Ariciah navigated the winding alleys of the city with steady resolve, steering clear of the busy main streets. She had a plan now, one she prayed would give her a fighting chance when the world began its inevitable descent into chaos.
Her invisibility skill made it easier, but it was still nerve-wracking, especially as she slipped past patrolling officers or curious bystanders. The weight of secrecy hung over her like a shadow.
One afternoon, she found herself in a dusty, neglected corner of the city, a place where forgotten buildings stood as silent witnesses to the bustling life around them. This was where she could scavenge in peace, searching through junkyards and long-abandoned warehouses for any supplies that might prove useful.
She carried a large duffel bag over her shoulder, stuffing it with tools, canned food, and anything she thought she could use. She exhaled deeply, feeling the sharp bite of the cold air on her cheeks. As she paused by a rusted-out car, she muttered to herself, "I won't be caught off guard this time. I'm ready."
Yet, doubt gnawed at her. Her thoughts returned to the vision she'd seen just before her rebirth, the sight of Richmond Bloodstone, the man who, in her future memory, would become the key to survival. She didn't know how he fit into her plan yet, but she knew she had to be prepared for when their paths inevitably crossed.
Later that evening, she retreated to the safety of her rented apartment and entered her virtual space. The transition still left her momentarily disoriented, a dizzying shift from the physical world into a vast, empty expanse that mirrored her soul.
The barren plains stretched endlessly, but now there were signs of change. Piles of canned goods, crates of bottled water, and stacks of neatly folded blankets lined one side. Near the edge, she'd even managed to create a small firing range, a crude setup of makeshift targets.
She picked up a handgun she'd recently acquired, the weight of it familiar but still unsettling in her hands. Her fingers trembled as she loaded the weapon. A chill ran through her as she recalled the last time she had held a gun in her previous life, desperation, and terror driving her to protect herself.
She shook her head, forcing the memory away.
"Okay, focus, Ariciah," she whispered, steadying her breathing. She raised the gun, took aim, and squeezed the trigger. The gunshot rang out in the virtual space, echoing like thunder. The bullet struck the center of one of her makeshift targets, and she felt a small thrill of satisfaction.
"Not bad for a writer," she murmured to herself with a wry smile. But the smile quickly faded as doubt crept back in. Could she really do this? Could she survive where she had once failed? And what would she do if she encountered the infected again?
Ariciah practiced until her hands grew sore and her arms ached, each shot sharpening her focus. She knew that firearms would only be one part of her arsenal, her real weapon was the knowledge of what was to come. And she clung to that knowledge like a lifeline, even as uncertainty loomed over her.
A few days later, she made another trip to a military surplus store tucked away in a forgotten part of town. It was a relic of the past, one of those places that few people paid attention to anymore. Ariciah slipped inside, turning invisible as she moved through the aisles, her senses heightened by the tension of what she was about to do.
She paused near a stack of heavy-duty backpacks and utility belts, running her fingers over the material. Then she spotted a stash of first-aid kits and military-grade rations, their packaging dusty but intact. A thrill shot through her, these would be valuable once the world turned upside down.
She heard footsteps approaching. Ariciah quickly faded from sight, holding her breath as two men in military uniforms entered the store. She could just make out their conversation as they talked near the counter.
"...Strange reports coming in from the southern provinces. Some kind of unknown sickness spreading fast," one of them said, a note of unease in his voice.
His companion nodded, his expression tense. "Yeah, I heard. Headquarters is telling us to keep an eye out, but they're downplaying it publicly. Don't want to start a panic, I guess."
Ariciah's heart clenched at their words.
She knew this was how it started—the small outbreaks that no one took seriously until it was too late. Her grip tightened around the edge of a shelf, resisting the urge to shout at them, to warn them. But she held herself back, reminding herself of the plan. She couldn't afford to draw attention to herself.
Once the men left, she collected the supplies quickly, stuffing them into her duffel bag. As she prepared to leave, she whispered to herself, "Two more weeks, and then everything changes."
Back in her apartment, Ariciah sorted through her latest haul, laying out the medical supplies, rations, and gear she'd taken. She disappeared into her virtual space again, organizing the items with an efficiency born of desperation. The space seemed to respond to her determination, expanding to accommodate the growing stockpile.
As she worked, she caught a glimpse of herself in a reflective surface, a haunting sight of a woman torn between two worlds. Her face was paler than it had been before, shadows darkening her eyes. The memories of her death and the weight of her knowledge had carved a kind of hardness into her features.
"Just a little longer," she murmured to her reflection. "Just a little longer, and then we'll see if I'm truly ready."
She finished storing her supplies and sank down onto the virtual grass, the exhaustion settling in. The doubts returned, insidious whispers that filled the quiet space around her. Would all of this really be enough? Could she really change the future, or was she destined to fail again?
A sudden surge of anger flared in her chest. She clenched her fists, driving her nails into her palms until they left marks. "No. I won't let that happen. I'll be ready this time. I have to be."
The next morning, Ariciah stood on a rooftop, overlooking the city as dawn broke over the skyline. She watched the world come to life beneath her. The people heading to work, children running to catch the school bus, and vendors setting up their stalls. For a moment, she allowed herself to feel the peace of the present, knowing how fragile it was.
Then she heard a soft voice behind her, startling her. "It's a beautiful view, isn't it?"
She turned sharply, her hand instinctively reaching for the knife at her side. But there was no one there, just the wind and the distant hum of traffic. She shook her head, chalking it up to her frayed nerves. Yet the eerie feeling lingered.
Ariciah adjusted the strap of her bag, slipping back into the shadows. There was no room for distractions now. The clock was ticking, and every moment brought her closer to the end she knew was coming. She would be prepared, she would survive, and this time, she would make sure her story didn't end in darkness.