With the black backpack on his back, Alto estimated its weight to be about twenty pounds. He had tried his best to stuff things inside, but the capacity was limited. With some rope, he even tied food to the outside of the backpack in an attempt to carry more. However, exposed food made noise, which posed a deadly risk to him. He had even removed the wrapper from some items inside to save space and prevent the sound of plastic crinkling, provided the items themselves wouldn't be damaged.
With a sunmask on his face, Alto took one last look at the supermarket, adjusted his straps, and opened the door to leave. As he walked, he felt a pang of regret for all the supplies and large jugs of mineral water left behind. He couldn't stay to enjoy the things in the supermarket anymore; he needed to find a safe place to stay before nightfall. He would leave those things for other survivors, though he wasn't sure if any actually existed.
If he passed a safe clothing store on the way, he planned to find a clean, comfortable outfit. Walking around outside in a hospital gown felt absurd, and he particularly worried about meeting living people who might mistake him for a mental patient. Many people would naturally assume anyone wandering far from a Hospital in a hospital gown was mentally ill.
Passing the liquor and tobacco shop next to the supermarket, Alto held his breath as he bypassed a corpse and grabbed a few packs of cigarettes from the counter. This stuff might become a form of currency in the future, so he took a few packs since they didn't weigh much anyway.
After taking the cigarettes, Alto stood at the intersection once again. He chose to continue straight ahead to avoid dealing with the zombies on the cross-streets. He didn't want to fight his way through with an iron rod, as it would waste energy and risk him getting surrounded. He needed to find a bookstore quickly and get a detailed city map. The maps at the bus stops were stylized and only showed specific transit blocks; they weren't detailed enough to be useful for someone like him who had only moved here for college.
With his head down, Alto walked forward as the street remained a desolate and miserable sight. Trash and wrecked cars were piled everywhere, glass shards reflected the light, and looted shops stood empty. He tried not to focus on the zombies hiding in the shadows, instead scanning the shop signs for anything useful. He looked for men's clothing stores, bookstores with a city map, or a pharmacy that hadn't been picked clean.
It was strange that despite being near the Hospital, where pharmacies should have been everywhere, Alto had only seen one. It had been completely looted, leaving nothing but cardboard boxes and a few confused zombies inside. He saw several clothing stores, but they all sold women's wear. The only shop with men's clothes was occupied by several zombies. Alto sniffed himself and decided he didn't absolutely need to change yet. He could wear these clothes for another two days, so he abandoned the idea of risking a clothing store.
However, getting a city map was non-negotiable. It was vital for his safety. Without a map, he would never find his way back to the school, let alone find James and Felix. In this society, very few people read physical books anymore, as most were used to reading or buying books online. Offline bookstores had almost no way to survive, and their numbers dwindled every year. Even the books they did sell were mostly test prep materials and exercise booklets.
After walking an entire street, he saw no sign of a bookstore. Shadows began to stretch across the sunlit streets as the sun gradually sank in the west. A few zombies started emerging from the shops and slowly wandering onto the pavement. Alto had been staying in the middle of the street to avoid the zombies inside the shops, but now that they were stepping out, he could no longer ignore them.
With the iron rod back in his hand, he prepared himself. While he wouldn't go out of his way to clear them out, he wouldn't hesitate if they blocked his path.
Thwack!
The iron rod pierced a skull, and fluid dripped down as the zombie hit the ground with a dull thud. With a heavy heart, Alto looked down at the hideous face. This had once been a living human being just like him, with thoughts, a future, and a family. Now it was just a walking corpse that might even bite the family it once wanted to protect. He told himself he could never become like this. If he were ever bitten, he would kill himself before the infection took hold.
No! He wouldn't get bitten. He would find a bookstore, get a map, and return to the school. He couldn't let himself get discouraged.
With a firm grip on the iron rod, Alto struck out again, and another zombie fell to the ground. He moved forward step by step, and the zombies approached as if they were lining up for him. He had no choice but to keep pushing forward while swinging the iron rod.
As time passed, more zombies moved onto the street, and the mindless "he-he" sounds from their throats began to echo. Looking back, he realized a large group of zombies had started following him at some point. If someone were looking down at Alto from a high vantage point, they would see a spectacular sight: a young man with a bulging black backpack walking forward while swinging an iron rod. With every strike and thrust, a zombie fell. Zombies were converging toward him from the front while a dark mass followed closely behind. It looked as if a leader was leading a formation during a military parade.
Alto gradually began to feel the pressure. The sleep he'd had at the supermarket had restored his energy, and he had consumed plenty of food and water. However, no amount of energy could withstand the toll of carrying a heavy load under the sun while killing one zombie after another. With arms that grew increasingly sore, he felt as if he could no longer swing the iron rod. With shoulder straps digging into his skin, the backpack felt much heavier than before and made him feel unstable on his feet.
Beyond his physical exhaustion, the sky was growing dark. Only a sliver of golden light from the setting sun remained, and the zombies were becoming more active, pouring out from the shops on both sides. With groans and footsteps intertwining, they all lunged toward Alto.