The sun beat down on the empty streets as Ryo moved forward, his Glock hidden under his hoodie. His sharp eyes scanned the rows of abandoned vehicles, looking for something to make traveling easier.
"No… not a car. A scooter would be better."
He approached one and checked it quickly. "Damn, this one's dead."
Moving to the next, he looked for a key—nothing. "Tch. No key… just my luck."
With a frustrated sigh, he kept going, determined to find a working ride before the day ended.
After what felt like hours of searching, Ryo's eyes landed on a sleek, black scooter hidden in the shadows of an alley. His heart raced. Finally.
He approached carefully, the quiet streets making his footsteps sound louder. But when he reached the scooter and checked the dashboard, his excitement faded—the fuel gauge was empty.
"Damn.."
Disappointment threatened to take over, but he didn't let it. A dead scooter wasn't useless; it just needed fuel. With a quiet sigh, he memorized the location and kept going.
If he could find gas, he'd be one step closer to real mobility.
Luck was on his side.
A flickering neon sign stood out in the gloom, marking a fuel station. The building looked strangely untouched compared to the building around it, as if it had resisted the chaos that destroyed the world.
Ryo approached carefully, stepping over broken glass as he went inside. The dim interior was dusty, the air stale with the smell of decay. But the silence was reassuring—no movement meant no immediate danger.
Remembering his past job as a cashier, he moved with confidence, walking through the aisles filled with snacks. His eyes landed on the real prize: a small pile of gasoline containers behind the counter.
"Jackpot."
Even better, the pumps outside were still faintly humming—the power was still on. Whether by luck or chance, it didn't matter. Without wasting time, Ryo grabbed a gallon container and got to work, the sharp smell of gasoline filling the air as he poured.
With every drop, his plan came together.
But just as he was about to leave, a thought stopped him.
"Wait… cigarettes."
His eyes moved to the counter, where rows of dusty cigarette packs sat untouched behind the broken glass. He smirked, stepping over debris to grab the stash.
"Nice."
One by one, he stuffed them into his backpack—cigarettes, cigars, anything worth keeping. In a world where survival was the only goal, luxuries had become rare. A good smoke, though? That was a small comfort, one he wasn't going to miss.
With his supplies secured, Ryo slung the bag over his shoulder and stepped back into the ruined world, the weight of his choices pressing against his back—both literally and figuratively.
With the fuel secured and his backpack full of supplies, Ryo walked back to the abandoned scooter, his boots crunching on the broken pieces of the ruined city. The streets were eerily quiet, except for the distant groans of the undead, but he ignored them. His focus was on the sleek, black scooter in front of him.
Kneeling beside it, he unscrewed the fuel cap and carefully poured the gasoline into the tank. The strong smell of petrol filled the air, mixing with the usual stench of decay and rust. The sound of fuel splashing into the tank was like music to his ears—a rare, satisfying sound in a world that had gone silent.
As he stood up, wiping his hands on his hoodie, he glanced at the fuel gauge. The needle moved up, and a small smile crossed his face.
"Good… this should do."
The scooter was more than just a vehicle—it was a symbol of freedom, a way to fight back against the limits of a dying world. With this, he could move faster, go farther, and avoid unnecessary danger. It wasn't just about convenience.
It was about survival.
The scooter rumbled beneath him, its engine humming softly as he rode through the ruined streets. The feeling of movement, the wind against his skin—it was a big change from the slow, careful pace he usually had to keep on foot. With this, his world had just gotten bigger.
Still, his mind stayed focused. Fuel. He needed more of it. The city's systems were barely working, and soon, the remaining electricity would be gone. Once that happened, gas stations would become useless.
"Stock up while I still can," he muttered, weaving through abandoned cars and rubble.
His first stop was obvious—the same station where he had just refueled. If the pumps were still working, he'd fill as many containers as possible and take them back to his base. A good stockpile of fuel would give him the freedom to scavenge further, to explore without worry.
As he approached the gas station again, the neon sign flickered weakly, barely staying on. Ryo narrowed his eyes.
Still working… for now.
Without wasting a second, he pulled up near the pump, turned off the engine, and hurried inside to grab more containers. Time was against him—every moment here was a risk. But if he did this right, he wouldn't have to worry about fuel for a long time.
( End Of Chapter )