Survive, that's it.
Clang. Clang.
Can’s clinking, box rustling, and winds blowing. Just another random sound for a random guy like you, but you’re used to it.
You’re at a ruined convenience store near the skirts of Gangnam, and there’s no one around you. Shelves lay overturned. Blood had long since turned black on the tiled floor. Outside, abandoned cars clogged the road beneath Gangnam's silent skyline.
Why?
Because an apocalypse ridded all of them, not just them, the whole world got rocked by a sudden zombie apocalypse.
“Shit, expired.” You took a can of apple juice from a sealed box.
“But I guess it’s better to poop than to die of hunger.” You took it anyway.
You’re still alive even though your survival instincts are somehow worse than a sunfish's. Let’s say you’re lucky. Extremely lucky, to the point that you haven’t been chased once by those zombies. You’ve used your battle royale skills, camp.
“Is there anything here that’s useful?” You looked around, but were still aware not to cause any noise that may attract those lifeless monsters.
But you learned how to adapt to this dangerous world. As you roam around and look for something to eat.
You’re carrying a Remington 870 as a main.
That’s… what you always saw in movies and games. You’re not an expert; you’re just relying on what you saw, read, and played.
You figured shotguns work better at close range since you noticed those zombies are, thankfully, somewhat slow; you don't have to shoot at them if you can outrun them. Slugs are easier to find as well as ammunition stores rather than complex rifle bullets, based on your experience when you find your armory.
Along with the shotgun, you’re carrying a pair of Glock-19s on both sides of your vest. They’re light and high-capacity, making them perfect for emergency switches rather than reloading your Remington midway through a fight.
“Wooh… ha– nothing?” You took a deep breath before entering the back storage of the store. It’s dark and dusty, and somehow it reminds you of a game where the main character first encounters a zombie in the same back storage.
You carefully looked for something useful, your heart racing as you wished no one would suddenly pop out of nowhere.
“I hate this.” You grabbed the ESEE-4 knife from your left thigh, the only weapon that wouldn't echo through the store.
You wanted to keep it quiet for some reason, so using your Glock and Remington is not your first option. It’s also better to reserve some ammo.
You took a careful step, one after another, with the knife in your right hand while the other held a heavy-duty flashlight.
“Fuck.” A rotting smell hit your senses, something that could make anyone puke.
“...”
“S-s-shit.” You cursed, quietly as you could.
What you saw terrifies you, enough to send chills down your entire body.
“Rahhgh—” Two zombies are feasting on a ruptured body. They kept crunching the corpse's limbs.
“...”
You've got to run.
Clang. Clang. Clang.
You accidentally knocked a can from a shelf when you took a step back, and what is worse is that it caught the zombie's attention.
“Shit, m-m-move!” You want to run, but your legs don’t cooperate.
The actual thing is a hundred times scarier than games and movies. This is where being inexperienced will cost you.
You haven’t been chased by them, and now they will.
“RAHHHH!”
“GRAAHHH!”
The two zombies shout the moment they see you, but their appearance added something to the horror; both of them were old and toothless!!
“AHHHHHH!!!” You shout as well, screw the sneaky tactics.
The panic got you as you kicked repeatedly, trying to re-ignite your survival skills.
As you kept wiggling, the zombies stood up and came to you… limping? Those motherfucking zombies are injured and assisting one another to walk.
This is your time to shine and fight— but the knife slips from your hand,
“AHHHH!! DON’T FUCKING EAT ME! YOU HAVEN’T FINISHED YOUR MEAL YET!” You point at the corpse they’re feasting on earlier.
“...”
To your surprise, they look at where you point.
“...”
“RAAHHH!!” There they went again, limping together as they were distracted for a moment.
“AHHHH!!” You scream in sync with them.
Clumsily, you reached for the Glocks resting on your vest and aimed them at them.
“Rest well, zombies.” You pulled the trigger.
Click.
“Huuhh?”
“Waahh?”
Click. Click.
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