Seeing the zombie awaken, Ryan didn't hesitate. The composure he had developed through years of hardship allowed him to face the situation with a steady mind. Reaching over the counter, he grabbed a replica military engineer shovel.
"Go to hell!" Ryan shouted, not giving the zombie a chance to pounce. He swung the sharp edge of the shovel directly at its head.
With a resounding bang, the shovel struck the zombie's skull with tremendous force. The toothed blade embedded itself in the female zombie's head, causing it to stagger backward and collapse against the counter.
The human skull was tougher than Ryan expected. Despite his strength, the shovel didn't cleave all the way through; it lodged deep in the bone. The zombie, however, seemed unfazed by the blow. Half of its head had been cut open, yet it continued to thrash and snarl, clawing at him with unrelenting aggression.
"Disgusting piece of—" Ryan growled, kicking the zombie to the ground. Pinning its head beneath his boot, he yanked the shovel free. Without hesitation, he brought it down again, and again, smashing its skull into pulp. Blood and rotten flesh splattered across the floor, filling the air with a nauseating stench.
He stepped back, watching cautiously as the zombie's movements slowed, then stopped altogether. Only then did Ryan allow himself a moment of relief.
"Looks like their weakness really is the head," he muttered, wiping sweat from his brow.
Despite being a replica, the engineer shovel had held up well. The blade remained sharp, though it was now slick with blood and gore. Ryan gripped it tightly, his chest rising and falling as he steadied his breathing.
The adrenaline coursing through his veins left him feeling exhilarated rather than horrified. He knew this wasn't normal. While most people would be paralyzed with fear or repulsed by the sight of a zombie, Ryan felt no such hesitation. He attributed it to his upbringing—years of hardship and violence had hardened him to the sight of blood.
"Where's Lily?" he muttered, his expression darkening.
Ryan didn't fear this apocalyptic nightmare. What he feared was losing his sister. She was the one person he couldn't bear to see harmed. It was a vow he'd made to himself after she sacrificed herself for him in the previous world.
Shaking off the lingering rush, Ryan pulled out his phone and tried calling her again, but the line was still busy. He clenched his jaw in frustration, pocketing the phone before turning his attention to the store.
This outdoor supply shop was a goldmine for survival tools, and Ryan knew he had to grab what he could. His priority wasn't hoarding supplies—it was getting to Lily—but he wouldn't leave empty-handed.
He quickly stuffed an anti-cut backpack with essentials: special mountaineering clothing, a few hooks, water bottles, military-grade compressed dry food, and energy drinks. Every item was chosen with practicality in mind.
Behind the counter, his eyes caught something unusual—a STRIDER D9 replica dagger. It looked well-crafted, likely part of the shop owner's collection. Ryan retrieved it from a hidden compartment beneath the counter and tucked it securely into his belt.
With his gear packed and his shovel in hand, Ryan took one last look around the store before heading for the door. "Hang in there, Lily. I'm coming for you."
Although it was only a replica, the quality of the dagger was undeniable. Ryan tested its edge casually—it wasn't sharp enough to cut through iron like butter, but it was still deadly and impressively sharp. Its sleek design also gave it a certain aesthetic appeal.
As he gripped his phone again, the line was still busy. Logically, the apocalypse had only just begun, and the communication network shouldn't have collapsed so quickly. So why couldn't he get through? Anxiety tightened in his chest.
But no matter the reason, Ryan knew one thing: he had to reach his sister. While the car accident that claimed her life in the previous world might no longer be a threat, the chaos of this new world was far worse. Lily might be intelligent and resourceful, but the thought of her in danger made his heart race. He couldn't afford to waste another minute.
After a quick sweep of the store, Ryan equipped himself with the essentials. On his way out, he glanced at a small zombie crawling pitifully across the floor. Its neck was mangled, nearly bitten through, and its bloodshot eyes stared blankly ahead, gray and lifeless. Despite its horrific state, it still writhed toward him, gurgling a guttural wail.
"Let me put you out of your misery," Ryan muttered, his voice cold.
Without hesitation, he swung the shovel down, the sharp edge striking the zombie's head with precision. The blows came swiftly, and after a few brutal strikes, the creature lay still.
Glancing at the clock, he realized he'd already lost more than ten minutes. He dispatched two other zombies lingering at the store's rear entrance before stepping cautiously outside. The streets were quieter now. Most survivors had retreated into buildings to hide, while the zombies roamed aimlessly or chased after the few remaining stragglers.
Screams still echoed occasionally, cutting through the uneasy silence, and Ryan's frown deepened as he surveyed the chaotic streets.
The airport was about five kilometers away—not far under normal circumstances. By car, it would take just over ten minutes. Even walking, it shouldn't have been more than an hour. But in this apocalyptic scenario, the journey would be far more treacherous.
Emerging from the store, Ryan's scent immediately attracted nearby zombies. Their heads snapped in his direction, and they began to stagger toward him, their movements stiff and mechanical.
Ryan assessed the situation quickly. These creatures, though fearless and impervious to pain, were clumsy and uncoordinated. As long as they were alone or in small numbers, they posed little threat. But they rarely moved alone. A pack of a dozen or more could easily overwhelm him.
He couldn't afford to engage them unnecessarily. Darting between abandoned cars, Ryan evaded the pursuing zombies with ease, weaving through the wreckage and temporary shelters. Their growls faded behind him as he moved deeper into the city.
Finding a clear path, Ryan paused briefly to reorient himself. He identified the quickest route to the airport and set off at a sprint, his determination unwavering.