The next day, Ariciah wandered through the lively streets of her hometown, where memories of the past clashed with the present reality. It felt surreal to witness such vibrant, everyday life. Children laughed as they dashed along the sidewalks, vendors shouting out their goods, and the steady hum of traffic all around her.
As she walked past familiar shops and cafes, her thoughts drifted back to a time when these very spots had been consumed by chaos and devastation.
She had to fight to keep her composure, to stop the memories from swallowing her whole. Every corner she turned, she saw glimpses of a future that no one else could see, a grocery store reduced to a looted ruin, its windows shattered.
A bustling café where she once had coffee with friends, became a ghostly husk littered with broken furniture. The local park, filled with children's laughter, where the infected would later roam, hungry for flesh. She tried to focus on the present, but the sight of the future pressed down on her like a vice.
Her footsteps carried her to a small, weathered bookstore on a quiet side street. Ariciah paused outside the window, looking in at the shelves crammed with novels, and the handwritten signs marking new releases.
This place had been her sanctuary once, a place where she could escape her mother's suffocating expectations, losing herself in worlds of fiction and crafting stories of her own. She could still see herself sitting in the back corner, typing away on her laptop, dreaming of a life beyond the one she knew.
But that life was gone now. She couldn't afford the luxury of dreaming anymore, not when reality was a ticking time bomb. Ariciah turned away from the window, her chest tightening. She didn't have time to linger in the past. She had to focus on the months she had left before the world turned to ashes.
She headed towards Velezue Street, where her childhood home stood. The sight of it, untouched and peaceful, was like a punch to the gut. Memories of her family flashed through her mind.
Her father's patient smile, her brother's teasing laughter, her mother's voice, sharp with disappointment. She had never returned after it was overrun. After she had been forced to leave them behind.
Ariciah clenched her fists, pushing the painful memories back. She couldn't afford to get lost in the guilt and sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her. Not now.
She made her way around the side of the house, searching for a way in. The back window she remembered climbing through as a teenager was still there, slightly loose in its frame. She slipped inside, landing lightly on the worn carpet of her old bedroom.
Everything was exactly as she remembered. Her bed was unmade, her bookshelves overflowing, and the posters of fantasy worlds still taped to the walls. For a moment, she allowed herself to sit on the edge of the bed, breathing in the musty scent of a room that had been untouched for months.
No one touched it since I moved to my apartment.
She traced her fingers over the faded cover of an old novel, her mind flickering with memories of nights spent reading under the covers, dreaming of adventure.
But those days were gone. She had no time to mourn the girl she used to be. Rising to her feet, Ariciah set to work, combing through her belongings for anything that might be useful in the days to come. Her hands moved quickly, driven by the urgency of her mission.
She found her old camping backpack, shoving in anything she thought might have value, sturdy boots, a Swiss Army knife, and a first aid kit she had never opened.
I hope things haven't expired yet.
She knew she couldn't carry everything herself, so she focused on storing the rest in her virtual space. The sensation of the items slipping out of her grasp and into the infinite expanse within her was becoming more familiar.
She watched as each object vanished, knowing it would be waiting for her when she needed it. It was a strange comfort, knowing that the supplies she gathered now might make the difference between life and death when the apocalypse came.
As she moved through the house, she couldn't help but be drawn to the family photos lining the hallway walls. Her younger self smiled out from the frames, flanked by her parents and her brother. Ariciah swallowed hard, reaching out to touch the glass, her fingers trembling.
She had no idea if she would have the strength to face them again. Her brother's eager eyes, her father's warmth, her mother's relentless drive. They had been lost to her once, and the thought of losing them again made her chest tighten with a pain that was almost unbearable.
With a deep breath, she pulled herself away. There would be time for goodbyes later, if she allowed herself that luxury. For now, she had to focus on the task at hand, planning, preparing, and surviving.
Ariciah left the house behind as the sun dipped low in the sky, casting long shadows across the streets. She walked through the city's quieter neighborhoods, her thoughts turning to the knowledge she carried within her.
The future played out in her mind like a film reel. The chaos that would erupt when the first infected appeared, the panic that would spread like wildfire, and the desperation that would grip every survivor as they fought for dwindling resources.
She knew where the safe zones would eventually form, the military bases that would become fortresses in the aftermath. She remembered the leaders who would rise to power, some who would protect the weak, and others who would exploit them.
But she also knew the dangers, the places that would become death traps, the streets that would run red with blood. She had watched it all unfold once before, powerless to change it.
But now she had the chance to rewrite those events.
She could stockpile resources, and identify places where she could find shelter when the world began to collapse. She could avoid the mistakes that had cost so many lives, and steer clear of the ambushes and betrayals that would come. It wasn't much, but it was an edge, a sliver of hope that she clung to with everything she had.
As she walked, she made mental notes of potential hideouts, abandoned buildings, rooftops that could serve as vantage points, and stores that might hold food and supplies.
She visited the old hardware store where she remembered finding makeshift weapons during her previous life, stashing away hammers, ropes, and duct tape in her virtual space. Every trip out of her apartment was a reconnaissance mission, every new discovery another step towards securing her survival.
I need to draw and buy maps.
And yet, despite her determination, Ariciah couldn't shake the weight of the memories that clung to her.
At night, she lay in her apartment, the sounds of the city filtering through her window, but her mind was filled with the whispers of the dead, people she had seen fall, survivors who had clung to her in their last moments, the endless groans of the infected.
She woke up in cold sweats, her hands trembling, the darkness pressing in on all sides.
Ariciah, you're still alive and so are those people!
But as the days passed, she began to harden herself against the fear. The echoes of the future would never truly leave her, but she learned to push them aside, to focus on what she could control.
She spent hours training in her virtual space, practicing with the weapons she gathered, honing her body and mind into tools of survival. Each time she stumbled, she forced herself to get back up, to remind herself that she had been given a chance to change her fate.
And as the city continued its oblivious march toward disaster, Ariciah's resolve solidified. She would not let the future consume her again.
She would fight, not just for herself, but for those who could still be saved. And she would make sure that when the apocalypse came, she would be ready to face it head-on.