Marcus Hale steps off the asphalt sidewalk, the morning sun beating down harder than it should. August in the city has a weight—concrete radiating heat, air thick with humidity, and the scent of exhaust and baking tar drifting together like a warning.
He adjusts the strap of a small backpack over one shoulder, careful not to draw attention. In his storage space, the rest of the supplies remain—quiet, untouched, ready.
The streets hum with life, normal life. Delivery vans squeak brakes at intersections. A jogger with earbuds doesn't notice him. A woman wheeling groceries slows briefly to wave at someone in the distance. Nothing seems unusual.
Good, Marcus thinks. The illusion of normality is valuable.
Pharmacy Run
He approaches a local pharmacy, a small chain store he remembers in his first life as being understocked in emergency kits, but well-stocked in medicine.
• Two entrances, a front locked with automatic doors, and a side entrance with a delivery bay.
• Surveillance cameras mounted near the doors, but not all functional, some pointing slightly askew.
Marcus crouches behind a dumpster and surveys the delivery entrance. Timing is crucial. A truck pulls in. The driver unloads boxes, oblivious to him. Marcus waits. Counts the seconds. Breath controlled, heart calm.
When the driver goes inside, Marcus slips in behind him, hands in pockets, posture casual.
Inside: the smell of antiseptic, pharmacy shelves heavy with bottles, boxes stacked neatly.
He moves aisle by aisle:
• Painkillers: acetaminophen, ibuprofen, a small stash of prescription opiates—careful to note what's most likely to stay stable.
• Antibiotics: a mix of broad-spectrum options, noting expiration dates.
• Sutures & first aid: sterile packs, gauze, alcohol wipes, bandages.
• Medical devices: thermometers, blood pressure cuffs, a single portable defibrillator.
Everything goes into storage with careful deliberation. He doesn't rush. He doesn't panic. His hands are steady.
From the corner of his eye, he notices movement. Not human. Not quite alive.
The first walker of this life.
First Real Encounter
A man—or what was a man—shuffles from between the shelves. Gray, bloated, eyes milky. Clothes torn. Skin sloughing in patches.
Marcus freezes, evaluating. Distance: eight feet. Trajectory: slow but deliberate. Noise: minimal.
Blade or firearm?
Quiet matters. Firearm could alert anyone nearby. He draws a small hunting knife from storage. Moves silently.
Step. Step. Step.
Close enough. Slice. Skull. Base. Clean.
The walker collapses. No noise. No panic.
Marcus exhales slowly. First test passed. Reflexes precise. Power confirmed in motion, not just theory.
Expansion to Grocery Warehouse
From the pharmacy, Marcus calculates the next target: a small warehouse supplying nearby grocery stores. His memory of the first life tells him:
• Stock levels are higher than the retail floor.
• Security is minimal after 8:00 A.M.
• Delivery trucks cause blind spots.
He walks back to his car, careful to avoid the heaviest sun, and drives a short route to a side alley behind the warehouse. Humidity sticks to his skin. Sweat collects under the strap of the backpack, though inside, the items remain perfectly stored.
He observes:
• Two security guards pacing the front. Routine.
• Cameras angled at doors and loading bays.
• A small side door, partially obscured by stacks of pallets, unmonitored.
Marcus circles the building. Mental map forming. He notices minor details he would have missed in the first life:
• The trash bin has a broken lock.
• A chain securing a pallet is rusted.
• Footprints in the dirt suggest last delivery was early morning.
Timing is key. He slips the side door open, ducking just below the frame.
Inside: the smell of cardboard, dried vegetables, plastic wrap. Metal shelving towers above him.
• Canned goods: vegetables, beans, fruits, proteins.
• Water: pallets of bottled water, sealed.
• Dried foods: pasta, rice, flour.
• Miscellaneous: cleaning supplies, batteries, first aid extras.
Everything goes into storage. He takes enough to last, not everything. Rationing matters. He plans for weeks, not days.
Environmental Hazards
By late afternoon, Marcus steps outside. Humidity has climbed. Asphalt radiates heat in waves. A thin sheen of sweat drips down his back. He knows dehydration is an underestimated killer.
He drinks from a water bladder in storage. Feels immediate relief.
He observes human patterns:
• Parents leaving for school pickups.
• Delivery trucks rolling past on predictable schedules.
• People crowded around convenience stores, unaware of the gathering storm.
Heat, sun exposure, and mental fatigue weigh on him subtly. He calculates shade routes, timing for brief rests, and the need for minimal exertion in open spaces.
Setting Up First Caches
Marcus identifies three locations for hidden caches:
1. Abandoned garage: dry, ventilated, easy to defend. Supplies: food, water, basic medical kits.
2. Rooftop access: over a small apartment block. High vantage point, minimal traffic. Items: firearms, ammo, and crossbows.
3. Sewer entrance: overlooked, subterranean. Items: long-term storage of heavier objects.
Everything goes in systematically, wrapped, labeled mentally in memory and spatial awareness. If the city collapses tonight, Marcus can operate like a ghost.
Minor Human Interactions
While scouting, he observes a small group of teens loitering near a corner store. One drops a bottle. The noise draws attention. Marcus calculates:
• Distance: 15 feet
• Potential response: high probability of shouting, attracting adults
He steps back into shadows. Waits. Teens leave. No confrontation necessary.
Lessons from his first life: avoid human interaction unless unavoidable.
Evening Reflection
By sunset, Marcus returns to a high rooftop overlooking the city. The smell of exhaust and baking tar intensifies. People move about obliviously.
He unpacks a single backpack to check contents. Everything accounted for. Nothing missing.
He allows himself a brief thought: I am alone. I will remain alone until someone like Rick wakes up.
He reviews mental notes:
• Supply locations, caches, escape routes
• Patterns of human movement
• Security of pharmacies and warehouses
The world hasn't fallen yet—but Marcus is ready.