Ryo stood in his small apartment, his mind racing as he tried to piece together a plan. The immediate task was clear: find a suitable weapon and protective clothing to defend against potential zombie bites. From the information he had gathered online, he knew that a single bite could turn a person into a zombie within ten to thirty minutes, depending on their antibodies. He couldn't afford to take any chances.
Ryo rifled through his belongings, searching for anything that could serve as protection. His eyes fell on a thick leather jacket hanging in his closet. It wasn't much, but it was better than nothing. He quickly pulled it on, feeling a small measure of security in the sturdy material. Next, he grabbed a pair of heavy-duty work gloves from a drawer, slipping them on to protect his hands.
For his legs, he found an old pair of jeans that were slightly thicker than his usual clothing. They wouldn't offer complete protection, but they were the best he had. He laced up his sturdiest pair of boots, feeling more prepared with each item he added.
Now for a weapon. He needed something that could keep the zombies at a distance while still being effective. His eyes landed on a metal baseball bat leaning against the wall. It was a bit worn from years of use, but its solid weight felt reassuring in his hands. He gave it a few practice swings, imagining the force it could deliver. It would have to do.
Finally, Ryo grabbed his empty backpack, intending to fill it with any food and resources he could find. He took one last look around his apartment, making sure he hadn't missed anything crucial. Satisfied, he took a deep breath and steeled himself for what lay ahead.
With his heart pounding, Ryo cautiously opened the door to his apartment and stepped into the hallway. The building was eerily silent, the usual sounds of life replaced by a heavy, oppressive quiet. He made his way down the stairs, each step a test of his resolve.
When he reached the ground floor, he hesitated for a moment, peering through the small window in the front door. The street outside was deserted, the silence almost tangible. Ryo pushed the door open and stepped outside, the cold air hitting his face like a slap. He looked around, his senses on high alert.
As he began to move cautiously down the street, his eyes constantly scanned his surroundings. He had barely gone a few steps when he saw them—a horde of zombies shuffling down the road, their vacant eyes scanning aimlessly. Panic surged through Ryo's veins as he realized they were coming his way.
He turned and began to run, his heart pounding in his chest. He could hear the guttural moans of the zombies behind him, growing louder with each passing second. Ryo's foot caught on a loose piece of pavement, and he stumbled, falling hard to the ground. Pain shot through his leg as he landed, and he knew he was in trouble.
Desperation clawed at him as he struggled to get up, but his leg wouldn't cooperate. He could hear the zombies getting closer, their shuffling steps growing louder. Ryo braced himself for the inevitable, fear gripping his heart. He shut his eyes tight, waiting for the end.
But nothing happened.
Ryo opened his eyes slowly, disbelief and confusion mingling in his mind. The zombies were still shuffling towards him, but they weren't attacking. Instead, they were moving past him, as if he wasn't even there. His heart raced as he watched them pass by, their eyes vacant and uninterested.
He remained perfectly still, scarcely daring to breathe. The horde continued on its way, ignoring him completely. It was as if he were invisible to them. Ryo's mind raced, trying to comprehend what was happening. He waited until the last of the zombies had moved past him before he dared to move.
Slowly, cautiously, Ryo got to his feet, his leg throbbing with pain. He looked around, making sure no more zombies were nearby. The street was empty once more, the horde having moved on. He took a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves.
What had just happened? Why hadn't the zombies attacked him? The questions swirled in his mind, but he had no immediate answers. He knew he couldn't stay out in the open any longer. Limping slightly, he made his way back to his apartment, his mind reeling from the strange encounter.
Back in the safety of his apartment, Ryo sank onto the couch, his thoughts a whirlwind of confusion and fear. He replayed the scene over and over in his mind, trying to make sense of it. The zombies had ignored him, passed by him as if he were invisible. It didn't make any sense.
He needed answers, and he needed them soon. For now, he knew one thing for certain: he was different. Somehow, he was immune to the zombies' attacks. It was a small glimmer of hope in an otherwise bleak situation, and he clung to it with all his might.
As the reality of his newfound immunity began to sink in, Ryo knew he had to use it to his advantage. He needed to gather supplies and information, and he needed to do it quickly. The world outside was dangerous, but he had a chance—a chance to survive, to find answers, and maybe even to help others.
With renewed determination, Ryo began to plan his next move. The journey ahead would be perilous, but he was ready to face it. The world had changed, but so had he. And as he prepared to step out into the unknown once more, Ryo knew he was ready to confront whatever lay ahead, driven by a newfound sense of purpose and the mystery of his own immunity.