "Alright, Ren. I'm in. But what's next? How do we actually survive this mess?"
Ren pulled out his notebook and spread it on the table. "First, we train. You've got strength, but the evolution phase is going to push us beyond anything we've faced. We need to be ready physically and mentally."
Brian glanced at the sword resting against the wall. "You think that thing will be enough?"
Ren smiled grimly. "It's not just the sword, it's how well we use it. I'm working on mastering it, but we'll both have to get better."
Brian's expression hardened with determination. "Fine. What else?"
"Next, we find allies," Ren said. "People who can watch our backs, who can fight and think. Alone, we won't last long. Together, we have a chance."
Brian scratched his chin. "I know a few people, neighbors who've managed to hold on. Maybe we can bring them in."
Ren nodded approvingly. "Good. But we have to be cautious. Not everyone can be trusted."
Brian looked out the window, watching the groaning figures shuffle through the street below. "And the base? Where do we go if this place gets overrun?"
"I'm scouting options," Ren said. "Somewhere secure, with supplies and defensible positions. For now, this apartment is our starting point, but we need a plan B."
Brian took a deep breath. "Alright, Ren. I trust you. Let's get to work."
Ren stood, feeling the surge of renewed purpose. The past might have haunted him, but the future was theirs to fight for.
"This time," he said firmly, "we survive. Together."
Outside, the city rotted and screamed, but inside that small apartment, a plan was born one that might just turn the tide.
The next few hours passed in focused silence.
Ren moved the furniture in Brian's apartment, clearing enough space for them to train without drawing attention. Brian changed into more flexible clothes, sweatpants, a torn hoodie, and sneakers still caked in dried blood from the day the outbreak began.
Ren handed him a length of steel pipe he'd scavenged from the maintenance room. "It's not perfect, but until we get you a real weapon, this'll have to do."
Brian tested its weight, swinging it through the air. "Not bad. Heavy, though."
"That's the point," Ren replied. "Build your strength and muscle control."
They began with basic drills. Ren showed Brian the fundamentals, stances, footwork, how to swing and control the weapon's momentum. Brian, surprisingly, picked it up fast. His movements weren't graceful, but they were strong and decisive.
"Not bad," Ren said between breaths. "You're adapting faster than I expected."
Brian smirked. "I used to play baseball. Coach made us swing bats every day. Guess it stuck."
They trained for nearly two hours. Their bodies ached, sweat dripped onto the floor, but neither complained. Outside, the moans grew louder, as if the undead sensed their growing strength.
Finally, Ren collapsed against the wall, panting. Brian slumped next to him.
"We need more people," Brian said. "If we keep this up, we'll burn out before we even leave the building."
Ren nodded. "I know. There's a girl on the third floor, Claire, I think. She was in med school. If she's still alive, she could be a valuable ally."
Brian perked up. "I know her. She helped patch up Mrs. Gao when she fell last week."
"Then we check her place," Ren said, getting back on his feet. "Keep your weapon ready. If she's turned, we end it clean."
Brian's jaw tightened, but he nodded.
They exited the apartment carefully. The hallway was quiet, but the tension in the air was palpable. Every door they passed was a possible threat.
When they reached the third floor, Ren tapped on Claire's door in a specific rhythm, three quick knocks, a pause, then two more. It was a trick he picked up in his previous life. Survivors were often too paranoid to open for anything else.
A tense silence followed.
Then.. shuffling, the click of a lock, and the door cracked open.
A pair of cautious eyes stared out from behind the chain lock. "Ren? Brian?"
"It's us, Claire," Brian said quickly. "We're alive. We need to talk."
She hesitated, then undid the chain and opened the door fully.
Claire looked tired, her eyes ringed with exhaustion, but she held a bloodied kitchen knife with steady hands. "You two look like hell."
Ren smiled faintly. "We've been busy."
They stepped inside, and Claire shut the door behind them. Her apartment was orderly, with supplies stacked in corners and blankets taped to the windows. She'd been surviving smart.
Ren didn't waste time. "Claire, we're forming a team. A group that can survive this long-term. We need people with brains, skill, and guts. You fit all three."
Claire studied them for a moment. "I saw what happened to our neighbors. I know what's out there. If I say yes, I'm all in. But I need to know you're not just playing hero."
Ren met her eyes. "I'm not here to play anything. I've seen what's coming. And I plan to be ready."
She didn't ask how. She just nodded.
"Then I'm in."