Wasteland Survival Record/C13 Survivor
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Wasteland Survival Record/C13 Survivor
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C13 Survivor

"Clang!"

A sharp sound jolted Willett awake from his semi-conscious state, brought on by excruciating pain. Though he had endured such agony twice before, this instance seemed particularly severe. The pain was so intense that it caused a buzzing in his head. With great effort, he managed to concentrate and look toward the source of the noise.

He spotted three men and a woman stealthily hiding by the staircase that led from the first to the second floor of the supermarket, peering out cautiously. Apparently, one of them had accidentally knocked over a nearby trash can, creating the sound that alerted Willett to their presence.

The group had evidently witnessed Willett's battle with the L-shaped zombie and were uncertain whether to come closer. When they noticed Willett's gaze upon them, they instinctively stepped back, visibly frightened.

"Heh, to think there would come a day when I'd scare people," Willett mused with self-deprecating humor. Indeed, anyone who witnessed a person take on and defeat a mutated monster like the L-shaped zombie would find it both incredible and terrifying. They were particularly brave for not fleeing at the sight of Willett's mutating right arm. Humans have always harbored a mix of curiosity and fear towards the unknown.

It took a while for the intense pain in Willett's head to gradually fade. As it did, he felt a chilling current swirling around his brain, occasionally sending fine streams down to his limbs before cycling back to his brain. Curious, he stood up. He had previously felt this cold current move from his limbs to his brain after killing zombies, but it would vanish upon reaching his brain. However, this time, after absorbing the pale blue liquid from the L-shaped zombie, the current seemed to settle into a continuous loop within his body, imparting a slight chill.

"This feels like the internal energy from those novels. Could it be that by killing zombies, I've somehow managed to learn martial arts on my own?" Willett wondered, rubbing his head in astonishment. He then attempted to emulate the method of channeling internal energy described in novels, concentrating and directing the flow of the cold current within him. He focused it into his right hand and aimed at the wall ahead, swinging with force.

"Thud!"

A dull thump echoed as Willett clutched his swollen right hand, crouching on the ground and gasping from the cold. "Damn it, what good is this chill? It makes no difference at all! It's excruciating!"

Willett gently massaged his reddened right hand, cursing under his breath.

"Huh? Something's not right!"

Midway through his grumbling, he suddenly became aware of a transformation in his body—an evolution, of sorts. When he had punched the wall earlier, he distinctly felt his right wrist twist painfully. Yet, within a mere couple of seconds, the pain in his hand had dissipated, soothed by a cool sensation from within, as if the injury had never occurred. Glancing down, he noticed his right hand, previously swollen, now looked identical to his left, as though the entire experience had been a hallucination.

"Could it be that my body's enhancement is a healing ability? That's amazing!"

Willett, observing his fully restored hand, excitedly clenched his fist. "I just wonder if this healing power could make me immune to the virus. Too bad I'm not brave enough to test it."

The thought made him yearn for more, yet the risk of testing his immunity to the virus was too great. If it failed, dying from such a foolish gamble would be utterly embarrassing.

"Excuse me... Hello! May I ask... did you come from outside?"

While Willett was assessing his condition, the four people in the corner grew restless and began inching closer to him. The girl among them timidly addressed him.

"What a silly question. You've been watching from the corner long enough. You didn't help earlier, and now you ask this..."

Willett silently scoffed, but as a well-behaved homebody before the apocalypse, he couldn't bring himself to snap at the girl. Instead, he offered her a reassuring smile and replied, "Yes, I live nearby. The zombies went wild during the storm, and they destroyed my home, so I had no choice but to seek refuge here. Don't worry, I'll be on my way soon." He then lifted his head to take a closer look at the group.

The girl pushed to the forefront was likely in her early twenties, with somewhat disheveled hair and clean clothes that seemed freshly taken from the supermarket. Bruises marred her face, and red marks adorned her neck, standing out against her pale skin. She seemed both evasive and fearful under Willett's curious gaze. Behind her stood three men, all donned in supermarket uniforms and looking equally disheveled. They stood behind the girl, eyeing Willett with apprehension. He recognized them from his previous shopping trips—they were supermarket staff. Their previous roles held no interest for him now.

"Hey, little brother, what's it like out there? You're incredible, taking down such a terrifying creature all by yourself. We'd always run and hide at the sight of those man-eating monsters. Ever since they started attacking, we've been holed up in here, out of the sunlight. But you, wow, you're something else! By the way, my name is Stockton. I used to be a security guard at the supermarket. The tall guy here is Xue Kai, and the shorter one is my brother Elvert. We all worked security here. And the woman is Joan, she was a cashier..."

The heavier-set man among them, perhaps from not having spoken in a while, chattered away with his introduction. It turned out all four of them were staff at the supermarket. On the day the disaster struck, a curfew meant only a handful of employees were present. One of them got infected by a zombie and started preying on the rest. Over two months, he picked off the other staff members until only these four remained. As the zombie evolved, it stopped hunting humans, which is how they survived. That same zombie was the L-shaped one Willett had just killed. It seems it was mid-evolution, disrupted by the thunder, which left it in an incomplete state. Attracted by the sound of Willett running outside, it burst through the door and charged at him, leading to the deadly encounter.

"It looks like people either burst out in defiance or perish in silence. It's hard to believe that a single zombie could pick off over a dozen adults without any of them fighting back!"

After hearing their story, Willett felt a mix of contempt and pity for them. But after a moment's thought, he sat down beside them and said, "The situation outside is dire. I was trapped in my home, surrounded by thousands of zombies, and only managed to escape under the cover of a rainy night. You're the first survivors I've come across. The streets are swarming with zombies, and it's not safe anywhere. Plus, the zombies go berserk during thunderstorms. Even hiding in this supermarket might not be enough to keep you safe."

Willett shared his own experiences and plans with them, including his intention to head to the city center. He carefully omitted any mention of his mutation, not wanting to be viewed as a monster. Though they had seen his mutated arm, no one asked questions, and no explanations were given. It was as if they preferred the comfort of denial. After all, they might never see each other again after today. Having shared his story, Willett asked if they were willing to join him.

"Heh, better not. Let's just stay put in the supermarket and keep our heads down. Later, we can figure out how to patch up the hole in the roll-up door. That should make us a lot safer. We've been hiding out here for two months already. Hopefully, we can keep it up. We don't have your skills, brother. If we went outside, it would probably be a death sentence. It's best to stay put here. Thanks for the offer, though."

Stockton huddled with the others for a brief discussion, then came over with a smile and spoke to Stockton.

"Haha, it's your call. When I head out, I'll stir up some noise and draw off as many zombies as I can. Consider it a favor. By the way, Joan, have you decided to stay as well?"

Willett turned to Joan with his question. He had sensed something off the moment he saw her. Zombies might eat people, but they don't beat them, and they certainly don't leave marks on someone's neck like that. Seeing the fearful and dodging looks she exchanged with the others, he had pieced together that something had happened here. The apocalypse had shattered all sense of morality, ethics, and law, revealing the darkest aspects of humanity. He felt powerless to intervene and, frankly, didn't want to. Deep down, he was just a hypocritical homebody. Yet, Joan's worn expression tugged at his conscience, prompting him to offer her a way out. If Joan chose to leave, he would assist her, even if it meant taking on a burden. It was also a chance for him to do something right. But, true to his expectations, Joan hesitated, glanced at the grotesque L-shaped zombie on the floor, and slowly shook her head, avoiding Willett's gaze.

"Heh, okay then!"

Willett stood up and brushed off his clothes. He had lost interest in their plight. Their survival or demise was no longer his concern, whether they chose to face their end or eke out an existence. His mind was set on gathering supplies and hitting the road once more.

"Well, I'm about to head out. But before I do, I'll grab a few things from the supermarket. Hope that's okay with you, Uncle Security!"

Willett cracked a joke with Stockton that wasn't particularly humorous.

"Hehe, don't worry about it. Take as much as you can carry. We can't use it all up anyway."

Stockton forced a smile, secretly wishing Willett would leave—and the sooner, the better. Once he was gone, they could lock the doors and slip back into their carefree, dreamlike existence.

"Alright, I'll head out now."

Willett nodded, made his way to the clothing section, and found a sizable backpack. Giving it a firm tug, he remarked, "Not bad, this one's pretty durable!"

Pleased with the black backpack in his grasp, he proceeded to sweep through the supermarket's various departments.

The supermarket wasn't all that large, and he quickly finished his rounds. Willett gazed at his swollen backpack with satisfaction, a smug grin spreading across his face. It was packed with enough supplies to last him a while: 20 pounds of rice, 20 packets of instant noodles, 5 cans of braised pork, 5 packs of beef jerky, 4 bottles of water, 2 bottles of wine, and a large bundle of wire. He had taken the wire in case he encountered L-shaped zombies again; with it, setting traps would be much simpler, making them easier to handle.

With his preparations complete, Willett took the electric scooter keys Stockton had given him and headed to the vehicle parking area behind the supermarket. He secured his backpack to the rear seat of Stockton's newly purchased upscale electric scooter, waved to the few people inside the supermarket to signal his departure, and watched as the roller shutter door slowly rose. The sliver of sunlight beckoned him forward. Twisting the throttle, he sped off into the day, leaving the shutter door to close once more behind him.

Facing the sunlight and the zombies, he set off again!

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