By the time I returned to the city, the sun was already setting into the horizon.
I turned the radio on; the voices had changed.
They were panicking now, the tone of the anchors now had unfiltered fear.
“Unconfirmed reports of attacks in several major cities”, “The CDC has urged citizens to remain indoors”, “The governor will release a statement soon”.
My fingers tightened around the steering wheel.
‘Right on schedule’, I thought.
I glanced around; people still filled the sidewalks, laughing and arguing, oblivious to what was coming.
Passing by a diner, I saw a family eating together—a father cutting a burger in half for his kid.
Unconsciously slowing the truck briefly, something inside me twisted.
“They’ll be dead by the weekend,” I said quietly.
I shook the thought away; guilt was a luxury I couldn’t afford.
Reaching home, I parked my truck and sat there in silence for a long minute.
I checked my phone; it was 21:47.
The top news headline read: “CDC Denies Rumors of Reanimated Corpses; Investigation Ongoing.” I exhaled helplessly, a dry smirk tugging at the corner of my lips.
“They always deny until it’s too late”.
Letting out a long sigh, I leaned back, eyes half-lidded.
The exhaustion finally started catching up, but my mind refused to rest.
Tomorrow, the shipments will arrive, hospitals will fail, and the world will start ending in earnest.
As I opened the door, Ghost came running, barking, his tail swinging in delight.
“Good boy,” I said as i crouch to give him a neck rub.
I went around, storing whatever was left in my apartment, as well as Ghost’s things, in my inventory.
“Come on, boy, tonight we’re relocating,” I said.
Ghost barked in return as I drove into the dark toward the farm.
We arrived a few dozen minutes before midnight.
The farmhouse was dark.
Grabbing a flashlight from my inventory, I turned to Ghost.
“Stay here; I’ll be back soon.” I went to the fuse box to check if I could rig something to give me electricity.
A couple of fuses were blown; nothing too complicated.
Fishing for replacements from my inventory, I replaced the blown fuses.
After I reset the main breaker, the lights flickered weakly back on.
I headed back to settle Ghost in, getting him fed.
I fished an MRE for myself, as I was too tired for anything else.
I took my laptop, taking advantage of the internet.
I began downloading instructional videos, from beginner to master, on every discipline I could think of: farming, tailoring, blacksmithing, fishing, etc., as well as looking up places I could potentially loot.
Finishing up, I went to sleep a bit more relaxed than yesterday.
I woke up to Ghost’s slobbing tongue on my face, early morning rays seeping through the blinds.
Grabbing a camping stove from my inventory, I boiled some water for my daily coffee, cranking a nearby radio while taking a sip.
Static cracked, followed by fear-laden voices: “Multiple hospitals under emergency quarantine”, “officials refusing to confirm the number of casualties”, “Witnesses describe victims biting others, spreading panic.” I muted the radio; a long sigh escaped my lips.
I rubbed my face, forcing away the fatigue.
I hadn’t slept much the past two nights—too many plans, too many lists—but there was no room for mistakes now.
I went and wired the generator in case of power shutting down, refueling it as well.
I tended to Ghost’s needs, leaving him at the farmhouse.
I headed back to the apartment for a delivery.
By 07:00, a knock came at the door.
I froze; my hand instinctively moved toward my pistol.
“Package delivery,” a voice called, relaxing.
I opened the door.
A young man greeted me with a dolly stacked with sealed boxes labeled with logos: chips, candy, cigarettes, and liquor.
“Big order,” the young man said, wiping his brow.
“Having a party or something?”
“Something like that,” I dryly replied, handing him a generous tip.
The man grinned.
“Hey, thanks!
You sure you don’t need help bringing it in?”
“Nah, I’ve got it covered.” As soon as the kid left, I shut the door and began offloading everything into my inventory.
Crate after crate vanished inside with silent precision.
I exhaled; three more shipments to go.
I got out and drove to each shipment location and discreetly offloaded them inside my inventory.
It took a couple of hours, but I got everything by 9 AM.
Grabbing my notepad, I crossed off the objectives I finished, satisfaction welling in my chest.
I headed to a nearby electronics store.
The clerk greeted me with a professional smile.
“Hey, how may I help you?”
“A couple of birthdays are lining up.
I plan to buy some gifts.
What’s the latest game consoles you have?”
The clerk’s eyes lit up, recognizing a big order.
“You came at the right place!
We have the Xbox 360 S that just came out a couple of months ago.
It’s an upgrade to the normal Xbox 360 model, featuring an updated motherboard resulting in lower power consumption and better performance, a new cooling system, 5 USB 2.0 ports, and a dedicated port for the Kinect.
It’s available with either a 250GB hard drive or a 4GB internal memory unit, priced at $399.
Then we have the PlayStation 3 Slim, the upgraded version of the PlayStation Fat.
It’s 33 percent smaller and 36 percent lighter, consumes less power, and runs much quieter and cooler due to a 45nm processor.
It’s more reliable and less prone to failure, either with a 160GB or 320GB hard drive—the latter priced at $349, while the earlier at $299.
We did have a Nintendo 3DS, but the last one was sold yesterday,” the clerk said apologetically.
“It’s fine; they’re not much of Nintendo heads anyway,” I said dryly.
“Pack me three each with all the games available for them.”
The clerk’s eyes went wide open with disbelief.
“Yeah, they’re my favorites,” I shrugged.
“A-Alright,” the clerk stuttered briefly.
“Right away, sir.” A few minutes later, I walked out with three sets of consoles and $10,000 lighter.
After blowing what was left of my money on DVDs, more perishable food, drinks, and fuel, I returned to the farmstead.
I powered on my laptop, back to the news.
The anchors were now pale, stumbling through breaking reports.
Footage from a helicopter showed burning vehicles and chaos outside a hospital.
Authorities are advising citizens to avoid downtown areas until the feed cut out.
My phone buzzed: “CDC ADVISORY: STAY INDOORS; DO NOT APPROACH VIOLENT INDIVIDUALS”.
I stared at it for a moment, then chuckled humorlessly.
“Took them long enough.”
(To be continued…)