Renji closed the bedroom door quietly behind him, letting his stepmother rest.
The house felt colder now.
He moved straight to his room, dragging the old hiking backpack from the closet. It was empty — good. The less weight he carried now, the more he could bring back.
In the corner, he found the thick work jacket his father used to wear, the one with reinforced sleeves. It wouldn't stop claws or teeth completely, but it was better than nothing. He shrugged it on, fastening the zipper all the way to his neck. Then he grabbed an old scarf from the drawer and wound it tight around his throat.
No exposed skin if I can help it.
From the kitchen, he took a serrated kitchen knife, slipping it into a loop on his belt. Not ideal, but it would do.
By the time he stepped into the hallway toward the front door, his heart had settled into a steady rhythm — focused, determined.
"Where are you going?"
Runa's voice was sharp from the living room. She was standing now, her blanket pooled on the couch.
"Supplies," Renji said simply, adjusting the straps of his pack.
Her eyes widened. "Now? You can't—"
"I can," he interrupted. "And I have to. We have a window before things get worse out there. If we wait too long, we'll have nothing left to take."
She moved toward him; her brows furrowed. "It's too dangerous. You saw what happened yesterday—"
"I saw exactly what happened," he cut in again, voice firmer. "And that's why I'm going. We can't rely on luck. Not in this world."
Runa hesitated, her hands curling into fists at her sides.
Renji sighed, softening his tone. "Stay here. Take care of Mom. That's your job right now."
She looked at him for a long moment before finally nodding, though the worry didn't leave her face.
"I promise," she said quietly.
"Good." He reached for the lock. The metal clicked under his hand, the sound loud in the silence.
With one last glance at his sister, Renji pulled the door open.
And stepped into the world outside.
The door clicked shut behind him, the sound far too loud in the still air.
Renji turned the key, locking it, then let his hand fall to his side. The street stretched ahead — empty. No shuffling forms in sight. No heads turning toward him.
Good.
He stepped off the porch, each footfall is deliberate, avoiding the crunch of stray gravel. The air felt heavier out here, thick with a faint scent he couldn't place. His eyes swept over every shadow, every unmoving car.
He kept to cover — slipping between parked vehicles, ducking low behind the rusted frame of an abandoned van. His movements were slow, measured. In this new world, a single mistake could end everything.
Halfway down the block, a low growl froze him in place.
On the far side of the street, a dog — or what had once been a dog — padded into view. Its frame was larger now, its legs thick with corded muscle. Tufts of fur bristled along its spine, and its eyes glowed faintly amber.
It sniffed the air.
Renji pressed himself against the side of a car, holding his breath.
The animal lingered for a moment, then moved on, its heavy paws thudding softly against the pavement. Only when it disappeared around the corner did Renji release the tight knot in his chest.
He kept going.
Twice more, he had to freeze — once for a cat with too-long limbs and jagged teeth, once for another hulking dog prowling alone. Both times, he stayed still until they were gone, then moved quickly but quietly past their territory.
At last, the convenience store came into view. Its glass doors hung half-open, the inside dim but intact.
Renji slipped inside, eyes scanning for movement. Nothing.
He moved fast — grabbing cans, packets, sealed bags. Non-perishables first. Then bottles of water, juice, anything drinkable. The weight in his backpack grew heavy, but he kept going until every spare inch was filled.
He straightened, shifting the straps on his shoulders.
That was when he heard it — muffled shouts outside, followed by the crash of something hitting metal.
A commotion.
The shouts were getting louder.
Renji crouched low behind a shelf, the cold metal pressing against his back. He peered through the narrow gap between stacked boxes, eyes fixed on the front of the store.
Outside, five people stumbled into view — two women, three men — their faces twisted with panic. They swung bats, pipes, anything they could hold, trying to push back the swarm closing in on them.
But for every zombie they shoved away, three more pressed forward, drawn by the noise.
The group fought their way toward the entrance, their voices hoarse from shouting.
Renji's jaw tightened. The more they screamed, the more they were sealing their own fate — and dragging him into it.
He turned, moving quickly toward the back of the store. If he could slip out unseen, he could circle away from the chaos.
But he wasn't fast enough.
The door banged open, and the five strangers stumbled inside, slamming into shelves as they fought to keep the horde out.
Zombies poured in after them.
Renji froze, his pulse spiking as the dead turned toward him. At least five pairs of cloudy, lifeless eyes locked on his position.
He braced for the charge.
It didn't come.
The zombies stared for a heartbeat longer… then turned away, moving past him as if he weren't even there. They lunged instead at the newcomers, snarling and snapping, driving them deeper into the store.
Renji's breath caught. 'They're… ignoring me.'
The realization hit hard, but there was no time to dwell on it. He adjusted his grip on his pack, his mind snapping into focus. If they wouldn't attack him, then the front door was his way out.
He moved quickly, stepping over fallen cans and splintered packaging, the chaos raging only a few feet away. Not a single zombie turned his way.
The door was right there.
In one smooth motion, he pushed it open and stepped back into the open air.